Myrrhine
503 NE
The tower rose above the highlands. A solitary figure, clad in shadow, reached toward Andromeda, the blue sphere suspended in space.
Below, glaciers blanketed the mountain range, feeding frozen waterfalls and rivers that wound toward the forests. Several hundred meters farther down, an enormous mass of stone floated in the air, a new section of the tower held aloft by an invisible force.
The figure checked the purple bundle strapped at the waist, then stretched both hands toward the structure. Sweat ran down the shadowed face as the new section of the tower began to rise.
The thin air made it harder to concentrate. From the top of the tower, the cloaked figure struggled to regain control of the stone. It stopped and began to tremble.
For a few seconds it hung suspended. Then it plunged toward the plains. The tower itself began to sway and crumble. The figure was pulled into the void .
Myrrhine sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the blankets. At first, she did not recognize her room in the darkness. The image of forests and frozen waterfalls lingered a little longer, then faded.
She felt for the thick stone blocks beside the bed. Cold and solid beneath her fingers, they reassured her. They belonged to her room, not the dream.
Another one of those nightmares.
She brushed a purple strand from her damp forehead. Every so often she woke from journeys through unfamiliar places so vivid they seemed real. A long scar ran across her left palm, from the base of her ring finger to her wrist.
“Those weren’t my hands,” she whispered.
As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, the glass globe on its metal pyramid emerged across the room. She concentrated, and the sphere lit up, casting a soft blue glow across the wooden writing desk and into the rest of the room.
She retrieved her journal from beneath the pillow, turned to a blank page, and wrote down everything she could remember of the new dream, still without a name. She left the journal open on the bed.
Beyond the window, the rooftops lay bathed in cerulean light from Andromeda, one of Cassia’s satellites.
Andromeda hung like a vast blue crescent in the star-filled sky, while the peaks of the Tangle hid the other satellites from view. That mass of climbing trunks and vegetation encircled Nea in a wall hundreds of meters high, protecting the city and cutting it off from the rest of the continent. At the far end of the main avenue stood the Cassiopeia Amphitheater, in the heart of the city. That was where she would meet the other young initiates before leaving for the university meant for people like her.
The rest of my life... A little dramatic.
She remembered her mother’s words. Myrrhine was a Radiant.
In a few hours, she would leave Nea. She was eighteen now, and the moment had finally come to cross the Tangle and reach the Citadel of Rheia, the school for Radiants on the southwestern peninsula that jutted into the Sea. There she would study the more advanced disciplines and learn to control her Attunement.
The warm season was slowly giving way. A faint breeze from the sea to the west slipped through the open window and stirred her long hair.
She closed the window and sat on the bed again, facing the old drawing pinned to the wall. She had finished it a week after returning from her trip into the Understory of the Tangle. It showed a young woman and an old woman watching the Tangle burn, the flames almost alive in the vivid colors.
Once again, she wondered what her Attunement might be. She would find out soon enough, during the Awakening Ceremony at the Citadel.
Fire? A little disappointing, perhaps. Under ordinary circumstances it amounted to tricks of light and tiny sparks, but around real flames its power could become uncontrollable. Myrrhine smiled at the trouble she might cause. She would set Lorei’s garden on fire.
Nature was the obvious choice. She imagined herself running barefoot through the Understory, roots and sap guiding her toward rare or unique plants. But her friends thought it was boring, just like the herbology lessons she loved.
With Water, or perhaps a rare Air Attunement, she could indulge her curiosity about the world beyond Nea. Ever since childhood, she had preferred games of investigation and discovery, yet the idea did not excite her much. With Water or Air, she would probably end up aboard a ship, making endless journeys into the frozen north along the coasts of Hibernia.
No, none of those. Myrrhine could feel that her power was something else. She could not explain how. She simply knew. She closed her eyes, reached into the empty air, and the glowing globe went dark.
A sweet aroma drifted into Myrrhine’s room and slowly drew her awake. The first light of day filtered through the branches of the Tangle. She closed her eyes again and buried her face in the pillow.
She pictured the large table downstairs and the runner her grandparents had embroidered so carefully. It was white, with Cassiopeia at its center, the star that illuminated Cassia. Its rays stretched toward the edges, branching into colorful patterns.
On top of it she imagined platters overflowing with her favorite sweets. Warm, soft liba. Little cakes filled with fruit or jam... Noise from downstairs interrupted the fantasy.
Quick footsteps rushed up the stairs. She had only seconds to compose herself. The door flew open and Lorei burst into the room.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
Myrrhine’s ears were not ready for that scream. She barely had time to recognize Lorei before her friend threw herself on top of her. Lorei’s skin was dark as ebony; her long charcoal hair streaked with the green highlights Myrrhine adored. The bed protested with a sharp creak, drowning out Myri’s muffled groan beneath her friend’s embrace.
They stayed wrapped around each other. Lorei smelled of the fresh, spicy essence Myrrhine had made for her for the Festival of Harmony, the celebration devoted to the ties between the Canei. She had distilled flowers and fragrances until she had found exactly that scent.
Lorei pushed herself up on her arms. Her eyes, somewhere between green and turquoise, reminded Myrrhine of Hibernium, the precious metal from the northern lands.
“We’re leaving!”
This time she did not scream. She only smiled, and Myrrhine might have caught the trace of sadness behind it if she had not been taken by surprise.
She answered with a kiss on the nose. Lorei’s arrival had pushed the night’s awakening from her thoughts, though not from the illustrated pages of her journal.
“Myri, move! Otherwise, we’ll end up like the Observers, staring at the Tangle forever!”
“Until we become plants ourselves and achieve harmony with Andromeda,” Myrrhine continued in a solemn voice.
They both burst out laughing. The Observers’ Guild had been the butt of jokes in Nea for generations, though no one remembered why.
“Do you know what’s on the table? I do! Get up or I’m eating everything,” Lori said, planting a kiss on her lips before climbing off the bed and offering her a hand.
Myri accepted the help, stretched out her arms, and yawned.
“Don’t you dare!”
But Lorei was already on the stairs. Myrrhine washed quickly, trying not to lose herself in the endless thoughts competing for her attention, then hurried to put on her traveling clothes. Both of her parents belonged to the Tailors’ Guild and had personally designed and made everything Myrrhine would wear for the journey.
She pulled on finely worked leather boots and an aquamarine dress that fell to her knees. The journey would take several hours and carry them briefly through the Border, the wilderness separating the city from the rest of the world, the only place where the lands outside the Tangle met those within it.
As she came downstairs, she heard Lorei speaking quietly with her father, Dordalus. It took Myrrhine only a moment to realize they were plotting something.
She descended the last few steps slowly, careful to avoid every creaking board.
“She’ll be crushed,” Lorei said.
“It’s a surprise, Lori. Promise me you won’t ruin it,” the man replied, keeping his voice low.
Lorei was about to answer when Myri announced herself by noisily jumping down the last few steps.
“What are those long faces for?” Myrrhine asked, feigning confusion.
“Your mother won’t be there today.”
Her father waited for her reaction, then, convinced he had fooled her, continued.
“An important order came in from the Explorers’ Guild. They’re preparing a major expedition before winter. Apparently, there’s trouble in the north.”
Only that last part was true. Myrrhine walked over to her chair without answering. Lorei suddenly found breakfast fascinating. She had already realized her friend had seen through the lie.
“Come on, Myri. Don’t let it spoil your day,” Lorei said.
Her father hugged her. “I’ll be there to see you off. You’ll see your mother again soon, little one, I promise. We’ll come visit you for the Festival of Souls.”
He kissed the top of her head and handed her a wooden bowl.
“See you in an hour. And don’t be late, as usual.”
He picked up a heavy bag and a small rectangular box.
Myrrhine waited until the door had closed, then turned toward Lorei. “You. Tell me everything. Now!”
Myrrhine bit into a liba.
“Blueberries! I love blueberries!”
“I’m telling you absolutely nothing. You interrupted us. All I know is that your mother will be there.”
She brushed Myrrhine’s hand and leaned closer.
“Myri. With a surprise.”
“Please let it be a Hibernium sword!” Myrrhine said, jumping out of her chair and miming a slash.
“Didn’t you want the Treatise on the Natural World Beyond?” Lorei asked. “You’ve been going on about you and that book since your first year of lyceum.”
They hurried through breakfast, though they spared plenty of time for speculation and laughter whenever one of their guesses became particularly ridiculous. The laughter faded with the last of the food.
At best, they would see each other again for the Festival of Souls at the beginning of winter. Perhaps not until spring, for the Rebirth Ceremony.
Someone knocked at the door. Lorei ran to answer while Myrrhine tightened the leather cords that closed the neckline of her bodice. A tall, broad-shouldered boy stood on the threshold, thick black hair falling over his forehead and bright blue eyes narrow and elongated.
“ALU!”
“You’re late,” he said, looking from one girl to the other and lingering a second too long on Lorei. “What a surprise.”
“Neither early nor late, Alu. We are precisely on time!”
Lorei stepped aside to let him in, but Alantus remained in the doorway.
“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Myri repeated as she buckled her scabbard at her hip and secured her traveling bag.
Alantus took Lorei by the hand and, as always, the two immediately began arguing. Myrrhine hurried to put on the rest of her gear and wrapped herself in a light cloak.
Before stepping outside, she savored the scent of warm liba one last time.
