When she woke, the world was quiet. The sort of quiet in the early mornings, when people were stumbling out of bed, one foot still in the world of dreams. The dawn sunlight was a pale, orange glow through the gauzy curtains, casting the room into an ethereal soft light.
Eris’ eyes shoot open, a scream lodged in her throat, lips cracked, dry – sweat drenching her nightgown. Fire, fire, fire. Fire in my lungs, fire in my eyes, fire in my blood –
A dream. You’re alive, you’re well. You survived, you’re breathing.
The sterile white ceiling above, the floor to ceiling window next to her bed, the clothes strewn across the floor, the books piled on each available surface. The academy.
You’re alive, you survived, you’re breathing.
A year had passed since Rayneth last spoke to her – when she was bestowed the gift of the twin flame. And yet, Eris still wakes in the early hours of the morning to ward off the viciously bright effervescent flame of dawn. With the sun barely on the horizon, Eris steps onto the cold stone floors, wrist aching as it always did; the phantom pain of the razor sharp claw left a mark, a blotch of lighter skin on her wrist. It was as if a part of that monster – that Drakt – was still with her, tainting her very existence. On days where it rained, she felt as if she could feel the thrumming of an energy dark and malicious within her, emanating from that wound.
She could never forget the look on the supreme priestess’ face as the flames finally receded – back inside her. It was the look of a starved man, greed a gleam in her eye, otherworldly in earnest. Her words would haunt her forever, following her into the recesses of her memory, the crevices in her dreams.
“The twin flame arises, risen from the ashes of the earth, kin of the phoenix. Rise, chosen one of Rayneth, rise to banish the night.”
Aside, among the trees, was her father, tears streaming down his face – bracing himself on the trunk of a tree, doubled over with relief. Beside him, her brother called out to her, the remnants of tears drying on his face as he beckoned to her.
Everything was heavy and blurred, like she’d just been woken from a centuries-long sleep, awakened like the power once slumbering in her heart, now alive and roiling like a temperate sea.
“All our power comes from our hearts,” Her mother once said, placing a hand on her heart. “Be careful, though, Eris. The constellations will take you. They will claim your heart for themselves if you give too much to them. You’ll still be yourself, but you will never be able to control yourself again.”
You must not let the white demon have you. The voice echoed through her mind, reverberating through her very bones.
The world swirling around her, she attempted to rise. “Who are you?” Eris mumbled, hoisting herself up on one arm, cradling her injured one. Around her, blood soaked the grass that would’ve been lush and vibrant – both of hers and others – warm, drying on her skin in a tacky sheen. Some started to move, running toward their families with sobs of relief. But there were so many lying on the ground, eyes staring blankly ahead, unmoving. Throats ripped out, fresh red innards gaping like mouths open wide for the crows. Chests torn open, organs missing where there should’ve been a pulsing heart. Yet those creatures were nowhere to be seen, disappeared into thin air, if not for the ash lying on the ground, scattered by the breeze.
Don’t let the white demon take you.
“Why? Who are you?” she says through gritted teeth, a sharp pain ringing through her ribs.
Let the stars play our games, chosen one.
“What?”
The voice didn’t respond, and movement overtook the clearing. She was being lifted onto a stretcher and carried away, the Maroon garments of the uniform of the healing constellation's children concealing her view of the world around her. The sky was bright, illuminated by stars. Although, the brightest by far was that of Rayneth’s pinnacle. Beaming with a newfound glow.
“You’re okay, Eris, you’re okay.” She heard, though it sounded as if they were convincing themselves rather than reassuring her.
“You’re alive, Stars, Eris, you’re alive.”
To be alive is to live – to feel. Yet for the gruelling months that followed, all she could feel was the sensation of the Drakt’s claws digging into her back, and when they did – both in her dreams and nightmares – she was afraid that this time, it wouldn’t let her go.
In some dreams, the Drakts were torn off her with a light far too bright for any earthly realm, and she’d woken to flame encircling her bed, and her roommate shaking her hysterically. Yet in others, the Drakt killed her. It ripped out her soul, tasted her heart, tore her mind apart and licked every splatter of blood off its claws – in most dreams, she wished it would; so that she could see her mother again.
The next months tested her power and strength, both mentally and physically. Many days, she thought she would be better off without the flame. She’d awoken to absolute silence in the eerily comforting sight of her own home, her body throbbing and raw in pain. Her wrist was bandaged, and as she rotated it, there was only a slight twinge of pain. Such is the famed power of Maroona’s healers.
Beneath her, the mattress she lay upon creaked as she sat up, realising the supreme priestess’ presence by the door. Her expression was cold. Unforgiving – cruel – out of place in the cottage once so full of life and warm memories.
“They tell me your name is Eris.” She starts, a faint smile on her face.
“What’s yours, white demon?” Eris retorts through a hoarse voice, every fibre of her body enraged upon the sight of her smug expression. A part of her wished to tear at her flesh, using her newfound flame to melt the skin off her bones. Yet another part of her shrank back in fear.
Primal, instinctive fear.
The smile falters. “Allow me to tell you how the next few years of your life will play out.”
“What?” She spits.
“If you let me explain, you’ll have all the answers you ask for.” She says, her patience clearly wearing thin.
Eris leans back against the headboard of the bed, waiting for her to speak.
“The trial of the twin flame was made for you, tailored exactly to draw you out from your village.”
“So that’s why you killed all those innocents from my town? To find me?”
“Don’t question the authority of the stars.” she snaps, eyes dark. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, and the malice disappears from her expression as quickly as it appeared. “Yes, to find you. But we didn’t know that your power had yet to awaken, which is why it took so many years. You see, you were fated to banish the darkness from our world.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Eris asks. This time, the priestess is quiet for a while, eyes closed, fingers interlaced, head tilted upward to the skies. Rodin’s thinker, tilted at the heavens.
“You are not ready to hear the prophecy.” She speaks, yet it isn’t her voice that Eris hears. A voice, centuries old, booming and rich, boasts from her, and the hairs on Eris’ neck rise, heart thundering in her ears. “You are not one to question the prophecy of the stars, you will know when you are worthy.”
“Worthy?”
The priestess’ eyes open, and she blinks at her. In a split moment, the tension in the air dissipates, and the priestess shakes her head, as if withdrawing from a daydream. “You will undergo training at the academy to become part of the supreme guard.”
“I don’t want to become one of your knights.”
“You don’t have a choice.” She hisses. “You have been blessed with an otherworldly power by Rayneth herself, you will not squander it. You will learn to wield it, and you’ll wield it with such grandeur that the darkness trembles, and the night falls to kneel before us.”
Us.
A pause. She appears to consider Eris fully, those harsh blue eyes narrowing at her thin frame, the stubborn set of her jaw, her bright, indignant amber eyes. “You have a bright destiny, Eris. The stars have made it so.”
Silence, then the priestess turns on her heel to leave. “I’ll see you at the academy.”
Questions dying on the tip of her tongue, Eris succumbs to the darkness of her subconscious, and distantly, she is aware that a constellation smiles upon her, brushing her hair back from her face with a mother’s loving touch.
You do not tremble before the darkness.
But as the sun rises in the academy grounds – lush parks with rolling plains and looming trees of pine and willow, she looks toward the skies, breath fogging in front of her.
It had already been one year, yet it took everything in her to keep going. Eris had now lived to eighteen – a year since she’d been forced into attending the academy, four years since her mother became one star among many in the endless cosmos – and yet not a second passed where she was not afraid.
I may not tremble before the darkness, but I tremble before you.
༺ ༻
“Whitlock, pick up the pace!” The instructor hollers. Eris grits her teeth, feeling her stomach churn with unease. They’d been running laps for an hour, the sun already at its zenith. How the other students could run for this long, Eris had no clue, yet she refused to fall behind, even with her early morning runs that didn’t seem to do anything in increasing her stamina.
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“Your desire to protect your village won’t sustain you, Eris.” The supreme priestess said to her a week ago, after she fell asleep in her first aid class from staying up into the early hours of the morning to cram the names of medicinal herbs into her memory.
“It will. It’s enough.” She stared at her hands on her lap, blistered with the remnants of combat training. So much time had passed, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look the priestess in the eye.
“No. It’s not.” The priestess rises from her grand chair, fashioned to look like a throne of off-white leather and golden embellishments. Her entire office at the academy was of the fashion, the faint smell of leather permeating the air. “You need a drive to succeed. Not to merely pass. Your classmates will eat you alive.”
“It is enough.” Eris insists. “I just need to master the flame–”
“It’s not enough.” The woman outbursts, irritation clear in her tone. “You are not doing enough. The flame should’ve been yours a long time ago, and you’re not progressing nearly as fast as I hoped. The least you can do is try harder so that the stars may have mercy on you.”
She breathes deeply for a while as Eris remains, head bowed at the ground.
Those holy words echoed through her head, a memory once so distant, tainted by the energy of a star. “You must not let the white demon have you”
“I am trying my best, Madame.” she says through a clenched jaw.
“Your best is not good enough.”
“Apologies. I will improve next time.”
The priestess sighs exasperatedly, and Eris doesn’t need to look up to know that her eyes are boring into her own.
“What will it take?” She asks after a brief, pregnant pause.
“Sorry?”
“What will it take to draw the fire from you? Money? Fame? Power? Protection?” Desperation dripped from her voice, and it drew shameful glee from Eris.
“Nothing, Madame. I simply can’t draw the flame.” she says after a pause of hesitation.
The priestess gives her a tired look.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. It’s only the first week, give me time.”
She sighs. “We’ll see if you’re this noble after your first year. We are running out of time, Eris. There is nothing we can do to stop the grinding wheels of fate.”
“Whitlock, you can’t keep falling behind.” The instructor scolds, slapping Eris on the back as she passes by with a staff of thick wood. She flinches, snapping out of her thoughts.
“Sorry.” She manages, picking up the pace. Her legs burn, her lungs aren’t inhaling fast enough, the world spins around her, but she doesn’t relent. One foot in front of the other, until the instructor finally calls for everyone to stand to a halt and come together.
It was barely a couple of weeks into her first year at the academy, and she was already drowning in a sea of competition, studies and training. The academy itself, to make matters for her even worse, was a labyrinth, and everywhere she turned, it was all the same – full length glass windows overlooking a garden or courtyard, white and gold marbled tiles, great carved doors of oak, heavy yet silent. In a way, it felt like she was trapped in an asylum, unable to find her exit.
“Most of you did well today for our endurance training, get some water and we’ll meet back here in five.” yells the instructor – Farley, an old man, stocky and muscular with a tattoo of a snake winding across his scarred, tanned skin. His beady eyes land on Eris, narrowing slightly as he beholds the sight of her doubled over on the ground, clutching her stomach.
“Hey, Eris.” A boy walks up to her, offering a flask of chilled water. “You might want some of this.”
She looks up, blinking through her blurry vision to find a dimpled, smiling face staring back at her. Asher was one of the few that had been kind to her. His pale, freckled skin and hair dark as night was a sight for sore eyes. They were both – physically, at least – inferior to their impossibly athletic and muscular classmates, yet where he had the power of illusion to support him, she had nothing. Still, to her, it was a relief to find someone she could maintain camaraderie with while she was here.
“Thanks.” She grabs the flask, draining the entire thing with a couple of gulps.
“Woah. Didn’t realise it was that hard.” He takes a seat next to her on the grass. Unlike her, his white and gold embroidered uniform tunic wasn’t drenched in sweat.
“Shut up, you didn’t even run it.” She pants.
He smiles, a sly look in his innocent, boyish eyes. “No, I didn’t. But it looked like I was. Pretty neat trick, huh?”
“I wish I had your power.” She groans, falling backwards to lie on the plush grass.
“I wish I had yours.” Asher sighs dramatically. “Just imagine what kind of destruction you could wreak.”
“It’d be helpful if I actually had the fire. Then, we could test it out.”
He purses his lips. “A shame indeed.”
A pause, where the sun starts to burn her uncomfortable skin, yet she can’t bring her legs to move.
“I hate this class.” She murmurs.
“Ditto.”
“Can you make an illusion that both of us are participating but in reality we’re just lying here?”
He gasps as if scandalised, “On your third week here? I didn’t know you were such a troublemaker.”
“Is it troublemaking if I’m saving myself trouble?” She muses, although she’d done nothing except put her full effort into every class, to no avail. She was never quick enough for ability training, not strong enough for combat training, never attentive enough for battle strategy and critical thinking classes, and never seemed to be able to grasp first aid. Her professors and trainers liked her enough, but she suspected that they all liked her out of pity. Tolerated her in their classes out of pity.
She was the doe eyed little girl, blessed with a power too large for her frail body.
“Not today, Eris.” He stood, offering a hand to help her up. “Let’s try to bulk up and fill out your uniform, maybe then your constellation will start to like you more.”
She rolled her eyes, muscles aching in protest as she pulled herself up. “Maybe your constellation likes you enough to give both of us the power of illusion.”
“Alright, let’s get into sparring pairs. You’ll be reciting the drill from last week, I want no fumbles or you’re staying back to run more laps. Is that clear?” Farley yells, his voice resonating off the tall stone wall of the academy behind.
“Does he ever shut up?” Asher mutters to himself.
“I heard that, Harts. You can run an extra lap at the end of the lesson.”
“Fucking stars.” He sighs.
“It’s not like you’re going to actually run the lap yourself.” She elbows him and he smiles.
“No, but I have to keep up appearances, don’t I?”
༺ ༻
Dinner, as per usual, was a sombre affair, most students drained from their rigorous training. While large enough to seat their entire endless seeming student population, she could hear their whispers around her as she ate, pushing around the peas on her plate.
“Is that her?”
“I don’t know, she looks too weak.”
“Go ask.”
“No, you do it.”
“Why would I?”
A huddle of girls pass by them, taking a glance at Eris’ vibrant strawberry blonde hair and her bright amber eyes.
“Are you ever going to show anyone your fire?” Asher asks, voice cautiously low.
Eris shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably not. I don’t want to be friends with anyone who’s going to take advantage of me.”
Asher is quiet, save for his fork scraping the plate.
“Have you heard of the mock battles?” he says after a long pause. His eyes remain focused on his plate, never meeting hers.
“No, what are they?”
“They put you into teams that mimic the units you’ll be put into after you graduate, and you’re supposed to complete the mission they assign you.”
“What kind of missions?” She asks, dread building within.
“Dunno,” He shrugs, leaning on his arms. “But they always end in bloodshed.”
A shiver rolls down Eris’ spine and she pushes her plate of food away from her. “When does this happen?”
“The end of this year.” He averts her eyes as he glances around the hall. In the grand chandelier’s light, his eyes seem to glow with mischief. He leans in to whisper, “And I plan on winning.”
“...How exactly?” She asks, leaning in as well.
He tilts his head to one side, wearing an expression she’d never before seen on his face. “Are you going to help me, or will you get in my way?”
It was then that Eris realised she was truly on her own. Without the fire at her command, she was food for the wolves. She recognised that look on his face – the same deadly look that everyone else threw at her. Rayneth’s blessed, the phoenix reborn, the twin flame. Yet what was she to do when the flame wouldn’t answer to her?
Eris looks down toward her hands, just as Asher grabs one, holding it between them.
“We can win together.”
Her head starts to spin, vision slowly filling with a purple haze.
“I–”
“Asher, what are you doing?” The purple haze disappears, and Eris shakes her head, suddenly hit with stunning clarity. She snatches her hand away, beholding the sight of a man – likely a good few heads taller than her – towering over Asher. The illusionist sneers at the giant, who in turn glowers back.
“What are you doing here, Caldor?” He asks, not bothering to disguise the disdain in his voice.
“You. What’s your name?” He asks Eris in a low, rumbling tone, ignoring Asher entirely.
“Eris.”
“Do you trust this man?” Though his demeanour betrays nothing, Asher looks to her, pure wild in his eyes.
She stares at them open mouthed. “What was that, Asher?”
He narrows his eyes at her. “Answer the question.”
“Not anymore, I don’t,” she snaps, rising from the bench.
“Fuck you, Caldor.” Asher spits. The giant – Caldor, as she commits his name to memory – merely stares at him. Unbothered and entirely unthreatened by his small stature. He nods.
Asher flees, a scowl marring his boyish face.
“Okay?” He asks Eris.
She nods in answer, then watches him walk away, squeezing through the rows and rows of people. His size gave him considerable advantage – even upon first glance, with his muscles straining against his uniform – more so with his stern gaze and bearded face.
Asher, as Eris realised later, staring into her ceiling as sleep evaded her, tried to manipulate her. Her roommate, a healer by the name of Lily, was entirely confused when Eris mentioned that he was an illusionist. She felt her heart drop when Lily mentioned the rumours of him being a child of the constellation Scythil. The constellation of minds.
She was so close to becoming a pawn in his path to victory, and she decided, as she turned over to face the window, a sliver of starry night peeking through the drawn curtains, that she wouldn’t be used.
She needed allies in this game of power, where she was powerless.