Civil war. A part of every modern nation's history. Every existing regime on the continent had been forged through fire, a battle in each region to determine which side of the coin of life would dominate. The ethereal, Aether-breathing, magic-wielding beings known as Spirits, or the humans, who excelled in numbers, ingenuity, invention and technology. Sidos's war between Aether and diesel had ended only in her lifetime, leaving in its wake an uneasy patchwork of human population and Spirit territories. A draw, something only seen in a single other nation, the one Evalyn happened to call home. An equilibrium of human and Spirit, perhaps the rarest phenomenon of any nation, where all too often one side would dominate the other.
Yet even in these nations, a clear divide kept the two from mingling no matter how harmonious their existence. Humans remained as humans, growing in their population and overcoming their problems with a thirst for progress. Spirits remained as Spirits, wielding the excess Aether they absorbed as magic to overcome whatever stood in their way. In some cases, they would join heads, dream and construct wondrous machines that would resemble humanity's inventions, yet harness the power of the Spirits.
Evalyn Hardridge was a Witch. The mingling of human and Spirit taken to its highest degree, a human gifted the power of magic. An abomination, an entity that stood head and shoulders above both sides of life, who selfishly claimed a Spirits pride for herself and acted on her innate greed as a human. Witch was an appropriate word, and she'd certainly be burnt at the stake if every discovered by the public. She was an absolute power, a power which the leaders of her world sought to shamelessly bribe, threaten and abuse if it meant even using a hint of that forbidden fruit against their adversaries. Calling a child such a name that came with such connotations irked her to no end, so Evalyn had named her with the first thing that had came to mind.
Between the hours of nine to noon, the little boutique on 14 Devalen Street East District was largely deserted compared to its larger counterparts. Family owned and highly specialised, it was rare to see many customers outside a select clientele.
Of course, Iris, unaware of all this, stared at the young shopkeeper, whose mixed expression of bewilderment and anxiety violently contrasted with Iris's existing library of facial expressions. Those were namely anger, indifference, and the strange face the lady with the orange hair had pulled, which had made her feel much warmer in her thin, tattered clothes. A more material presence kept her warm now in the form of Evalyn's jacket; it was too big for her by several sizes, yet nonetheless served its purpose. Iris noticed the contrast between the bright, ebbing and flowing colours of the botique's selection and the clothes on her own back.
She had wandered into similar stores before, ones with lines of soft wearables that repeated over and over. Those buildings had been bigger, and their clothes much straighter, tighter and greyer, more in line with what she wore. The boutique in comparison was smaller, Iris could gather that much. It felt older, homelier, and its clothing items more eye-catching. They were fun to look at, but Iris had already taken to staring at the strange lady even more.
No matter the crafted beauty of the clothing around her, the woman had caught her as something different, something more effortlessly beautiful. A person who seldom concerned herself with her appearance, but charmed in a much more fundamental way than simple looks. In that alleyway, when she had taken off her jacket and handed it to her, the first thing Iris had noticed were the markings on her right arm. Blue lines, curving like the waves in the river Iris so often sat on the banks of, carrying orange, three-pronged leaves from her shoulder to her arm. The woman slowly wafted past each rack of items with a dissatisfied look on her face. Her rifle remained on her back as it always was, which seemed to catch the shopkeeper's attention the most.
"I used to wear this stuff?" the woman muttered. Iris heard her, but did not understand what the sounds meant. She neatly placed the clothes she was eyeing back in place and walked over to Iris, her lips ever so slightly curling at its edges; another expression she could not quite recognise. The clacking of her boots made Iris jump, but not as severely as before. The woman had shown her warmth, and Iris would not forget that in a hurry. The woman bent down, coming face to face with her.
"I'm going to need my jacket back," she said softly. Again, Iris did not understand her words. The woman reached out and tugged on the jacket, but Iris kept a hold of it, grabbing the sleeves and wrapping her arms around herself. The woman sighed and gave in, giving Iris another tired look. She stood up and turned her head to the shopkeeper.
"Excuse me?"
"Y-yes?" the shopkeeper stuttered.
"I know this isn't the best place, but could you find something that would match that jacket she's wearing? She doesn't seem to have any clothes and I'm in a hurry."
The shopkeeper's eyes grew frantic as he lips flabbered some half-hearted response. She rounded the counter, scurrying off through a door behind her. The woman watched for a moment before her eyes turned to Iris. "You think I scared her?"
Soon enough, Iris was beckoned into a stall of sorts, where the shopkeeper pleaded with her to remove the jacket. Iris resisted, but the almost pitiful expression of the keeper persuaded Iris, and she let her do what was needed. Iris then emerged, a plain white t-shirt underneath the field jacket she hung onto, and a baggy set of pocketed cargo pants ran down her legs. Even down to the high-laced leather boots, she had all but become a spitting image of the strange woman, who, upon seeing Iris looked as though she was desperately suppressing a grin. "Thank you," she said to the shopkeeper, who quickly retreated to the counter. "How much do I owe you?"
"W-will you be needing something for yourself?"
"Oh, yes. There was a trench coat back that way that caught my eye."
"Certainly," she said, scurrying away as the strange woman grabbed a leather pouch from her pocket and opened it. Iris had seen it not too long ago when the woman had dragged her back to the store where she had been most recently scavenging her dinner. She had called it something like 'com-pen-sei-shon' as she took from it small bits of metal and paper, although Iris could barely make heads nor tails of what it meant. The woman sighed.
"Between clearing the cost of your thieving, your clothes and mine...that leaves just enough for the train."
She walked over to the counter, patting Iris's head as she brushed past. "Kids are expensive, huh?"
Four words, four distinct sets of sounds that undoubtedly meant something.
The shopkeeper returned with a large, thick coat draped over one of her forearms which she handed to the woman. They exchanged words, words that Iris could not exactly keep up with while trading the clothes for the pieces of paper and metal. The woman unslung her rifle, propping it against a rack of clothes before pulling on the coat that draped over almost her entire figure, reaching halfway down her calves. "Thank you," she said to the keeper as she re-shouldered her rifle and headed for the door.
"Uhm...," a small voice called from the counter. The woman swivelled her head.
"Yes?"
"Are you...police perhaps?"
The woman smiled, turning her body fully in a display of honesty. "No, not me."
"Then...."
"Then what?" the woman said, gently. The shopkeeper squirmed, the sounds catching in her throat.
"Are you someone from S.H.I.A.?"
The unintelligable words seemed to mean something to the woman, who paused and hesitated. The smile faltered, but returned quickly. "No," she said. "I apologise if I gave off that impression." The woman gave another smile to the cashier before taking Iris's hand and stepping out of the store. "Being mistaken for a terrorist," the woman muttered. "I guess I can't blame her."
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
She followed the woman through streets, crowds and large open buildings, letting herself be strung along the entire way. She would stop sometimes, demanding to know where they were headed, but never knew the sounds to express her discontent. Each time, the woman would kneel in front of her and say something. "I'm taking you with me. It's not safe for you to be on your own anymore." From time to time, she'd repeat other phrases over and over. Even if Iris could not figure a meaning, she could recall how they sounded. 'Do you have a home?', 'Are you sure you don't have parents?', and each time Iris would simply stare, unsure of what the woman was asking for. More and more the woman would speak to her, uttering sounds that felt familiar as though the meanings were somewhere in her brain and it was only a matter of finding where she had stored them.
In that fashion, Iris found herself in a moving room. A small rectangular shape with windows that lined each side. She knelt on the green cushioned seats that ran the length of the windows, her body swaying with the room's gentle side-to-side motion. From her perch, she watched the scenery outside the window trawl past at a speed she had never experienced. The grey concrete she had grown so accustomed to had fizzled out and faded all too quickly, leaving in its wake endless fields of swaying green and a harsh horizon of bright blue interrupted only by fluffy white giants.
She could see a similar white giant above her if she craned her neck enough. A billowing mass of colourless stuff which seemed to disappear almost as quickly as it formed. She would look forward and see it escaping from a massive chugging black beast of sorts, another profoundly alien thing.
The woman had fallen silent since boarding the moving room, closing her eyes and sitting peacefully with a single seat between them. Yet, Iris would catch her glancing every now and again in her direction, sometimes averting her gaze the moment they met and sometimes not.
"What?" Iris muttered when she finally caught the woman staring red-handed. The woman's brow furrowed, and she sat forward.
"You can speak?" she asked. Iris stayed silent. The woman pouted, leaning back into the thin green cushion. "It's nothing. I'm just worried. I don't know what's going to happen when we arrive in Excala, but I'm hoping nothing happens to you." The woman paused, her cheeks blushing ever so slightly. "I hope I get to keep...take custody of you."
Iris watched the woman squirm in her seat, averting her eyes as though there was something to be afraid of.
"Thank you for riding the Excala express line. As you may know, this is the last month of Aether-Steam engines being in service, and new Aether-Diesel engines are to be installed before the month is out. Thank you for your cooperation over the years and to…"
The voice echoed through the room, and Iris searched for whoever was making the noises, but none of the other passengers' lips were moving. The woman put a hand on Iris's head, a gesture she seemed to like. "It's just the intercom, calm down." Iris sat back in her seat, giving her knees a rest as she let the voice wash over her. The scenery through the far windows did not change much, it seemed as though they were riding through a flat in-between world. Amongst the noise of the intercom, the distant chugging and rhythmic clunk from below, Iris heard the weak screeching of badly oiled wheels. She looked to the end of the room and saw an older lady push a trolley laden with packets she recognised as food through the door. Iris instinctively reached out as the trolley moved past, her eyes on a particularly rectangular shape she had eaten before. The outer skin was tough, but the inside was brown, sweet and stuck to her teeth. She salivated at the mere thought, and sat forward in her seat, outstretching her arm to grab one as it passed.
But the woman intervened, taking her hand and gently forcing it backwards. Iris looked to the woman, who's expression had suddenly sullened, eyebrows downturned and intimidating.
"Hey, no," she said, her voice stern. She recognised the expression as some sort of anger, but one that did not seem as violent as she was used to. Iris shrunk, retracting her arm and returning to her seat, deciding that listening to the woman was the right choice if she valued her safety. Even if the expression did not betray an iminent outburst, Iris found it just as intimidating. She turned around, getting on her knees once more and turning her attention to the window, doing her best to ignore the trolley despite her stomach's protests.
Then something hit her over the head, softly tapping it and crinkling as it did so. Iris flinched violently, grabbing her head and turning towards the woman, expecting another follow up blow. But the woman just watched her, a small grin across her face as she offered the particular rectangular morcel to her in one hand, and held a pair of sandwiches in the other. Iris looked at the food, then at the woman, who only smiled even wider.
"You can have it if you say, ‘thank you Evalyn’. Evalyn is my name, so remember that."
Evalyn wondered what it was like from Iris's perspective, to be dragged around by an older lady whom she had just met and be talked at with words she barely understood. If anything, she could surmise it had been tiring judging by the way the small girl had passed out once discarding the candy wrapper and curling into a ball. Evalyn had watched every second as the girl's eyes slowly drifted into sleep, aided by the train carriage's slow back and forth rocking. The late morning sun danced across her soft features, reflecting beautifully off the silver head of hair. She looked to be at least nine or ten, yet not a single sign of severe degredation marked her besides some recent bruises and cuts. Her hair, although matted in some places and frayed in others, still gleamed in whatever light it could gleefully catch, and her teeth had shown no signs of rotting.
It made Evalyn wonder if she had truly found a stray, but the tattered clothing she had binned shortly after Iris's makeover all but confirmed it. The girl had not the first clue as to what Evalyn was saying, nor did she try and converse in any other language; if she did have parents, they certainly weren't present in her life. Evalyn had considered the possibility she was mute, but even then mutes could shake their head if it was required of them.
She watched Iris curiously, inching closer and taking up the free space between them. Her shoulder bumped Iris's, but even then she did not seem to stir. No matter the person, it seemed as though a full stomach, safety and sunlight could lull anyone into a deep enough slumber.
Evalyn's mind relaxed for the first time that day, the sight of such a pretty sleeper making her envious. There was a protocol to such an event. After all, the only people in the field who could recognise a Wizard or Witch for who they were, were other Wizards and Witches. The protocol in question was typically notifying the closest federal authorities and leaving the new Wizard or Witch's fate in the hands of their home nations, but Evalyn could not bring herself to do the same in her situation. Iris was a child, a lonesome child that acted as though she had been born yesterday. Leaving her in the hands of Sidos was something that, even now, her psyche was in conflict over. However, it was too late. She had gone and done it as easily as picking up a stray cat off the street. She had no clue if it was the right thing to do, but imagining Iris anywhere other than right by her side felt wrong.
Evalyn wondered how life would treat Iris. She had become a Witch at eighteen in the midst battle. She been blessed in her time of need, when she had finally figured out who she wanted to be. But Iris was practically born with her power, in a way she was that power itself. As the girl sat on the shade of green so horribly aged by the passing tides of design and aesthetic, Evalyn wondered how kind the same passing tides of life would be to Iris, a life largely not of her choosing. She desperately wanted to leave the girl she had found somewhere better, but she could not give that absolute power to anyone, not even the girl herself.
Would the power end up defining her, or would she find some sort of solid ground to stand on?
Evalyn calmed, realising how ahead of herself she was getting. For now, she would not think so deeply about it. She was nothing but the courier.
“Dear patrons,” the intercom echoed. “Due to a recent increase in suspicious activities in Sidos city, Geverdian border officials have requested the Excala expressed to be stopped and searched for suspicious people, weapons or other items before continuing. We sincerely apologise for the delay. I repeat—”
Iris was awoken from her rest by Evalyn, who had gently rocked her back and forth until she realised someone was forcing her awake. Eyes still bleary, she looked towards her as if to ask why she had been awoken at all.
"Look, we're almost there," Evalyn said, a look of subtle, everyday joy on her face. Iris began to pay attention to her surroundings. From the windows across from her was something she had never seen before. It was completely blue, shimmering with dull light and constantly moving in waves that seemed to stretch for eternity. There were no banks like the rivers Iris had frequented.
It felt familiar to her, but she couldn't fathom where the recollection came from—another mysterious memory, like the sounds the lady would make.
Speaking of, the lady then pointed the other direction behind her, and there she saw something much less alien. It was familiar to her, not in the sense of those memories she couldn't recall. It was a city. She could tell that, but it wasn't what she thought a city could be.
Buildings huddled together in irregular patterns, their roofs in different angles and shapes. Their walls were deep browns and oranges, but they didn't shy away from including any number of other colours. The bridges looked weaker than the ones she was used to, but they looked prouder as if to say they held their weight and the weight of many others for millennia. Throughout the mangled, intricate grid of buildings were spires, some beacons of green, swaying with the wind. Others were tall and slim. Some were massive, towering over their surroundings, outshining them in both width and height, rectangles and domes.
But what caught Iris's attention the most was its aura. No matter how many people moved past her in Sidos, her surroundings felt still, trapped in time. They were built that way, with structure and planning in mind. But with this city, history, unpredictable history and unrelenting time had created a city that moved constantly. From the buildings, the canals, the rivers, the towers, the trees, the creatures flying in flocks above. This city was alive with something.
"Welcome to Excala."