Strings Strung Scarlet

I write my songs against the rising dawn, in a garden where the zephyr begs the tulips to heed its call.

* * * * * * * *

Szak was unhappy about the interruption, to say the least. But the announcement of the beginning of combat had stirred all of the students to their rightful places as the ground quaked beneath them.

The stage at the center of the dome shook and squirmed. Dirt and rubble bounced around each other excitedly as the stage wet itself into a muddy terrain. Roots formed and separated into branches. Branches thinned and reached out to leaves. Leaves swayed under the light that entered through the top, bright in its green, with every essence of summer.

Two assistants to the professor, a water faerie and a forest sprite, hovered over the arena as the cause for all these changes to the terrain. The forest sprite, in particular, with his dark, pine green and ivory hair, was covered in so much earthy materials that Szak wondered if he was dressing up. Pretending to be an oak tree, perhaps. He turned, instead, to the two other assistants, one male and one female, who stood beside the professor. Black and ivory hair flowed straight down to their waists, bodies slender and composed. No doubt Envras at the top of their class. Likely on the route to being disciples of Adrion.

“So, where did my ba visit?” Ty tried again as he, Szak, and Alea joined the other combatants of the morning, looking for seats among the amphitheater that had risen from the ground.

“… I cannot say,” Alea answered. She was about to sit down beside him, but the gigantic gold longsword was in the way, and she took it off, leaned it beside her, then sat down before continuing. It was all quite clumsy, and Szak wondered if she even knew how to handle a sword of such size.

“Maybe I am wrong and did not meet you or your father after all,” Alea decided.

Ty turned to Szak. “Do memories work this?”

Szak just closed his eyes and shook his head, chin resting upon his thumbs and behind his hands.

Off to the side of the arena that was now clouded over—obvious workings of the water faerie in flight—Iago was helping Eulylia take her weapon out of the black bag she had been carrying with her: a harp with red strings.

“A reminder of the rules!” the same woman’s voice shouted again as students took their seats around the stage. Iago looked up to the source of the voice, more interested in what the professor this season would look like than in what she was actually announcing.

“The barrier will not fall until a pair is defeated…”

She was an older woman with bobbed silver and grey hair. Her eyes were sleek, with sharp slits ready to put down any that dared sneak past her, and she held a great scowl upon her face that etched no wrinkle as it dragged her chin down.

“… I caution you to make good time if your partner is making their way towards death…”

It gave the impression that she was born with that demeaning disposition, and Iago could not help but see the resemblance between her and Szak in this respect.

“Enlighten me on what is ever so humorous within an announcement such as this,” Eulylia sang, unamused at Iago’s chuckle as she put on her leather gloves. “I should also want a light heart in these moments.” Behind her, Sephria braided Eulylia’s hair into beautiful golden ivory vines before twirling them up into a tight bun.

“Oh, I’m not listening to her, sweetheart.”

“How very much like your character,” Eulylia commented within a light scoff.

Iago only smiled at that. Beside them, the arena had become filled with a heavy fog within the barrier. No tree could be seen past it, though combatants beside the arena could see water trickling off the edge, joining the stream in the trench surrounding it.

“Desireen!” another girl’s voice sounded.

Both Iago and Eulylia turned toward the call. A girl with burgundy and black streaked hair in a pixie cut approached them. She held out a hand, callous and small.

“Viri.” Her sharp red eyes locked with Eulylia’s hazel ones.

Eulylia nodded and reached with her own soft hand, nails long, sharp, and golden. “Lyly.” Their handshake was quick, and the two let go immediately after.

“This’ll be quick,” Viri scoffed. She stretched her neck both ways, cracking it one of the ways, and reached up to place a matribulb in one of her ears. “You sing, I swing.”

Eulylia looked down at the sword beside Viri. Drakonforged, just like Szak’s. She nodded again, giving Sephria a quick hug before turning to Iago. “Bring her to Alea and the boys.” She picked up her bow and quiver and hung them over her shoulder.

“Anything you want is yours,” Iago said, grabbing Sephria by the hand. Beside them, the fog let up and the water stopped streaming, revealing a humid and muddy swamp.

And the barrier fell, trickling away like clear glass melting to the ground.

“I require stalled time,” Eulylia whispered to Viri. She nudged at her harp before stepping forward.

Viri looked at the harp and paused in a way that Eulylia could not understand whether it was in contemplation or hidden disappointment. She faced forward again in the direction of the trees. “You an Umbrian, then.”

A clear wave shot back up from the edge of the arena grounds to the domed ceiling. This meant the opposing pair had entered, as well. The only way out now was to finish this match.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I do not understand.” Eulylia shook her head as she tip-toed beside Viri in the mud. A bit of mud gathered on the bottom tip of her harp as they went into the shadows.

“Shadow dragon.” Viri tapped her ear without the matribulb. “You hear them?”

“It is not possible for a shadow dragon to be within this arena.”

“I mean the other two, Desireen. The Alderias.”

“Oh,” Eulylia answered. “They are moving on the other side of the river that streams down the middle of the arena,” Of course she could hear them. She heard them from the opposite side of the arena before the match began. “They are making haste toward us, however, and had prior suspicions that I would need this time to situate myself.”

“Yeah, learn to relay info better.”

“… Excuse me?” Eulylia stopped behind a leaning tree.

“They’re rushing over from other side of the river,” Viri said, pulling out her cutlass. Its blade stayed a murky green beneath the swampy shadows. “All you needed to say, girl.”

“Well, do excuse me if your preference is not within my rhythm,” Eulylia shot back hotly.

“Your enemy doesn’t prefer your rhythm, either,” Viri scoffed. She placed the second matribulb in her free ear and ran out to the swampy clearing, leaving Eulylia to buy her time.

“Oh, the nerve of these Drakonskars,” Eulylia muttered to herself as she adjusted the harp and took her bow.

* * * * * * * *

“There you are!” Iago pulled Sephria as he sped up their way to the other three. “Who you reckon will win?”

“Viri.” Szak answered without thought. “No contest.”

“Oh, harsh,” Iago chuckled, sitting down. He guided Sephria to sit down beside him. “Ty, you think the twins got a chance?”

Ty only shrugged. “No point in guessing. We’ll know after Lyly sings.”

“Won’t be for a while,” Iago added.

“She’ll have to speed that up if she wants to be relevant,” Szak said.

“Oh! Wind faeries!” Alea exclaimed.

They all turned to her, surprised at her surprise. Wind faeries were not an uncommon emittier. Szak, in particular, wondered if Iago had lied to him about Alea being from the Mist. Wind faeries were everywhere in the Province of the Mist and the Province of Seraphic Songs.

In the arena, two females in fitted robes ran toward the river that was open to view. Each held a titanium fan taller than their own bodies, ready to swing.

“Oh hey! That’s Rea and Ria!” Iago smiled.

“Do you know them?” Alea asked.

“Friends of mine. They’re twins. Ty knows them, too, don’t you, Ty?”

Ty glanced at Iago before answering. “Yeah.”

Iago assessed the situation, squeezed Sephria’s knee twice, and got up to scoot closer to Alea. He noticed Szak paying attention, quite unhappily, though not directly at him. He snuck a second glance down at the gold longsword before returning to Alea with a smile.

“Do you know how wind faeries usually fight?”

Alea shook her head.

“Well,” Iago shrugged. “Rea and Ria are an exception.”

“How so?” Alea asked, not taking eyes off the match. From the other side of the arena, Viri ran out from the cluster of trees, swift and quick, cutlass reflecting wherever there was light.

“See how they’re each holding one fan,” Iago explained. In the arena, just as Viri swung her cutlass to meet the fan of one of twins, the other leaped up to inhuman heights to swing down at Viri. Large gushes of wind rumbled within the arena. Viri parried the swing and leaped back to regain her balance before joining the two-to-one again.

“Most wind faeries fly solo, and therefore must be dual wielders for optimal fighting potential. But Rea and Ria, they’re probably the closest sisters I know, always in sync with each other. Their winds never sway out of their dance and only collide in opportune moments—as if they’re two parts of one body.”

“How poetic,” Ty said. “I would’ve just said they can’t be independent.” Iago laughed, and after a pause, Ty looked at Iago again. “Weren’t you with a wind faerie last season?”

A sudden burst of wind blasted from the twin fans, tossing Viri onto the barrier that vibrated with the force. Once it subsided, Viri landed onto the mud, cutlass digging into the marshes. The moment she stuck her landing, she ran back after the twins, headed in the direction of the cluster of trees.

“Lyly planning to sing anytime soon?” Szak scoffed.

“Hey,” Iago shrugged with smirk. “Viri didn’t win.”

* * * * * * * *

Eulylia stood, eyes closed, breath slow and silent as she pressed her back against a leaning tree. The bark attempted left and right to snag onto her clothes and poke at her delicate fingertips.

As hard as others tried to imitate different landscapes, it was an inescapable fact that the Academy could not produce full ecosystems without an Ashenborn present.

No animals disturbed the air. She did not have to shuffle through the sounds of throaty male frogs calling out for breeding time or restless birds flapping feathers among leaves; there were no buzzing insects insisting on meandering aimlessly around the air or wading fish squirming back and forth in the waters to find food. The moment the barriers rose, she heard the heartbeat of every breathing thing, and there were only four.

“No siren to help you?”

“You know how it is.”

Out in the clearing, emerald blade clanked against titanium, over and over again. The ring was particular to that combination, and eventually, Eulylia caught the rhythm of the twins. Of the blades. Of their fans, all of it in sync like some poorly tuned orchestra that kept in rhythm.

“Tell us where she is.”

“Yeah, we’ll go show her how to be a partner.”

Step, step, swing. Three heartbeats, breath.

Step, step, step, beat, swing. Breath.

Laughs.

Long exhale. “You plan on singing anytime soon, pretty princess?”

Three-fourths.

Eulylia opened her eyes, parted her lips, and took in breath.

Patience is what catches a prey.

Step, step, swing. Three heartbeats, breath. Her own feet were still, dug into the grass. She lifted her harp and looked lovingly at its thirteen red strings.

Step, step, step, beat, swing. Breath. In a circular motion. Wind faeries. If they catch a siren’s song, they can manipulate the air around them to mitigate the talent. And a siren’s song, even from the best ones, needed three beats to string its puppet.

“We’ve played long enough.”

A large gust of wind swept throughout the arena. Eulylia braced behind the tree and tried to listen past the reverberating force against the barrier.

“Damn it all, Desireen! Do something!”

Viri’s heartbeat and sprint sped into a rhythm not attuned with before. Eulylia shut her out and focused on the path of the twins.

Closer. And closer.

Eulylia heard one fan lift, half-way open, making all of the air around it dance and twirl. But with that, she knew the twins would fall back into rhythm.

First step. Her voice was almost a whisper as she started her song. She pulled on one of the harp’s strands with her golden nails. It woke with a start, ringing its own choir against Eulylia’s voice, as if each singular strand held multiple souls.

Second step. The second strand. Eulylia changed her note to match it, its tune high and sweet, inviting ears to adhere to her, even as the first note still lingered.

Swing. Viri caught up and parried Rea’s fan halfway before swinging at Ria to step back. Eulylia pulled the third strand, sang a third note. With its song, Eulylia’s voice drifted from a sweet and pleasurable hymn to a minor, solemn lament. Her call tugged at the heart strings of humans as she tugged at her own harp’s strings.

And then they were strung into her song. Both titanium fans dropped into the mud, and the twins—they danced in her lament. Louder and fuller she progressed, timbres growing upon themselves as hums turned into lyrics, lyrics no one understood, all of the strings’ vibrations echoing in unison, like keys kept on a piano.

Usually, in these moments, the siren would come out from hiding and slit the throats of their enemies.

But before Eulylia could get to it, Viri cut up and down Rea’s and Ria’s arms and then waved her cutlass at their professor, claiming victory.

The barrier melted down once again.