Claimed by Love (A Rizer Pack Shifter Series Book 3)

by Wilson, Amelia

  “Oh, bless us Maan, what would we do? They will be coming for the Festival of Providence!”

  When Priestesses or Acolytes saw Shera approaching, they gave her snide looks, remembering the way she had been spoken to by Iktai. Branded as the undesirable element in court, there was repelling force between Shera and the others wherever she walked, all of them choosing to maintain their distance from her. She was used to being an outcast. Even during lessons, the Priestesses were quick to remind her of their displeasure towards her exuberantly inquisitive nature.

  Noticing Shera’s presence, Hazpo ended the conversation with the priestess. In a room where everyone deliberately avoided Shera, she was the only one who had the energy, and patience to walk towards the Young Acolyte, a smile breaking across her face.

  “Glory to Maan,” Hazpo whispered, taking Shera’s smooth hands into her own gnarled ones. “How are you feeling?”

  “Glory to Maan,” Shera reciprocated. Though still thoroughly affected by High Priestess Iktai’s words, she would recover. The presence of the bald, Priestess in front of her suddenly had a soothing effect on her flayed ego. “I did not expect High Priestess Iktai to react in such a way. I was merely stating a fact.”

  “If anything, I thought you made a sound argument towards Iktai,” Hazpo said. She looked around, unwilling to have eavesdroppers steal in to their conversation. Already, the other Priestesses and Young Acolytes were staring in their direction.

  “Let’s get out of here first,” the Priestess said. She took Shera’s hand and led her out the temple.

  The unwavering glow of the street was intense, able to light up the area for hours at ends without flickering. The Jewel of Maan heart powered the whole of Sedayval. It made sure that the waters flowed, the lights shone, the gears of the city moved, and most importantly, it kept Sedayval floating thousands of feet above the Earth.

  “You should not have spoken to Iktai in such a brazen manner,” Hazpo advised. “There is a time and place to argue, Shera.”

  “The original words of Maan never said anything about not being able to scratch itches, or blink, or fart for that matter. Why do we have to care about such trivial things?”

  “For show.”

  Shera looked at Hazpo’s smiling face. She did not expect the Priestess to have been completely candid and concise with her answer. The Priestess thought so too.

  “Maan never said such things through Queen Vahana I. That is true. But there are certain expectations when you want to become a Priestess of Maan. And that is self-discipline and rigor.”

  “There is no need for such customs,” Shera replied angrily, holding out her right forearm. The symbols and lines on her arm were quietly indelible tonight when it did not channel the Jewel of Maan’s power. “My sole purpose of wanting to be the Priestess of Maan, is to channel the power of her Jewel! I don’t have time to be concerned with traditions surrounding the way an Acolyte should behave.”

  They walked along the outer fringes of Sedayval. If there was a competition for the best wonder of the world, the floating city of Sedayval would grab the crown. Defying gravity, the city was home to a hundred thousand citizens. Tonight, most, if not all of them, were peacefully sleeping, knowing that in the heart of the city, the Jewel of Maan continued supplying them its limitless energy.

  Leaning against the low parapet, Shera took in the view of lower Earth. The first half of the horizon closest to Sedayval was a plateau with dots of lights harboring hamlets and small towns. At a distant, a faint gleam of light lined against the edge of the horizon. The Civilization of Xera was there.

  As a girl partaking in the journey to be the Priestess of Maan, Shera was not allowed out of Sedayval. She often came to the parapets lining Sedayval to see the view it had to offer. Like a caged bird, she wondered what it would be like to fly away to the distant cities.

  “It is unfair,” Shera said quietly. “I studied the Runes of Maan on my own. And I am the best at channeling the Jewel’s energy.”

  “I don’t disagree one bit. Amongst all the Young Acolytes, you are the only one who has been able to use the Jewel’s energy quite precisely,” Hazpo said, pointing at the elaborate house nearest to them. It belonged to a minister in Queen Vahana IV’s court, who wanted her home built by the energy from the Jewel of Maan.

  Tasks such as these were usually designated to the Priestesses, who had better control of the power. But Hazpo had been kind enough to allow Shera to try. And she did an amazing job. It took her five days to channel the Jewel’s energy to amalgamate small pebbles to become a large chunk of boulder, and another twenty-three days to fashion them out as a sculptor would. The Priestesses and Young Acolytes were immensely surprised to see Shera’s capability in cutting the rocks with her glowing bare hands. None of the Acolytes showed more progress than she did in controlling the Jewel’s powers.

  But all that did not matter in Iktai’s eyes. The High Priestess only cared for the most sycophantic disciples rather than the most able.

  Shera saw the house as a testament to her abilities. There were other accomplishments too. Using the Jewel’s power, she was able to carry water from the river flowing in lower Earth, forming a blue vein of cool liquid to course through Sedayval, ensuring the floating city a fresh water supply. There was also the rearranging of several houses which required telekinetic lifting. All this Shera did effortlessly, for amongst the Young Acolytes, she was the most attuned to the Jewel of Maan.

  If she were a Young Acolyte about two hundred years ago, she would have been a favorite to be the next Priestess, and subsequently the choice to be the High Priestess. But, the religion of Maan had turned from merit to mouth. It was a hierarchy now, based not on one’s ability to properly channel the Jewel of Maan’s energy, but to flatter the High Priestess.

  They stared at the distant towns and city, enamored into silence by the view.

  “Isn’t today the first anniversary of your mother’s death?” Hazpo suddenly asked.

  “It is…”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “Terribly. It feels like I have lost my best friend. She was the only person who told me not to listen to the others and keep up with my studies,” Shera sighed. “Gone too soon.”

  Chapter 3: Family

  It was close to dawn when Shera finally reached home. The beams of the sun colored the eastern horizon with a minute tinge of blue. Her father, Damas, was already outside the house, fastening his wares against his cart.

  The fatigue on his lined face was evident, having not slept the day before. His eyes were still swollen from their small ceremony earlier. It had been a hard year for the both of them, and there was still much healing to be done. Her relationship with him had been sheer awkwardness since the moment they met during her childbirth – he was not good with kids. And now, at eighteen, he could not wrap the fact that the girl he avoided for most of her childhood was now a woman, and the glue that linked them together, Shera’s mother, had died.

  Shera and her father had never been close. Her mother had kept the two of them from fraying apart. And now, her demise was the only thing that kept them both together. The passing of her mother had driven a wedge between them; but that was the funny thing about wedges – it made them both fall into it awkwardly. There was a concession made between the two of them to be there for each other, until one did not need the other.

  “Were you waiting for me to come home?” Shera asked softly.

  Her father grunted and pulled at the ropes. The jut fibers tightened around the crates containing wares from Sedayval, much procured in several towns in Enmei. Sedayval was known for their austere potteries and classy knickknacks. Her father was also an artisan, having made all the items he peddled.

  “I will be gone for three days this time. Stay safe,” he said, his back turned to her.

  Shera wanted to reach out and embrace her father. The quiet, rare moments of conversation they ever had were often in reminiscence of her mother, or the turmoil unfol
ding in Enmei. There was never an opportunity to talk about her Priestesshood, or his love life. She had heard rumors of his going on dates with the widow down the street from where they stayed, but Shera felt it too presumptuous to ask her father about it.

  She often busied herself with the proper governance of the house, cooking and cleaning when he was there, doing the very same things when he wasn’t. Though she hated to admit it, her father’s departure to Enmei often made the house more light-hearted. There wasn’t a cloud of gloom hanging around, and she could sing, even laugh when he wasn’t around.

  He was about to get on the cart when he hesitated for a moment. Placing his hand on the groove on the panel of the cart, he cursed.

  “Damned thing won’t work!” he exclaimed, proceeding to hit the sides of the cart.

  Shera sighed. The Jewel of Maan only channeled its energy to the believers. Ever since her mother died, she noticed that things did not work well for her father anymore. It was as if he stopped believing in Maan, and in doing so, he could not channel its powers properly.

  “Here, let me,” Shera said, sidling next to him. She placed her hand in the hand shaped groove on the panel. Immediately, the panel glowed and the runes of Maan illuminated in its bluish-green hue. The cart gave out a paroxysmal tremble before the wheels began to move.

  “Hmmph!” her father grunted. “Blasted cart doesn’t listen to me anymore!”

  Shera merely smiled. “Have a safe trip, father.”

  Her father grunted and waved her off, before setting down the street. If he was lucky, it would last him till the main entrance in the middle of Sedayval. Once transported down to Earth, he would have to rent some of the horses to pull his cart all the way to Enmei.

  As he made a right turn at the end of the junction, the pallor of gloom that was her father’s presence was lifted off Shera’s shoulders. She entered the home feeling slightly happier. A picture of her mother hung on the wall, gracing the living room with her beautiful white eyes.

  Shera had none of her mother’s beauty. She was too tall for a young woman, her hair was too coarse. Even after being coiffed for the ComMaane, it was still deemed an unruly bird’s nest of a head by some of the snarkier priestesses. The only gift she received from her mother was the greyish-white eyes, an uncommon trait of the people of the Shando region.

  It was probably one of the reasons why Shera did not feel she fit in, for having greyish-white eyes was a common characteristic of a Dragon Knight. In fact, her mother, Irinde, had hailed from the Eastern Continent of Shando. An exuberant woman in need of an adventure, Irinde had left home at the tender age of eighteen, and travelled the entire continents of Xera and Enmei before meeting her father at a small tavern just as he was about to return to Sedayval.

  A native Sedayvalian, the union of her father and an outsider, a Shando Native at that, was met with skepticism by the other Sedayvalians. But they had nothing to worry about, for Shera’s mother was a well-liked woman. She took to life in Sedayval easily. And she was a firm believer of Maan too.

  Shera grew up listening to her mother’s stories of Shando. Her mother was never one who spoke ill of anyone or anything. To her, Shando was home, a place where her heart would always be, till the day she died.

  Then, just when Shera turned seventeen, a mysterious sickness suddenly began to ravage Irinde. Shera and her father were distraught. Healers from all over Sedayval were called to alleviate her mother’s sufferings, to no avail. Three days after her mother began to cough blood and have a strange growth of scales grow at her right shin. Not too long after, she died. The funeral was held quietly, and was graced by some of their families’ closest friends and relatives.

  To many mourners’ surprise, Irinde’s funeral was graced by the presence of High Priestess Iktai. High Priestess nodded at the pale body of Irinde, said a few prayers, and left.

  In accordance to the religion of Maan, her mother was cremated, and the ashes were sprinkled at the Western star point of Sedayval. It was one of the most breathtaking views in the whole of Sedayval. The western hemisphere of the floating city overlooked the Shur’Avi oceans, which stretched for thousands of miles. To their east laid the thick clouds and unruly jungles which kept the region of Shando hidden from naked, prying eyes. East Sedayval was Irinde’s favorite spot to reminisce about her hometown, but the Western Star Point was where she had gotten married. And so, her father had thought it apt that the ashes be sprinkled there.

  There was an argument between Shera and her father over the choosing of Irinde’s last resting place. She was insistent on having her mother’s ashes be spread at the Eastern Star Point, to respect her heritage as a Native Shando. But, her father, Damas, was doggedly insistent towards the Western Star Point. He had never acknowledged Irinde’s Shando traits, even if they were always there, staring at him within Irinde’s white-grey eyes.

  Of course, the death of her mother invoked a few mysterious questions. Shera herself was lit with curiosity as to the circumstances of her mother’s death. The sickness was one the healers had never seen, and the dragon-like scales speckled on her mother’s skin was another matter altogether.

  What made it odd was her father’s forbiddance of speaking of the scales. He would gladly speak with melancholy of how he held her as she coughed blood, and trembled in high fevers. But one thing he never spoke off were the green, reptilian growths on his wife’s thighs. In fact, he had kept it hidden from the healers when they came to try and heal her mother.

  Though curious, Shera could never find a way to answer the questions. There were no other natives from Shando living on Sedayval. And as a Young Acolyte, she was not allowed out of Sedayval, under any circumstances. The purest of Maan’s vessels remained close to the Jewel, never to distance themselves at all.

  So, when news of Shando natives coming for the Festival of Providence reached her ears, she was both apprehensive and excited. For once, she would be able to meet people who might have known her mother – perhaps a distant kin.

  The circumstances of her mother’s death weighed heavily on Shera’s mind. She wondered if there was more to it than just a tragic twist of fate.

  *

  A small knock on the door woke Shera up from a dream. Looking out the window, the sun was already high up in the sky. She stretched and yawned, mentally cursing at the person who had disturbed her sleep.

  The knocking on the door persisted in a fashion that was only unique to Andel’s.

  “Coming!” Shera yelled out, opening the front door to see a young man in his early twenties standing there with a goofy smile on his face. He hoisted a small knapsack from which scrolls were coming out like pipes to an organ.

  “You were asleep?” he asked. “That is quite unlike you.”

  “There was a Commune last night,” Shera replied sleepily. “It ended pretty late.”

  She gave way for Andel to enter the house, holding two small containers of food. He often visited during the lunch break, using that time to eat with Shera.

  Andel’s eyes widened. “Commune? But there was no announcement.”

  Shera yawned and went over to the wash basin. She rinsed her mouth with the cold water and turned to her lover. “The High Priestess suddenly insisted in meeting the Priestesses and Acolytles last night. We only knew about it an hour before it began.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  She proceeded to tell Andel about the Shandorians coming for the Festival of Providence. As her story progressed, Andel’s face darkened. He placed the containers of food on the table and sat down with a pensive look on his face. He did not seem too surprised by her story, though she purposely omitted the part where Iktai had denounced her in front of the other Acolytes and Priestesses. Andel did not need to know that.

  Andel was a teacher in the local Sedayval Academy. He specialized in history, and his research often granted him the ability to travel out of Sedayval to the foreign lands of Enmei and Xera. Once, he had even reached the eastern city
of Ben-Airo, in search of maps of the region to decorate the Sedayval Library. His journey into Shando lands had to be cut short for the icy mountainous ranges were too harrowing for him alone.

  When Shera finished her story, Andel coughed and removed his glasses, settling it on the table. He massaged his temple, the news giving him quite a headache.

  “There were rumors circulating in the Academy too,” he said. “Looks like it is true then.”

  He opened the containers of food, and the smell of dumplings and porridge filled the kitchen. Fetching some spoons, they sat together and ate by the window.

  Her eyes caught the blot of ink spattered on his knuckles from the amount of writing he often did in the academy, and was suddenly reminded of the long hours he spent teaching and researching. It was beginning to push them apart.

  Andel’s pursuit of knowledge came from his obsession towards thaumaturgy and science. He shared the thoughts of many academicians in Sedayval – that the Jewel of Maan in the heart of Sedayval imbibed a more thaumaturgic element than a religious one.