I see the edge of a picture at the bottom of the box, strands of blonde hair flowing in the wind. I go to take it out, my hand hesitating, and then my chest clenches.
Don’t, a voice in my head says. Just forget about her. She left you. She doesn’t deserve to be remembered.
A thought occurs to me. If I go to Duwyn, then I can forget about routine. I won’t have to live this mundane life of doing the same thing every day just to keep the pain away. I can live a new life, a life so different from the one I have now I won’t be able to remember the past. My pain will have no place in this new world I’ve found. Maybe I can be happy in Duwyn, and not a fake happy or a content happy, but a joyful happy, a complete happy, a happiness she would never have known.
The lights in the room begin to flicker as before, and I’m guessing Harriad and O’Sah have made an appearance again.
The windowpane starts to rattle. I stand up and push up my window, having to push hard so it fully opens.
‘Come on, come on,’ I say. It bangs as it reaches the top. ‘Thank you.’
I sit on the windowsill and peer out at the darkening sky. The wind stirs my hair, gently tugging it as if telling me to come outside. I reach my hand out of the window, catching some of the snowflakes and watching as they settle on my hand. Then, the stars start to come out, one by one, as if they are peeking out from behind a curtain of darkness to make sure the sun isn’t looking anymore. I feel as if they’re looking at me, almost mischievously, and a sudden gust of wind blusters my hair back.
More. I always knew something more than the life I have now was coming for me. It’s not that I thought I was special or different to other people, but I knew it was coming to change my life. That more. I couldn’t have known it would be like this, though. Nothing prepared me for this, everything that waits for me downstairs, everything that waits for me outside of this town—outside of this world. I couldn’t have been prepared, no matter what. Duwyn. The Imperium. Chosen. It’s phenomenal. Bewildering. Insane.
But real.
Suddenly, I want more than just the air from my win-dow—I want to be surrounded by it. I want to stand under the same stars I was born under. I want to breathe the air I’ve known forever. I want to remain a normal kid for a few more minutes before I let it all go and leave it behind.
I run out of my room and down the stairs, ignoring the stares of the others and Dad’s continuous questions. I slide into my winter boots, grab my coat, and walk outside. Fresh snow has settled on the ground, and I trudge through it as I make my way to the willow tree. The long tendrils of green sway as the wind gently buffets them. I move past them until I come to the creaking swing, and I sit on it, resting my head against the ropes.
I take a deep breath in and a deep breath out.
OK.
OK.
Honestly? Having magical powers is somewhat cool, even if I had to spontaneously combust to obtain them. This new world whose veil has lifted for me is enchanting. But. Because there’s always a but. After seeing the vision of death and fire and the end, my willingness to embrace this new world is somewhat muddied. The vision had been so real, as if I were the one standing there destroying… well, everything. And I guess it was me. Although the vision seems less and less real as the minutes tick by, I still remember the solemn gaze of the girl who shares my name. I still feel the absolute despair she harboured in her heart. I still picture the corpses of people I haven’t even met yet, but who meant so much to me.
And it frightens me.
I hear snow crunching, and when I turn, I see Harriad.
‘I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ he says.
‘It’s fine,’ I say.
‘Your father was worried about you.’
‘He’s always worried about me. It’s his job.’
He nods. ‘You’re having difficulty adjusting, I take it.’
‘Did your magic help you out there, or am I just too obvious?’
He smiles. ‘It is a lot to process, especially if you knew nothing in the first place.’
‘Like you’d understand,’ I say, and then shake my head. ‘Sorry, that was mean of me.’
‘Actually, I do understand how unnerving it is,’ he says, leaning against the tree. ‘I was raised in the human realm, too.’
I look at him. ‘You were?’
‘Yes. Unlike you, though, I had a mother and father who were both powerless. So when I was told what I was, I thought I must be mad.’
I laugh.
‘I accepted it, though, just in the same way you have.’
‘What, reluctantly?’ I say.
‘Somewhat. I knew I couldn’t run from magic, even if I didn’t want to embrace it either.’
‘Magic,’ I mutter. ‘It’s so… stupid. I never read fairy tales when I was a kid. I didn’t have books like that, ’cause Dad hated them. But when I got older, I read a lot of them, and never once did it cross my mind that magic could be real, let alone other realms. And yet I’m Chosen. Apparently.’
‘Are you really so adverse to this world?’ he asks.
‘It’s not that. Just because I never believed in magic doesn’t mean I never wished it was real. I’ve always wanted to know what’s out there. That’s why I’m glad Duwyn exists, but…’ The vision Dad had shown me. ‘It’s all so complicated.’
‘I know.’
‘Yeah…’ I stare at the cottage in the distance, the light shimmering through the oval windows. ‘What’s it like… Duwyn? Is it different from here?’
He smiles. ‘You have no idea. Imagine a place ruled by nature, barely touched by man. The rivers flow silver, mountains rise abundant, and the creatures share the land with us. It’s a paradise. Truly, it is.’
‘And if I go with you…’ If. Since he’s come here, Harriad has made it sound as if I have a choice, but I know I don’t.
‘If you come with us, you’ll get to see a new world. You’ll get to see things you never even dreamed of or thought were possible. A land of impossibility, a land made of myth and magic. And, if you want, you can be a part of it. A new world—can you imagine?’
I’ll admit that he paints a good picture. ‘Of course I want to see all of that, but…’ The vision I was shown paints quite a different picture. If I hadn’t been shown that, if I hadn’t seen myself standing among ruins, I would be jumping up and down to go to Duwyn, but…
I hear Harriad’s shoes crunch in the snow. I turn to face him.
‘Here.’ He holds out his hand.
‘Wh-what?’ I say, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
‘Take my hand, if you will.’
‘Um, why?’
‘I want to show you something.’
‘A vision of chaos?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
He steps closer to me. ‘You have little reason to trust me, but I promise I wouldn’t hurt you, my Lady.’
I stare at his hand for a moment. ‘Are you going to tell me what you plan on doing?’
He grins. ‘That’d ruin the surprise.’
I sigh. ‘Well, my day can’t get any weirder.’ Though I said that earlier today, and it certainly did get weirder. But how else am I supposed to face what I’m facing if I don’t do it with some resignation?
I take his hand, and he holds it tight. His feet lift from the ground, and under a starlit sky, we fly. I guess levitate would be more accurate, but still, we’re no longer ruled by gravity, we’re no longer bound to the earth beneath us. I scream and grab onto Harriad, but he smiles and takes my clenched hand off his cloak, while my other hand remains firmly in his.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he says.
‘Y-y-you say that now?’ I shout. I’m gasping for breath. We’re not even moving very fast. ‘Wh-what…’ I look at him. ‘How are you doing this?’
‘These are my powers, my magic.’
Magic.
I look at how my legs dangle. I even kick them around a little bit. It reminds me of when I was a
kid and I’d sit on a chair too high for me, and I’d try to touch the floor with my tiptoes.
We’re suddenly at the same height as the willow tree, and I gasp, saying, ‘It’s too high!’
‘Is it?’ Harriad says. ‘Are you sure about that?’
I think about it. If I asked, he’d go back on the ground, of that I’m pretty sure. Do I want to end this? Do I want to come down?
‘Higher,’ I whisper.
‘Sorry, what was that, my—’
‘Higher,’ I say louder. At the thought of climbing higher, fear is chased away by euphoria. Yes, definitely, I want to go higher.
Harriad pulls me closer to him, never letting go of my hand, and we go up, a little faster than before. My eyes are wide, my mouth hangs open and my heart hammers in my chest, but I am not afraid.
I am spellbound.
My hair floats behind me as if I were underwater, and the air is so, so cold, but at the same time I can’t really feel it. We go higher, snow drifting by us in a slow descent. I go to speak, but no words form. We’re above the willow tree, then the cottage, then I can see the mountains on the horizon and faint lights from the town. Soon I feel like I’m above it all, at the top of the world. I look up at the stars, glinting and glittering, and I reach out to them. It feels as if I could easily take one and cradle it in my hands.
‘This is so unreal,’ I whisper.
‘Did I mention that there are three moons in Duwyn?’ he says to me.
‘Three?’
He smiles, and then returns his gaze to the stars. ‘Every-thing is dim here, but not in Duwyn. It’s like the sky and stars have been reborn there.’
‘I’d like to see that.’ And I realise I really would.
I shiver. It’s cold. I’ve been coated in stars and exhilaration, and the cold hadn’t had a chance to touch me, but now it chases all of that away and my teeth begin to chatter. Harriad must have noticed, because he descends, slowly, as if he were a petal falling from a branch. My feet touch the ground, and the spell that has settled around me disperses into the night. For a moment I can’t let go of Harriad’s hand, and he doesn’t force it. When I realise I’m still holding onto it, I pry my hand away and a breath of cold air spirals from my mouth.
‘Magic,’ I whisper. ‘That was magic.’
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘How did it feel?’
‘I…’
‘Are you all right? Perhaps I shouldn’t have—?’
‘No. I-I’m glad. I didn’t think, I mean, I didn’t know it could be like that.’
‘Magic?’
‘Yeah.’ And it has captured me, utterly enchanted me. What was I even afraid of before? Why was I so hesitant about going to Duwyn? This is phenomenal. Why would I want to turn my back on this, on magic?
Magic.
‘You see,’ says Harriad, smiling, ‘it’s not all bad, being Chosen.’
KORREN
WISHES AND CURSES
Not far from the Imperium stands The Core, a metal, domed structure with intricate silver lining across it, bouncing back the sun’s beams. It stands on one of the many floating Habatai Islands, making it impenetrable. The anphelos, creatures that can change from a physical to a phantom form, glide in the air around the circular structure. They are not considered nuisances or pests; the Imperium favours nature and its demons.
The Core has three functions: to locate rebels of the Imperium; to locate newly awoken Chosen; and finally, to dispatch kytaen to their Chosen keeper.
It is there, in the place that every kytaen curses, that my loathed fate lays waiting.
Within The Core the colours of life have been drained into nothingness. The green of the grass, the orange of the sunset, the soft white of the moons—they are dismissed by the silver steel walls, forgotten by the artificial lights that almost blind you, repelled by the grey gleam of the hundreds of holograms displaying different faces or maps on them, Replica standing before them with unblinking eyes.
The puppets of the Chosen, the Replica, take on a female appearance, their bodies resembling that of a human, fashioning a strict and severe hairstyle, and they are moderately tall and broad of back. They are covered in golden microchips, taking the shapes of swirling patterns like runes carved on their skin. Their technical name would be android, but the Divinity who created them thousands of years ago didn’t like the term.
Della, the Replica I’ve been assigned to, gives me brief orders on behalf of the Council. I stare at her as if I’m listening, but her words are like wind to me, fleeting and ungraspable. My only thoughts are: This can’t be happening. Not again.
Della touches a device strapped to her wrist, bringing up a holographic image of myself. She pinches the hologram, pulling it into the centre of the desk. My hair in this male humanoid form is the same as ever: a tangled mess and a light bronze colour. My eyes are a shade of bronze, too, normal for a kytaen. This recording of me was documented centuries ago, and considering my confinement in Aris’s shadow cells for the last two hundred years, I’m told, I probably look very different now.
‘Command: 8009,’ says Della, her voice detached. ‘File: KYVN76.’
The hologram changes to paragraphs of information. The file she’s brought up is the reason I’m standing here now. I can hardly believe I’ve been plucked out of Aris, the home of all unassigned kytaen, forced into a strange arena to kill and survive against my brethren, and then taken to The Core’s dispatch unit, all in but a day. Had I not been comfortable in my confinement only a day ago, content with the darkness, with knowing my fate would remain in those welcoming shadows? How could my path change course so suddenly without giving me a chance to defy it? Can I even defy it? To defy would mean punishment, and perhaps even death. Even so, I have to try to fight this fate.
‘This is wrong,’ I say. ‘I only survived the arena because my back leg failed me. If it hadn’t, Abon’s claws would have decapitated me and he would be the one here—’
‘KYNS02, or Abon, as you crudely put it, has expired,’ says Della. ‘You have not.’
‘My victory was a sham! A mistake!’
‘The purpose of the arena was to settle the matter of which kytaen is strongest from the selected few. Regardless of this “sham” you are adamant on claiming, you were the last standing, making you the most compatible for the designated Chosen.’
I grimace. I could have allowed myself to die in the arena; I thought death was what I wanted. There had been something tugging at me from inside, though, forcing me to endure. I thought it was instinct, the incomprehensible need to survive. Now I believe it was the entwining string of Fate, pulling me, encouraging me to live.
Della taps on the desk that is displaying an integrated keyboard. ‘Reviewing your data, I can apprehend the Council’s decision to place you in the arena. Before your confinement, you served over three hundred Chosen over the course of two thousand years, the majority of them Pulsar. You even served Vynguard.’
I stiffen at the mention of his name.
‘A few days ago, an enormous force emanated from the human realm,’ Della shows me the hologram of the planet, ‘in North Yorkshire. On our system we found Orin Woodville, a Chosen who was granted removal from the Imperium more than seventeen years ago.’
To be granted removal from the Imperium, you’d have to be a key pawn in the Council’s game, so much so that you could even demand freedom from them as long as you remained their player. What exactly did this Orin Woodville do to gain such favour?
‘We found that the emission of energy did not originate from him, however. He was merely the nearest Chosen to the incident, and we discovered he is her relative.’
‘Whose relative?’ I ask.
‘The one the energy came from—your keeper-to-be. She is a young girl of seventeen. However, we do not have much information about her as of yet. Once we receive it, I shall brief you.’
Della taps on the desk. ‘Currently, she is travelling to Agerath Island and will take the portal to the Templ
es of Elswyr, where you will be going. I am sure you are familiar with it.’
Yes, and I’ve never liked it.
‘For now, I am taking you to the holding bay where you will await her arrival at the Temples before we dispatch you.’
So that’s it then? There’s nothing I can do to prevent this path from unravelling before me?
Unless.
I glance at Della, who mirrors every Replica here, and I realise in that moment that she’s just a machine, a toy belonging to the Imperium. I could kill her, though I suppose the correct term would be dismantle. Then I could use the portal to send myself elsewhere, anywhere and—
I could almost laugh. What a pathetic dreamer I am. These chains can never be broken. Hasn’t time taught me that lesson?
‘Follow me,’ says Della.
I follow her through to a small room that leads to a circuit of corridors, Replica walking down them. I know the way to the holding bay, but always they escort us, as if they’re afraid we’ll run, which would be more of a hassle for them than a real threat. Doors slide open as we approach them and open up to a large room with a steel bridge leading to a platform. On the platform is a large metal circle and within it a faint orange light that hums.
That is where everything ends for me. In the next few days, I will be forced to go through the portal and leave behind my safe, dark world.
We go into another room that is shockingly white. I’ve done this so many times that I don’t need to be directed, so without instruction I stand where one of the ‘X’ symbols is painted.
‘Revert to your true form,’ Della says.
A hellish magic pulsates through me, and my bronze irises alter into slightly rounded slits. A shadow glares in my hand and blazes into ropes of black fire, chaining itself around my body. Wings made by wisps of darkness spawn from my back, their tips pointed and sharp; limbs stretch into two hind legs, short but bulky, and longer forelegs so I’m able to prop myself into a hunched position; from my head grow dark horns that curve in, and my snout grows wide as sharp teeth bare themselves; the shadows which I bore cling to my body in a fiery haze. I am a beast of hellish magic.
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