by T. C. Edge
Yet never does it seem enough for that horrible Collector, Ceres. The best he ever does is offer the most meagre of appreciative nods. Prime-damn I hate that man.
Father doesn't look up as we approach, his attention the other way. From the kitchen, I see mother step out onto the porch, stand there watching him a moment. She doesn't call out or draw his attention immediately. She's a dutiful wife, mother, and devotee. She wouldn't interrupt father whilst he's busy catching fish to give for tribute.
By the time Jude and I near, father has completed his day's catch and turned back to the cabin. He gathers his things and walks towards mother, his expression remaining plain as he returns to the cabin. Father isn't one for great emotion or affection. I've long since suspected that mother wishes for more, but doesn't cause issue by pushing her cause. Frankly, affection isn't considered of great importance here. Father takes that ideal and makes it his own.
Before Jude and I arrive, my parents finally take note. They turn together as we exit the woods and venture their way. I consider taking Jude's hand to show my intention, but refuse the urge. Still, I'm alone in my plans for this occasion. Jude merely thinks I'm showing him where I live for the first time. He has no idea I'm putting him on display for my parents' official assessment.
My heart, drumming loudly, begins to dull to a mournful beat as I see my father's expression. His eyes shape in an obvious show of displeasure, and he quickly turns away, heading inside. Mother, meanwhile, manages a semi-supportive smile, and waits for us on the porch. Only when father barks her in does she move inside and out of sight.
We haven't even reached the porch. Already, I know my parent's blessing, for whatever this might become, isn't going to be mine.
The evening is a mess. It doesn't last long. Jude, pleasant as always, portrays himself as the fine young man he is. I take great heart in his affection for me by the way he conducts himself. He is as polite as one could hope for a boy of seventeen to be. Mother, I think, takes to him, despite his reputation. Father, being father, refuses to engage with anything other than short, terse responses to genuine, interested queries. In return, he hardly offers question himself, showing little interest or tact.
I have never hated him more.
I cry that night like I never have before. Jude leaves me before I break, drawing up one side of his lips into that glorious, lopsided grin. Though it's dark already, and his own home is many miles away through the woods, he offers no complaint at coming all this way only to be treated as he was. He just smiles at me, and heads off into the foreboding forest, undaunted by the long trek through the darkness ahead.
I watch him go, wishing I could go with him, and know that my relationship with my father is no more. This, I'm certain, is his revenge for the path I've chosen. This is retribution for the shame I've brought this house.
And as I lie in bed that night, I feel my emotions throttled, my heart darken further to this life, this place. I yearn for something different, something more.
One day, it shall be mine.
I press, hard, against the Overseer's intrusions, as further flashes of memory come. I'm sent back several days to my last moments with Jude. To the sight of him being carried away from me, that same, supportive expression upon his face as when my father dismissed him so callously.
Ever he tries to sooth and console me, show me that everything will be all right. For as long as I've known him, he's been my rock. And now, I'm seeing him being taken from me forever.
The memory doesn't last long. It roars inside me with such intent as to force me to react. I feel a powerful, unquenchable flame burn within, my lungs opening up to scream out Jude's name. As before, the cracks appear in the darkness, the Overseer appearing beyond. I see him there, beyond the curtain, pressing back against him as he continues to penetrate my mind.
But this time, it's too much. This time, I break.
The fire bursts from within me. It happens without control, flowing freely, wildly. The flames surge from my flesh, exploding from my body, raging like a bushfire blazing out of control.
It rushes towards the Overseer, his eyes lighting up in shock. Off to one side, Herald Perses swoops in, but too late. The flames spread too quickly, enveloping the Overseer in their scorching embrace.
I watch in horror as his robes alight, his skin scorched and blackened. I hear him roar in terrible anguish as the heretics did during their purification. Immediately, I attempt to quench the blaze, but my emotions are too frayed, too strong.
And already, it's too late.
I feel myself breaking down as I watch on in terror at the Overseer's flaming body. He stands, right there before me, body quickly overcome as the pain grows too intense. It takes only what seems like a few seconds for it all to happen. For the howls of pain to be cut off. For his body to crumble to its knees, melting right there before my eyes.
The sight becomes too much for me as I watch. I feel a strange sensation in my head take hold, my vision blurring as before. A darkness seems to close in from the borders, smothering my view.
And then, suddenly, everything shuts off.
33
The next thing I know, I'm in a comfortable carriage, rolling along the cobblestones streets in the north of Olympus.
I don't feel the sensation of coming out of a sleep. No, it's more like I'm just becoming aware of my surroundings. As though a veil has been lifted from my senses, my consciousness manually returned.
And, right ahead of me, I see the culprit.
The Overseer stares me right in the eye.
I gulp, suddenly, and press back away from him. We're alone in the carriage, no Marlow or Krun or Herald Perses for company. I take a sharp breath and blink hurriedly to make sure it's real. I look left and right, seeing the city through the carriage windows, making certain I'm not locked within a dream.
"Calm yourself, Amber," the Overseer says. "Everything is quite all right. There's no need to panic."
I find my gaze back upon him. As we lock eyes, I sense my worries fading, as though doused by his own telepathic gifts.
"You burned," I whisper, suddenly feeling more calm. "I saw you burn."
"You saw only what I wanted you to see," he says. "You saw only what I put into your head."
"But...why?"
"Because you failed," he says, his voice hardening a little. "You were unable to stop me from manipulating your memories, so I decided to give you a fright."
"A fright," I repeat. "I nearly had a heart attack."
"You exaggerate, child. You let yourself give in to strong emotions, and need to learn to control them. However, I know you have had no experience of telepathic intrusions, so am not completely surprised by the result. How does it make you feel, knowing what you saw wasn't real?"
I narrow my gaze angrily. "Confused," I grunt.
"And hostile," the man says. "You hate the idea that someone can get into your head. You feel vulnerable knowing that what you're seeing or experiencing may not be real, merely a trick of the mind."
I nod, and turn away, breaking eye contact so that he cannot see into my head.
"Ah yes, a common reaction," the Overseer goes on. "But, there is a solution. You did well on the first go, Amber. However, the build up of emotion became too much for you. You were unable to stop me from drawing up that memory of Jude. But there is hope for you yet. In time, you'll become more accustomed to such things. Next time it happens, you'll be better prepared."
I keep my eyes away, defensive, upset, staring out into the city. The grand stone buildings loom, the sound of carriages rattling through the streets. I assume we're part of the convoy heading back to the Temple of Fire. Have I slept until now, been carried here into the carriage from the marquee? Or was I awake, only unaware of it?
The thought makes me uncomfortable either way.
"I do find it interesting, however, that your most powerful and painful memories involved the theme of change, and restlessness," the Overseer continues. "I hope you're b
eginning to realise just how much you resented your life on the Fringe, how limited it was for you. We have looked into your mind and seen your heart's true desire. Now, we have delved into your most powerful memories, seminal to your development, and discovered the same theme - you wish for more, Amber. Yes, you will do anything to see your loved ones safe, but above all else, you wish to be part of something important."
He smiles, nodding to himself as I dare to glance back at him. "Yes," he says. "You see it all now, and are starting to commit to it. Even if we offered the choice to return home, with both Lilly and Jude alongside you, you'd have to consider your decision deeply. You closed your heart to Jude after how your father reacted. You kept him as a friend only, and only when you were parted did you realise the full depth of your feeling for him again. And Lilly, well you have always wished to protect her, but you know that here she'll be happy. You know she'd prefer to live here among the Children of the Prime than return to her home by the lake. Your path is taking you elsewhere, Amber. You rally against things until you trust them, and are starting to see that your true nature is now guiding your path. You trust that. You trust the fire within."
I shake my head and turn away again, though not because he's wrong. No, I hate how right he is. I hate how right all of this feels.
"Tell me what is happening to Lilly and Jude," I say, staring out of the window once more.
I can almost sense the smile build on the Overseer's lips. "Oh, no need to worry about them," he says. "Lilly is currently in training to be the personal aid of a young Daughter of the Prime, a charming woman called Lady Felina. She is of high birth and extremely pleasant, or so I'm told. And she has a very kind-hearted nature and appreciation for the great work the Worthy do. I assure you, Lilly couldn't be placed anywhere better. Unless, of course, she joins you. That remains an option, depending upon what you decide."
"Join me," I repeat, torn on the idea. "I've already seen how Lilly looked at me when she realised what I was. I don't much like the idea of her putting me on a pedestal. She's just my sister. I don't want her to be anything more than that."
"Well, that will be something for you to discuss with her. I'm sure we can arrange a visit soon, so long as you continue to perform well."
My heart lifts at the thought. In fact, the concept of Lilly living under the service of a kind-hearted Daughter here in Olympus, rather than me, is quite appealing. So long as I can visit her enough, and spend time with her, I'd almost...prefer that.
"And Jude?" I ask.
"Well, fear not, Lady Amber, Jude has already been released from his cell and is, as we speak, on his way back to the Fringe."
My heart tightens at the man's words, my emotions mixed. The idea of him being freed is so relieving. However, I never got to say goodbye.
Perhaps, in the end, that's a good thing...
"And he's safe?" I ask softly, looking longingly out of the carriage in the direction I think is south.
"Perfectly safe and unharmed. He is being escorted back by a troop of patrol soldiers, and should be back with his Auntie Grace within a couple of days."
I immediately think of Marlow and the favour I asked of him - to check up on Lilly, if possible, and make sure that Jude was released, as promised by the Overseer. It seems that such things will be unnecessary now. Yes, I'd like him to continue to keep an eye on Lilly if he can, but if I'm able to see her myself, perhaps that isn't required.
"You see," the Overseer says. "I am a man of my word." He smiles, his expression suggesting he's fully aware of what I'm thinking. "High Worthy Marlow will not need to do as you requested. There's no reason why you can't see your sister within the next few days, if that suits you."
I draw a breath, feeling almost...nervous.
"I...I didn't think candidates were able to visit with friends and family during the trials?"
"Well, they're not. However, with you an exception can be made. Perform well, and you shall be rewarded. Do not, and...well, you know the consequences."
Yes, I do. It would be hard for me to forget, given how often I receive such not-so-veiled threats.
The carriage continues on, the streets outside growing more familiar. A few minutes later, we're stopping and stepping out, our particular carriage set right at the back of the convoy. As I drop to the stone, and watch the other candidates and their High Worthies exit their transports, I notice several of them looking rather nervous. They glance around at one another, before moving off again towards the Temple of Fire. From one, I notice Marlow step down and move towards me. Krun lumbers behind him, quickly becoming to my eyes little more than a huge, oversized guard dog.
Scanning, I see that Herald Perses is nowhere to be seen. Several of the other assessors - the two older Fire-Bloods included - are, however, in attendance.
With Marlow returning to my side, we continue back towards the Temple with the others. I have little time to get an update from Marlow on any earlier events that might help me fill in the blanks, before we're being gathered ahead of the Overseer and his helpers within the great hall. Once more, he takes position ahead of the Eternal Flame, grandly passing his gaze over us as we stand together in a line.
"It has been a long day," he begins, voice carrying through the hall, "and you have all displayed your proficiency as highly gifted Fire-Bloods. I commend you all for your performances, but unfortunately, many of you will see your trial end now."
I glance down the line, my eyes immediately finding the gazes of Hestia and Elian. The former glares with her usual tight-eyed expression, giving little away. The latter holds his own signature look, though blended with a hint of smugness right now. Both will be going through. Both know it.
Others, on the other hand, look far less sure of themselves.
"The position of Chosen," the Overseer goes on, "can only be filled by a special talent. Sometimes, during these trials, we're unable to find anyone suitable. It is rare, yes, but not entirely unheard of, for the Prime to select no one, at which point the search simply goes on. We don't yet know if any of you, therefore, will become the Chosen. However, for some of you, the journey ends here for certain. I regret to say that the following will not be required to remain here in the temple."
He takes another moment, as if to add some unnecessary drama to proceedings. More and more, I'm beginning to think that one of the Overseer's special gifts is a penchant for theatrics.
I'm not aware of the names of most of the candidates, having not had the time to get to know any of them. And, well, I doubt they'd want to know me either. When the Overseer lists those leaving the contest, therefore, I hardly hear the names, but merely watch the faces.
The first two nod and bow quickly enough to suggest that they were certain their competition was ending here.
The next two look a little more disconsolate, the young man, Kendall, from my carriage on the way to the trials that day, among them. He shakes his head, though only subtly, before dropping into a bow of respect. Each departing candidate does the same, showing the proper reverence to the procedure, occasion, and the Overseer himself.
Another two are then announced. This time, the woman who was in my carriage earlier is among them. Within moments, half the field are gone, only Elian, Hestia, myself, and three others remaining.
I feel no nerves as the Overseer draws out the dramatics once more, his eyes swerving across the remaining candidates. It seems that another is set to be dismissed, his eyes stopping on a man in his mid-thirties, I'd say, who I recall from earlier as being called Pentecost.
He's fairly stocky and short, with thick, hairy forearms that spout from his robes, and a head of thinning hair that makes him look very un-divine and almost out of place amongst the, I have to admit, rather attractive residents of the city. Not all are oil paintings, Hestia making that abundantly clear, but most I've seen are generally nice to look at, with the likes of Elian raising the bar all by himself, annoying as that is to admit.
Pentecost, unattractive as he is, i
s however, evidently very committed to his craft. All day, he's been there at the front, keen as anything, eager to give every task his all. What he lacks in natural flair he makes up for in a strong work ethic.
He looks mighty relieved when the Overseer's eyes continue on past him, moving past Hestia and Elian without stopping, and onto the final two men remaining in the contest. Both are similar looking, with lean, tall physiques and slick, jet-black hair, clearly close in age, and have spent much of the day side by side. I've thought all day that they're related, probably brothers, possibly cousins.
They both stiffen as the Overseer's eyes work towards them, their already narrow eyes tightening further. Frankly, I'll be happy to see either one gone, hopefully both. They've been second only to Hestia in staring me down all day.
The Overseer stops on them, eyes turning from one to the other and back again in almost comical fashion. I find myself not nervous, but quite the opposite. I know for certain that I'm not under threat, given what I've been told. And frankly, watching these two endure this silent torture is plenty to entertain me.
After about five or six subtle turns of his eyes upon each of them, the Overseer finally stops on the one on the left, who I can only really describe as being slightly shorter and younger than the other. The theatrical organiser of the trial nods at the man with a consoling purse of the lips. His brother, or cousin, or whatever he is, looks both relieved and saddened at the same time. He lays a hand across his ally's back and says a quiet word of commiseration before the eliminated party turns and departs.
A second after, the remaining man's eyes shift immediately to me, crafted in profound disgust and detestation. I half turn away from the death-stare, before deciding to stand my ground. In fact, I do more than that. I stare the man right down myself, and feel an immediate warmth radiating from my core, my robes beginning to glow with a little more vibrancy.