by T. C. Edge
I step back over to where Elian and Hestia stand, wiping the final lumps of molten rock from my body before they cool and solidify on my skin.
"Good luck," I say to them, owning the space. I turn back to the Overseer, standing across the pit.
I need those answers now, I think, opening my mind so he can hear me, read the thoughts within. He nods, smiles, and then turns his gaze to the others.
"OK," he says, "who's next?"
42
The others survive the pit as I did, stepping in and out without ill-effect. One by one, they enter, letting the molten rock cover them, before stepping back out and into the cave, renewed, reborn as Fire-Bloods of the highest rank.
We line up once the trial is complete, the Overseer addressing us from across the gaping hole, his features appearing hawkish through the swirling steam. He nods several times, a look of pride upon his face. I'm reminded again of how he looked at my grandmother all those years ago.
"Well done, all of you," he says grandly. "You have each proven yourself of the highest order of Fire-Blood. You will each be stronger for this experience. Now, only a final trial awaits. You have each earned the right to meet the Prime."
A flutter of excitement and nerves passes down the line. I narrow my gaze, a thrill rising through me, as the Overseer continues.
"Tomorrow," he says, "you shall ascend the Hill of Olympus, climbing up the Sacred Steps. It is an honour that few ever receive, and one all of you should be most proud of. Only one, however, will ever ascend again. Only one will be granted the key. Only one will join the Chosen. Tomorrow, we find out who."
His words resonate around the cave, before his eyes switch towards the tunnel leading out.
"The rest of the day is yours," he says. "Relax, and rejoice in your triumph. You have all earned that right."
Gradually, the cohort of candidates, assessors, and High Worthies begin to move off down the tunnel, and out towards the mouth of the cave beyond. I stand my ground, refusing to move. Across the pit, the Overseer looks on at me, fixed on the spot himself.
He looks to his aids, and nods for them to go. I do the same with Marlow and Krun, the giant lingering in the background as he always does. He seems to obey my non-verbal order, as though realising now that I'm no threat to anyone.
He may not be right on that. I already feel my palms begin to burn as the rest move off, leaving me alone with a man who's age I just cannot place. A man whose powers, and influence here in Olympus, have stretched across so many decades.
A silence falls as we stand, face to face across the pit. I wait for him to begin, watching his eyes closely, the tiny micro expressions on his face. I'm searching...searching for his tell. Is he preparing to lie to me still? How much of what he says can I trust?
Is there anyone, now, that I can truly put my faith in?
Only Jude, I think, feeling a brief throb of grief in my heart. He may be the only person in this world I can truly rely on.
And now...I've let him go.
"Come closer to me, Amber." The Overseer's voice breaks my train of thought. I look up and see him beckoning me forward. "Come close so I can see you. You want answers? They are here."
I hesitate a moment before moving around the pit. The Overseer stands back from the edge, just out of the path of the devastating heat rising from below. Still, the cavern remains almost unbearably humid, the air thick and close. You'd never know it to look at him. There's no sweat on his brow, no dew glistening on his forehead. He seems in total control.
He's always in control.
I approach him, standing tall above me, thinking of how easy it would be to thrust him into the lava, watch him burn and melt away. He smiles, as if knowing my thoughts, certain I won't act upon them. It's as if he can see deeper into me, almost knowing what I'll do before I do myself. Even someone so unpredictable as me can be, well, predicable to a man like this.
"I know what you've seen, Amber," he says smoothly, raising his chin just slightly. He peers a little closer. "I think you're smart enough to know what's going on. To know that I have shown you this window to the past."
I nod, not even needing the confirmation. He must have placed those memories in my head, unlocking at the appropriate time. "So it's true, then?" I ask. "My grandmother...she was the first Chosen Fire-Blood?"
The Overseer smiles fondly. "Yes, she was," he says. "I remember my time with her well. Such passion. Such defiance and grit. I watched her develop over the years, and knew quite early what she would become. I thought it would be better for you to see it for yourself, rather than hear it from me. I apologise if you feel I've manipulated you, Amber, but the truth is...this is your destiny. You have the blood of the Chosen inside you. Perhaps even above Elian, you belong at the summit of this city."
I shake my head a single time, turn my eyes away in thought. "But what happened?" I whisper, still trying to figure it out. "I knew my grandmother was a resident of here once. But...this?" I look back at the man. "What happened to her here? Why did she ever leave?"
"Those are important questions, child. But I have another for you." He takes a pause. "Do you trust what you're seeing? Do you trust what I'm saying? Only you can decide which path to take."
I turn to my thoughts again, my eyes moving away. I try to build a shield around me so his mind can't penetrate. And behind that shield, I know I don't trust him fully, but nor do I my grandmother. I know there's no way I'll ever be able to decide by my contemplations alone. All I have is my instinct to go on. And it’s telling me I need to hear more.
I look back up, closing my thoughts to him. "Tell me the truth," I say. "The full truth of what happened."
He shakes his head, and takes a step towards me. "No, child, I shall not tell you." He reaches out, and places a hand to my head. "Open your mind to me, and I shall show you instead."
I look at those persuasive eyes, and find myself relenting. Shutting my own, I nod.
And open my mind to the past.
Images begin to form in my head, visions like I saw before. They're more scattered and fragmented, snippets of my grandmother's life here when she was so very young.
I see her above it all, standing among the other Chosen. I see the shining red robes fluttering in the wind, the vast city stretching out before her. I see the smile on her face, the joy. That twinkle in her eye I know so well shines radiantly, eyes like beams as they gaze down upon it all.
The vision fades to another image, colours forming in my head. She's older, but only marginally, marching through the city at the head of a cohort of men and women in red. The people crowd as she passes, cheering her on. I hear her name spoken fondly by a public that adore her. And she adores them back. She revels in their love. She raises her hands and smiles radially.
She was born to be loved and praised.
Similar images come, her life in Olympus one of great joy. I notice the city in an earlier form, not quite as grand, not quite as vast, as it is now. It remains beautiful, though has clearly gone through further development across the years.
I question, as I see it all, whether this is all a fabrication, nothing but a tool in the Overseer's vast repertoire, a way to make me turn.
No, it can't be. There's too much detail, too much accuracy and truth. I look into my grandmother's face and see her as she was or would have been. It is her, I know. She did these things. She loved this life.
But somewhere along the way, things changed.
Something turned sour here, a darkness beginning to overcome her. I watch now as the years advance, my grandmother speeding through her twenties, revelling in her position, growing too comfortable upon her high perch.
A challenger rises, a younger Fire-Blood coming from nothing to compete for her position.
A new trial is called, a new contest beginning. My grandmother, arrogant, overconfident in her powers, is stunned by the younger man. At almost every turn, she is bested.
I watch her plead with a shadowy pair, their forms bl
urred in the darkness of a grand temple. She begs to keep her place, to show her worth. She pleads at their feet, admitting her complacence and lack of proper preparation, telling them she can do better. That she will do better.
Their heads shake, side to side, as one. Figures come and take her away, moving from the shadows, removing her from the temple, the hill, the summit of the city. I see my grandmother's life crumble into chaos as she's demoted from her position, her place as Chosen Fire-Blood taken by another. More hungry, more committed, more determined to maximise the potential within.
It is Elian's father who assumes the mantle.
The months that follow are hard to witness, the fragments of my grandmother's life showing her growing violent and bitter, a threat to those around her. She falls into a depression, turning to alcohol and other concoctions to sooth her troubles. They only make her worse, deepening her sadness, forging her into a liability that the city could do without.
Another image forms, a vision of her last day in Olympus. Dragged from her more meagre surroundings in a distant corner of the city, she thrashes and rants, clearly intoxicated, shouting and calling out, telling the soldiers that she's the Chosen. They wear protective suits to resist her flame, her body sparking and growing wild. The building catches fire before she's knocked unconscious, her frame hauled to a carriage and banished from the city for good.
She's only thirty or so years of age, and her life, as she knows it, is over. It is a sad life I witness, that of a young girl rising so fast, only to fall from on high and lose everything she loved.
A deep feeling of melancholy fills me as my eyes open back up, and the cavern comes into view. The steam swirls before me, the Overseer within it. He looks at me from his high vantage, eyes aiming down his pointed nose. They are soft and warm. He seems to understand just how difficult that was for me to witness.
"What you saw is the truth of your grandmother, Amber," he says. "You have grown up thinking her bitterness was spawned from her knowledge of our origin, but that is not the truth." He shakes his head solemnly. "No, she was a great Fire-Blood, but she lost her way, lost sight of her path, and was overtaken by another. She has spoken to you, I know, of the wonder and horrors of Olympus, has she not?"
I nod slowly, recalling those very words issued from my grandmother's lips.
"Is it clear enough what she meant by them," he goes on. "She felt the wonders of her life among the Chosen, and the horrors she went through when she was cast aside. It was, as much as you may not want to hear it, all of her own doing. She was given a comfortable life upon her demotion, but became far too dangerous to remain among us. She lost herself, and we had only one choice - to send her away, and ensure she never returned."
He draws a breath, eyes hooded. "I took the duty on myself," he goes on, voice growing quiet. "I got inside her head as she began to lose control of her powers. I set it in her mind to never attempt to come back. It wasn't something I wanted - in truth, I would like very much to see her again - but it was what was required of me. We all have our roles here in Olympus, as you're learning. She didn't fulfil hers. And she paid the consequences."
I listen, contemplating his words, and find myself not questioning them. My intuition is all I can rely on. And it tells me he's speaking the truth.
"You shouldn't blame your grandmother for keeping the truth from you," the Overseer continues. "I believe she was trying to protect you, afraid, perhaps, that you'd suffer the same fate as her. But," he breathes, "I do not believe that is your destiny. You can learn from her mistakes, Amber, and help to fix the errors of the past. Perhaps, in doing so, you can find redemption for Alberta. Perhaps you can even bring her home. To where she truly belongs." He smiles, and lays a hand upon my shoulder. "Your sister is here with you, child. Your grandmother may come too. Let yourself go, and you can find the happiness, the purpose, you've been searching for all your life. The path, as it did your grandmother all those years ago, lies before you. Now, it is up to you to walk it."
His words settle, and I find myself nodding.
Instinct. It is all I have.
And it's telling me to walk on.
I lie in bed that night, going over everything I've heard, everything I've seen.
Much of what I thought about my life is a lie. My grandmother, she lied, about her reasons for hating Olympus, hating the Children of the Prime. She made it seem as though it was all about the control they exerted on the people of the Fringe, the terrible crimes they committed.
That may not be true.
The truth might have been a more simple aversion to a people who cast her out. A people she once loved, and was loved by. A people among whom she stood tall, only to fall into the abyss and never climb out. That is the reason for her umbrage and resentment. That is the truth behind the reclusive life she's lead.
She was the first Chosen Fire-Blood. And now, that blood is in me. The blood of the Chosen.
This is my calling.
This is my destiny...
I look across the dorm-chambers, trying to see through the dim light into Elian's alcove. I can hear Hestia sleeping down at the other end of the hall, snoring in that throaty way of hers. Across from me, Elian's breathing is also just audible, though more peaceful, more clean. As I lie awake, thinking it all over, he merely sleeps soundly, excited for dawn to come, to step before the Prime, and be announced as the Chosen he was always destined to be.
But was he? Who, now, has the greater heritage? Me, granddaughter to the first ever Chosen Fire-Blood, or him, son to the man who took her place?
An argument could be made either way, I suppose. We both have the claim of Chosen blood in our veins, but in the end, it matters not. No, this decision will come down to the Prime now. Elian, a young man who's been training for this his entire life. Or me, a girl with, perhaps, vast potential, but new to it all. A girl who, at first, was doing this only to protect her sister and best friend.
And is now doing it for herself as well.
I drop off to sleep with that thought. The thought that I'm doing this for me, and for my family. I have the chance to redeem my grandmother, whatever sins she may have committed. I have the chance to ensure Lilly lives a long, happy life, safe within the city. And Jude...sweet Jude. I have the chance to let him forget all about me.
Tomorrow, when the sun rises, I will make the journey up those steps.
And as I fall into dreams of fire and smoke that night, I pray it ends well.
Select me, great Father and Mother, I whisper in my mind.
Select me.
43
The great, marble staircase awaits ahead, rising up into the low clouds above.
Behind me stands the large square where my blood was revealed as fire, where Raymond and his heretic brothers were tortured and burned to their deaths. I glance at that square, thinking of the stage that had been erected there, now absent, and the scores of people who'd surrounded it, baying for blood.
It seems so strange that only a week or so has passed since that day. That day when I looked out at the people and hated them for what they were. When I could imagine no worse a fate than joining them, living among them, committing to a life here in Olympus.
So many things have changed during my short time here, and yet I'm certain much further steps are yet to be taken. I am stepping onto this path, though find myself at the beginning of the journey.
Something vast lies ahead, stretching to the horizon. I look on and feel a thrill, eager to discover what awaits me.
A crowd is beginning to gather in the square, colourful robed men and women, Children of the Prime. They look at me differently now, and though many remain resentful of my presence here, many others have begun to accept me. As Marlow said they would, my actions have endeared me to them, lifted me to a higher station than the perch on which so many of them stand. I am of the highest order of Fire-Blood now. Soon, perhaps, I'll be something so much more.
Beside me, Elian and Hestia walk, following the
Overseer towards the first step. I see guards standing either side, colossal Titans guarding the way. They hold huge spears in their hands, shining silver under the sun. Approaching them, I see them bow their mighty heads as the Overseer leads us on, the likes of Marlow and Krun, the other High Worthies and Fire-Blood assessors, not permitted to pass.
Only certain officials may step upon the Sacred Stairs of Olympus, and up above, I see hints of them now. The Chosen and the Heralds, perched upon the highest steps as they were during my purification. I look at them now, and yearn to join them. I yearn to look down from those great heights, just as my grandmother did before.
We step onto the marble staircase, a thrill humming through my body. Dressed in ceremonial Fire-Blood robes, laced with a multitude of red hues, we begin to climb up to the summit of the city, the crowd beneath us continuing to gather, accumulating in their masses to witness this hallowed event.
I glance back and see Marlow there, standing in the shadow of Krun. As with the city, my time with them has presented them in a different light. Yes, it's been largely forced upon by my new standing, but the insufferable man I first took Marlow to be has changed into someone whose company I enjoy. The once cruel Krun, too, has displayed a gentler, more respectful side. I still get the impression he doesn't like me, and to be honest, I largely share that sentiment, but his lumbering presence has also become quite familiar.
And the city itself, stretching away before me as I continue up the stairs, remains a place of profound fascination to me. I've explored only small parts of it, and continue to marvel at its grandeur and beauty with each passing day. Soon, perhaps, I'll be able to explore further, discover more about life here, the things they do, the progress they're making to better this world.
I don't know if it's merely wishful thinking, but a part of me has some hope of that. That the Children of the Prime have something grander in mind. That they aren't merely a race of superior beings, living off the hard work of others. That, perhaps, they are seeking to stabilise a world that has been broken apart, shattered, isolated. That, one day, they will bring people together, give everyone a purpose and reason to live, make sure that the mistakes of the past are never repeated.