1
She was feeling uneasy and out of place, like a stranger in her own body. She realized that things could have been worse, she could have been stranded without a roof over her head.
The walls surrounding her were made of wood, and she had been staring at them for the past twenty minutes, wondering if they were actually real. After a while, she concluded that they were, even though the only wood she was familiar with was her bedroom door. However, she was unfamiliar with Greco-Roman designs and carvings.
The office was nice, but it didn’t feel like her place.
“Ms. Beaufort?” a voice questioned, interrupting her thoughts. She lifted her gaze away from the wall in front of her, to the girl who had called her name. “Mr. St. Cloud is ready for you.”
The girl vanished after that, leaving Ms. Beaufort with no clue where she had gone. Still, she gathered her bag and made her way to Mr. St. Cloud’s office.
When she entered, Ms. Beaufort was impressed by the bookshelves that covered the wall behind Mr. St. Cloud’s desk. They grazed the ceiling and were filled with books - some so old they looked as though they might turn to dust under her fingertips.
If she hadn’t weeded out her nervousness as if it were a toxic weakness, she might have been nervous, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Instead, she was increasingly curious about her future, both near and far.
The nameplate on the mahogany desk shone against the light from the windows, creating a glare over his name. Despite the glare, she knew the name well enough as it had been all she had heard for months.
Based on her observation, Mr. St. Cloud was a different kind of man compared to the ones she used to see back home. He was very particular about his appearance, with neatly brushed hair styled with what seemed like hair gel. He also wore an expensive-looking suit.
He took a moment to notice her presence, as she stood just in front of the door she had closed. Once he saw her, his electric blue eyes locked on hers. They looked soft and friendly, and she felt no unease or mistrust. Rather, she felt as calm as the sky on a sunny day.
Upon entering, she expected the scent of books but instead was greeted by the smell of rain, morning dew, and wet wood, even though everything was dry as bone.
He greeted her with a light smile and said, “Please come and take a seat.”
She entered the room, her leather jacket squeaking as she walked towards the chair placed in front of the desk. After placing her bag next to the chair, she sat down and greeted the person with a smile, albeit not a genuine one.
She greeted him politely and held his gaze, unsure if he was studying her or listening with care. Though she couldn’t care much less about what his intentions there were. “Good afternoon, Mr. St Cloud.”
“Excuse me, could you please tell me your name?” he asked kindly, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it really mattered to him. With so many kids around, it seemed unlikely that every name had a special significance to him.
“My name is Mara Beaufort,” she said. He wrote it down with a quill, which seemed odd.
Mr. St. Cloud asked, “No middle name?” She nodded; her mother thought one name was sufficient.
The walls in the room were as smooth as the surface of his desk. The chairs were made of the same material, which was darkened and slightly red. The temperature inside the room was somehow both warm and cold, and she attributed that to the structure itself. Whether it was Greek or Roman didn’t matter, because both cultures knew what they were doing when it came to architecture. This was the reason why their cultures were still popular and why their structures, for the most part, were still standing.
Mr. St. Cloud leaned back in his chair, his fingers folded neatly over his tie. “First things first; Welcome to Olympia University,”
She forced a smile once more and said, “Thank you, sir.”
She noticed him adjusting in his seat, deducing he was uncomfortable, tired, or bored - none of which would surprise her.
“Please call me Regen,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here instead of your dorm room, but I assure you that you’re not in trouble. If it were up to me, we would have found you years ago.”
He was right. She was curious but knew she wasn’t in trouble.
She nodded and said, “Yeah, I haven’t been here for more than an hour yet.”
“This may seem like a personal question, but can you confirm if your birthdate is February 20th, 1989?”
She nodded, wondering why anyone would lie about their birthdate.
“Are you aware that it was the day of the eclipse?” he asked. She nodded her head once more.
He closed her file and set his hands on it, keeping his gaze fixed on her.
Her personality was dull, but her appearance was striking. She was born with eyes the color of lavender flowers and hair so dark that it seldom shined. She never tanned, even when she sat out in the sun all day. Her vibrancy was seen as a curse, as her mother had said a long time ago.
He finally revealed the news she had been anticipating throughout the meeting: “My colleagues and I have analyzed your abilities and determined who you once were.”
She paused, waiting anxiously to discover her true identity, which had belonged to others before her.
“May I ask if there have been any other incidents since you were a child?” he asked.
“No, sir,” she nearly blurted out. Her urgency would be noted, but she was sure that almost every other kid who sat in that chair had felt the same way.
He cleared his throat and said, “You are a primordial being. Your soul has existed since the dawn of time.”
She knew the number: 7.5 billion years. Despite her age, it only meant she was wiser than most. She wondered which name was hers.
“A million lifetimes ago, you were Nyx. You not only personify the night but are its goddess.” Regen continued.
“Nyx,” she repeated. It felt strange on her tongue. But it felt familiar to her heart. “But what does that mean, I’m a... goddess that personifies the night? Is that... bad?”
He shook his head and said, “No, it only means that we need to work harder to help you understand your abilities.”
She nodded, “I won’t be locked up?”
“We don’t punish people for being different, Mara,” Regen assured. “You are free to leave your room, but there is a curfew.”
She knew that having a group of young adults with a god complex running wild wouldn’t be good. But that was just the norm at this place.
She sighed. “Just so I’m clear, I’m not a prisoner in my own home, I’m not the product of some sort of satanic whatever and I’m very, very old.”
“That would be correct.”
She pursed her lips and looked down at her worn and tattered jeans. They were now faded, but when she first got them, they were nearly as black as her painted lips. “Alright,” she spoke without any care. Maybe it was relief, or something else entirely. She was just glad to be far away from the prison she called home for ten years. “Do I need to sign anything to get them off my case?”
He was fully aware of what she was referring to. Throughout their correspondence, they had discussed every significant moment of her life that she could recall. However, there were certain things she kept to herself because, even though Regen St. Cloud was the man who had helped her break free from her chains, she wasn’t willing to pour out all her secrets to him. That would be like admitting to sins that others had forced upon her.
“You’re legally an adult at eighteen,” he assured her. “You can find Helia and she’ll give you a schedule and a tour.”
Mara held his gaze for a moment before standing up and grabbing her bag. “Thank you for everything, sir.”
He nodded. “Don’t thank me yet. Just wait. I wouldn’t want thanks for an incomplete job.”
“Have a good day then,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder after clearing her throat.
He smiled back at her and said, “You too, kid.”
She turned and left, feeling the hefty weight of the bag on her shoulder. After all, it contained her entire life.
She felt an immense burden lifted from her chest. It was a strange feeling to be without it, considering how accustomed she had become to it over the years. Nonetheless, for the first time since she was eight years old, she was able to live her life freely without any consequences for perceived wrongdoings.
The easiest way to describe how she felt was with ease, defined as freedom from worries or problems, especially about one’s material situation.
Perhaps “indescribable” best describes that feeling.
