Hordes of people were scattered within the range of my vision: gents, children, and ladies, all waiting in anticipation. I stepped onto the farthest end of the balcony, where I could see them throwing their fists in the air as they cheered and lauded praise to the King, their savior, and grace. The kingdom of Zanor was in absolute harmony. The land was in perfect order under Zanor's dominion, and the people were pleased with their current ruler, for he had worked hard to revolutionize his country, thereby making it prosperous. Never had any King received this kind of reception from the subjects before.
SUBJECTS
All hail the King!"
"Long Live the King!"
I gazed down at my people, who were ecstatic about yet another reform I had implemented for their welfare. No words could adequately describe how lively the entire area was. The palpable energy even engulfed me whole. On the periphery, the royal knights in their best armor stood well and vigilant in formation, guarding the castle to the best of their abilities. Despite the joyous occasion, they were on their guard as watchful as ever.
I sensed a movement beside me; it was from a beautiful lady upon whom I had never laid eyes on before. I tried to turn to her, but my head would not budge. The precipitous change in my demeanor intensified their cheering. As I raised my hand to calm the crowd, they rejoiced louder in their euphoric delirium. I tried to turn again, to face my beautiful love to my left, but could not.
All of a sudden, the cheers took on a sinister tone. The happy screams became hateful slurs, Skeleton Face! Pain in the Ass! Father's bitch! Dumbass! My mind went blank. I saw my people turning into dark, hideous creatures. They climbed the walls maniacally, joining me on my balcony. You have never written a spell! Their faces were nothing but nightmarish shadows. Kill yourself! Their arms and legs flailed about as they floated toward me. Their bloodshot eyes protruded, exposing their optic nerves like wild red lightning. Pain! I backed away, tripping over my cloak, and fell back. Pain! Despite their advancement, I frantically tried to look at my beloved, turning my eyes in her direction. As I was finally about to lay my eyes on her, the creatures were upon me, and everything went black—
DEAN
Pain!
I jolted awake and sprung out of bed into a musky, foul-smelling stone barracks full of snickering and laughing. Why was I still alive?
The murky stone room came into sight as my dizziness slowly subsided. The stone floor was freezing under my bare feet, and I wobbled from my lightheadedness as I lined up with the other scribes in front of our stained cots. I refrained from looking into Dean's frustrated glare that pelted my skin from where he stood at the barrack's entrance. Instead, I stared ahead at a set of dressers and cabinets—a set we each had beside our cots. I glanced down at my wrists, both wrapped, and I felt no pain from the slits I had done.
I could still feel Dean's glare.
DEAN
Do you want to go visit the Fathers?
He bellowed, his voice bouncing off the stone walls of the room.
I glanced over at him and shook my head quickly. He stood with his head slightly tilted and his arms folded across his chest. Dean, our instructor, was a fit twenty-three-year-old gent. His charcoal skin was blotted with white spots, and his head was bald with a red incoherent tattooed upon the nape of his neck.
DEAN
Seems to me that you do!
The snickering from one end of the barracks became more raucous, and as I shook my head again, I eyed Delve, who was snickering the most—a ten-year-old boy with brown and purple striped limbs, a yellowish torso up to the top of his head, purple eyes, and a purple stub of hair to top it all off. Laugh your lungs out now when you can, I thought to myself. For your lips will forget to smile when I set you and your buddies' beds on fire.
His buddies, Murray; ten years old boy with sporadic brown rings on a black body, short brown hair, and hazel eyes, and Brown; a tall, lanky ten-year-old with blue vertical hashes on a pink body, pale purple lips, frizzy blue hair, and purple eyes, were also giggling like dying elokos.
DEAN
What is so God-damned funny!?
He bellowed, and the laughter ceased. I had no idea where he looked as he moved his head because his eyes were clear white—almost as if he had no pupils.
DEAN
If I need to send the lot of you to the Fathers, I will!
He eyed the room once more before continuing,
DEAN
To the range!
And we began to move out. Near the back of the barracks with me was Crisis, who was also fifteen. Further back were Trevor and Sign, at sixteen years old. Up against the walls were Oralan at seventeen and Hugo at eighteen. I caught Oralan and Hugo worriedly glancing at each other as we departed. I think I knew what that was about...
I shuffled reluctantly behind Murphy and Brown, unable to get my thoughts straight. What in damnation was that dream? I looked up at Dean with a lingering suspicion of who aided me. He eyed me pensively. My fingers slid across my wrists, and I winced in pain from the cuts beneath the bandages. One thing I knew for sure was that my wounds were not healed by a Cleric. If it were, there would be no bandages. Was it Dean?
DEAN
Move it! Hurry it up, you dirty insects!
He roared as if that would help make thirty-something kids squeeze out into the underground halls any faster.
AMBURLO
Stop pushing me! You damned cow!
Amburlo, a fat-faced nine-year-old boy with pink skin dotted with red freckles, shouted as he shoved Sky aside. Sky, a ten-year-old girl with light blue skin and yellow zebra-like stripes, orange eyes, and flowing blonde hair, shoved him back—
DEAN
Amburlo, Sky!
Dean called their attention,
AMBURLO
She started it—
DEAN
To the Fathers!
SKY
But I did not—
DEAN
To the Fathers! Now!
Sky whipped her hand across the back of Amburlo's head the second Dean turned away. Amburlo was not able to retort as Dean glared at them with rage.
PAIN
This is the first time you ever sent Sky to the Fathers.
I mumbled. Dean glared down at me as I walked past him.
PAIN
Should have left me to—
DEAN
Shut the fuck up,
He spat at me.
DEAN
Pain in the ass.
My real name, or so I was told, was Ire Farcatcher. I never met my parents.
The Clerics and Priests were our Fathers. We do not have mothers, and as Dean would say, nobody here cares about you. Fair enough, but Dean and my Fathers could rot in Purgatory for all eternity... well, except one particular Father.
I, along with the other scribes, was trained in spell writing for years. However, I have never once written a spell book or skill book, instead, I was constantly getting into fights that made me the literal Pain in Dean's ass. And I could not care less about Dean and writing spells. All that I was in this cynical repetition of what others living outside the castle may call a glorious life was nothing but a young insect with a vivid imagination.
Every waking hour, I took a trip through my mind, daydreaming, imagining, and remembering the many books and stories I had read.
And as we moved through the narrow halls, down a single flight of stairs, and towards the range entrance, my mind was already lost in a fantasy about facing off against dragons.
We stifled into the range, a claustrophobic stone hall with shabby wooden booths to the right for us to break off into. With my horrid luck, I ended up in front of the booth with a broken section of its wall slanting inward into the booth—the damn thing had been broken for years now, and it was the shittiest one out of about sixty booths.
DEAN
What's with that look?
Dean mumbled, forcing me inside the booth.
DEAN
Serves you right.
He moved on, forcing the others into their booths. I pushed against the wall to stop it from poking into my side as I stood before the square opening window of the booth—the firing window.
CRISIS
Hey!
Crisis shouted out from the other side of the broken wall,
CRISIS
Stop pushing it!
She looked out and noticed it was me. Her deep blue face lined with light blue stripes scrunched up in a scowl.
CRISIS
Oh, going to break another wall?
PAIN
Fuck you.
DEAN
You all should be casting now.
I had the urge to knock down the right wall, visualizing it pinning Crisis within her booth before I began stomping on it. But I did not. I was not up to visiting the Fathers because my stomach was queasy, and the pain from my previous visit was still throbbing in my back.
The roar of flames exploded one by one as students to my left and right began to expel Fire from their palms. I grimaced—wooden splinters rubbed against my side as I aimed my hand out the firing window and cast Fire. And just like every other Firsday, my cone of raging flames was the only one to reach the end of the range.
Active:
Spell: Fire
HUGO
How the hell Ire?
I heard Hugo whisper from my left. Just about every year, I made at least one friend. And this year, it was Hugo, an interesting gent that was transferred from a different class. Well, he and his instructor were the only ones to survive.
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Hugo got along with everyone in the class except Sky and Delve. Despite his placid demeanor, he tended to speak his opinion, often getting him into problems. He had light brown skin designed with thin black lines that wrote incoherent words down his limbs, a head full of thick black hair, and his eyes were brown rings in pitch-black sockets.
PAIN
I have no idea.
I whispered back.
HUGO
Not fair at all.
He chuckled, letting loose a cone of flames that barely reached the halfway mark.
I had no idea and no memory of ever learning Fire. My entire life had been in this place, and my earliest memory was one particular memory I tried to suppress.
HUGO
I saw the bandages.
He stated as my mind began to drift.
I could not suppress the memory, and like every other Firsday, I recalled my earliest memory as if it was just a day ago. I was casting Fire for the first time when I was around two or three. My flames were wild and intense. I could still feel the sting of it burning my entire hand to this day, and I remember how I was wailing in pain.
PAIN
I tried to.
I mumbled back as the memory remained fresh in my mind.
Dean came to my aid, spewing a barrage of curses into my ears, followed by a tirade of insults. I groaned in agony as tears streamed down my face. Despite Dean's foul mouth, his actions were nothing but care as he tended to my wounds with ointment and bandages.
PAIN
But he knew. Somehow.
I said with a scowl and tried to push the thought away. How did he know I slit my wrist last night? And why does he heal our wounds if we were just useless insects?
I wiped the rivers of sweat off my face and glanced out of my booth over at Dean, standing near the center of the range with his bald head beaded with sweat. His head snapped towards me,
DEAN
You need me to pull out your eye sockets, Pain!?
No, it did not make any sense. But I chose not to answer and simply put my head down and shook in a faint no.
We were in the range for the first and almost to the second hour of the day—only to confirm we all could still use magic. We were herded into the stone chambers we called classrooms, another sub-level down. Four classrooms were on this level, and inside ours, we sat around Dean, spaced out two arm's length, within wooden stools and desks.
Dean would be sitting upon a slightly raised platform in the center, spouting off crap we would write down endlessly in a blank book. And due to his ability to use Earth, the platform spun at his command.
When Scribes, such as us, wrote in blank books, there was a chance we might enter a trance and write down our most used spells. It was also a way for Dean to teach us basic math, writing, reading, and history. As for the spells we wrote, which will always be Fire, they were sold off to the markets.
HUGO
The first time Sky met the fathers.
Hugo whispered at me, nodding to Sky, who sat uncomfortably across from us past Dean.
PAIN
Glad to see that.
DELVE
Dean! Pain and Hugo are talking!
I whipped around to Delve, who sat behind me. Dean's stare landed on the back of my head.
DEAN
To the Fathers, Pain.
PAIN
And you take his word for it!?
I bit back.
DEAN
Do not make me repeat—
I turned and attempted to set Delve's desk ablaze. In a matter of seconds, Dean was upon me, crashing through my desk and chair, holding me by my neck against the cold stone floor.
DEAN
You must really have a death wish.
He growled at me through gritted teeth.
PAIN
I used to.
I growled back.
*****
I took my time heading towards the Fathers as I devised a way to get my revenge on Delve. I had a thought as I approached the massive metal door leading to the enormous spiral staircase built of stone that connected the entire basement.
Before the entrance of the fourth floor, I paused. The third sub-level of the fourth floor was my favorite; a series of halls housing fiends kept for training and research. I moved up close and put my ear to it to listen for any sounds of someone working—
SCHOLAR LAO
Ire!
A stern whisper echoed from the other side, followed by laughter, and I sprinted up the stairs toward the third floor where the Fathers worked.
According to Dean, the Fathers delve into Holy Scriptures about the Sun God Ra, each crusading to be the next Bishop after the late Bishop Faust, who died fighting a horde of giants in the Peak Mountains.
I stood just past the entrance to the floor. As I waited, my confidence wavered, and I could feel my stomach churning. I was worried about which Father was going to punish me this time. And to my utmost relief, it was—
CLERIC VALENTINE
Ire,
I spun around to see Cleric Valentine, robed in the formal black and red robes of the Fire Kingdom, adorned by a white sash of the Cleric around his shoulders, striding towards me. At the sight of him, my anxiety subsided…
CLERIC VALENTINE
With me.
He scooped me under his arms, caressing my red hair and stroking my neck. I glanced up at his tall, lanky frame; he seemed spooked—somewhat nervous—which made me nervous.
He was less talkative than usual—he was not berating me for getting in trouble, asking questions about my training, nor his favorite gripe—you are getting older, Ire. Instead, he led me into the Repentance, a room with two exits to the left and right and a royal bed in the center.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Sit down.
He shut the door behind us and leaned back against it. I frowned at him as I sat on the edge of the bed; his red hair was unkept, and his red skin, patterned with pink petals, was damp with sweat.
CLERIC VALENTINE
How is your back?
He inquired after a brief moment.
I shrugged.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Have you told anyone about your Petty Pain Resistance?
Passive:
Petty Pain Resistance
I shook my head, and he raised a finger at me,
CLERIC VALENTINE
Do not tell a soul.
He inhaled deeply and collected himself,
CLERIC VALENTINE
In there.
He ordered. I clenched my jaws as I strolled over to the side door that led into a stony room with binding chains along the walls and whips upon shelves near the entrance.
CLERIC VALENTINE
You are too old for that.
I took off my brown dirt-ridden jerkin and undershirt, wincing as my undershirt dragged on the scabs on my back.
CLERIC VALENTINE
I also know you do not see that as punishment any longer.
Hmph, was it that obvious?
I screamed out in pain—the blow of the whip knocked the air out of me, and I crashed into the wall. I should always brace for the first one, I keep telling myself, and I never do. I stood back up, bracing for the rest.
CLERIC VALENTINE
I sought to be a Cleric.
I turned around when I heard him speaking behind me and saw him putting the whip away.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Not a punisher.
He shook his head, and I noticed his teary pink eyes. He hurriedly blinked them away.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Speak Ire, what do you think of me?
My eyes widened as he asked for my opinion. That was entirely unexpected, and it became evident that something was bothering him. He approached me as my unhinged jaw tried to find the right words.
PAIN
Different from the others?
He smiled softly, gesturing me around. He squatted down and placed his hands on my back—a healing aura soothed the pain away.
CLERIC VALENTINE
I sought to be a healer—
PAIN
Not a damage dealer.
I finished his statement for him.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Did I say you can speak?
I shook my head.
CLERIC VALENTINE
But, yes, as you said, not a damage dealer.
That was a humorous quote by the legendary Paladin Reh Bekah, the Iron Maiden—narrated by books to be the very first Iron Maiden.
CLERIC VALENTINE
I love others. I try not to hate.
I gazed away from his hypnotic eyes when he turned me around.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Speak Ire, what did I tell you to do last time?
PAIN
Respect Dean.
I said with disgust.
CLERIC VALENTINE
You need to. If you keep getting sent here, they will,
He lowered his voice,
CLERIC VALENTINE
They will have you executed.
He stated, as a matter of fact.
PAIN
Fascinating.
My eyes lit up momentarily before he slapped me across my face.
CLERIC VALENTINE
What the hell is wrong with you!?
He hissed at me.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Your life has value!
Does it? I blinked away the tears, and he continued.
CLERIC VALENTINE
This flesh,
He squeezed me,
CLERIC VALENTINE
This life is paradise.
He noticed the bandages on my wrists and eyed me.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Speak, what do you know about Limbo?
PAIN
A place of nine realms where the dead are claimed to go. Hell, Heaven, Hiel, Asgard, Otherworld, Underworld, Overgarden, and Undergarden.
He gave me a wide-eyed glance before shaking his head,
CLERIC VALENTINE
Reading too many books, are you?
He mumbled and sat cross-legged, glancing at the door before continuing.
CLERIC VALENTINE
My mother passed away three days ago.
He scoffed and held back his tears.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Ironically, right after your punishment that day. But Limbo has ten realms, including Limbo itself.
Oh, right, also called Purgatory.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Or also called Purgatory. And you are probably wondering why I am telling you this.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before speaking in a low whisper,
CLERIC VALENTINE
I looked into it.
I frowned, he looked into what?
CLERIC VALENTINE
I looked into Limbo. It is real!
He answered as if sensing my question. He then squeezed me as his voice trembled.
CLERIC VALENTINE
You do not want to go there.
He wiped away his tears and continued to stare at me.
CLERIC VALENTINE
I will truly miss you.
I frowned again at him,
PAIN
Why? Where are you going?
He gave me a soft smile,
CLERIC VALENTINE
You might understand when you get older. If you do, try not to get angry. Anger does not solve anything.
He stared at me, and I stared deep into his mesmerizing eyes. I leaned in and touched my lips against his. He pushed into me and squeezed my arms, allowing me a moment of bliss before pulling back,
CLERIC VALENTINE
Get back to class.
He stated sternly.
CLERIC VALENTINE
Try not to get into trouble.