Crowned - 14 | An Identity Crisis

 

Helmire Castle was built on top of the Northern Hills of Kalmia, bordering the submerged continent of the Narkissa on two sides. Their natural crescent shape moulded the castle’s territory, giving Helmire height and security from all directions. The elevation of the black peaks veiled the castle towers, embracing them as one of their own.

Nature was never an antagonist to magic.

Tough the land was dry and unhabitable by Kalmia’s Creatures, mages from Lunaria had transformed Helmire into grounds of scenic beauty which rivalled that of tourist hotspots of the world, like Matholia and Willow.

As per usual, Elvira sneaked out of prying eyes and found the sloping gardens a perfect place for private respite. There, surrounded by flowers, she sat cross-legged, and pointed a finger on a wilted flower in her lap.

“Alive!”

“Live!”

“GROWWWW!”

“RE! BIRTH!”

“BLOOOOOOM!”

“Thrive?”

She exclaimed, for the nth time but the wilted flower remained unmoving and unbothered by her flashy hand movements and tonal-shift advances. Sighing, a recent habit she had acquired, Elvira flopped backwards and rested her head amidst the flowers.

“I really, really, don’t think I have powers. It’s not working, no matter how hard I try, nothing happens,” she huffed to the birds and the bees, “I have never had so much free time on my hands. Now that I don’t have to slave away at the Count’s Estate, life is so much easier!”

She inhaled a breath of fragrant fresh air.

“I’m so useless,” she grumbled, instantly grounding herself.

Maybe Kairo was avoiding her, maybe she was avoiding Kairo, but it had been two weeks ever since their last conversation. Though, whatever the deal was with Kairo, Elvira knew that she was purposefully avoiding all of Kaeo. She did not know how to face him or Clary or any of the other dead people. Formerly dead people.

“At least being trapped by familiar people doesn’t involve doing chores…”

Elvira raised her hands up at the sky and chanted, “Magic Reincarnation, go, go, go!”

Obviously, nothing happened.

Elvira sighed again as her hands fell back on the flower grass. “This is so bad, I’m essentially worthless, why am I even here?” she got up with an ambition to charge inside and make demands for her freedom.

Almost immediately, realisation washed over her like a cold shower.

“Where would I go? I know nothing, I have no connections, no—well, I have friends but they’re all busy. The Count and Countess would begin paying them from the next month so they’re working hard. They’ll be financially independent soon and here I am,” she fell back into the grass, “Absolutely lost in life with a promising yet absent power,” she glared at her hands, “Can you be good at anything?”

She was allegedly good at something but she had never witnessed her own abilities first-hand, only the harsh consequences they brought along.  

“Elvira!” a voice called out.

Elvira groaned out loud and curled up into a ball, hoping the person would walk past her.

“Elvira! I see you there! Quit floundering with the flowers and make some use for yourself! Come, have tea with me!”

Elvira would rather eat Linch dung but she did not voice her avoidant dreams. Instead, she clawed up and forced her face into a smile, “Wilhelma!” she exclaimed, “Fancy seeing you so early!”

“Early? Girl, it is ten in the morning! It might be early for jobless folks like you but I, an employed person, just got off morning duty. Come along now, I’ll treat you to tea!” the tall girl exclaimed.

Wilhelma was considerably taller than Elvira and held a more poised sense of self. Her shoulders were always squared and chin held up high. Even with the harshest of comments, the smile never slipped off her lips. Her dark hair was always in a loose bun, so meticulously pinned that not a strand escaped from her head by the end of the day. She had a pair of dewy siren eyes which she used to convey her displeasure in order to not inconvenience her mouth.

“Treat me, you shall,” Elvira mumbled as she dragged her feet behind Wilhelma.

“Mhm, we’re drinking Hibiscus today,” Wilhelma replied, airily.

“I don’t even like tea,” Elvira grumbled.

“Nonsense! All ladies like tea! That is not how you will wed Kaeo! I’m going to end up grabbing him!”

“Please, make haste, the floor is all yours,” Elvira huffed.

“I would never do that to a friend…”

She had no idea how or why Wilhelma had decided to latch onto her, but this misfortune happened a week ago. She had been having an identity crisis amidst the flowers when the pretty girl showed up and offered her a sweet drink.

Elvira, having never had an overthought human interaction before, simply considered it a kind gesture and drank a sip.

Though, instead of watering the seeds of friendship with that drink, Wilhelma held out a hand and demanded compensation. Elvira, not having a morsel in her name, declared so.

Henceforth, they Wilhelma had established an uncanny sort of claim on Elvira’s time and presence. To a distant viewer, the girls drinking tea together, choosing clothes, running in the garden, petting creatures, would all look like acts of friendship.

But to Elvira’s distaste, it was hours of, “Oh, isn’t the tea marvellous? I know you do not like it, worry not, you shall develop the taste soon!” or, “Oh my! You’re horrible at coordinating an outfit! With that sack of a dress on you, do you think you will reach any man’s bed? Don’t worry, I’m here to guide you!” or else, “STOP RUNNING AWAY! ONE BITE FROM THE PAIX BEE AND YOUR INTERNAL INJURIES WILL BE HEALED, TRUST ME! IT ALSO MAKES YOUR CHEST BIGGER IF BITTEN IN THE RIGHT SPOT!” or maybe, “Yes please, wash the Hornstriders tonight, I’m so exhausted by chasing after you all afternoon. Won’t you help a friend out? You’re the kindest!”

Friend.

Elvira scoffed.

“…but if you take too much time, who knows, he’ll just end up in my bed instead!” Wilhelma giggled at whatever wild imagery her head conjured.

“I hope he does,” Elvira grumbled. “It’s not like I have known him for fifty years,” she scoffed, “five hours, give or take, at best.”

“It’s seldom about time and more about the hows, the whys, the whats and the what’s nexts!”

Elvira rolled her eyes. She wished she could straight up reject Wilhelma’s advances and walk away, but to her dismay, she had few hiding places and too much time with too less work to be excused for.

The only perk of being by Wilhelma’s side was facing the other residents of Helmire. Each and every recruit was an exceptional mage or entity, personally recruited by either Kairo or Kaeo for this elaborate mission to take over the world.

They were all useful minions and she was a useless burden they decided to weigh upon them, one unfortunate afternoon. A liability which roamed with freewill in a heaven of their creation.

“Ugh, I hate this,” Elvira mumbled. Having too much time on her hands had made her an overthinking mess of insecurities.

“Hate what? Tea time? I told you that you will develop the taste soon enough. It is refinement, trust me,” Wilhelma waved a hand in Elvira’s face and led her inside the gleaming black castle.

Misfortune tipped the balance of her life, once again, as they bumped into Kairo by the door.

“Oh, Sire Kairen! Sire Helmire! Hello! Pleasant day, is it not? What are you doing up so early?” Wilhelma exclaimed, going out of her way to demand a greeting.

Elvira rolled her eyes and slipped past Wilhelma in order to avoid brewing awkwardness in their morning greetings. The last push she needed to spiral was Kairo urging marriage. Her face wore a scowl, unintentionally so, as she sped past the greeting people in the hallway. She did not understand what ticked her off but she did not wait to comprehend either.

In her haste to escape, Elvira bumped into a person. Their papers flew out of their hands and fluttered up in the air. She burst in to a flurry of apologies as the person shrugged her off and waved their hand to gather the dropped material.

The exchange could have settled as yet another embarrassing memory to cringe over at 3 A.M. but fate had Kaeo witness the whole shenanigan and pursue a snide remark, “Is it too hard to watch where you are going or do I have to lend you my sight now?”

“It was an accident,” Elvira grumbled, “And it’s not like I want to siphon your magic off of you, okay? You don’t have to whine about it every time you meet my eye.”

“Kairo insists I marry you when I could easily have your pretty little head off your shoulders and up on my display wall.”

“Aw, you find my head pretty?” Elvira scoffed and fanned her hands around her face, “Obsessed with me, even when I'm dead? Sounds a bit loony.”

 Kaeo shrugged, leaning against a wall. His face exuded all the leisure a person could aspire to achieve.

“You should feel blessed that killing you would kill me.”

“Wow, makes me wanna slit my wrist and see what happens next,” Elvira rolled her eyes.

Though she had said the words with much nonchalance, Kaeo’s face darkened at the prospect. She was quick to recognise the hardness in his jaw and corrected herself, “My bad, I love my life too much to waste it over the likes to you.”

“Said the one who brought me back from the dead.” Kaeo scoffed.

“I did it for the Kaeo I liked,” Elvira said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh! You like me?” Kaeo mocked, throwing his head back in disbelief.

“What! No! not at all! the old you, who doesn’t exist anymore! the nicer person! I liked him, like I like Kairo, of course, like nor—”

“Oh, you like me?” Kairo whispered from behind her, scaring her enough to jump away. “Is that why you have been avoiding marriage with my brother? Why did I never consider this?” he wondered in a serious conspirative tone.

“You like my brother now? After all the leaching you’ve done with me? You want to marry my brother?!” Kaeo bellowed.

“Elvira, if you want to, I can—”

“NO! I DON’T LIKE EITHER OF YOU!” Elvira shouted before any misunderstandings could prosper.

“Is it me who you like?” Wilhelma jumped into perspective, grinning ear to ear as she pointed a finger at her face.

Elvira sighed, emotionally and physically exhausted by the exchange. “I’d like my magic if I can find it,” she grumbled to no one in particular.

Suddenly, Kairo perked up, his jade eyes glinting as he exclaimed, “I have an idea! Let’s go on a mission together, for old time’s sake!”

The You in Me: 6 - Trust.

 

CHAPTER 5

In her dream, the world was simpler. She was a teenager living at the periphery like all humans, trying to make ends meet, trying to find value in life. She was plain yet dreamed of fame every night she went to bed. Though, when the morning sun would dawn on her window the dream would dissipate and she would come to a realisation, “I am good for nothing.”

The sun was bright and its rays were scorching, burning holes through the tree leaves guarding her window pane. Cicadas were set to world domination with the sheer collective force of their chorusing. The rays were getting hotter by the second when she sat up in her bed and held her face in her hands, unable to face herself. Then, the might of a singular sunbeam melted the window glass only to penetrate inside and light her house on fire.

Flames engulfed her.

She was outside, suddenly, running and screaming for her parents.

“Ma! Papa! Where are you?”

Her vision was red and her senses hot, tall skyscrapers crumbled to dust before her. She climbed the debris, desperate in her efforts to dig into it and find something…or was it someone? In her subconscious, she knew the rest of the neighbourhood would be safe. Still, her hands clawed into the broken glass, sharp iron beams and chalky cement – where were her parents? They were nowhere to be found. She screamed and screamed her mother’s name as the flames took down her town and memories. They drew closer with every breath she took, lusting for the oxygen within her. The fire was there to burn her, but somehow, it wasn’t touching her.

“What is the cost of one kind deed?”

The sentence echoed in her head, over and over. Suddenly, there was a mirror in front of her and she couldn’t avoid facing herself this time. Seraphina Dysis. The skin was melting off her face and body, leaving a bony skeleton and piercing grey eyes bleeding in the consequence of kindness.

“If you continue like this, it’ll only bring your ruination.”

It was her mother’s voice this time, echoing through the fire. Suddenly, the flames were smoke and the smoke clustered in the sky as clouds and a new day dawned.

An electric current shot through her body and Seraphina was jolted awake.

“Ah, Dread Dysis,” the matron called, flipped through the many pages on her notepad, and scratched her name off. “You will find your items inside your drawer. The classes commence in ten so I’d recommend you make haste.” The old lady, tall and skeletal, white as bone itself, passed a smile to Seraphina and walked away to zap the student on the next bed.

The ravenette, still in the midst of deciphering dream from reality couldn’t help but gasp at the heavenly white aesthetic of the infirmary. “Am I dead?” she whispered to herself as she scrutinized her arms and legs for burn scars. She found none. She flipped her head to the bedside table and shoved her face in the mirror. It reflected a perfect glass skin, sharp scarlet eyes and shiny raven hair. Seraphina pinched her cheeks and ruffled her hair to confirm reality from illusion again.

“You’re not gone yet? You could miss your chance if someone steals your seat, Dread Dysis,” the bony matron commented, voice nasally and crisp.

Ah, yes, the Choosing Ceremony. She was going to hug Ahren…only to be tasered in the back?

Et tu, Ahren?

Seraphina shook her head in exasperation. Her trust, yet again, was too easily earned with simple acts of kindness. Maybe this was what her dream was alluding to.

She pulled the bedside drawer open and found a glossy black bag inside. Its handles were intricately carved as golden vines spreading into the bag’s fabric on the front. Her jaw dropped in awe as she carefully picked up the bag and placed it on the bed, handling it with only her index fingers and thumbs to avoid leaving any dirty fingerprints of her hands.

Seraphina searched high and low to find a zip or a buckle on the bag but to no avail. Instead, she just sat straight for a good minute and stared at its glossy finish, then realising that time was running out, she cradled the bag in her arms like a million-dollar child and jumped off the bed. She had seven minutes to navigate her way to the first class – whatever it may be, she wondered as she shoved her feet in her shoes, careful not to crush the heels.

There must be someone around, Seraphina thought, who could help her.

The ravenette circled the bed and pulled away the white curtains separating her from the person beside. The fluid motion of her hand led to reveal a face likely to help her with her demise instead. Soft dark hair ruffled out of their style and piercing golden eyes narrowed at her with obvious grudge, greeted her sight. Instantly, Seraphina pulled the curtain back in its place.

“You saw nothing,” she said and fled out of her curtain containment. She may not know where to go, but she did know not to interact with a true Astherian without magic constraints around him. No matter how appealing even as a dread.

Just as Seraphina was about to step out of the infirmary, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and twisted her to face its owner. The said owner had the curtsey to lower his neck from the clouds to meet her eyes; pinned against the infirmary wall, caged in between Kaizer’s arms, the ravenette gulped.

“That would be impossible, I see everything. I have six eyes,” Kaizer deadpanned. On cue, the tiny iridescent crystals embedded above his brows blinked open and golden irises meandered in the small space they were provided with.

“That’s…” Seraphina sucked in a breath, “truly creepy,” she breathed out and bent under his arm to walk out of his armed-cage. Only for him to push his palm against her forehead and bring her back in, against the wall.

“I can see things before they happen,” he stated, pointing at his eyes, looking dead on the inside.

“Well then, can your eyes see how late we will be if we don’t get going right this instant?!” Seraphina exhaled, frowning at his dead-faced persistence.

“But I cannot see why I don’t want to kill you…” his words dragged to a whisper.

Seraphina raised her brows in exasperation, “Why thank you? For being a decent hero?!”

“It goes against my basic principles…” he leaned in, close enough for their noses to be inches apart.

“I t-think the professor c-can refresh that when he’s, uh, dishing out our punishment!” Seraphina pressed a hand against his chest and pushed him away.

Kaizer sucked in a sharp breath and took several steps away from her; his brows joined together in a frown, as if repulsed. Though, his words seemed to betray his actions as he whispered, “Our sounds nice.”

Blood rushed to Seraphina’s face as she kicked the infirmary door open and stormed into the hallway. “What the heck is his deal?! If he doesn’t want to kill me, he’ll jump me instead?! Can’t he just stay away?!” she fanned her face with both her hands, consequently her bag fell to the marbled floor. “Dammit!” she cursed and bent down to pick it up, instinctively, by its golden handle.

The bag clicked open upon her touch.

“Ah, you figured it out,” a dead gasp birthed itself above her ear, warm breath fanned her nape. Seraphina felt an overwhelming presence shadow over her, so close to her back that she could feel the warmth trapped in between their bodies.

“What is wrong with you?! Are you following me?” Seraphina snapped and jumped several steps away from Kaizer, lest she’d do something unreasonable as lean into the warmth. Oh, the horror!

“Being choked by a microphone wire does things to you,” he shrugged, nonchalant.

Though, before Seraphina could fathom a response, a string of violin notes resonated through the wooden walls, slowly but aggressively building up into a crescendo.

“That’d be the warning music,” Kaizer pointed his finger at the sky-high ceilings vibrating the music through the ancient castle.

“You folks surely have a thing for dramatics,” Seraphina rolled her eyes and pulled out a map from the bag. The sheer thickness of its folds indicated her probable failure, so, taking a hint, she tucked it back inside her bag and faced Kaizer.

His lower lip curved into the tiniest of smiles as he held out a hand for her to take. The music was building up faster, every note louder than the last. Hesitantly, Seraphina placed her hand over his, avoiding eye contact.

“I meant the bag; it’d have your teleportation device…but this is okay as well,” Kaizer winked. Flustered, Seraphina was about to snatch her hand away when his slender fingers held onto her hand, encasing it.

The last memory Seraphina held of someone holding her hand with such firmness was her with mother, when Seraphina was a toddler in human kindergarten and was being bullied for crying too much. She missed her home, her dolls, her story books and her puzzle pieces that she had to leave behind in order to attend school – a place feted with snobbish kids who never asked her to play with. The loneliness led to tears, the tears were an excuse for the mockeries and the bullies – a symbol of weakness which she wielding everyday until her mother would come to pick her up, at the end of the day. She’d hold her hand with firmness and reaffirmation; and she wouldn’t let go until they were home.

There was a warm attachment Seraphina associated with handholding and to share such a moment with an Astherian who should hate her mere existence was appalling.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

Seraphina did not know where, but she followed anyway. It’s almost as if she was compelled to. One step turned into golden leap and suddenly the hallways around them phased away and she found herself at the foot of what seemed like an empty battle ground. Surprised, Seraphina turned to look for Kaizer only to find him no one behind her.

So much for trusting a person again.

The You in Me: 3 - Casual Murder.

 

CHAPTER 2

 

The world was invaded three centuries ago by an ancient species known as Astherians. While the rich scrambled away in their bunkers, the poor fought against their chances and perished. The Astherians possessed Aether, an amalgamation of pure cosmic and chaos spirit which gave them abilities beyond human comprehension. Though, when the balance was disrupted – they began finding new lands in hopes to repopulate.

Earth happened to be one of them.

As resources began depleting by year 90 after the invasion, humans were forced out of their bunkers and settled on the ground as a lower grade species. The once billionaires were stripped off their power, technology and currency, only to be settled in subordination to Astherians.

The two factions did not cross paths, unless need be, for nothing good ever comes out of it. They may share common public spaces—like the woman walking down the sidewalk with her child, holding hands and swinging their arms – but there was no innate need of interaction that boiled over as Seraphina walked past them.

She walked past tens of them, on her way to the academy, eyeing an odd sense of peace that exuded through their persona. Kids playing in a park and crying over a ball that dropped into a drain; teenagers racing down roads with panic in their eyes but smiles on their faces; elderly gentlemen loitering around electric poles while exercising loudly. Theirs was a small community and those who understood how perishable their existences were—worked hard to make every moment count.

The humans, or what Astherians liked to call them – Imanians – were far removed from the hub of Asteria by a dense fog and a miles long winding road down a rocky hill. Seraphina, on the other hand, trekked down with great ease. The issue of her convoluted existence allowed her to co-exist between the two worlds, though, not by choice.

The Aetherunes Academy held an ominous presence to itself. On the outside, it looked sharp and pointy, like a naturally occurring crystal pushed out of the Earth. Its height extended into the fog and what surrounded it was lush vastness of uncharacteristic green.

As Seraphina passed through the metal gates and onto the cobbled walkway into the Aetherunes Academy a ginormous blazing hammer struck against her side and propelled her a few feet into air, something akin to an air-filled balloon being let go.

The impact thrusted her into the Lake Celestia, beside the cobbled walkway, and the perfectly aimed blow had Seraphina’s jarred mouth collecting about eight shimmering Celes fishes in a go.

“And that’s a goal!” someone hollered.

“Been catching up on human sports?” another asked.

“This should be made into an Aetherian Sport; shooting the Dreads for turds and giggles.”

A group of white and gold clad girls, Class A: Heroes, clustered around the lake’s edge and chuckled amongst themselves as Seraphina shook her head and spat the celes back into the lake. She resurfaced out of the starry lake and grinned widely.

“Made me fly, you did,” Seraphina said, “’twas a long-term dream of mine.”

“Ha, she lives!” A silver haired girl clapped. She was slender and tall with eyes as bright as emeralds and a stance which could only be described as prideful. She raised her right hand and over a green aether circle and materialised the gigantic blazing red hammer.

“Tragic, really,” Seraphina tsked as she swam closer to the edge. She placed her hands on the ground to lift herself up when a jet of water shot her into the sky. She smiled, regained her composure mid-air, and spotted the water manipulator. “Y’all really make life tough on yourselves,” Seraphina tsked, and suddenly, all water droplets around her tinged a grimy black under the influence of a red aether circle. A maniacal grin encased Seraphina’s lips as the dark droplets lost their gravity-induced roundness, instead morphing into a needle-like point as they changed their paths and aimed at the girls on the ground.

The sheer force with which each droplet sped towards its master and their allies had them scrambling for defense. The droplets which did not hit people, pierced holes into the ground, whilst the rest broke through the heroes’ defenses and laid them bleeding onto the greenery. The hammer girl managed to stand for two whole seconds before a droplet pierced through her blazing weapon and impaled her forehead.

She dropped to the ground, though easier than Seraphina did. As all aether wielders succumbed to their ill-chosen fate, the aether constant ceased around the cursed one and she fell, quite compliant to gravity, with a loud crack on the ground, splat beside the white clad heroes.

A loud crack resonated in the stillness of her surroundings.

Seraphina groaned, plopped against the ground and felt all feeling leave her legs after the sharp pain subsided.

“Whatever happened to ‘Good Mornings’ and ‘Good Days’,” she spat, nasally. Kindness was out of bounds within Aetherunes Academy, really; every student was instinctively propelled to crush another, be it in-class or intra-class, for reasons that were lost to Seraphina.

The ravenette used her arms to drag her limped lower-body on the ground, closer to the hammer girl, so she could hasten the healing process. Broken bones would take a Class: S healer, which weren’t only hard to find but absolutely impossible to convince. Unless one had a special notice from the Headmistress.

And Seraphina would willingly wish for eternal death over the official process of filling out forms to get a notice.  

Sucking a soul was much easier and came with way less consequences.

So, Seraphina did just that as she crawled over hammer girl’s now cold body and placed her hand over the chest. Five black aether circles appeared all over her arm as she sucked out the girl’s aether. Feeling and pain returned to her lower body as the hammer girl’s flesh began disappearing along with her aether.

A memory popped in Seraphina’s head.

“Melody, why did you choose to manifest a weapon?” an old, wrinkly, woman asked a toddler who was sitting on a bench, swinging her feet to-and-fro.

“So that I can crush all your problems, grandma,” the little girl replied with a bright smile.

“Oh?” the old woman chuckled, “My melody is so small but so aware of my problems?”

“Of course!” the girl nodded, “Those evil men who stole our land and everything from us, made you cry, made mum go away, made dad so sad…all those are problems and I’m going to crush them!”

“Oh, my sweetest melody, you have a noble heart. You’ll be a great hero one day,” the old lady hugged the child.

The memory dissipated, though not before leaving yet another dead weight on Seraphina’s not-so-dead heart. Her eyes took in Melody’s darkened skeleton underneath her as she stood up. “Noble indeed,” she tsked and stretched her legs, “Woah, I feel like a person again!”

 

Seraphina clapped and skipped away from the bleeding students, humming a human tune unbeknownst to all around her. She made it inside the Academy successfully, this time around, while only bearing witness to two fights at the door – both of which were being led by Hero Kaizer Malvern, simultaneously – one of which had a Dread running around, on fire, while the other had a Dread doing squats while holding his ears. Seraphina slipped in silently while the rest of the Hero crowd was cheering over the spectacle.

Though, she was a mere ten steps inside the grand academy when her path was hindered by the very inexcusable and overwhelming presence of Headmistress Valarie Malvaren. She was tall today, white skinned and blonde with a big hairdo as though an eighteenth-century Lady would look in a modern-day pantsuit. Her flourishing cape dragged behind her high heeled boots as she made her way towards Seraphina.

“Fancy seeing you so early in the morning,” the ravenette pointed at the ceiling, as if it were the sky indicating morning.

“Well, I saw a sharp decline in my Hero count even before the first class and within…” the headmistress raised her wrist to check the time in her floral watch, “well, less than a minute and thirty seconds. Impressive, really, I thought after I was done being concerned.”

Seraphina smiled, “Oh, then I wouldn’t hold you up any longe—” her sentence trailed off as Headmistress Valerie wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began guiding her towards the office.

“I did make another observation, you see, there were five inconveniences: just the number of sins you need to commit in a day to stay afloat,” Valarie informed.

“Wow, you’re so wise,” Seraphina sighed out a dry reply.

“Of course, why else would they choose me as the Headmistress?” Valerie chuckled as they reached the rustic and intricately carved office door. It opened on its own accord, recognizing Valarie as its owner, and the duo stepped inside.

The office was dark yet sparkly, if one had to summarise it in two words; as if Valarie was hoarding ancient treasure in the dark to decorate her lair.

“Did you find him?” the Headmistress asked as she took her bejeweled seat and gestured Seraphina to take one in front.

“I do not really hail from a…detective background?” she tried to put her thoughts into words, “It is all very new to me.”

“Your eyes are wandering,” Valarie pointed out, “You’ve been procrastinating, haven’t you?”

“What! No…!” Seraphina raised her arms and crossed them in an X. “I’ve been trying, well, it’d be much easier if your heroes weren’t frequently hunting me down! You should either assign me a healer or keep your students in check!”

“It is in their aether to hunt the dreads, Seraphina, that is why I insist you find him fast.”

Seraphina slumped in her chair and sprawled herself comfortably. “I was brushing my teeth in the morning, you know, the most personal time one has in the morning and I was stabbed in the back! Not just stabbed, I saw the thing poke out through my front,” she used her fingers to draw imaginary lines signifying the sword’s blade. “I had to push it through me, like, I felt it travel through my rib cage and intestines,” Seraphina grimaced.

“I’ll ask Kaizer to keep them in check,” Valarie rolled her eyes at Seraphina’s dramatic explanation.

“Good! Thank you!”

“Your mortal body can sustain only so much, Seraphina, until you either perish or become truly cursed. You and I, we both know that the latter is off possibilities because you cannot harness the power he has. Channeling only one percent of it has been taking a toll on your body,” Valarie knocked the table mirror to flip around and face Seraphina.

The young girl glimpsed her appearance in the mirror. Though, the porcelain skin, the straight raven hair and the piercing scarlet eyes were no way a downgrade as Headmistress Valarie was making them out to be. She used to be someone with oily, pimply skin, wild curls and dead grey eyes which could ward off any human interaction from a mile away. It was in no way a confidence boost to what she gained after the incident.

“I wouldn’t call it a toll, per say,” Seraphina ran a hand through her silken hair.

“Well then, wait till you start growing scales, fangs and wings,” Valarie passed a sarcastic smile.

Seraphina pursed her lips momentarily, then to soothe the headmistress’ soul, she said, “I’ll keep on searching.”

“Why, thank you!” Valarie breathed in exasperation. She got up and floated to a bedazzled cupboard behind the chair. “I don’t get how Astherians are still lousy on accepting the concept of cupboards. I mean, why would you want to strain your aether when you can just put stuff away like this,” she tsked and took out an intricate wooden box, “Keep this. Remember to not overstep because each Astherian has a destiny to accomplish. Rather than leaving our blood to bleed dry, store your inconveniences in here.”

Seraphina took the box which was offered to her and opened it to find it brimming with small, shiny, pearls.

“They’re strong enough to store up till Class C without harm. As for Classes B and above, you’ll just have to bring their Aether levels down to a C.”

“You’re so helpful,” Seraphina forced a quick smile, “I must go for my classes now. Apparently, they’re a lottery system and I’d hate to choose last.”

“Yeah, three centuries in and we’re still fascinated by the way humans did things.” Valarie smiled as Seraphina curtsied and left.

The Choosing Ceremony wasn’t merely a lotto system, but in a fashion unique to the Vikings, Barbarians and the Astherians – it was also a test of power. As Seraphina stood in hall built out of pure crystal, a small, furry, winged creature floated atop their heads in announcement, “You can pick an order number by yourself, yes, the smaller the number – the earlier you go and the more contenders you shall face. Of course, the top hundred will be allotted the best classes along with the best professors, best resources and best subjects! Now, without further ado, pick a number!” the tiny, fuzzy, creature burst into confetti after the announcement was made.

Suddenly, random numbers appeared on top of everyone’s heads and they kept on shuffling until their owner would decide on one. The animosity in the room was off the charts as Heroes and Dreads stood side by side, divided by their instincts and uniforms. Even though it was her first day, Seraphina did not feel alienated for in this society, no one was one’s own.

Seraphina remembered asking Headmistress Valarie as to what it meant to be a Dread.

“Hm, I’m not sure but they were characterised by this desire to rule the world… do you have it?”

“I don’t know but the idea doesn’t seem half as bad,” Seraphina replied with a shrug.

“Well then you’re almost eighty percent a dread!” Headmistress Valarie patted her back.

An innate desire to win, rule and be number one; that is what characterised aether’s most evil folks? Why, that sounds awfully similar to humankind.

So, without a doubt, Seraphina smiled and the number 1 appeared on top of her head – having not only 599 Dreads in competition but also 600 ruthless Heroes who would give their soul to rid the world off her.

Rain on You

Weather doesn't make the seasons, it's the memories which do. 

When the summer sun was scorching over their heads, blazing the grounds in some one-sided vengeance against humanity, his kindness washed over her like midnight rain. 

She was knocked to the bite the dust, scraped hands and knees threatening tears out of her five-year-old tolerance. She was supposed to be a brave girl, she was supposed to be a bold girl, but the sand was hot and sharp against her burning skin. It hurt but she was afraid to accept it.

The children around cackled at her expense as if tripping a fellow classmate was them witnessing peak hilarity.

"Can't get up now little rat, can you?" The boy, who tripped her, snickered behind her back.

She gulped a soft cry though as she was about to get up, she heard a muffled thump followed by resounding gasps. She jerked to look behind and saw her bully on the ground with a reddened cheek; tears welled his eyes and snot clogged his nose as he wailed in pain. Everyone clamoured around to give him a helping hand, uttering words of concern, but her eyes were focused on the hand in front of her.

A singular hand sporting rosy knuckles belonging to a boy with a gummy smile. Sweat plastered his hair against his forehead and dirt had made a permanent home on his cheeks, still, her breath hitched as the sun shone behind his head as if haloing him. 

"Come on, let's play!" He exclaimed and beckoned his fingers, urging her to grab his hand.

She took it. It was the first time she had held someone's hand, someone who wasn't a teacher at the orphanage. Someone who wasn't leading her up to her parents' grave. Someone whose eyes burned like the summer sun but upon touching his hand, peace flooded her mind like winter rain.

"I am Dylan," he grinned before bending to dust the dirt off her dress and knees.

"I'm Ellie," she replied, nervous as he kneeled in front of her to examine her injury. She noticed the red t-shirt he was wearing and how well it suited him. The red went along with the darkness of his hair and the paleness of his skin.

"You're like the red ranger. Red looks good on you," Ellie giggled.

It was a comment in the passing upon a tryst of kindness and bravery. Ellie uttered the words quite instinctively, since she liked power rangers so much, baring any ulterior motives of friendship.

Though as he led her to the nurse's room he kept talking about power rangers and when he proposed friendship, holding out the bandaged hand which was hurt to avenge her — who was Ellie to deny?

"Look, Ellie! I made a red lego house!! Is it pretty, do you like it??" He looked at her with a gaze blazing with expectations and he held the lego castle in front of him. 

"Eh-he, it's pretty, but...?" Ellie leaned to look behind him and spotted a bunch of crying kids in the corner of the room. "Did you really have to threaten them for the red blocks?" She mused. They were at the orphanage's playroom, a place they frequented over the past year to hangout with eachother. 

Dylan wasn't from the orphanage but he would stop by, everyday after they became friends, to be with Ellie because without him she had no friends. His absence made the glares of her classmates sharper and the mean comments louder. 

"Why not? You like red so it is all good," he replied, nonchalant. 

No one dared to look at her when he was around. The glances would diminish along with the rest of her problems when she would be crouched on the floor with him, playing with toys or building lego sets. 

He smiled at her with earnestness which would make his eyes crinkle. 

Ellie liked the crinkle of his eyes. Not many people smiled at her with such genuineness considering her parents died while escaping to pay back the money they scammed out of poor commoners. 

Ellie was made aware of the fact when she was twelve and during the 'what's your dream job' presentation she wished to be Dylan's parents who were honorable politicians. She was snickered at by her classmates and shut down by her teacher's harsh comment, "You better pay back your parents' debt first. They owe this world more than your existence is worth." 

When she reiterated the incident to Dylan the crinkle left his eyes and the smile dropped his face. He frowned then proceeded to pat her head and said, "You're different from your parents. You're better. You're my good girl." 

From the next day, a new teacher replaced the old one. 

Ellie never questioned it because of a scar on Dylan's wrist. She henpecked his ears to gain a grain of information but to no avail. In the end, they ended up wrapping a bandage around it in the Nurse's room. She wondered why Dylan wouldn't even make an excuse about it, until he asked her out of the blue, at the doorstep of the orphanage, "Did you like that shade of red on me?" 

The sky thundered behind his head, emphasising the dark of his hair and eyes. The winds howled as if carrying a warning message for her but she eluded them by saying, "You should rush home before the storm starts! Be safe!" 

The storm lasted a week. Power outages and floods busied the adults and terrified the kids. Ellie was twelve and a mature enough person to not be afraid of the dark. The silence of her room was comforting and the tapping of raindrops against her window lulled her to sleep.

"Shh, it's that crazy's girl... isn't she?" 

"Yes yes. She's crazy as well. You know Peter from the neighborhood?"

"The one with the big house?"

"Yeah, he used to play with us. She stole his Pokemon toy when she was a kid. He caught her playing with it behind the swings and she bit his hand and ran away. The next day he tripped her in front of everyone so she called that crazy guy and had him beat Peter up. He never came to the playground again. Tsk." 

"Wah... that's evil."

"Yeah, she's like that."

"Let's lock the door."

"Yeah, she deserves it."

Ellie spent four out of the seven days locked inside a dark room on the fourth floor, wailing for help and banging against the bolted wood for attention. On the eighth day, she was found passed out inside — apparently having survived on rainwater. 

Ellie had been a slender child ever since she was brought in but when Dylan saw her on the white hospital bed that enveloped her small frame, he decided that she would not be staying in the orphanage anymore.

Ellie had never fathomed the thought of a family before but the Wisterias were the closest she could get to it. They let her sit on the same table as them, let her eat the same food as them and let her have a room beside their son. Though they never verbally acknowledged her presence, they paid her school fee and got her new uniform and books each year.

Ellie was thoroughly obliged and indebted but there was a gnawing feeling in her gut that made her hide underneath the bed every night. Because each night, someone would walk into her room and search the bed for her.

The first night, Ellie had been asleep when the sharpness of a knifepoint pierced her skin barrier and broke blood. She flinched her eyes open and witnessed the ever familiar gummy smile and crinkled eyes within whom she had once found warmth.

"D-dylan— w-what are you doing?!" She spluttered her words, eyes alternating between his face and the knife in his hand.

"I wanted to match," Dylan held out his hand and rolled up his shirt sleeve to reveal a large cut on his hand, "So we'll both look good in red!" 

"N-no, t-this is wrong! Why are you doing this? Why did you do this?!" 

"Are you afraid of me...? Please don't be. It's what I get for being so close to you. But don't worry, I know you have nowhere to go. You are nothing without me."

His eyes seemed teary.

'You are nothing without me.'

The words resonated through her head for years to come. As the scars on her body increased, the lonliness of the world settled in her mind. She had known Dylan since she was five, he was the rain for her blazing days, the solace of her tormented life. He was her hope, the haloed angel she had witnessed back when she was a kid.

And angels do nothing wrong...right?

So, why did her heart leap into fear everytime she met eyes with him? Why did her body stiffen when he touched her thighs on the dining table? Why did her skin crawl when he whispered dirty secrets in her ear.

It irked her soul but her mind couldn't place a problem in it.

Where would she go if she left the Wisterias? What would she do after offending a political family? Where can she even hide? Would he find her...?

Rain soaked, one night, as she was returning to Wisteria mansion, a drunkard arguing with a tree caught her eye. He debated with it, caressed it, slurred his words of affection for it before hitting it with his fists. 

The droplets ingrained the incident in her memory and the next time Dylan came over with a knife in his hand, she offered him whiskey and wine. The summer of her eighteenth was spent hiding in a mansion while trying to evade a drunk friend who was running at her with a knife. 

"C'mere! I'll make you look so pretty in red! We'll match and be lovers! Don't you wanna be pretty for me? Don't you love me?" 

His shouts were deafened by the rain pouring beyond the imperial windows she ran past. 

"How long will you run Ellie, is this a game we're playing? I just wanna hold you and make you red for me. You know I am always red for you!"

His words haunted her as an echo as she ran up the spiral staircase and flung open the terrace door. A cold gust of wind burned against her adrenaline powered scorching body. 

"Why are you so obsessed with making me red?! What is wrong with you?!" Ellie shouted as she backed into the rain while he neared the terrace door. 

"I just...I used to hate the red on me," he cried as he raised his hands and took off his t-shirt to reveal a scarred body, "But then, then, you, the prettiest girl I know, you said that red looks good on me...so, I just did it. And because you liked it so much...I wanted to share!" 

"But it hurts me, Dylan, you know that. I don't like this red! It's bad and hurtful!" She shouted. 

"But I like it and I want to see you in it." He ran towards her, she backed up for a few steps before crouching down and rolling to the other side. 

As Dylan ran he slipped and tripped, quite like Ellie when she was five, but instead of falling on burning ground his body crashed down many-a-floor, meeting the water he represented. Embracing the red.