The Elementrals: Powers and Punishments

All Rights Reserved ©

Who I Was Birthed By

The subjects smiled and took me inside. But like any cliche, I turned and saw the others’ faces, all twisted with anger. They were glaring at me with a certain sort of irritation, as if looking at them for a second more would disintegrate me so bad that there won’t be any ashes left. Sighing, I turned back and walked to wherever the subjects were leading me.

Cliff on one side, void on the other.

They took me further and further in the castle, and whoever passed us bowed at me. I wanted to tell them to stop, but whenever I opened my mouth, I remembered what Jasper had said, and I close my mouth. Sick of repeating this pattern over and over, I ignored whoever now bowed, looking high and haughty, but not giving a damn. But then, I noticed something else.

All the halls’ walls (ooh, that rhymes) were lined with pictures. Hundreds of them, covering each nook and corner. I turned and started walking sideways, (now looking high, haughty and dumb) and took a close look at all of them. The one that I laid my eyes on first, starred an old lady, (old, like ancient) with blue eyes.

Yes. That’s what struck me. That was a certain sort of blue, that fit nowhere, Ultramarine, teal, whatever you could come up with. It was straight in the middle of dark and light. The sky looked like this at 6:30 in the evening. It was filled with many streaks of colors, like a beautiful evening sky, orange, violet, I saw the infinite universe in there. But the most prominent of these colors was blue, the calming and pure oblivion kind of blue.

That could have been me describing my own eyes.

I don’t know how long I stood there, could have been minutes, could have been hours. That picture drew me in. I knew her, my mind registered. Looking at the bottom of the picture, it read-

Carla Degeneres: 1550-1600 ‘honrado con el poder de ser el mensajero de los dioses’.

I knew enough Spanish to register that ‘honrado con el poder de ser el mensajero de los dioses’ meant ‘honored with the power to be the messenger of the Gods.’ That explained why she came to explain everything to us. Ha. I looked up to see everyone waiting impatiently (but still with admiration, ugh) at me. I said, “I’m sorry, its just, what are these pictures for? I mean, -they looked at me as if the obvious was invisible to me- its for the water elementrals, I know. But then, what’s is a crown doing on top of their heads?” They looked at me with an expression of sadness, and one of them, a lady with brown hair and celery-colored eyes turned to me and said, “What cannot you live without?”

“Dylan O’ Brien.” I answered without hesitation.

Now they looked at me with confusion. “Who is he, again?“I lost it. “MY HUSBAND!”

They looked aghast, now. “You’re married, Highness? Why weren’t we invited, ma’am? Haven’t we been faithful? Who is he? Is he enough for you? Does he give you the value you deserve?” I fell on the floor, laughing like a chihahua. They just looked at me, rolling on the floor. When I got out of my psycho phase, I said, “He is not my husband! Its just sarcasm! And a wish, of course. He is just a famous actor, and he doesn’t even know I exist!”

They relaxed and we walked on, but then we returned to the original topic. “Well, I cannot live without oxygen, food and water- OH! SO, THE WATER ELEMENTRALS ARE ELECTED AS THE LEADERS BECAUSE WATER IS VITAL TO HUMAN SURVIVAL! OH! OH! I GET IT!”

The lady with the celery-colored eyes laughed and said, “You don’t need our help!” I smiled at her and said, “I couldn’t locate these hallways alone, could I? I need everyone who is willing to help me.”

For a second, I shocked myself with this kind thought. I had known myself to be a very hostile person, and looking at their expressions, they hadn’t. They all smiled vibrant smiles, and a man told me, “Well, smart as you are, you are unfailingly kind as well. Let’s move on, shall we?”

We walked on, and I turned back to the source of this full discussion: the pictures. Each of them featured a man or woman, usually ages old, and all of them blue eyes. The shades varied- admiral blue, cobalt blue and other beautiful colors- but the feeling was the same. Being pulled in, not wanting to draw back. I noticed that I wasn’t paying attention to their faces at all, just their eyes and their beauty. Then I came across one picture, where I froze.

I was looking into the kindest eyes with the most striking beauty. “Its alright, honey. He will be back one day.” Whoever was speaking to me had the most lovely arctic blue eyes, which deceived the consolation. It seemed as if she (obviously a lady, with her voice) didn’t herself believe in the fact that whoever ‘he’ was, would ever be coming back. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt my heart break, as I registered the sadness on the her face. High cheekbones, perfectly set nose, in that instant, I knew it was my mother. She looked at me with an expression of pure pity. My three-year old self kept crying as my mother whispered, “With any luck, you will forget he ever existed.”

The flashback made me realize the picture belonged to my mother.

She looked sad, as if every burden in the world had been pressed down on her slumped shoulders. A smile did exist on her face, but the beauty of it was hidden by the shadows underneath her eyes and the dull numbness evident in her eyes. At the bottom, it read some words I would never forget.

Anna Grace: 1982-2001 ’matarla a ella y a su hijo

Kill her and her child.


Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.