From childhood, Ise had heard so much about the Tower of Rebirth from her mother, from her aunts, from her sisters, that she naturally found her way through the deserted hallways as though she’d walked these corridors many times before, knowing where she would find each stair leading up and up and up, so vivid were the images painted by her family in their tales, so thorough were the documents Ise had consulted since she was old enough to read, old enough to prepare for her destiny as a Blossom. She could find Kirari’s office, the first door to the right on the eleventh floor of the Tower, right next to the archives of the Office of Arbitration. Ise had considered opening the door and walking inside - it had been left undisturbed in consideration for her, but passing by its nondescript door, Ise realized she wanted nothing to do with the ghosts inside. The memories she treasured of Kirari and all her sisters were always going to be with her, so inside she’d find only pain.
Nanase, too, had her own office here, but the remaining Ubamis of this generation had been soldiers instead. Nanase had only been a few years older than Ise herself, only just joined the Red Rose, but was reaped nonetheless. Her mother had not fought as a Blossom in many years, spending her days tending to the family garden in Enramoto, but she was gone too. Old women who had been Blossoms half a lifetime ago withered the same as girls who had only recently been granted the gift of Efflorescence. Withered. Ise rued that word. Even in death, they were yet flowers, their lives given to the world they so fiercely defended. They were my sisters, Ise thought as she ascended yet another flight of stairs, my mother, my cousins, my family… Dead, all of them. That was the word that all the surviving Blossoms avoided. She saw it in Sieglinde’s hollow eyes. She could not face it. None of them could, though it was the truth. They did not wither. They died. Their bodies were made ash, mist, emptiness. Nonetheless they are dead.
Her legs did not ache in spite of the strenuous ascent and her lack of sleep. Perhaps it was Efflorescence that kept her from tiring, the power of the magic that was now a part of her. She recalled the words that Kasumi shared with her just before Ise began her training. Kasumi had been closest to Ise since they were children, and there was no one Ise would rather be with when leaving their home in Tawarasato to head to the Tower and its Academy. I can go days without sleeping, Kasumi told her. When I let my magic wash over me, I am cleansed of all exhaustion, all uncleanliness, all but the most severe of pains. She showed a small red line on her arm. A fang the size of my hand nearly cut my arm in half. Now it’s only this scar. She did not sound happy about it. Ise had never understood it until now. Now that she was a Blossom, she didn’t entirely feel like she was more than she had been before. In some ways she was, instead, less. Less human in all these small ways. Blossoms still died in combat, but their endurance and their ability to recover was uncanny indeed. A lost limb could not be regained, but a wound that would cripple an ordinary person for life would heal within months of proper rest.
Life could not be regained either, she thought. Even the necromantic heresies practiced by diabolists or ancestral cults all throughout the world needed some physical remnant, and the lost Blossoms were less than dust now. Only memory.
She avoided her fellow Blossoms when they crossed paths, looking away from their gazes, knowing she would find nothing meaningful in their eyes. All engaged in banal duties of trying to pick up pieces, these girls rushed to clear all offices and archives and storerooms of anything that might have a purpose, whether plans or information that could prove useful, buried beneath millennia of bookkeeping and recording. Though on the surface the Tower of Rebirth was already seemingly the greatest and oldest of all achievements, a treasure trove of history, there were also the several libraries and museums in the Academy campus, and - though she did not get into deeper detail - Nanase had told Ise that the roots of the Red Rose breached the depths of the earth, vast underground vaults which dwarfed the surface of the Tower. And then she became silent, an indication that she did not know much more of the subject.
Nearing the zenith the corridors grew increasingly deserted, until, by the time Ise reached the highest floor of the Tower of Rebirth, she was alone. Here there were exceedingly few actual offices, only some watch posts and paths leading to balconies from which archery and magic could defend the Tower, as well as a small eyrie that was scarcely ever used. This area of the Tower was so out of the way that most never had any business here, and being assigned an office so high up was almost certainly a punishment. It was, thus, quite the surprise to find that she was not alone as she neared the silver doors at the end of the hallway and saw that, behind the dozens of heavy crates scattered just outside, a girl was resting, her back against the wall, head sat upon her own knees in a way that made her remarkably easy to miss, shrinking upon herself. Her grey dress and hair made her blend with the stones of the Tower, but she was more attentive than her appearance might suggest, as she raised her head to look up towards Ise as soon as she stepped in front of her.
“Ah, sorry, I’m sorry, I-” She jumped to her feet, then evidently realized Ise was not the person she was expecting and which she so pitifully apologized to. The slight point at the end of her ears led Ise to wonder if that might be a hint of ielfen blood, a rare sight in the Red Rose. “Are you another of Elanor’s assistants? She didn’t tell me about you, but, then again, she didn’t tell me about most things.”
“No,” said Ise. “You are…?”
“Apologies. Ingunn Birtisdóttir of the crop of 1877. I did not expect anyone to seek the Lumenvasculum now of all times without being tasked by Lady Elanor.”
“I will take my leave if it’s a poor time,” said Ise, who wanted to walk away simply because she hoped to be alone inside for some time. “I merely wanted to… To look inside. To see the machinery I heard so much about.”
“That’s fine, don’t worry,” said Ingunn. “To tell you the truth, I’m resting here merely because I just know Elanor would immediately have another demand of me, and I haven’t slept in… Well, I haven’t slept since the last time Lady Elanor slept. Come, I’ll guide you.”
With no choice but to follow, Ise obeyed. For all that she wanted to turn back, it had been an awfully long ascent, and she, too, had something she wanted to avoid. She should still meet with Sieglinde, but she was not yet ready to deal with that. She knew that being ready to handle a crisis was a privilege that none ever had, but, even so, she just wanted a little time, this smallest of indulgences.
Unbothered by Ise’s silence, Ingunn had plenty to say. She had only just become a Blossom, too, but had served as Elanor’s assistant for some weeks already, and had the eyebags to show for it. She’d even taken the chance to give Ise a small chest to deliver to Elanor, while carrying a larger crate herself. Though it was a very small box, it was heavier than it seemed, filled with metal of some sort, a barely-noticeable ringing accompanying each footstep Ise took.
Past the doors, a huge circular chamber with spiral stairs surrounding a central pillar which whirred and seemed to vaguely glow. What appeared to be stone from a distance was, on close inspection, a melding of various metals with faint blue veins underneath, the source of said glow, flowing downwards. This must be the apparatus which infuses the Chamber of Efflorescence with the magic that makes us Blossoms. Though at first Ise had seen the blue lines as veins, she soon found herself thinking that they reminded her of roots, actually, an image she supposed was more fitting.
A brief ascent revealed the full height of the Lumenvasculum, once they reached the second story of the chamber; an array of mirrors and lenses was arranged far above the floor, a dizzying sight, as the clear blue skies were reflected countless times, and as Ise moved, the reflections shifted as well. Now she saw herself, and with her next step the mirrors appeared to tilt, to come closer: the image of the sun was multiplied, and it grew from a small dot of gold to a blinding sphere that forced Ise to look away. She kept her eyes from wandering, then, deciding it was safer to simply follow Ingunn. When she looked up again, she saw the sun replaced by other orbs, huge bright green eyes full of curiosity. Elanor, Ingunn whispered.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
“It’s a bit difficult to locate yourself here, if you’re unused to the ocularium,” Ingunn told her, and Ise questioned how one could possibly get used to this madness. In between the mirrors, she caught glimpses of crystals and desks full of notes, and when she looked up she saw the glass panels at the top of the Tower of Rebirth. Something seemed wrong, until she realized that, logically, there was no way the glass mosaic could be visible from the Chamber of Efflorescence, or the Hall of Founders. It was either some elaborate sort of glamor, or the Tower was one of the truly ancient structures whose architecture was so intertwined with old magics that it defied natural laws. Most curious indeed.
She couldn’t even dare to estimate how large this chamber might be, or how tall. The mirrors reflected one another, recreated images of the sky and its heavy clouds, and though Ise heard much about the wonders that could be created with mirrors and lenses, she was certain that there was deep magic beyond her understanding at play here, too. Depending on where she looked, the mirrors seemed to shrink the Lumenvasculum, its walls and glass reaching so close as to smother her, but at times they became so distant that Ise didn’t know how she could possibly find her way out. Ingunn, however, made her way between the strange machinery with little difficulty. These were not ordinary metals or crystals, and the contents of the box she carried were more precious than Ingunn indicated.
“Two girls,” a voice called out from behind a mirror, startling Ise. “A trick of the silver, a multiplication of your image, or two visitors?” Ise turned around to track the source of the voice, but nearly jumped back in shock at the sight of the woman before her, eyes almost aglow with a greedy curiosity, cyan hair messily braided. “Ingunn, I recall telling you not to let anyone enter my study, lest they damage my mirror and lenses.” My study? That wording seemed almost offensive to Ise. “Although I was half hoping that someone might try, one day, so that I might pluck out their little pesky eyes and see if maybe I could use them to study optics. It’s been some time since I was last given eyes to play with,” with a quick step, she stood right in front of Ise, uncomfortably close. “Your eyes are very pretty. A rare color, this shade of pink. Northern Tawarasato? There’s other places with such colors, but you have features of that land, if you’ll allow me to remark on that. Such eyes could work as crying crystals, with some work. If you ever feel like donating them, I would be thankful, and if you could do so within the next two weeks that would be very convenient, as I mean to chart another starfield and will have but a single evening to do so.”
“Elanor, this is…”
“Ise Ubami,” she said, more politely than this odd woman had been towards her.
“Ah. Forgive me,” she said, taking a step back. “I suspect you are not in the mood for such jests. Of your sisters I knew only Kirari, so my condolences might ring hollow, but I remember her kindness well. And I would not even dare imagine the sorrow that is losing a sister, even one as rotten as mine… It’s a cruel world we live in, or, rather, cruel people we share it with.”
“Your sister?” Ingunn asked. “Have you received news from her?”
“Did I not tell you? Well, it wasn’t important to you. Layla is alive, yes. She contacted me through Farspeech. She’s the last remaining Blossom stationed in Mirvholl. The only survivor.”
“Your… sister…?” Ise struggled to process it, feebly repeating Ingunn’s words like a fool. “The two of you survived?”
“An unlikely coincidence, is it not? You’ve never met Layla, eldest of the Hilssgar daughters, but if we were side-by-side you would have known at once that we are twins. What would you call that, proud scion of your honorable bloodline?”
“A miracle,” Ise said, but didn’t believe it. A miracle should not bring about such bitterness as stewed within her. “A sign.”
“Other twins have died,” said Elanor. “I know of at least four pairs of Blossoms who are twins, and of course there are many more cases where one sister has joined our order and the other remains an outsider. The outsiders live, of course, but save for myself and Layla, all others are dead. Our bond, it seems, is not magical.”
“I don’t know how to feel about this,” Ise admitted. Once Elanor’s words and eyes softened, she seemed more approachable, and though they were hardly the same, they both knew what it was like to love a sister. That alone made Ise willing to be more truthful with her than she would otherwise. “My sisters were strong, as was my mother, everyone in my family… It is not strength that spares the remaining Blossoms. So many who survived have no worth in life, and many are the honorable dead. If I were but a few years older and had already joined the Red Rose, would I have died as well, spared the pain of seeing everyone I know die?”
“If survival means something,” Elanor said softly, “then so would death. If there is virtue in living, would that make the dead undeserving of breath and light and warmth? Whatever meaning you think to reach, the dead will be denied. That, my girl, is the pain of it. That we cannot call it cruel, that we cannot call it a miracle, that to the indifference of chance our words are nothing. Why, with all Blossoms culled, have I survived? I, one of the few who know how to operate the Lumenvasculum which births our new Blossoms? Does that mean something? Of course it does not. To be wounded in a manner so hostile to words and to explanations… Such is our burden.”
Ise said nothing. It was as Elanor explained; there was nothing to be said that had any worth. No condolences, no sympathies, no explanations. For a moment, her own bitterness felt foolish. But it was all she had to cling to, now. Princess Sayuri lived while all her family was gone. The memories were tainted, but her hatred remained pure.
“I came here to… Well, now that I’m here, I don’t even know,” Ise admitted. “Here is where it all happens, right? All of this… Machinery, this magic, this is where it’s combined to to… To make us.”
“A gross oversimplification, but yes,” Elanor said. She had Ingunn take the chest from Ise’s hands, and, straining and groaning, take both boxes to a corner of the chamber. “I would love to study the history of the Lumenvasculum, but that would be the work of a lifetime, and first I still need to understand it perfectly. This, the Vessel of Light, the Stardrinker, the Light-made-Blood, is clearly too unwieldy to exist in this form without our Tower of Rebirth already existing, but records show that the Tower was not always this tall. Yet this structure is at the pinnacle. Out of curiosity, I performed some measurements in regards to altitude and pressure and the atmospheric conditions, and there are certain discrepancies between what I determined and what would be expected from a structure of similar height. Were there other, lesser Vessels in the past, to birth the first magical girls? Or did the first Blossoms create this means of eternalizing their legacy?”
“We have plenty of libraries,” Ise said, reflecting on how her own sisters would have been curious about this topic. She would have to try to remember to ask Elanor about Kirari - a thought which, she recognized, was the first time the memory of her lost sisters had brought her a feeling other than anger. “Are there no answers there?”
“Oh, yes, countless answers, many of which contradict one another,” Elanor took Ise by the wrist, taking her towards a desk, waving a hand to dismiss all the mirrors and lenses, which retreated into the stone surfaces of the walls and floors. “We have performed many studies throughout our history, but it is the nature of such pursuits that we cannot always reach consistent answers. This is a place of deep magic, bound to both stars and the bones of the earth, and such locations can be almost alien to our understanding. I understand your curiosity in coming here. When you don’t really know what it’s like, it has a strange allure, as though it’s a place of great significance, a locus of destiny, where the meaning of our lives will be revealed to us. How comforting to imagine such a thing exists. But truth is never quite as illuminating as we’d like. Put plainly, we’ve a limited understanding of the magic of the stars, even though our knowledge could already fill a library. We channel this magic into ourselves, like a flower would with light. The enchantments upon the lenses collect light from the sun, the moon, the stars, all of which have the same fundamental power but in practice respond differently. When the time comes for Efflorescence, light is harvested day and night without pause, for a week. Then, the Vessel purifies it, crystallizes it, and uses that crystalline amalgamation as a lens to repeat the process. We do this three times, until the energies are ready to make us more than human. Putting it like that, it’s so simple, is it not? These immaterial mysteries so simply made mundane, the way a metal would go through the refiner’s crucible. And yet it is clearly so much more…”
“Starlight…” She looked up, to see only the afternoon sky. This light which was part of her now had been with her sisters, too, with her mother, her grandmother, all the same light tracing its way back to the very first Ubami. She wanted to reach for the sun and grasp it. She, too, wanted to be bathed in light, to drink deep of the moon and the pale, distant stars.
With nothing left of her sisters, this was all that remained for her to hold on to. Her mother, her aunts, her niece, her cousins… She wanted to believe it was into this that they withered, into light, into pure luminous memory.
She wanted it to mean something. Even knowing that it did not, that it could not, she needed it to.