Two months had passed since Uncle Crowdon had accepted his end. The public was apathetic to the death of a heretic, but Vora was devastated regardless. In other cities under different Bearers, there are daily incidents of Chimes smiting those they deem evil liberally. O’Landra was a much more peaceful city, but Dowsers were still hunted down on the streets.
At an academy, three girls, one being Vora, chatted near some finely trimmed round bushes in their red uniforms with black skirts. Vora had been in bouts of dreary air since the incident. She wore a façade with strangers and classmates, but with her friends, she was open.
“Vora. Are ya still with us?” asked a voice with a drawl.
“Hmm? Yes.”
“Are you not feeling well today?” asked a proper voice.
“I just miss him. I don’t care what they claim he was.” Vora fixed her hair. “He would berate me if he knew I was crying over him.”
“I see,” Maive replied with a frown. “We can skip the study session if need be.”
Maive Orna was thin, delicate, and had long blue hair tied in a braided ponytail. Her round eyes were green like lily pads. She was the kind of girl to go out of her way to be polite and helpful even if it inconvenienced her. Maive spoke in a proper and careful tone as she came from an upper-class lifestyle.
“I strongly agree,” Darcie agreed, crossing her arms and nodding. “Studyin’ would just bog you down. We should go an’ do somethin’ fun.”
Darcie Krow had chin-length silvery-gray hair in a messy pixie bob and amber eyes and often wore suspenders with her attire. Her almond eyes were fiery orange and nearly glowed in the dark. She was tanned, smelled of dirt, and spoke improperly. Darcie was loud, rough, and harsh, but only because she cared.
“Are you just saying that because you don’t want to study?” Vora asked Darcie.
“A bit o’ both sides,” Darcie admitted with confidence.
“Darcie, you still must study,” Maive declared. “It can just be us, then. Together,” she sighed softly.
“Why did you say it like that?” Darcie pointed.
“I do not know what you are talking about.” Maive turned away, red-faced.
“You pair can do what you want.” Vora fixed her school bag over her shoulder. “I don’t need to study anyway,” Vora boasted.
Darcie and Maive were relieved that their friend displayed her common Vora-ism more frequently. They both smiled softly and exchanged looks.
“Ya ya. Don’t start braggin’ now.” Darcie strode off, walking backward for a moment to say, “I got farm work to do. Later.”
“Do not forget about the saving tomorrow,” Maive shouted. She nodded when Darcie confirmed such knowledge with a backward wave. “I must get going, too. Albeit has arrived.”
“Farewell,” Vora said. While she made her transit home, she examined her open palm. After Mr. Crowdon’s death, I’d forgotten about what my gift did that night. I was feeling his pain, and it was turning into those crystal butterflies. And what was with my eye? Vora watched a family of five in an HC, excited for an afternoon out. I want to be normal, not further abnormal. I must find a way to be rid of my gift.
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***
Far below the Burning Bell was the city center where a Church of the Burning Bell resided. This building of brass, white marble, and red silk was among many scattered around Ruth, but this one was the grandest in O’Landra. At the center of the church was a large atrium where the Burning Bell hovered way above. The flame of the Burning Bell danced, its light gracing the center of the church.
Surrounding the atrium were many pews cupping the butts of the devout. Among them was Vora’s class. Maiden Sympha was speaking of the word of God and the pure fires of the Bell. Next to her was a woman who was beaming to tears. She was chosen to be saved.
After Maiden Sympha finished her sermon, everyone simultaneously droned, “I thank the Bell for its light, warmth, and love.”
“Bell bless you,” the Maiden replied and raised her arms. “Lydia Smith has been chosen by the Burning Bell to join him in heaven. A truly wonderful blessing that I wish for all humans. Those who are kind, loving, and respectful could continue their lives in the beyond; those who are sinful will not. But those chosen by the Burning Bell are guaranteed endless paradise, and their families and friends will be blessed. Lydia Smith, please enter the center.”
After Lydia entered the center, she announced, “I’m so happy to be chosen by the Bell. God has truly made my life and my family’s life the best it could possibly be, and I’m happy to join him.”
Ashes began to fall on Lydia like snow as a bell descended. This bell was like an appendage of the Burning Bell, like an octopus's leg. Now, it was a few feet above her head. There was silence, and then the bell crashed around Lydia and ignited bright orange. The heat was intense, but it went as soon as it came. The bell ascended, and only drifting ash was left behind.
Many were in awe at the spectacle, and the classmates who hadn’t witnessed a saving before were beyond blown away. Lydia’s family were in tears, overjoyed at their beloved’s ascension.
But Vora did not share their awe; she shared something else. The moment the bell crashed, Vora’s skin wanted to peel off. Her eyes liquified and poured down her cheeks. Her bones turned brittle and threatened to shatter beneath her scorched flesh.
Just like Crowdon’s passing, the pain throughout Vora’s body concentrated behind her left eye. She began to weep a river that flowed down her left cheek. As difficult as it was in her state, Vora took deep breaths and calmed her “gift.” Before the pain left, something solid was in her clenched fist. Fearful, she examined her palm to see that the crystals had returned. After a few seconds, they dissolved into purple energy and entered her body.
Maiden Sympha finished the saving, and Vora swiftly left the church, covering and drying her left eye with a pearl handkerchief. Everyone she passed was confused by the girl’s exit. Darcie and Maive figured she was crying over Crowdon.
***
The violet-haired girl glanced out her window, taking a break from making dazzling hairclips. The garden was out there, neglected and wanting. Vora breathed deeply and went down the stairs to right her wrong.
She watered the garden rightfully abandoned by the butterflies. Vora wished the butterflies to return now. But that would take time.
Then she felt some discomfort behind her eye, and a butterfly made of crystal appeared on the back of her hand. She shook it off, and it hovered around before reentering Vora’s body. She stood and stumbled backward.
Did I turn pain into crystals? Vora looked around at her neighbors outside and decided to return to her room. She fell backward on her bed and held her hand to the ceiling. The physical manifestation of pain. It may leave my body. I could share it with others so they experience my suffering. Take their agony and make it beautiful.
Vora jolted up and goggled. “Those weren’t my thoughts….”
Freaked out a smidge, Vora went to snap on her radio for comfort. While doing so, she bumped the bell the Maiden had given her ages ago. On skin contact, the bell’s frame cracked, and its glowing color dulled. It was then Vora knew that gaining a mundane life would be a struggle beyond any other.