I hate you.
You burned my village
How can you be so cruel?
I wish I were dead. So, kill me already.
I just want the voices to stop. I want the world to fade away and with it my existence. Nothing is worth this pain. Before I know it, I’m huddled in a corner, my hands pressing against my ears with my eyes squeezed shut. Images come flooding in. The Civil War is a recurring one. Villages burnt to the ground. Bodies piled on top of bodies. Children crying over the loss of their parent and siblings. Animals scurrying to any place without the Kutawala and his Albinos. Amongst the teary-eyed children, I see a familiar face. She grapples at the ground dirt creeping into her nails. Tears and snot race down her face and drip onto her collarbone. She lets out a heartfelt bawl, racking her small chest. The ground continues to shake with the explosion of the bombs. A green fire lights up the dead. She bangs on the field with closed fists barely being able to control her anger and breathing. Her family: father, mother, and little brother’s bodies slowly turn to ash. When she rises out of her crouched position, through her watery gaze, she stares at the Kutawala. Her heart turns to stone, her face becomes emotionless. With every tear that fall she readies her hands. She drives her feet into the ground and takes off after the Kutawala. At first, he doesn’t see her through his masterpiece, but when he does, she doesn’t stand a chance at defeating him. He admires her courage to even try. Her emotions are all over the place, she is acting on impulse rather than thinking strategically. He stamps out her light now - she must do the same to him. She crosses her hand in front of her and rotates her fists to the sky. Red fire encases her hands and solidifies around her copper gauntlets. Her white tribal marks around her eyes come to life, spinning like a Ferris wheel. She attacks him. He dodges and spreads his fingers like he was throwing a frisbee. Upon release, the small ball shifts into a metal rod and slaps itself around her neck. Its weight immediately thrusts her to her knees, she is unable to move, her arms are pinned to her side.
You killed my family. Now I’m going to kill you.
Save it, little girl, you are not a worthy opponent. Be happy that I’m allowing you to see another day.
Another day is more misery and pain added to my soul. She pushes through the weight and is barely able to stand. Sekhmet, give me strength? She called upon the warrior Goddess, ‘she who mauls,’ the mistress of slaughter’. She answered her call with the manifestation of a sun disk. Balance must be restored. Evil wiped from the slate. Her teeth visibly grit together, and Sekhmet’s flame comes roaring out of her. With one cry she pushes forward, her fire licking at the air before her. With lightning speed she advances, her nails elongating, she slashes them across his eyes. He’s astonished and at a loss for words. He doesn’t display his shock but reacts immediately. A pulse ripples through her. A cyclone of fire whirls around her before it dies out. She collapses.
When the image fades away, I open my eyes, tears stream down my face. Fear grips my chest. Opposite my cell, the silver-haired girl watches me, her eyes are cold, and her lips are pressed into a thin line. She flexes her fingers before turning her back on me. Even after all I’ve seen her do, I still understand why she is the way she is. He took everything from her, and since she couldn’t kill him, she uses her anger as fuel to win in the savage games. She may want to survive, but she also wants to die. She just needs the right person to do it.
My shoulders relax against the wall, as I give into the noise. I don’t know how much time goes by. But a while later I feel warm hands pull on my hand.
“Calista. Follow my voice.” Can’t. There’s too much. Voices everywhere.
“Listen. You can control it.” I am drowning. Stifled with overwhelming voices.
“You can do this.” Then I feel myself floating. Like a sink being unplugged, I rise to the surface, the voices falling to my feet. I quickly gulp in the air all at once. I can breathe.
“That’s it. Breathe.”
When I open my eyes, he stands before me. The Prince. His eyes are serious. When he’s sure I am safely away from the voices he lets go of my hand. I almost wish he hadn’t just in case they wanted to creep back in.
“What happened?”
“You’re like me. A psychic. You just experienced your powers revealing itself as it levelled up.” I’m what now? The bearer of the Blue Flame as well as a psychic?
“How?” I ask, but somehow, I know it makes sense. The migraines would come and go as they pleased, and I would always feel like I’ve read a whole book on one person just by looking at them. It was like that time I first met Dakarai, I didn’t need to touch him to know he was suffering. It wasn’t the lifeless look in his eyes, he just spoke to me. I could feel his pain all at once and I wanted to console him. I think that’s why I connect with him on a deeper level than I do with my siblings, the attraction was pure and needed. Without knowing, I had created a mental link with him, I felt what he felt, and he caught a few tender feeling when I was in trouble. Call it a bit of intuition if you will.
“How do you control it?”
“A lot of practice. You will get there soon enough. But this is great news, you’re awakening.”
Awakening for what though?
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
- Oscar Wilde.
11
The challenge
{Calista}
The number of deaths I’ve seen is enough to last a lifetime. Countless body parts yanked and thrown across the battlefield; it’s madness on another level, and I want no part of it. The silver-haired girl continues to challenge me, and I continue to go to bed hungry. I can barely lift myself out of bed to walk through my training. But there are days where without food or water I have more than enough strength and energy to get through it all. My cellmate says the bare minimum, though she does look to me as a worthy companion, whose company she seeks often. All I know so far, she’s being punished for not listening, and no one knows she is truly here. They may see a girl, but they do not really see her. Only I alone can. What does this mean?
I roll out of bed into a cobra pose, gently pushing off the ground loosening my back muscles. Back on Aelburn, mother would require my siblings and I to attend her daily training. This would entail meditation and yoga exercises to maintain balance within our mind, body and spirit. We were to always think before we act, look for a better way to respond without first using violence as a default. I stay in this position for a couple minutes followed by other yoga positions. After a while, I stop and sit with my legs crossed preparing myself for meditation. With deep breaths, I block out everything and focus on the sound of the universe.
Minutes go by. Disturbing energy enters my presence. I should have known my peace wouldn’t last long. Nails scrape against my cell bars. The hairs on my skin come alive. It is worse than chalk on a board. There is no escape. I can feel who it is without opening my eyes.
“You trying to teleport out of here?” She laughs and steps into my cell. If that were a possibility would I still be here? It still baffles me how my Eye of Horus failed to manifest a portal. Whatever disrupted its frequency could be the same thing that circulates in the air with an electric charge and green glow. The moment her feet move in, my chest tightens.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“Just checking in, making sure you’re still, alive.”
“I’m not that easy to kill, now if you would…” I stretch my hand out inviting her to leave. She walks around me and inspects my wall.
“What you counting for?” She traces her fingers around the engravings.
“Maybe till the day I get out of here, or the day you get your fight.”
“The first one, not a chance, but the last you may find it to be much sooner. But now, guess who I will be fighting.” She shifts her gaze to look at Myah. This angers me. Oddly enough the girl reminded me of my skills peer, Casandra, who I had a frenemy relationship with. She always tried h
er hardest to insult me, therein trying to throw me off my game. It worked most of the time, often resulting in me losing control of my anger and lashing out. Sometimes I’d lose the fight with my outbursts, other times I’d win, and that was only because I had learned to become skilful with my aggression. I remember the first day I did this.
It started with her favourite words The Emperor’s greatest disappointment. I don’t know why it burned so much that time more than any other. Maybe, it was because every fight I had my father always settled with a disapproving look, no matter how much I had improved. When it came to me, he was tough to please. Aziza got lucky. She didn’t get pressured into this. She survived all the heartache and physical injuries by choosing the path of a scholar. And father and mother allowed it. She became a leader in her field and was known for her vast abilities to recall at rapid speeds. I on the other hand, even after their pressures relaxed, still continued. I mean, why stop after I had come so far, and become a prominent figure on the leaderboards. Hell, I even started to enjoy it- when I wasn’t trying to impress father. That day wasn’t one of those days.
I took the burn I had received from Casandra and moulded it to serve me. My mind blocked everything out, and I allowed my anger to lead. I performed moves I didn’t dare to execute on the VR. Steps that could fatally wound my opponent. In a dance, our feet and hands moved in sync circling each other’s body, but not managing to latch onto one another. I stopped all of her attacks which would have knocked me unconscious. I barely noticed the shocked look that passed across her face, as all I focused on was our hands and legs. When the time came, I jumped onto her shoulders and threw us to the ground; rolling my legs into a lock around her neck, as I pulled her arm towards me, palms faced outward. My mind slowly let the noise back in, everyone cheers. The moment Casandra tapped at the ground, I released her and made eye contact with father. He huffed and held a displeased expression, as he rose from his throne and exited the training arena. I watched him leave with distress and soon after felt my right hand start to shake. I knew what this meant. Beside the mat, Dakarai outstretched his aura. I felt my body want to calm down to which my mind had resisted. The anger’s temptation was so powerful that if it weren’t for his help, I probably would have set the whole arena ablaze, rather than let out a few spurts of fire from my fingertips.
But if this were to ever happen again, Dakarai wouldn’t be by my side, and I would be left to let the flame burn or extinguish it upon arrival.
The look in Myah’s eyes isn’t one of fear, but I feel more than anything she wants to survive. And I know she shouldn’t have to go through this. By choice or not.
“Why her?” I ask.
“Oh, you’d be surprised how strong she is. Don’t let her innocence and age fool you. She is more than capable.” She smiles and runs her fingers along the bed rails. Internally, my ears bleed. After she makes a full turn, she flicks her fingers in my direction.
“Unless you advocate being her saviour.” Now I see the game she is playing. She doesn’t want to fight the girl. Just as I thought, maybe her heart isn’t as stoned after all. Myah is just a pawn she’s exploiting to get me to fight earlier than expected. As much as it pains me, I don’t want to play her game.
A couple hours pass and Tamari surprisingly pays me a visit. He slithers into my cell without a sound, watching me as he rests against the walls.
“Watch your back,” he states.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve got her covered,” I say feeling a little annoyed that he didn’t ask how I was doing in this hole. I huff, still thinking about the proposition to take Myah’s place.
“I’m talking about Tamika, she’s a tricky one,” he says, as if I had asked for an explanation.
“So that’s her name. It sounds a lot more pleasant than she looks, certainly not very befitting for her character.” But then I wonder which character am I talking, the one she has developed over time as a means for her survival or the person she was before her world fell apart? He sighs in agreement. As the minutes go by, I find myself continually relieving the heavy weight on my chest, wishing the day would just end already. I almost forgot Tamari was still here until I felt his hand brush my shoulders. It is odd really, some form of vibration that feels different to travelling through portals. A zap without the ticklish feeling. That’s what explains my change in location.
“Just who I want to see.”
The Prince stands before me throwing a crystal ball from one hand to the next. “This won’t take long.” He circles me. At least this time I’m not at his feet, although I do have to raise my head to meet his gaze. “I hear Tamika has provided you with a proposition. Do you want to know what I advise?” Not really. He offers me a glass of wine. I guess it is a test, and I intend to pass, so I kindly decline. I’m not much of a drinker anyway, but who would I be, if I civilly drink wine with my kidnappers. Nonetheless, with my silence, he continues.
“Don’t fight her,” he says plain and simple, but it seems weird. Why would he say this? What is he hiding?
“I wonder why you think I should not, especially coming from you, I thought you would be giddy with excitement.”
“Maybe, but I assure you, you won’t like what comes next.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Most definitely not. But if you do so, infamously, not listen to great advice, I will do so with pleasure.”
He clicks his fingers, and I’m back in my cell. I feel, just like Tamika, he is playing his own game. It’s time I construct my own. After spotting Tamika in her cell, I decide to approach her. Following her methods, I scrape my nails against her rails and smile sweetly. She raises her eyebrow and remains still. I slam my leg in a high kick against her throat and hold it there with her back positioned against the wall. She grins, but I know she feels her windpipe crushing. Her hands remain balled up by her sides. With my hips turned outwards, I make sure I am secure in my position.
“You want to fight?” The greed in her eyes ensures me, more than anything, that’s what she wants. “So, let’s fight.” I grit out and remove my leg. “I pledge to be Myah’s champion in a fight to the death with you, Tamika. May the best woman win?”
“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak”
- Sun Tzu
12
Murder not mercy
{Calista}
Here’s a fight that should be very interesting.
My fellow citizens, welcome to the arena our undefeated and most callous victor, Tamika. And the crowd goes wild as to be expected. I absolutely love it! Also welcoming a newcomer who goes by, no name. Mysterious, I like it. Let’s hope she’s mysterious enough to stay alive. We all know how these things work. Once you enter, your life is on the line. Literally. One tip: always protect your neck. Now without further due, let the battle commence! Mysterious girl, I wish you all the best. The Devil knows you are going to need it. This is hell.
Tamika offers me her hand, I take it. It is courteous to shake your opponent hand before a fight, but this isn’t just any fight. She uses our grip to pull me forward and swiftly thrusts her knee into my nose.
Oh, that’s got to hurt. Our victor quickly starts the battle off. If her opponent doesn’t step up her game anytime soon…
The commentator rattles on in the background, as I draw my hand across my nose.
“How’s your nose…regal?”
I rush at her with my arms swinging, disguising my leg, pushing upwards to jab her in her eye. “How’s the eye?” I retaliate. She smiles, and I know it won’t be easy to kill her, that’s even if I wish to go so far. After all, rules can always be broken.
“Oh, you think I didn’t know, Princess? You smell of them.”
I create some distance between us and keep up my guard. “What gave me away?”
She laughs. “Your symbol of course. The Eye of Horus and the Ankh you wear around your neck. They may not be able to see it, but I can. I see everything.” There was only one tribe that
was known for their impressive sight and ability to see beyond the physical. The Macho. I can’t believe I didn’t realise it sooner. They lived on the outskirts of Kimarr’s walls in the mountains and rainforests. From time to time they would socialise with their neighbours, but overall, they preferred to keep to themselves and become one with nature.
She lunges for my throat. I block and jab her in her stomach. “It really is a shame that you’ll soon be dead. We really could have made a great team. Both products of our environment.”
“Somehow I doubt that. You’re audacious and barbaric.”
“Oh love, we’re more alike than you realise.” She creeps closer “At least we will be after today.” If she kills me, that will prove her theory wrong. But if I kill her…
I feel her energy change.
She knows I had entered her mind a couple days back. She also knows I witnessed the catastrophe the Kutawalas left behind. What I don’t seem to understand is that she blames my Dynasty for not intervening.
“Where were your people when mine were murdered?” Her eyes become heavy. In some twisted way, I believe she is right for feeling this way. We have the resources, but we never utilised them. As long as our people were safe those outside of our walls didn’t matter because we believed they could take care of themselves. Well, that was what I was lead to believe.
In the flock of the crowd, the Prince watches me like his own life depends upon it. His head swishing from side to side like lasers on a scanning device. In that moment I decide to let my guard down. Feign weakness. It is better to not make them come to know the power I have within. It is time I appear weak when I am strong, even if it costs me a few bruises and broken bones. A strategy I have learnt through my initiation into the Supreme Clan. We had to go through rigorous training, both mental and physical. There was no room for the weak. The moment you beg for mercy you are declared incapable of being a Supreme Warrior. Feeble-minded. Your training is immediately over, and thus you are cast out of the process. You cannot re-join so you must choose another skill. Some base their whole lives around becoming a Supreme Warrior, and when they fail they feel lost, some even go so far as to lose their mind. Their sense of purpose is irretrievable. They wander meaninglessly like zombies.
The Masterpiece (The shadow I cast Book 1) Page 5