Morning had come too early. Light was still at her desk, unwrapping the file stolen from Oblam's office. She searched every page for clues. An explanation. Anything at all. But all she found were code words, deals with mysterious people, and nothing more. The headache came immediately, a pulsing nail in her brain that grew larger by the hour.

Outside her door, the Academy had awakened to the buzz of voices and the patter of footsteps. A giant creature alive, and Light had been swallowed, a prisoner in its depths. With a snort, she put the file down and laid her head on the desk. She felt it heavy, a vibrating boulder she could not turn off.

So many thoughts crowded her mind. And while one part of her searched for a solution to Oblam's riddle and the identity of the intruder, another part replayed the previous day's mission in an endless loop. The way all her cadets relied on Phoenix. The way they stiffened every time Light was alone with them and the General walked away, as if they felt in danger. Not protected enough. As if the tragedy of the last time was her fault.

She was looking for a traitor to blame so she would not have to face her own guilt. That was what Oblam had told her.

What if he was right?

Surely the cadets were convinced. Mark in primis, always ready to make a few skeptical comments in her presence. A crooked look was enough to shut him up, but no matter how much Light pretended otherwise, his words had taken root in her.

Maybe it really was her fault.

Someone knocked at the door. It opened the next moment and Phoenix's smiling face greeted her on the threshold. "Hey, Ferun. You look like a zombie, are you okay?"

Light stiffened in an instant. She straightened her back and crossed her legs on the chair. She had to maintain some semblance of composure. "Phoenix, what are you doing here so early in the morning? Don't you have private training with Terris?" It came out in a venomous tone to her.

Her tongue curled in reflex. She could never control the frustration. It wasn't going well. That was why her cadets didn't trust her. She had to try harder, damn it.

Phoenix walked in with a bold step. He had something hidden behind his back, and a mischievous child's smile lit up his eyes. "I know, but I wanted to give you something first."

Light put her hand under her chin, skeptical. Had she forgotten another one of those silly occasions when men felt compelled to bring gifts to every woman they interacted with because society dictated it? Valestria was full of such holidays: the Moon Festival, the Midsummer Festival, the Mother Goddess Festival. Any excuse was good to remind the women that they, too, were important.

Too bad a bouquet of flowers only served to enrich the florists.

Phoenix approached the desk and winked at her. "I know you like to pretend you're made of iron, but sometimes even you need to be reminded that you're human."

Light raised an eyebrow, the nail in her brain vibrating with even more force than before. "If you bring me a bouquet of flowers, I'll throw you out."

He laughed and shook his head. "No, don't worry. It's not really a gift from me." Before she could reply, he dropped a paper on the desk.

A drawing. The strokes were light and soft. A stark contrast to the drama of the scene: a woman in armor pointing her sword at a dragon in a crystal palace. Light blinked uncomprehendingly for a few seconds. She picked up the paper between her fingertips, as if afraid to ruin it.

"What is it?"

Phoenix puffed out his chest, proud to have handed her the drawing. "Take a good look at the woman. Doesn't she remind you of someone? She does to me."

The woman in armor had a tall, slender build. Her hair fell softly over her shoulder, and her expression was serious and determined. Light looked at her bashfully.

She looked like her.

"Ember had left it in the gardens. I wanted to return it to her, but then I noticed the resemblance and thought you might want to see it." Phoenix tilted his head to the side, his childish smile full of energy.

Ember had drawn this picture. The girl's shy face appeared in her mind as Light stroked the crystal stalactites in the paper. Those big eyes of a frightened fawn.

The first time she had seen her, Light had wondered why such a docile person would want to be a soldier. She had given her a few weeks at the most before she retired. Instead, Ember had shown unusual discipline. Despite her limited skills in battle, she was always dedicated and followed her orders diligently.

She trusted Light. You could see it in her eyes when Light approached her to make suggestions. Ember welcomed them eagerly.

"I know so many blame you for what happened," Phoenix said. It was a stab in the heart, for he knew. He knew that this knowledge was eating Light from within. He shouldn't have known. "But as you can see, there are those who admire you. You're not doing anything wrong, just have a little patience. These accidents happen."

She imagined Ember's reaction if she knew Phoenix had brought her the drawing. Her pale cheeks would flame in an instant, as if animated by two embers. Light felt the corner of her lips turn up at the thought.

"You should have brought it back to her," she said to Phoenix. She tried to put some frustration into her tone, but instead it came out playful.

He shrugged. "I'm sure she'd be happy to know that her art brought a smile to your face. It's rarer than a rainbow."

An unusual warmth rose to her face. Light shook her head, struggling to return to her usual serious expression. "Not as rare as you using your head."

"Ah, that was a low blow. And I was even trying to be nice," Phoenix laughed. "I really must go now. Remember to get some sleep once in a while."

He left as quickly as he had come. Light sighed, her eyes falling back to the drawing. She looked so proud in that armour. A solid rock to cling to, a heroine ready to face the dragon and save the day.

An unseen force pressed against her chest. Warm, gentle, like the energy that always surrounded Ember.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

They gave her the afternoon off. Light came home with her head still full of thoughts and Ember's drawing in one hand. She had considered returning it to the girl, but in the end it would only serve to embarrass them both. So she had brought it with her, with the intention of what to do with it, not even she knew.

No sooner had she closed the door behind her than Eira's hurried footsteps made the floor shake. She was barefoot, again. And apparently she was having fun pretending to be a sky pirate fighting winged monsters. Unlike Light, Eira had always been an imaginative child. The urge to wreak havoc was not lacking either.

In the kitchen she found her mother curled up in her antique chair. A piece of furniture that clashed with the more modern, minimalist style of the rest of the house. But the woman was very fond of the old wicker chair, despite the small splinters that tended to stick in the worst places. 'It was your father's," she used to tell her daughters, "and I'm sure his spirit is still here, watching over us'. If Eira listened with wide blue eyes, Light clicked her tongue and turned away.

She put the drawing down on the kitchen counter. "Mum, what are you doing up?"

She gave her a dull smile. The lines around her lips were too deep, her skin as thin as tissue paper and yellowish. The now greying hair a desert steppe. "I felt better today." She did not even have time to finish the sentence before a cough shook her whole body. She raised a handkerchief to her lips. As she pushed it away, a red stain spread across the cloth.

Light handed her a glass of water. A bramble clogged her throat, the hint of tears stinging behind her eyes. As her mother whispered a "thank you", she stood with one hand on the woman's shoulder, fighting the urge to hit herself. It was her fault. Her mother had had to get up because Light hadn't come home, and someone had to look after Eira; leaving ready meals and a handful of coins on the cupboard wasn't enough.

"You should be resting," she said, aware of how hypocritical she sounded.

"Oh, I'm fine. We didn't get tired. I just played a bit with Eira."

Light took the glass from her hands and placed it back in the sink. The dishes were piling up. She leaned on the rim and squeezed hard, as if she wanted to break it. Or maybe waiting for it to break her. No. No, she had to pull herself together. She could do it. She just had to tidy up, make sure Eira was studying instead of wandering around the house leaving dirty footprints, and be more present. It was easy.

She took her mother's hand and helped her up. "Come on, I'll take you to bed." She had to support her so she wouldm't fall. The woman's bones pressed against her arm.

Her mother let herself be pulled along, clinging to her neck. "How did it go at work? I heard there was some trouble."

The news spread quickly. Light shook her head, forcing a smile that never reached her eyes. "It's nothing that big. You know how news always gets bigger."

The other sucked in her cheeks and watched her closely. No matter how hard Light tried to hide things from her, her mother always knew when something was wrong. Still, she respected her daughter's wishes and let the subject drop most of the time. It used to be different, but the illness made her weaker and weaker. Maybe it also took away her will to deal with Light's bullshit. "That's too bad then," she just said and let the silence return. The sound of her heavy footsteps filled the corridor.

Once in the bedroom, Light let her lie down on the bed. Lifting her weight off the floor, she gently lowered her onto the mattress. She pressed a button on the console. The bedclothes lifted off the floor and moulded to her mother's delicate form.

"Go to Eira," the woman whispered. She took Light's hand and squeezed it between her own. There was no warmth in her; she was a thin, cold body. "She wanted to see you."

Light huffed, a lock of hair lifting from before her eyes. "I doubt it."

"You know she's not really mad at you. She's going through her rebellious phase, everyone goes through one sooner or later."

Everyone except Light. At Eira's age, she was already doing the housework because her mother was always dizzy. For some reason, she wondered if Ember had ever gone through a rebellious phase - she found it hard to imagine. Thinking back to the drawing, to the self that lived in Ember's imagination, ready to fight a dragon without blinking an eye, she wondered what kind of past the girl had. If at least Ember could have been rebellious or not.

"They're all in their rebellious phase, then," Light huffed. She stroked her mother's forehead and tucked her in. She heard her giggle, then cough, and her heart clenched in her chest as she left the room.

Eira's door was open. Light knocked and looked out. Her little sister was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her feet black and dirty, leafing through a book without even reading it. She had the same pout she always had as a child, when she could barely stand on two legs and watched her older sister climb trees while she was forced to stay on her butt on the grass. In those days, Eira looked at her sister with sparkling eyes, as if she were the most incredible creature in Valestria. That light had long since gone out.

"What do you want?" Eira did not even look up from the book.

Light ran a hand through her hair, desperation filling her chest and threatening to burst. "You should take a bath, you have more dirt under your feet than a sewer."

"You should take a bath," she repeated in a petulant chant. "I will when I feel like it."

"You mean next year?"

Eira shrugged a lock of hair out of her eyes. It was growing back too much, too. "What do you care? It's not like you're ever here to smell my stink."

Why did she always have to be such a hothead?

Light leaned an arm against the door frame. "If you keep this up, you'll turn into a troll in a few days."

"So be it. You see? It's fate."

Her cadets might have thought her an incompetent Sergeant, but at least they feared her enough to follow her orders. Eira was a different matter: not only did she have no respect for her, she even took pleasure in disobeying her, just for the sake of annoyance. As if Light hadn't enough problems already.

"Irie, I'm serious. You can't go around like this," she said more firmly.

She only got a dismissive verse. "I can walk around as I like. There's no law against dirty feet. In fact, look." Eira put the book down and stood up on the bed. She started to jump on the mattress. She left conspicuous footprints of dirt on the covers. Where had she walked, on the mud?

"Okay, that's enough."

Light encircled her waist with her arms. Eira let out a squeal that was sharp enough to deafen her, but Light didn't let up. She dragged her out of the room, kicking her in her arms like a spoilt little girl, and took her to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water in the shower and threw her under with all her clothes on. Dirty drops dripped down Eira's arms, leaving brownish lines. "Where the hell did you get to be like this?"

"None of your business!" The little sister threw herself at her. She bit her shoulder.

Light tossed her roughly away. "Hey!"

Eira landed on her backside on the shower floor. Her hair was stuck to her head, her clothes transparent under the spray. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes sparkled again, but there was no admiration in them. There was something else, something chaotic and angry.

After an endless wait, Eira grabbed a bottle of soap and threw it at her. "Go away! I don't need you!"

Light shielded her face with her hand. The bottle fell to the floor. She closed the curtain, giving her little sister some privacy. She left the bathroom with a burning shoulder - the uniform had prevented teeth from hurting, but the feeling remained.

Rebellious phase. Of course. Like all 12-year-old girls throwing themselves at their parents or siblings to bite them.

She reached into the kitchen to remove her uniform jacket and check her shoulder. It was a little red, but not a drop of blood. She stayed there for a few minutes, leaning against the peninsula, eyes closed, listening to the sound of her own breathing. From the bathroom still came the roar of water: at least Eira was washing herself for real. A small victory, she thought. Even if it had left a bitter taste on her palate.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell back on the drawing. On that woman, ready to face any adversity head-on.

A woman who existed only in Ember's eyes.