Cassandra stood captivated, not due to the kid’s glittering tears, but rather because there was a small genosaur sitting on top of his shoulder. It was a feyrion, one of the tiniest genosaurs in existence. Cassandra went forth from her hiding spot and pointed at it, asking, “Is that yours?”
The kid’s shoulders shot up and like a scared puppy he looked back at her. Once they were face to face, Cassandra’s shoulders shot up as well. For she had never been witness to such an oddly shaped mouth before.
In medical terms it would be called a cleft lip or more specifically a bilateral cleft lip. Crudely explained, it looked like someone had gone in with a pair of scissors and forcibly cut his two philtrum ridges open. Cassandra took a second to compute the strangeness she was facing before she could remove her gaze and notice his additionally overgrown left arm.
“Don’t look!” the kid screamed at her, his pained request rammed her like a buck. She hadn’t meant to be rude, and yet here she stood gawking at him as if he was some kind of alien lifeform…
With a hard gulp, Cassandra forced her eyes to bend down in shame. Her chances at winning over the kid were now slimmer than slim, but she still wanted to give it a try. Without pause she went ahead and introduced herself in the most casual manner possible. “Sorry… My name’s Cassandra. What’s yours?”
The male servant kneeling next to the kid didn’t have time for rude brats. He snarked and took the liberty to reply in the boy’s stead. “His name’s Gillard. Now be kind and run along little lady.” The servant emphasized his message by waving a hand dismissively at the snooping whelp. Cassandra frowned at his attitude but understood that they didn’t want her company.
She waited briefly, then reluctantly began to walk towards the bushes when Gillard for some unknown reason had a change of heart. He beckoned the girl, “Be my friend?...”
A defensive sneer formed on the servant’s unappealing mug. He was about to cut their growing connection short, when Cassandra proclaimed happily, “Sure! If you let me pet your feyrion?”
Gillard hesitated, but alas, his desperation soon won him over. Convinced that the 100’ths time's a charm, the boy wiped off some mucus that had gathered on his chin and bravely said, “Here!” Adept, he held out his left fist horizontally in the air and his creature wandered from one end to the other. Its motion directed by just a few hand gestures.
With the right permission, Cassandra went eerily close to the itsy lizard. It shuttered at her approach and was inadvertently forced to hide behind its wings. A bodypart much larger than its core body. Cassandra understood its plight but she had to let her finger make the much awaited poke. And so she did. She poked it, then ran her finger along its feather-spotted skin. The experience was so immensely satisfying that it left a huge grin plastered on her face.
Gillard also felt much better now that the girl’s curiosity was no longer focused on him but on his pet instead. Wanting to impress the other a wee bit more, he nudged at the fellow and said, “Hide!” The feyrion did as told in the blink of an eye.
Cassandra gawked in disbelief, seeing as the feyrion had suddenly disappeared before her very eyeballs. “Where did it go!?” she exclaimed. Her amazement continued to be on an all time high until she remembered that it was common for genosaurs to have an ability. Now the question was no longer: Where did it go? But what ability did it use?
Cassandra lightly rubbed her chin and guessed out loud, “Can it teleport?”
To this, Gillard shook his head and directed the girl’s attention onto his disproportionate hand. There she saw the marks of something still tugging at his skin. Since it was still physically there, then it must be invisible? Cassandra suggested this too, but she was quickly proven wrong when Gillard said the words, “Silly-billy.'' This verbal command quickly made the feyrion turn into a colorful suit that borrowed highlights from the surrounding foliage. With a pep in its step, the feyrion then began to sway from side to side as it happily cawed a short tune. Cassandra stared in awe at its performance and felt compelled to praise the boy, “What a nice party trick!”
Her ecstatic reaction shut right through Gillard’s sorrow. He sniffed and he retrieved the last of his tears as he muttered out a, “Thanks…”
Having seen this much, Cassandra was bobbling with yearning to see what other tricks the feyrion could do, sadly, she had to head back as the Blooming Daffodil Dance was beginning to end. As the girl retreated, Gillard lost his confidence again. He thought that he had found someone to be friends with, but perhaps he was truly nothing but a show for people to amuse themselves with?... Frightened by such a reality, the boy asked, “Us friends?”
His question made a cold sensation rush through Cassandra’s bloodpipes. She took in the boy as if her eyes had never truly seen him before. A glaze thawed from her sight and she heaved up an approving thumb for him to see. “Sure! Hope to see you again, Gillard!” Cassandra chirped in the midst of leaving them both. She wouldn’t mind having him as a friend at all, that is, if they should chance upon each other again. Gillard, Gillard, Cassandra kept saying his name as she empowered a certain memory to become clearer. It was centered around her mother’s disgusted face, and her father’s warning. It made her shutter and confirm the fact that her parents could really be a bunch of asshats sometimes...
Like Gillard, the servant watched the girl leave with an acid expression. Having remained silent for so long, he found the moment ripe for speaking out his concerns. He said, “She might say that you’re friends now, but look out Gillard. It was, after all, your pet that she was interested in… Not you.”
Gillard hung his head. “When fixed?”
His otherwise pessimistic servant gave a hopeful glint and said, “Your appointment is due in a year so hang on, buddy.” Gillard shifted his head to the side and nuzzled one of his feyrions, jealous of its ability to hide whenever it so desired. If only he could share in its skill sooner, then he wouldn’t have to endure all of this social humiliation and torture.
Back with the others, Cassandra watched as Ty wiped his brow from sweat. “It is time,” he panted before ceremoniously going up the stairs. Accompanying him was a halberd wielding dude, wearing a half mask, and a elderly gentleman with robes that flapped dramatically in the wind.
Once they had all reached the pedestal’s peak the elder took out a brass bowl from his spacious robes. It glinted in the setting dark as he poured out a blend of hard-hitting alcohol mixed with pulverized metia crystals into its bottom. “Here, Ty,” he said. “This is your chance at greatness. Your Double Dare. Swallow it whole, child! And by all means put your faith in the Divines for only those who believe shall unlock the golden burn and prevail!”
The crowd held their breath as the young man drank his fill. He gulped, then knelt and rested his upper body on the centered block of marble. While laying there, he could not be seen by his audience. This neat little detail was done by design. It was to spare his loved ones from seeing his life blood splurting should the worst occur…
When a person tries to ascend to the enlightened stage, such as Ty did, there can only be three outcomes:
A blessed outcome is when the candidate successfully unlocks their intia core, allowing for its otherwise blocked energy to course freely through their veins. By being able to tap into this new energy source from their intia, the enlightened human can gain better reflexes, stronger and nimbler limbs that can jump and take falls from high altitudes. And most important of all, the opportunity to use this new energy source either as fuel for a shared genosaur ability or as a raw form of energy, one can manipulate outside of the body. Both, effective new tools for the human to have.
As for the outcome dubbed the useless one? The opposite will occur. One will find that their intia core hardens and it will become fully inaccessible. Which results in breaking one’s ability to bond with genosaurs forever…
Despite how awful the useless outcome sounds it is still deemed far better than a corrupt one. A human with a useless core can look forward to a life of legacy while the same can’t be said about the corrupt alternative. The thing is, a corrupted person’s intia core does unlock, but unlike the blessed outcome, the limited energy source does not repeat itself within the body. Instead, it flees its vessel, leaving the user to die if they don’t resupply their loss within time. And as if that wasn’t enough, some kind of twisted god decided to grant the corrupted beings longer nails, perfect for the penetration and sucking of others' intia. Along with an understandable sort of pleasure that confirms their new life-style. Unwittingly, these corrupted humans, commonly labeled: Defilers, would hunger for survival in such a depraved manner that most viewed them undeserving of life. Which is the reason why every man ascending the marble stairs must be accompanied by an executioner.
Said noble killer may wield his weapon of choice, but he shall always wear the revealing mask, fashioned after the Masked Warden’s most defining feature: His golden half mask. The half mask is a device that reveals a intia core’s state. And depending on the outcome, the executioner will act upon it without so much as a warning.
Yet, despite these safety precautions, one may wonder why corrupted ones still manage to exist? Well, the explanation for this phenomenon, according to the book’s author: Maya, is rather simple: The executioners are in the end only human. They make mistakes. And sometimes they are not quick enough to counter their own deaths as the intia core can be hard to interpret… Add that to the common stance that an executioner would rather die and be right, than foolishly kill and be wrong, there was bound to be mishaps.
At the ascending ball all was quiet except for a few late night chirps. The silence was a natural response to all who dreaded the sound of a swing followed by a lumpy thud.
Ty's two companions stood unmoving. Their silhouettes still as statues, as if a single movement could cause the youth’s downfall. They watched Ty’s skin emit an expected golden glow. It climbed in intensity and emitted a worrisome heat that made them all feel uncomfortable. It climbed and climbed and reached its peak before it retreated and gradually lost all of its strength. Ty woke from his slumber after its vanishment. He rose from the ground with a lifted chin and a smile, knowing that all was well.
His partners both hung their heads in respect, as the man of honor triumphantly spun around to share this wonderful news. With a swift motion of his hand, he tore off his crimson shawl and pumped it up towards the sky. “It is done! The Divines have blessed this humble worshipper. And thus I shall take up the name of Tymanra from today on and onwards!”
“Hail!” his father roared on top of the thunderous applause.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Hail Tymanra! And let him live for a hundred years!” the people shouted.
As he bathed in the spotlight, a well-deserving smirk rested on Tymanra’s lips. Cassandra glared at it and thought: Well, I can’t blame him... Right now, he must truly feel like the off-spring of god.
On her side, Lady Dray clapped along the ovation till she figured she had done her part. Afterward, she shrewdly commented into her husband’s ear. “We might as well cross Tymanra off the list of suitors. With how ambitious he is, I bet he’ll soon seek guidance from the Master to become a Divine Warrior.”
Varon Dray seemed repulsed by the idea but, nonetheless, replied, “... I think you’re right, my dear. Then, if he should succeed in attaining their favor, it’ll be Rey, who inherits the Irondane's estate and legacy.”
To sooth her husband, Lady Dray secretly kissed him on the earlobe in a half-chuckled whisper. “Hehe… Although I'd prefer Tymanra and the possibility of two bonds, we’ll have our union. No need to worry there.”
Cassandra winced at their display of affection, feeling greatly disturbed by it. Which was why she couldn’t help but gleam like a little star when Alis finally came to fetch her back. As the teen sought to hide them away from guests that might have felt cheated by her extraordinary luck, Cassandra reluctantly looked back at the couple and wondered why their kiss had vexed her so? If anything, she was confident that if it had been her original mother’s kiss, joy would've been the only emotion filling her. Not revulsion. Something was definitely amiss.
****
Shortly after Cassandra turned 3-years-old the Dray’s were summoned to yet another social gathering. It was held by the great farmer: Varon Clerebold of Goldcrest. The former landowner of the Irondane’s and Dray’s territories. Sadly, he hadn’t been a proud owner of these territories, as they were back then nothing but a desolate land inhabited by a single trade post. But all of this changed, the day two merchant friends came along and exposed the hidden metia mines…
“This is so typical! Every cursed time one wants to hold a garden party, the heavens shed their tears in envy!” Lady Dray raved whilst rushing her kids towards the carriage. A crammed shelter they were supposed to inhabit for two days, almost straight, if it wasn’t for the inn.
Varon Dray, who sat next to their coachman, adjusted his broad hat for the occasion and snickered to himself. “Hoho, run my little ones. Run!” His playful tune encouraged Alis to help the youngest onboard and off they went.
The carriage rode beyond the manor’s holdings and filtered into a stream onto the Merchants’ road. Currently considered the oldest landmark of the city. A road worthy of note as it was the border that split said city into two. The Dray’s south side and the Irondane’s north side.
The Irondane’s had their backs towards the Healing Mountains where the cavelings lived. Between them, a shallow but wide lake slept, created by the culminating mountain brooks from hither. The land had never been bountiful with harvest, but it had its pine forests, boulders covered in mosses, and shrubs that looked like they had been in a drought for ages. The people that settled on their side made structures similar to their white-washed fortress. They heaved and settled heavy stones into marvelous dwellings. And tinted their roofs in black, such was the fashion. But although they had the best water source, people still sought to settle on the Drays’ half.
The Drays’ side did not feature any open water source, beside the lake they founded their holdings around. No, they had the flattest meadows and the fewest mountains. But they did have the old trading post, buried somewhere amongst the newcomers’ shops. And, most important of all, the metia mines. The thing that kept everyone wealthy and with a job.
Cassandra gauged that some of the structures on their side were exclusively meant as homes, but most of them seemed to have a second function such as being a shop, inn, or other tied down business, which kind of struck her as odd. She pondered whether this was normal? For buildings to be mainly for commercial use instead of homemaking?
It was a puzzle worth squandering her time over, so she started counting. A task she soon found to be too difficult when the city had so much more to offer. Such as the aforementioned tourist attraction casually labelled the Old Trading Post, or the Dray’s manor, her own nest of troubles, that exuded a welcoming aura with its large stables and pretty gardens. And one would only need to look across to find the Irondane’s bold fortress, standing powerful and strong above all else with its barracks and watchtowers. Also, who could overlook the Breeder’s ginormous hybrid of a shop, where genosaurs could be seen frolicking around on its perimeters all day, everyday?
Cassandra sat glued to the window, fascinated by the cityscape as they rolled across the borders. Sighing at the thought: If only I had my camera... She could have captured this crude beauty like she would have done it in her old skin. Back when it was all about framing the perfect moments in life. That’s why she adored the art of photography so much. It was her way of pursuing perfection’s tail in those split seconds where it actually appeared to exist. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t the only one smitten by such ideals during her former existence. One would merely have to skim through other’s posts online to get the picture...
After passing the borders they were no longer in the city of Danedray, but the farmlands of Goldcrest. And as they ventured forth, armed company came to join them. “It is not safe to travel unguarded during these times, my friend,” Varon Irondane greeted whilst tipping his silver-lined hat. It shined brightly atop his long black hair and coppery-brown face. “Defilers have been known to lurk around those mountains there,” he pointed with his finger towards west, “Although you are not enlightened, and thus, not the most appetizing snack to come across, do not doubt for even a second that they won’t sink their vulgar nails into your ears and painfully exposed neck! They have been hunting plenty of my youngest recruits down lately. Frankly, any man who has bonded with a genosaur is enough to spark their vile slobber to run wild. No meal is too small for them. And thus, since we're traveling with the same destination in mind, let’s ride together, shall we?”
“Let us!” Varon Dray commended. A tad paler in hue than before.
Their ride bumped along the cobblestone road, beneath lonely trees, and above bustling streams. All whilst being accompanied by rain-soaked clouds that lasted throughout the whole journey. It had yet to seize the moment they set foot on the Clerebolds’ land.
This land that Varon Clerebold could call his varont was not to be underestimated. It stretched much farther than the eye could see and it brimmed with crops despite the season.
On the horizon Cassandra caught a glimpse of a giant goldberry bog, rippling with rain, and fields of flax, meant for the produce of linen. The Clerebold’s farmlands were impressive but so was their main house. A building akin to a beehive: Ridiculously complex to look at despite the repeating patterns. Even though its compartments shimmered wet from the same stone, it was almost impossible for the untrained eye to distinguish which room led to which.
Cassandra gulped as they went inside, afraid of getting lost in the Clerebold’s home. She could already imagine herself venturing the rooms aimlessly; having to beg the owners to be sent back home with snot running along her upper lip. Okay, perhaps the snot was a bit of an exaggeration as she wasn’t a 3-year-old mentally. But that’s not to say that her immature brain couldn’t have an effect on her whatsoever. Perhaps, it was to blame for the sad imagery to begin with?
The Dray’s bustled inside while the Irondanes gave out orders to their entourage of plated knights. At the doorstep they were greeted by the farm’s master: Varon Clerebold, including the rest of his family. Each, wearing a crown of blond threads atop a face bedotted with freckles. “Greetings! Varon Dray of South Danedray and family. Come in, come in, my dear guests!” the farmer hailed as he roughly shook their hands into jerky. Their curt exchanges were barely completed before the Irondanes tried to squeeze their wet bodies into the entrance hall.
Varon Clerebold was forced further inside by the gathering masses, yet he still managed to rumble an audible greeting to the newcomers. “Ah! And good day to you too! Varon Irondane of North Danedray! And, of course, to your family as well! I must say it’s good to see you all again like this!”
“Squashed?” Cassandra’s father joked. His joke wringed the mouths of those nearby. There was a stir of silliness.
“Well, it’s seldom that I get the joy of this many guests at once! Haharr!” The master of the household explained and soon the others laughed along. The guests got the leisure to assemble before Varon Clerebold clapped his hands. Every collision of his flesh, thundered with enough force to shake his mutton chops beard like jelly. He announced that, “Since the heavens are still busy watering our crops we shall be dining in the great hall today! Now, with that said. Throw off your yucky cloaks and come with me!”
The man sucked in his beer-belly and sauntered past his wife in the doorway. A welcoming woman that took her sweet time flattering the guests before she followed up on her husband’s lead.
Understandably, the rest of the flock pursued the main couple, lest they wanted to be forgotten and lost. And so, they walked. On a path so claustrophobic that it made most of the guests tense up and hold their breath. They all released a huge sigh of relief once they were inside the great hall’s larger confines. Within its borders, the walls were covered in a dark scarlet red. Its bottom, lined with gold, and its ceiling fitted with three massive chandeliers that shone a bright, warm light.
The room was wide, and at present: Empty, as the party’s furniture had yet to be retrieved from the rainy outdoors. It would take the servants at least a quarter of the clock to finish this sudden transmission, therefore the guests took to fidgeting and smalltalk instead. During this portion of the party, the majority exchanged handshakes and even a few heartfelt greetings. As for Lady Dray, she had the nerve to straight out tell the plumb-looking Lady Irondane, “Why, congratulations. I didn’t know that you were pregnant again?” Assuming that it was either that, or she had gotten fat by pilfering from the cookie jar too many times.
To Lady Dray’s blunt accusation, Lady Irondane simply fluttered her thick brown lashes and replied, “Ah, yes. You know how these things can be uncertain at times. And I truly didn’t want to spread any falsehoods around… That’s why we didn’t announce it sooner. But as you can see for yourself, we have been blessed once again by the goddess Triata.”
The women exchanged foxy smiles of equal caliber. The tension between them appeared to any outsider as thick and electrifying. But not to Cassandra. She couldn’t register the small sparks of fury flying back and forth between the two. If only she had had the ability to spot them. Then she would have seen the hatred and disbelief that bobbled inside of her mother’s chest. Lady Dray hadn’t simply asked her question out of curiosity or ill-will. She had tested the social waters with a rude jab, and as it turns out, Lady Irondane had kept her out of the loop for some reason. Lady Dray thought them to be closer than this, being business partners and all. It vexed the Lady immensely. Especially when she was given an equally rude response to her question in return. That fox might as well have said: ‘Sorry, not sorry,’ the way she unapologetically brushed the underlying issues aside.
Alas, Cassandra’s mother had to calmly accept the disadvantage, and this, she did within a few gulps of her emotions. She could handle the Irondanes’ pregnancy just fine for she knew that they already had a pretty good deal in place, when it came to heirs and matrimonial bonds. But, then again, what if she could make that deal even sweeter?
Lady Dray was about to make a comeback, when the apple-cheeked blonde, Lady Clerebold, took to the stage, not willing to be left out either. She cursed aloud, shocking both of the foxes into silence. “Oh for f-, I didn’t know of the joyous news either, Lady Irondane! If I had, we wouldn’t be serving anything containing birminty leaves today. Too bad, we already went a tad wild, me and Gawin here!” she apologized whilst heartedly clapping her husband, Varon Clerebold, on the back. She clapped and clapped, and her husband began to resemble more that of a puffed up bird than that of a human.
“Ah! Don’t worry, don’t worry, wifey! I’ll go slaughter a hen for the fair creature to eat. I couldn’t possibly want any discomfort upon my fine guests? No?” Varon Clerebold boasted, already busy with pulling up his sleeves around his muscled trunks.
Being pandered so thoroughly, the pregnant Lady Irondane closed her eyes and smirked. Whereas Lady Dray rolled her eyes at the couple’s interruption. “I must say, it’s a shame, Lady Irondane. I can remember how fond you’ve been of the scarce spice. And now It seems that not only you, but Tymanra as well, will have to be deprived of such luxury. After all, it’s not everyday one can indulge in its taste... Ah, now that I think about it. Where is that promising son of yours, anyway? Tymanra.”
As if summoned by his son’s name, Varon Irondane shifted over to his wife's side and clutched her shoulder. He exhaled deeply as if that would loosen his already strained heart. Peace manifested so they could all hear his announcement, “Ah, yes. I guess it doesn’t come to anyone’s surprise that he left us. Our son went to seek guidance from the Divine Master. May all the luck in the world be with him…………….”
An awkward silence followed the Irondane’s social report. Eyes shifted back and forth uncomfortably, until Varon Clerebold said, “Why, yes! Let luck be with him! And let his tales of honor rain down upon our ears in the future… You get it? Rain? Hahaharr!........ Well, urp… Hail to Tymanra!” he shouted and people toasted to it. Praying for the son’s luck in song.
The Irondane’s appreciated the support, nonetheless, their expressions remained stiff throughout the day. Tymanra was a capable youth all right, but that wouldn’t erase the fact that he was unlikely to return. Knowing this, his loved ones were, of course, left bitter and anxious. Fortunately for them, all wasn’t lost. Cause if he should ever return one day, it would surely be a day to remember!
Cassandra didn’t give a rat’s ass about Tymanra, but she was intrigued by the mentions of birminty leaves. Since she trusted Alis so much, she instantly sought knowledge from her. It started out with a poke, but to this the teen didn’t respond. Cassandra took a closer look at her guardian. The poor thing looked ill. Maybe due to her lack of appetite? It wasn’t a secret that Alis had refrained from eating a single bite since breakfast at the inn. But if she did feel ill, it apparently wasn’t enough for her to rest in bed as Alis had insisted on coming along.
Cassandra poked the girl once more, hoping that this time she would respond. The disturbed teen did as predicted. She licked her chapped lips and began to explain in a whisper to the child, “Birminty leaves? Erh, well… It's a delicacy. A rare item harvested near the metia crater. It’s well known for the wonderful nuance it brings to food, but unfortunately, pregnant women tend to dislike it. That’s why it’s such an inconvenience for Lady Irondane.”
“Really?” Cassandra pondered aloud. Alis hummed a short tune of approval, then went back to break down internally.
Another 10 minutes passed before the first dinner plates were served. It was an assembly of braised veal, paired with a pudding in a cowcumber, and goldberry tart. Every dish was infused with the famous birminty leaves. Cassandra started tearing her veal into bite-sized pieces. She appreciated that most of the eating was done solely with one’s own fingers and a sharp knife as it made the act of eating as a toddler a whole lot easier.
While she ate, Cassandra swept a few glances over at Varon Clerebold. To her astonishment, that beast of a man tore his dish apart and ate it with utter satisfaction. Watching him so proudly make a mess of his meal inspired Cassandra to do just that.
She had a blast imitating the man. Even if it was out of her comfort zone. A strip of meat dropped to her plate here and there as she let dribbly juice pile up at the corners of her mouth. All of this was mighty entertaining, until her mother decided to pinch her underneath the arm and hush at her to, “Eat properly!”
Cassandra wanted to talk back, but refrained herself from acting like a complete brat. Deflated, she wiped her face clean with a napkin and peered over at Alis, who still wasn’t willing to savor anything. Not before long, Lady Dray noticed this behavior as well. However, her reaction was far from concerned.
As if Alis could feel the Lady’s alarming gaze, she began to cram food down the hatch. Even though every string of veal made her want to puke, she simply had to endure and persist. That was, unless she wanted everyone present to suspect her of being pregnant too!