The heat of the daytime sun in Ade substantially subsided as the sun grew close to the horizon. It was late autumn, almost winter, for the equatorial desert city. In this climate, most merely regarded it as the beginning of a rainy season. Temperatures dropped down as the sun’s rays hit the ground obliquely rather than head on, and the air grew quite chilly.
Ketta had a shawl draped around themself as they wandered the expansive palace gardens. They had spent a large amount of time there the past day, able to become lost in the sections with large and unseasonably blooming shrubs. Ketta knew that they had a so-called garden ritualist, whose entire job was to perform magical rites that would keep the gardens in bloom year round, merely so they might suitably impress any guest at the drop of a hat. They marvelled at the beauty- and the sheer exhaustive waste of it.
They leaned into one of the delicate white flowers tinged in pink. It had a gentle fragrance that made them think of the color yellow, despite the actual color of the flower. It was so unlike anything they grew up with that it never failed to stand out to them. They had been Orivaughn’s partner for eight years now, and the magnitude of everything that was available to the Medeah family still boggled their mind. The events of the previous evening came to mind, the cries of the people that the Medeahs lived in excess whilst they starved.
Whenever Ketta tried to bring this up to Orivaughn, he always had a quick and dismissive answer. His answer typically revolved around the idea that this is just the way things were, and he had to maintain order, or something about logistics too convoluted to get into at whatever moment, and that it was more productive to focus on something else. For far too long, they felt that he was simply wiser than themself, more educated in these matters. After eight years, that feeling had begun to erode.
This feeling sat poorly inside Ketta. They had taken to venturing out into the gardens more and more frequently, trying to clear their head. On several occasions, they even requisitioned outings back into the city, something that they expected to be harrowing, when in reality was comfortable and nostalgic They didn’t know why they felt these things, and above these feelings, they felt bad about them. Ketta hated that they doubted Orivaughn- the man who had saved her life and transformed it! They wanted to be grateful, and in the past, they were. Now, Ketta didn’t know how to feel.
So it was with mixed feelings that they heard a familiar voice not far behind them.
“There you are!” came Orivaughn’s booming voice.
Ketta pulled away from the flowering bush, and turned to Orivaughn. Without thinking, their facial expression bloomed like the flowers next to her, becoming bright and sunny, without regard for their emotional state. Their body language shifted to the sultry saunter that they long ago learned to adopt around him, so as to prime him to be as pleasant to deal with as possible. Unlike the unspoken, the words that normally came so easily around him were suddenly difficult.
“Ori!” Ketta said after a moment, the word getting caught in their throat.
“Where have you been all this time? I’ve been worried sick about you all day. I almost started to think you were avoiding me!” He laughed, an obsequious gesture.
“Well, it's just that being around you is making me feel sick for reasons I don’t understand,” Ketta didn’t say. The thought fluttered through their mind, caught before it left their lips, earning a feeling of revulsion in their gut.
“I’ve just been,” Ketta began, “I’ve been feeling unwell. Didn’t want to make a mess inside.”
“Oh, is that all, is it?” Orivaughn said with a cocked eyebrow.
He took their hands and pulled them towards a nearby gazebo, one of more than a dozen that dotted the garden grounds. It had a pair of benches facing each other and they each sat in one, leaving the other as their sole focus. Ketta couldn’t stand to look at him directly, and instead looked over the wall at the horizon.
The wall obscured the true horizon, but many crags rose up in the distance. They formed spikes that evoked the feeling of teeth, promising to devour the sun, should it foolishly descend so low. Soon, they would surely feast.
“Ketta.”
They snapped back to attention, Orivaughn’s commanding voice overriding their current emotional state.
“You’re distracted,” He said. “This is about yesterday, isn’t it?”
Ketta paled.
“Y-yes. Yes it is.”
Their mind raced, preparing for a huge, blowout fight over the state of affairs.
“I know it isn’t easy when I ask you to protect me,” Orivaughn said as he leaned forward to clasp their hands in his, “But I need you to know I appreciate it. You let me do what I do. If it weren’t for you, I’m not sure how any of this could work!”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
A swirl of emotions mixed inside Ketta. The relief that he misunderstood the root of their feelings and the confusing revulsion they felt to that statement left Ketta unable to speak.
“I know, I know,” He said, “It’s hard on you. I understand! I know what you’re thinking- how many times will I ask you to do this? And let me tell you: as few as possible. I don’t want to burn you out! I need you ready, for those moments that really matter. Last night was one of those moments!”
Ketta still was grasping at their feelings like a bar of wet soap. All they could manage to say to contribute was, “How so?”
Orivaughn laughed at this. “How so? We just set them straight! They tried to push the boundaries of law and order and saw what happens when you cross the line! Had we not shown them the punishment, they would have robbed us of our possessions. And then, what next? They’d start robbing each other! And then noone would grow food, and then chaos would descend! Utter madness, averted because we put down a measly handful of degenerates.”
He shook his head at this.
“Oh, what am I saying? It wasn’t we- it was you! You did your job perfectly, and protected me. You held that line, Ketta, and noone else could have.”
Somehow, this failed to make Ketta feel any better.
“Just think, Ketta! A decade ago, you were just some gutter-dweller like a lot of them. You could have fallen sway to their calls for wanton violence. At times like this, I am truly grateful I found you, because you don’t belong with them! You’re special, Ketta. You’re special, and you belong here, with me.”
Ketta opened their mouth to argue, to say that they don’t feel special. They felt like an assassin, not a Miracle. They felt like a weapon. Ketta couldn’t find it within themself to speak.
Orivaughn didn’t give them a chance, regardless.
“I know, Ketta. You feel like you could do more with your power. You’re a Miracle after all! And if anyone understands, Ketta, it's us. The Medeahs have been blessed with Miracles generation after generation. Its just my rotten luck that I’m not one myself, despite my three other brothers all being Miracles themselves. But I digress! It doesn’t matter, because I have you. I’ve told you many times, and you often need reminding that we know how Miracles work, that you can easily overwork yourselves. We know how to take care of Miracles, and doing singular, but impactful things is how you make the most of your powers. And you did! Even now, Ade has calmed down, and the guards have been able to arrest some of the people who stormed our gates.”
“I thought… you let them go?” Ketta croaked out. They noted the sun has touched the tops of the crags, sending out long streaks of shadows into the gardens. One streak touched the base of the gazebo.
“I said they would live, and they will! But I would be a fool not to interrogate them and see what lead to this uprising. Besides, even with your contribution, they will need to be reminded who is in charge. Now, you should rest. None of us know when you’ll be needed next.”
“I don’t want to kill people.”
Ketta wanted to cry, but no tears came. They couldn’t allow themselves to look so vulnerable in front of Orivaughn.
“I’m sure you don’t. But we all do what we must, Ketta. Think of it not as killing people, but as protecting me. What greater good could there be than that?” He swept out his arms in a grand gesture, emphasizing his belief in his words.
"Yes, I’m sure you could make a few people prettier with your power. Your ability to alter flesh is as miraculous another Miracle’s power, but how can you best use it? That is the question you have to ask yourself! How can you make the most of your power Ketta? How??” Orivaughn’s volume grew towards the end, turning a hypothetical into a demand.
Ketta’s throat clenched, once again unable to speak. Orivaughn was growing agitated, they knew the telltale signs, and knew how this would end. At this point, there is nothing they could do to stop it.
“‘I don’t want to kill people!’” Orivaughn mockingly echoed. “So, what, does my life not matter, Ketta? Am I that unimportant to you? You’re the one with the magic, and yet you only think about yourself, and about anyone else. You make everything about you and your powers when there are more important things! Here I am, wasting away as I keep an entire city running and orderly while all you have to do is snap your fingers once a month! Sometimes less!”
Orivaugn was yelling at this point, his voice echoing across the garden grounds. Any of the guard outside could hear him, even on the other side of the garden grounds. All of them knew to stay away once he had riled himself up.
“I just want the best for you, for you to be well and healthy, but you disregard me and want to hurt yourself. You want to always lord over me with your magic, and for what! To make yourself feel high and mighty? You’re capable of so much, and this is what you want to do? Well? Answer me!”
No words could escape Ketta’s mouth. They wanted to say something, anything to try and assuage Orivaughn. They never knew what would be the right thing to say, or if saying anything was the right thing at all.
Orivaughn stood up as he shouted. As though choreographed, the sun was finally consumed by the craggy teeth on the horizon, plunging shadow over everything within the garden walls. Ketta felt adrift in the darkness, the void removing all distraction, leaving only Orivaugn’s anger as their sole point of reference for reality.
His face was red as many of the flowers in the garden, his anger a whole-body experience. He stood in a stance that signaled a readiness to act, his arms apart and his fists clenched. His eyes were filled with a mania that only appeared in his enraged madness. It gave an expression that seemed to be a mix of rage and joy.
The moment that lasted seconds felt like hours. It was finally broken when Orivaughn made a final declaration.
“You want something better to use your powers on? Then fine!”
He struck out at Ketta, a blow landing on the side of her face. They were knocked down onto the bench, their head hitting the wood with a sickening sound. He waled off of the gazebo, then paused, turned back only slightly.
“It didn’t have to be like this. This was your fault,” he said, then strode off to the palace.
A trickle of blood ran onto the bench as Ketta lay. After many minutes of laying there, bleeding, the tears came.