《Millennium Pickaxe》


 Introduction: Grandmother of Ice

    The wind howled across the frozen landscape of snow and blue ice, carrying whispers from the sea and the south. It curled through the whistling masts and rigging at shore and continued through the narrow alleys of the village, rattling bone chimes hanging from doorframes.


    A storm was coming.


    The grandmother pulled her shawl tighter, trudging through the snow, boots crunching toward her hut at the village¡¯s edge. Beyond it, the ice stretched endlessly northward swallowing the last island where the sea met glacier, slipping beneath them to carry on its journey. Reminders, sounds of cracking ice braking and grinding against itself, were frequently heard from miles away. The pressure of the sea underneath divided west from east, and the ice in the north, bridged over the islands to form the only connection, save boat or skyship. These two lands were days of travel apart, weeks in places. Her ice bound home, her lands and her people, or so it seemed to those outside, lived by the old ways¡ªsea beasts kept them fed, driftwood, stone and ice built their homes. Along with furs and bone, forming almost tent like roofs. The war beyond the ice to the south was not theirs.


    Far south, the West and East burned. The mountain dwellers, their technocrats and nobility all tied together through military might, dug deep beneath the stone, sending their lowest inhabitants to the mines, tearing gems from the dark¡ªblue, red, green, bright veins of power fuelling the war above. She knew the Miners themselves did not think in terms of power, one crystal was almost equal to the next. From their perspective they were not compelled to mine, they were Miners. To the west The forest rulers fought to take them, the crystals, having few natural mountains to dig and fertile lands did not yield crystal crops. Their pilots were the elite, their nobility and military seemingly one organism, or more so than those living in the mountains . They truly flew through the skies, stealing crystal hoards from fallen ships. Deeper in the earth still, buried where even the miners feared to dig, lay the black crystals¡ªso rare they were whispered of more than seen. Nobility alone wore them. On either side. Small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Powerful enough to change the tide of battle.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    But not here.


    Nothing lay beneath the ice but frozen stone and sea. No veins of power. No reason to fight.That was why they did not come. That was why the North was left untouched.The grandmother stepped inside, shaking frost from her sleeves. The fire smouldered low, the scent of dried herbs, pepper, oats and smoke curling in the air. Where she had herbs and spices from, no one new, she seemed to always have them and the villagers dared not ask, she was their medicine woman and her service to this tribe and that of her small family, was not worth the cost of too much curiosity.


    They were a strange sort anyway.


    She sat beside those dull glowing embers and put a new log on, one that would burn long enough for the evening, she feared the worst, but it had to be done, she watched to see the log catch, just right, the embers glowing anew and bright and she waited.


    She reached into her pocket and traced the worn edges of the little brass timer. Her father¡¯s timer. He had carried it through a different war, in a time when the sky was still quiet. The gears inside clicked softly, counting moments. Then¡ªA little chime.


    Shortly after, a knock at the door.


    The grandmother exhaled, slow and steady. It was not beast, wind or snow. It was not, something else. She would have known.


    This time, it was only Elan.

 Grandma shares her story.

    ¡°Come in, come in, don¡¯t let too much cold in.¡±


    I came in and took off my coat, tramped my feet and slid off my snow boots. I Stepped over a threshold, to keep the melt out, my toes wriggled momentarily taking in the warmth of the rich furs. They were not just on the floor, they lined the walls and they were the very ceiling itself, supported by polished bone ribs from the beasts I and my father hunted on the open sea. The hut felt small. looking down to the source of the voice, my grandmother looked small as well, the shortest woman in the village, in fact, but not in presence.


    ¡°You will need to pay attention boy, this will take some time, sit down, would you.¡± my grandmother said. I knew two things then, in that snow-capped hut: one, that this was serious, and two, she never called me ¡°boy.¡±


    My training had been going well with Father, but everyone was on edge lately. Lessons in history felt stale, and lessons in tactics grew repetitive. Dining was uneasy¡ªtense, far from relaxed. I had a foot for dancing but no dance partner, and a solid left hook, but a father I could read like a book. Speaking of books, I had three in my possession, books that had become more an exercise in memory, than in learning¡ªor enjoyment. The day was about to end, no one works past the daylight and the sun was about to set. After my chores, father had told me to go over and visit my grandmother. It was hardly a ¡®visit¡¯ she lived in a hut practically next to ours. My fathers voice was firm, tense, not to be argued with.


    ¡°It¡¯s past time,¡± she cut in more gently. ¡°Sit down, will you?¡±


    I was still mulling over the change, not good, I kept needing reminders to take action. So I sat. She briefly assessed me then, before continuing: ¡°Over the next four days, I am going to tell you a little and a lot about where I am from and why. I know you know some from your father and more than your mother has a right to share, but you will hear the whole of it now from me.


    ¡°Ok¡± I nodded. She continued: ¡°We are sending you to the military academy on the cliffs of Shea, next to the city of fools and technology.¡±


    ¡°The city of wonder?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going there,¡± she tsked. ¡°It¡¯s close, it is the same city, but You¡¯re going to the academy, where both your great-grandfather and I attended. If you want to survive, don¡¯t mention me when you get there.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    She looked at me plainly. ¡°Because you will die. In fact, if you ask why in that manner again, you may be cut short of success¡±


    ¡°Pay attention my boy and listen. We have not spoken much, you and I, because adopting my speaking and mannerisms, natural as that would be, would also be too detrimental for the desired result.¡±


    I knew this from my lessons in subterfuge, I groaned inwardly.¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± I said. My boredom for lessons threatened my curiosity for life, the chance of real adventure had me, my mind already running wild. Military academy! And technocrats! No more boring lessons. Life in the village was boring, aside from hunting, with Joan and Marley, my friends and my young sister who served as scout for my father. Other villagers joined us at times. Hunting is a community sport and livelihood. The pixie tribe further north also joined in at times, we shared the spoils.


    ¡°Listen,¡± she snapped, and again I focused on her. I had not realised I was looking away.


    ¡°Sorry¡± I said.


    ¡°Good.¡± She took a steady breath, ¡°I should start with your great grandfather, you¡¯re very like him you know, easily distracted. I should have known he was not a real miner¡ªyour great-grandfather, that is. He kept his head down, but his back was straight as a rod, not bowed with heavy muscle. He had arms the type women fawn over, like your father. Not arms like my brother¡¯s, all sinew and grit.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°You were a miner, Grandma?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± she said. ¡°The deep mines, ¡ª.¡±


    I interrupted. ¡°Why do I need to learn about the Mines grandma? Don¡¯t get me wrong, I want to hear the rest, but what does that have to do with me going to the academy?¡±


    ¡°In time, in time,¡± she said. ¡°If you want to succeed there you will have to understand the culture, you are cultured, but you don¡¯t have their culture. If I tell you my story, you learn this. Both its history and mine, some of our ways and how to succeed at the academy, there are a few other things, but they can wait. If you listen well you will succeed and maybe have a little sport when the chance arises.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡± It sounded good, I was intrigued and I otherwise new little of my grandmothers past. She cleared her throat, sipped a little water and I got comfortable, knowing there were no more interruptions to be had.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    I am from the deepest mines and the oldest. Mines furthest from the capitol, the smallest village in the shadow of the largest mountain. That mountain was good. Mossy slopes we walked for sunlight and fun, fresh fish at market, not salt fish like the citadel¡¯s. Pure white fish, so clean and light you almost forgot you ate anything at all. Not like the red meat of the sea beasts. Yes, sure, you have your sport now and the hunt, but it tastes like liver, like that of the wild game on the slopes of Shea. Yuk. Anyway, as I was saying, the mountain: I was a little girl, soon a woman to my own eyes then. Sixteen moons old and set to work in a tunnel not three men wide, but tall enough to swing a pick.¡±


    ¡°They were good days my childhood, in that village, as much a part of the mountain as our mine.


    ¡°The mountain spoke,¡± my father used to say then, if you knew how to listen that is. I remember how his calloused hands gripped his pickaxe, steady and sure as he tapped out a rhythm against the stone. It was me, my brother Jothan, and my father, and we knew our business. He tapped, and we followed his tune. Breathing and pacing out the work, the thud of clay, loose dirt, or the spark of flinty rock. The chime of granite and the satisfaction of a crack in the grey old mountain himself. All to uncover crystals for the citadel and our empire. Father¡¯s belief in the mountain¡¯s voice was unwavering, as though he could hear something ancient, something hidden deep within the rock. I didn¡¯t always understand it back then¡ªthat he was referring to the harmonics of crystals, the magic stones that powered our technocrats, those marks of power worn by nobles with their pendants of black millennia stone. Stone that was not just for show, but I believed him. At least, I wanted to, his uncanny knack for finding crystals was always surprising against my doubts. Not so for Jothan, true mining grit and faith in his father.


    The mountain had a way of making you believe in that little village next to that looming snow cap. It dominated, like the nobles who carted off those crystals for pennies, knowing that we would be far richer than they, had we had the technology. We hardly complained. Warm feet, warm food, and respect for our work kept most of us happy, busy. The academy in the lower ranks was always an option for those who dreamed of rising above it all. Above honest work. We heard little rumours of those who had made it, but never first hand, the wealth or glory never trickles down.


    We lived beneath its shadow, a village tucked away, almost forgotten by the rest of the world. The stocky houses, like its people, were huddled close together, their roofs sagging beneath the weight of years. The streets, narrow and winding, were packed hard with dirt and worn smooth, like polished rock, by the endless tread of boots¡ªminers¡¯ boots. The boots of families like mine. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, coal, and constant cooking. It clung to everything.


    The sun hardly touched the village and only parts of the mountain and never the air, its draft always cooling as it funnelled down from the mountain¡¯s snowy cap, freshening us before heading to the cliff and the drop down to the open sea. It felt like the earth itself was a weight pressing down on us, and it never let up when we were going into the mines. But it felt like freedom and sunshine when we came out again, soon to have a bit of pocket and food. Crystals were sorted by our village chief, he paid us and in turn he sold them on to the tax collector, in bulk. The tax collector, a lesser technocrat: in turn sorted out the academy cut, the technocratic cut, the noble cut and his own cut, for facilitating the division and distribution. Soldiers took our measure from time to time, but always from a distance and never interfering as long as business went on as usual.


    There was a rhythm in the village. A pulse that beat out the tune of steady grind, work, and survival. The little square was full of noise and the call of vendors that rose above the hum of conversation. I can still hear them now.


    ¡°Bread! Warm flack, fresh from the oven!¡±


    And Old Tanja, not a day younger than I am now, always yelling above the rest: ¡°Two pennies for saltfish! One silver for a leather pouch! A half copper for socks.Trade or buy, it don¡¯t matter.¡± She was practically immortal and always selling her oldest fish first. I can never remember that she had any customers. But it wasn¡¯t just noise. Beneath it, there was always a quietness. People carried a weight in their eyes, something that couldn¡¯t be named. So the glint in my father¡¯s eyes, caught in mine alike, we just never truly belonged. Not like Jothan.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    ¡°Good day, Gunni. How are the children?¡± My father¡¯s voice broke through the air like a familiar song, always the same, always warm. ¡°Better than last week,¡± Gunni would laugh, shifting her tray of vegetables. There was no wood on the mountain that was not brought in, her tray was a very slender sheaf of stone, almost flexible, with thin leather strapping her wares down. It was surprisingly light. ¡°Boys are still full of mischief, though. And how¡¯s your Elana?¡± She indicated me. I shied off, trying to pull my father along so as not to get roped into talk of marriage.


    ¡°Strong and healthy,¡± my father would say, his voice full of pride. He¡¯d glance at me then, with that look that always made my stomach tighten¡ªan expectation that I would somehow take over this conversation. But I never could.. He would pull his cap lower when answering Gunni on other days, on the rare occasions she thought she had him, and I see now however well adjusted he was to the village, he would never have married his daughter off to a commoner. The cap was a curtesy, to hide the truth of the matter from his eyes. He was just a miner to the village, but not to himself. If I chose for myself he would be glad, I know, but he never saw the day. When caught by Gunni myself, I would smile half-heartedly, fingers tracing the hem of my sleeve. Words came too easily then, flowing like water while hardly ever helpful. So I shied away or buried my victims in all my foolish thoughts. But one could not afford to be foolish with Gunni and her boys. So my eyes were as hidden as my father¡¯s and my lips sealed tighter. birds of a feather we were.


    ¡°Did you see the fish they brought in?¡± I asked, waving my hand for my father¡ªfat¡¯r, we would say¡ªand I pointed toward the fishmonger¡¯s stall, where the day¡¯s catch lay wet on a slab of stone, packed with a bit of snow ice.


    My fat¡¯r would squint at the fish, then shake his head, his lips curling into a wry smile. ¡°Hmm. Not fresh enough for me, I¡¯m afraid.¡± And so I would know, we were going swimming that day, a luxury no other villager had, because no one knew of this fresh water pool I had found. A secret is only a secret when shared by no more than three and hardly ever then. But crime does tighten lips where no reward would otherwise loosen them. Swimming was reserved for nobility, simply because owning anything larger than a bucket of fresh water, was a legal matter. By law, it was reserved for them alone. But not to swim, that was still fine, technically. Why, nobody knew, but it was never inconvenient. Had people found out, a small area patrol would be sent and it would be closed off, worse the village potentially relocated. It was an easy secret and a guilty pleasure.


    I remember how thinking of that pool made my heart lift. It was forbidden, but even so, the idea of the cool water on my body, of something that wasn¡¯t the mountain but in it, a home away from home. The pool, hidden deep beneath the mountain in caverns that no one else knew about, was a secret I shared only with my fat¡¯r and brother, and where father quickly taught us both to swim. There were no fish and no life in this water. But in that stillness, there was peace.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The air was warmer that deep, and the hum of the water, cold, faint, dark and steady. It filled the silence in a way that made everything else fall away. Worries and stress. The mountain¡¯s weight seemed to lift, just for a moment, and we could breathe.


    My father often spoke of how it wasn¡¯t just a place to escape to, but a place to listen. ¡°You¡¯ve got to listen to the water,¡± he¡¯d say, his voice low, like he was about to reveal a secret. ¡°It¡¯s not just the mountain that speaks.¡±


    The water seemed to respond to his presence, and that made me feel like there was more to the world beneath our feet than I could see. Usually, before he could say another word, I would jump in and splash the moment away. I was a lucky seabird in a freshwater pool, pretending to be a noble and making high-and-mighty faces at my brother.


    Jothan would just turn away, smile at my antics, and float on his back. My father would dabble his feet, soothing blisters. I would eventually float on my back too, head-to-head with my brother. Arms out, trying to see what he was looking at, and wondering how, with ears muffled by water, I could ever hear anything, other than my own heartbeat.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The weeks passed the way it always did in the shadow of the mountain. Mornings were slow but purposeful. We woke with the sun, though it¡¯s light hardly reached the village. The haze of dawn fog lingered over the rooftops, soft and pale. Quiet mornings, peace before the noise of the mines and the bustle of the square. That morning was no different. I woke to the sound of Jothan moving around, his boots scuffing against the dirt-packed floor as he hurried to dress.


    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re slow, get up,¡± Jothan shot back, grinning as he tugged on his jumper. ¡°If you don¡¯t get moving, you¡¯ll have to eat breakfast cold.¡±


    I groaned, rolling off the small bed. His mood was way too positive, and I didn¡¯t have the energy. The air was brisk, carrying the sharp scent of smoke from the hearth. The heat had not spread to the walls; Fat¡¯r was probably the one making breakfast, his fires hardly knew which way to go. Never consistent. Pulling on my tunic and tying its hem at the waist, I headed through the living room and rounded the kitchen corner, almost walking straight into Fat¡¯r bellowing:


    ¡°Elana! Jothan! Food¡¯s ready¡ªdon¡¯t make me call you again.¡± His voice was firm but warm, the way it always was when he was in good spirits.


    ¡°Yes, yes. I can hear. I¡¯m not deaf!¡± I said.


    The small room was filled with the smell of fried root vegetables and bread, rustic and everything almost the same colour, but it kept you going through the day and the dull lights of the mine. My father stood by the stove, a spatula in hand, flipping slices of meat in a cast-iron skillet. A small luxury over a stone pot. He had been trapping some small game before we were up apparently.


    ¡°About time,¡± he said, glancing at me. I didn¡¯t see how I was any later to my breakfast than my brother. Jothan had just sat down to inhale his food at an inhuman speed. ¡°You could follow his example sometimes...¡±


    Jothan beamed at the praise, and I made it about food.


    ¡°Only because he doesn¡¯t chew his food,¡± I said, taking my seat at the worn wooden table. Jothan smirked, shoving another piece of bread into his mouth as if to prove my point.


    ¡°Don¡¯t start,¡± my father said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. The men in this family thought moodiness was a trait reserved women. My late mother was my shining example of countless moody, but cute, stories. I hated them and the past, to me it had nothing to do with the present. I was just tired, not snappish. He set the skillet on the table, the meat sizzling as it hit the cool air.


    ¡°Eat up. We¡¯ve got a long day ahead.¡±


    I reached for a slice of bread first, the crust warm against my fingertips. The meal was simple but hearty, and as we ate, the conversation flowed in fits and starts, mostly Jothan filling the quiet with an unusual amount of chatter. Like his food, it was all jumbled up. It was so like him and so not.


    ¡°I saw Gunni in the square yesterday,¡± he said, his mouth half-full. ¡°She says her youngest boy wants to work in the mines next year. He¡¯s not even got the strength to carry his own tools, let alone a sack to lift, or swing a pick for more than a quarter.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll grow into it,¡± my father replied, his tone distracted. He was staring out the small window above the counter, his brow furrowed.


    ¡°Fat¡¯r?¡± I asked, setting down my cup of brew. ¡°What is it?¡±


    He shook his head, as if clearing a thought from his mind. ¡°Nothing. Just the mountain. It feels¡­ heavy today.¡±


    Jothan paused as if to say something serious, then shook his head as well. ¡°The mountain always feels heavy, Fat¡¯r. It¡¯s a mountain.¡±


    My father didn¡¯t smile. He turned back to the table. ¡°Okay, okay, you¡¯re probably right,¡± he said to him. ¡°Just keep your ears open today. Both of you. And don¡¯t take any risks.¡± He sat to finish his own plate.


    I felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside. My father often spoke of the mountain as though it were alive, as though it could feel and breathe and whisper. Most days, it was just talk. But something about the way he said it that morning stayed with me. It¡¯s always easier to see the signs afterward. Everyone knows when there is a change, but hardly anyone listens in the moment, and fewer still act on it. We finished our meal in silence, taking the scraps of bread to wipe up the juices. My father rose from the table, his chair scraping back.


    ¡°Time to go,¡± he said, gathering his tools and a rare little techno timer. An extravagant luxury he kept to himself. It worked on springs, not crystal, and when wound up at sun-up it would chime four times, quarter bells for breaks, we would usually head home on the third bell. Some thought us lazy for it, but we were in fact more efficient and stronger for the next day. And no rumour persisted, because we took two days off a month, not four.


    Jothan was already at the door, his pick slung over one shoulder. I grabbed my own and followed, the unease still prickling at the edges of my thoughts.


    The square was already bustling with life as we made our way toward the mines. Vendors were setting up their stalls again, their voices ringing out as they called to one another. The scent of baking bread mingled with the sharp tang of coal smoke, and the air buzzed with the hum of a day beginning. Familiar and good. Other Miners joined the little procession, boots thumping and little ones mimicking their gait and darting about. It was a good village, I thought to myself cheering up with the giggles and squeals of children.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Fat¡¯r decided to stay true today, no exploring the mine. We went for one of the little shafts that would have put us a little above our secret oasis, and we took a left turn and started in at the end of the tunnel, at a slight upward incline. A good spot and easier for hauling out rubble. At the second bell, it happened. My father had just handed me his coat, which I had tied around my waist, and he paused to listen. My brother moved his head in unison, and before I could find it funny, the earth vibrated as my father shouted, ¡°Jothan!¡± I felt myself flung toward my brother.


    The air, suddenly thick with dust and the scent of stone, seemed to thrum, and the crack of the earth splitting open swallowed all other noises. We all fell.


    My body crashed against the jagged walls. I was plunged down into water. Some lanterns had fallen in with me, illuminating a dark shard at the bottom. The lanterns flickered wildly, their light casting frantic shadows, and a slow-sinking boulder caught me down. It was impossible to avoid. First I thought I would drown under it, but it pivoted finding its own centre, shoving me further down and away. Like the hand of god had just flicked a bird. That was when that black blade was driven into my chest, and a new pain had my attention, water forgotten¡ªjust pain as the lanterns winked out. then everything gave way again. A groan and a crack like the one before, and a deafening roar swept me out with the water. I came to a stop somewhere and lost consciousness.


    When I awoke, I was cold and wet and shaking, breath coming in short gasps, a little crystal glow from a nearby wall and that black shard stuck in my chest. Just where the ribs meet. I cut my hand touching it and panicked. Then, in a burst, I just gripped harder to get it out, but as the blood flowed, that icy splinter just melted and, to my horror, sank into the white bone of my chest. Crying with panic, I made it worse and ended up spreading it in further. My fingers and nails turned black with it, scrabbling with no success, I gave up just as suddenly. I folded the ripped flesh down, closing the wound, trying not to bleed out before curling over, blacking out again.


    Tired and waking slower the second time to complete darkness I was not bleeding I knew. My chest had a fused scar, I could feel it, like the welds on the iron carts, found in larger mining shafts. I got up on shaky legs, put my hand on the wall, and started breathing, breathing inn the air for direction in the dark. I eventually found the spot where the dry, warm air met and gave way to cold fresh and moist air and I followed, shaky legs, hand on the wall, head and heart throbbing. Hoping this section of the mine would not deceive me. I remember calling for Jothan, for Fat¡¯r, at intervals. I remembered the whistle around my neck stupidly late. And I got out, one step at a time.


    I came out into the glow of an exit. I saw boot tracks outside, and I could have cried then and there for the relief. I exited into daylight and rounded an outcropping to the village.


    I heard shouts then and calling, but not the familiar sort¡ªsystematic. A chain of people clearing rubble from the Mine.


    I was alone. And my personal silence was suffocating. Wanting to cry out, I didn¡¯t, and wanting to just cry, I couldn¡¯t.


    The village looked almost untouched.


    My fingers moved instinctively to my chest, where a faint ache pulsed. The touch of my fingers against my skin felt wrong. I clenched my ripped tunic together, so as not to expose myself, awareness returning.


    Pain flared again briefly before fading, replaced by a strange warmth¡ªa hum that resonated deep in my chest. The warmth was a stark contrast to my ribs, which felt like an icy cage around my heart. It was a feeling unlike anything I had ever experienced. Foreign. The black shard¡­ it was somehow a part of me now. The mountain¡¯s pulse was in sync with mine. I could feel it in the way the air shifted around me, in the way the ground hummed beneath me. I didn¡¯t like it.


    Panic rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I had to focus. I had to find my father and Jothan. I got to the market square, usually full of life and noise, but it was empty save for a few. The streets were still. Gunni spotted me first, then her boys, then Tanja.


    I stumbled forward, weak and dizzy, my legs unsteady beneath me. Tanja recognised me first. I had not checked myself too carefully¡ªI was a mess. Dirt covered blood, a gnome or a demon child clawed from mud itself is what I looked like, but not to Tanja.¡°Elara made it out! But the others?¡±Gunni recognised me then, more slowly, her gaze transformed, she ran off to check at the base of the hill, I assume to find out. I turned then, squinting still, and saw Old Marek, leaning heavily on his cane. Tanja¡¯s grizzled husband, often forgotten because of her shouting at market. His face was drawn with sorrow, his eyes tired in a way that made my stomach twist.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t make it. I told him.¡± I felt I knew. I had hoped. But deep down, I knew it was a miracle that I made it out myself. I would hold out a little hope later, but it was fleeting, they were never found, they never returned.


    I froze then as my own words hit home¡­ they were gone.


    The emptiness inside me threatened to consume me, but I couldn¡¯t let it. Not now. Not when I still didn¡¯t understand what had happened. Marek patted my shoulder very gently, and I turned and ran home. Tanja called after me.


    I sat down at the breakfast table and In the silence that followed, staring at the plates from breakfast. There was a hum¡ªa soft, resonant pulse. Like the mountain¡¯s voice. The one I couldn¡¯t hear before. It did sound heavy. My father¡¯s timer rang the fourth bell. I was still wearing his coat around my waist. ¡°I hear it now, Fat¡¯r,¡± I whispered. Then I cried.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    ¡°Grandma, I am so sorry, I didn¡¯t know¡±


    she had paused, a natural break I assumed for me to speak.


    The hut felt colder now.


    I couldn''t quite imagine losing everyone at once, not even grandma.


    ¡°This shard, in your chest?¡±I asked carefully, a bit confused and curious. I suddenly had too many questions, but I knew my timing.


    She got up ¡°uff¡± she said, and stretched.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry boy. This was many years ago, and the crystal well¡­¡±


    I felt a hum then in the small hut and the hair on my arms stood on end.


    Granny had cupped Her hands in front of her chest at first, and then was seemingly pulling a shaft of black crystal out of herself. The black shard, It finished at a forearms length. She held it carefully for a moment, I was mesmerised, then she looked me, dead in the eye and i was terrified. She took two brisk steps toward me and stabbed me in the chest.


    Too stupefied to react, every instinct conflicted. Frail Grandma was fast and the force sent me on my back, the pain and that weird hum ever increasing and just before I lost consciousness I saw her looming over me, she gave me a steady look up and down, nodded once and then quite casually checked her nails. ¡°Huh, so that¡¯s what they look like¡± then everything went black.

 A decision is made.

    The next morning, I woke to the dull ache in my chest and the echoes of fear left by my grandmother. A nightmare? No, there was a throb that pulsed in time with the soft hum I could feel inside me.


    It was faint, almost soothing, but undeniably there, like a second heartbeat. Was the throb my heartbeat? Yes of course, the body does not hum. They were undeniably in tune either way. My hand instinctively went to the spot, brushing against the fabric of my shirt. Beneath it, the skin felt warm and sensitive, as though something foreign had taken root. I sat up, the world spinning briefly before it steadied. The memories of the evening before were scattered¡ªgrandmother¡¯s sharp eyes, her steady voice, the flash of the crystal, and then¡­ nothing. A weight pressed against my mind, as though the memory itself was physically heavy, but I knew better than to question it too deeply. Not yet. I needed to know what day it was first, for sure.


    ¡°Elan.¡± My father¡¯s voice was softer than usual, a rare tenderness beneath its gruffness. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, but not in the stern way I¡¯d grown accustomed to. His eyes lingered on me, scanning as if to assess my recovery through the night.


    ¡°Morning,¡± I muttered, rubbing at my chest again. The hum was distracting, like a whisper I couldn¡¯t quite hear.


    ¡°You look alive enough,¡± he said, there was a flicker of relief in his voice. ¡°Get yourself together and head to your grandmother¡¯s hut. She¡¯s waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± I asked, though I thought knew.


    He just jerked his chin toward the door. ¡°Go on, Don¡¯t keep her waiting.¡±


    I got out of bed gingerly, my chest still sore but curious. I was more sturdy than I thought I would be. I Put on an overcoat, wrapped in my sleeping clothes to keep the warmth from my bed.


    Outside the air was sharp with the chill of morning, I tucked my hands under my armpits and hurried over. The snow whispered beneath my bare feet as I made my way across to her hut. Cold that bites is safe, cold that numbs should never be left unchecked. It was a short dash. The little structure was the same as it had always been¡ªweathered wood, a curl of smoke from the chimney, and an air of quiet authority that matched its occupant.


    I pushed open the door, the scent of something warm and savoury greeting me immediately. She was already at the table, a bowl of steaming porridge in front of her, half eaten and another waiting for me, brimming. Her eyes flicked up when I entered, sharp and knowing.


    ¡°Sit,¡± she said simply, her voice leaving no room for argument.


    I obeyed, lowering myself onto the stool across from her. The bowl was plain, the porridge simple, but the warmth of it was comforting as I took a mouthful. She watched me eat for a moment before speaking.


    ¡°How do you feel?¡± she asked, her tone neutral.


    ¡°Sore,¡± I admitted, between bites. ¡°And¡­ strange. There¡¯s this¡­ hum.¡± I tapped my chest lightly, hesitant. ¡°What did you do to me?¡±


    Her lips curled into a faint smile, not unkind but far from reassuring. ¡°I gave you what you needed to survive.¡±


    ¡°Survive what?¡± I asked, my voice sharp. The memory of her stabbing me with the crystal surfaced briefly, a flash of light and pain that made my stomach twist.


    ¡°All of it,¡± she said simply, leaning back in her chair. ¡°The academy. The mountain. The fools you¡¯ll meet and the wonders they¡¯ll promise. You¡¯ll understand in time.¡±


    I frowned, frustration bubbling up. ¡°Why not just tell me now?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re ready for your history, not your lesson in power¡± she replied, her tone as steady as the hum in my chest. ¡°Don¡¯t squander what I¡¯m about to tell you, listen like you do your teachers.¡±


    I hesitated, my spoon hovering over the bowl. Her words held weight and they settled heavy in the space between us. Finally, I nodded, the fight leaving me. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m listening.¡±


    She nodded in approval, and finished her own bowl. How she ate so fast was a mystery ¡°Good. You¡¯ll need to listen well, The story I started yesterday¡ªabout your great-grandfather, the mountain, the crystals¡ªit¡¯s not just a story. It¡¯s your inheritance. Your Legacy, she said this last word with a sour face. And if you¡¯re to make it to Shea in one piece, you¡¯ll need to know every word of it.¡±


    I swallowed, the hum in my chest growing faintly stronger as she spoke. Whatever she had done to me, it was more than I could comprehend. But in her eyes, I saw no malice¡ªonly a fierce determination that mirrored the quiet strength I had always admired in my father.


    ¡°Eat up,¡± she said, gesturing to my bowl. ¡°I¡¯ll begin again soon.¡±


    I put my head down, the porridge warm and thick as I ate in silence. Outside, the snow fell softly, but inside, the air was weighty with things unsaid and unfinished and as I sat there, I noticed that air, never had seemed to have weight of any kind before now, were my eyes playing tricks with the light? I shook my head lightly as I realised that this was no longer just a tale from the past. It was also a path, winding and uncertain, a path not dissimilar from my own suddenly and I was already on it. Grandma held the key to my future, and apparently she knew it.


    Eyes all a twinkle as she looked back at me.


    ¡°Do you know my name Elan?¡± My grandmother asked me, breaking the silence.


    ¡°No¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Elana, my father named me, and your father named you in honour of us both. It¡¯s good for you to know, I went under another name at the academy, a name that is not good to know.¡±


    She took a breath and began as I continued to eat.


    ¡°Do you remember well, where I left off from?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    ¡°It was three months later, after the accident¡­.


    The morning sun was pale, struggling to break through the mist that clung to the mountainside. The streets of the village buzzed faintly¡ªmore than I could bear, but less than just after the collapse. I kept my head down as I made my way through the market square.


    ¡°Good morning, Elana,¡± Lenna¡¯s voice caught me mid-step, gentle but persistent. ¡°Here¡ªsome bread for you.¡±


    I hesitated, not meeting her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m fine, really.¡± I said.


    I wasn¡¯t, I had been out trapping, unsuccessfully.


    ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± she said, pressing it into my hands. ¡°Take it.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I murmured a quiet ¡°thank you¡± before moving on, clutching the bread without tasting it. Lenna wasn¡¯t wrong, but I hated the weight of her pity. The ache in my chest¡ªboth from loss and the crystal embedded in my chest¡ªwas all-consuming. People looked at me differently now, like I was fragile, broken.


    Near the smithy, Orin called out to me, hammer paused mid-swing. ¡°Thought you¡¯d want to know¡ªthey¡¯ve still got soldiers poking around the Mines. Doesn¡¯t sit right.¡± He trailed off.


    I stiffened but nodded, pretending not to care. ¡°Thanks for telling me.¡± I said


    He grunted. ¡°Don¡¯t get mixed up with them. Promise me that much.¡± He eyed me over his inspective pause, unsatisfied with his work.


    I didn¡¯t promise anything. The soldiers were already in my thoughts, their presence heavy in the days following the collapse. Their questions. Their silence. The crest on their cloaks. What had always been the people passing by, were now the people interfering in my Mine, my village. My home.


    I went home and slipped into the workshop that was part of our entryway, to escape the village¡¯s stares and voices. Gunni had become less friendly and she was always a gossip. My father¡¯s tools were still scattered across the workbench, untouched since that day. I ran my hand over the worn wood, my breath catching gently. It felt as though he could walk in at any moment, dust-covered and tired, grumbling about the miners¡¯ complaints.


    But he wouldn¡¯t. I reminded myself, there were no such days, I was never waiting for him, I used to return with him. Him and my brother both. And they didn¡¯t grumble, did they?


    I had some extra energy today, so I spent the morning and day sorting through my father¡¯s things, trying to make sense of it all. What to keep, what to carry, what to give away and bury. The pickaxe he had carried for years. A bundle of worn maps, their edges smudged with ink. His pipe, the one he took with him hunting and trapping, a tobacco tin and finally, his leather pouch.


    The crystal was the first thing I found, small and rough, its surface painted blue, but I knew it was a crystal, it hummed to me as my fingers touched it. Fingernails still black from the accident, I had them clenched into fists most of the time so as to hide them. Still. I hadn¡¯t even realised he had jewellery, a gift from my mother? a quiet piece of himself he never shared. The blue paint was a nice colour, it must have been a very cheap crystal.


    When I held it, the warmth felt familiar, almost soothing. Something of my fathers and mother both I decided. I liked it, I did not like that It reminded me of the one, now fused with my own body, though his was smaller, more ordinary.


    I set the crystal aside, reaching deeper into the pouch. My fingers brushed against something solid, cold. I pulled it free and stared.


    A crest.


    It was heavier than I expected, its intricate symbols etched deep into the metal. As I turned it over in my hands, the memory had struck me, still fresh, the soldiers. Their cloaks had borne the same spiralling design.


    The door creaked behind me, and I spun around, clutching the crest. Gunni¡¯s eldest stood in the doorway, Shawn, his expression cautious.


    ¡°You¡¯re still here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Where else would I be?¡± I replied, sharply.


    He stepped inside, his boots scuffing the floor. ¡°People are talking, Elana, You¡¯ve been¡­ distant.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not fine, are you going to start at the Mines again?¡± he asked, his tone softening. Then his eyes flicked to the crest in my hands. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    I hesitated, turning it over again before holding it up. ¡°It belonged to my father. I think, I¡¯ve seen it before¡ªon the soldiers who came after the collapse.¡±


    Shawns brow furrowed. ¡°Soldiers crest¡­ Why would your father have something like that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°But I want to find out, I want to find out if I have any other family.¡± It pained me how little I knew.


    Shawn paced the room, ¡°You¡¯re telling me your father had something connected to them? And you think that why¡­?¡±


    I flinched. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe, it is their crest after all¡±


    He turned to face me, his voice harder ¡°Elana, this isn¡¯t just about you. If the soldiers find out you¡¯re digging into this, it could put the whole village at risk. You need to let it go.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± The words burst out of me before I could stop them. My chest heaved, the warmth of the crystal pulsing faintly against my ribs. ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Shawn. He was hiding something. If I don¡¯t figure it out, I¡¯ll never¡ª¡± My voice broke, and I turned away. ¡°There will be no risk to the village, nothing out of the ordinary has happened, so what if my father had a crest.¡±


    Shawn sighed, his hand running through his hair. ¡°You¡¯re not going to let this go, are you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    He muttered something under his breath, then crossed the room and grabbed his pouch of coins and placed them in the corner. ¡°If you¡¯re going to be difficult, at least don¡¯t starve.¡±


    I stared at him, surprised. ¡°You¡¯re helping me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not helping you. I¡¯m making sure you don¡¯t die halfway up a mountain.¡± He sighed again ¡°the first soldier garrison is a days trip, here and back, the rest is just¡­ start Mining with us again soon ok?¡±


    He let himself out quietly. He was surprisingly, as unlike Gunni as could be. And his mother was less inclined to a match than ever before, a polar opposite to the woman I remembered mere months ago. Just as much of a gossip, but made ugly in a new light. Shawn was good, he had been an unwanted presence to start, just making sure I was alright and a gradual friend over time. He shared some stories of Jothan, I hadn¡¯t known they were close.


    The village seemed smaller as I moved through it later that day, gathering supplies. My half formed plan, Lenna pressed another larger loaf of bread into my hands, her face unreadable. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ll tell me where you¡¯re going.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°It¡¯s better if you don¡¯t know.¡±


    She hesitated, then sighed. ¡°Well, wherever it is, you¡¯ll need this.¡± She handed me a small jar of dried herbs, crushed and ready for oil. ¡°For cuts and bruises. Don¡¯t waste it.¡±


    The sun dipped low on the horizon by the time I reached home again, weighed down by travel items, far more than a days worth.


    I spent the next few days pacing the village, unable to fully leave. Mentally or physically. The pull of what had happened kept me anchored. But I knew that nothing here would give me the answers I needed. The crystal in my chest pulsed, a constant reminder. It wasn¡¯t just about my father anymore. It was about the future¡ªmy future.


    One afternoon, a soldier appeared near the square. His cloak was trimmed, shorter maybe meant a lesser rank? I didn¡¯t know at the time, but it had that same spiralling crest, the one that had haunted my thoughts ever since I found it in my father¡¯s pouch.


    His eyes lingered on me for a moment too long, as if he could sense my intent before he looked away and continued on his patrol.


    I couldn¡¯t help myself. I walked toward him, heart pounding in my chest. ¡°Excuse me,¡± I called, my voice steady and polite despite the nerves twisting in my stomach. ¡°How do I get into the academy? I heard they take in new students sometimes.¡±


    The soldier glanced at me with a half-smirk, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. ¡°You?¡± He chuckled. ¡°They don¡¯t take just anyone, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± I pressed, holding my ground.


    His amusement faded as he looked me over, then he shook his head. ¡°The academy¡¯s for those who belong, not for people like you.¡± He didn¡¯t bother elaborating further, turning away and walking off without a second glance.


    I stood frozen for a moment, the sting of his dismissal sharper than I¡¯d expected. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was his words or the weight of the crystal pulsing against my ribs, but something inside me snapped.


    I had to go. I couldn¡¯t let him¡ªthem¡ªdecide my worth, or anything else about me. If my father had been a soldier before he had been a Miner, it fit, there were never any roots here and no one knew my family from any earlier than my own. Grandparents were nowhere to be found or heard of and I never questioned it, but I did question how everyone knew the previous owners of my home. And everyone knew their generations, not mine. I didn¡¯t belong.


    The sun rose the next morning, casting the mountains shadow across the village as I packed the last of my supplies. My chest tightened with each step toward the edge of the village, but I forced my feet to keep moving. Fat¡¯r was a soldier I was sure of it, maybe someone of low rank and of no importance, discharged, who new, but I would join and find out.


    Lenna¡¯s loaf of bread was tucked in my pack, along with Shawn¡¯s pouch of coins, the jar of dried herbs and other essentials like my father¡¯s traps. I hadn¡¯t told anyone where I was headed¡ªonly that I needed to leave. Shawn had idea enough to buy me some time and space. The time for answers was now, and I couldn¡¯t keep waiting. I left him the deed to the house for safe keeping, he told me he would air it out, I said he was welcome to use it in my absence, he had understood quickly enough this wasn¡¯t a day trip and I was glad he left me to it.


    I passed the smithy, where Orin still hammered away at his forge, and paused for a brief moment. He looked up but didn¡¯t say anything, just gave me a nod that felt like a farewell.


    At the village edge, I stood for a moment, watching the soft light of dawn stretch across the horizon. The path ahead was long, but I could already feel it calling to me.


    With the crest in my pocket and my father¡¯s crystal around my neck, I took a deep breath and stepped onto the road that would lead me to the academy.


    I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d find when I reached it¡ªor if they would even let me in¡ªbut I knew that I had to try. I couldn¡¯t stay here anymore.


    I didn¡¯t know where this journey would take me, but it was a first step.

 Travels and arrivals.

    ¡°And then you went to the military academy?¡±


    ¡±Yes Elan, then I was on my way¡­..


    It took me six weeks to get to the academy, I followed the mountain range, traded with fishermen who would scale the mountain. I had become good at trapping and I was more willing to trade with some smoked and dried meat, for their fatty fish, than part with my coin. This was increasingly harder to negotiate the closer to the capitol of Shea I got.


    More frequently I walked through villages and more frequently the longer it took to get through them, until I had to admit I had arrived. The academy stood on a hill of white stone speckled quartz, its walls a patchwork of grey, polished with shimmering crystal, veined with lighter stone throughout. The academy, its square stocky structure about seven village huts high, by estimation, was situated in a large courtyard. It was straight ahead, I could see through the bars of the gate, anchored down by the stone port and a wall that wrapped around and out of site. Guarding its secrets. Behind the academy, Bridges arched like spider silk exploding over the tallest mountain behind, towers and spires shooting up into the sky. How could a mountain seem so airy and light? over the little chasm separating the academy from the city, people were walking to and fro across these many bridges, a multitude of moving colours. Going in and out from the military gate by contrast, only pale blue. A reminder that while the noble elite mingled freely between both, only the chosen¡ªor the brave¡ªentered the academy¡¯s Iron bars. And only technocrats lived in towers, I figured.


    My footsteps echoed on the white stone path leading to the gates. Ahead, cadets moved in clusters, their crisp uniforms and crests¡ªsome etched with family emblems, others bearing the academy¡¯s plain sigil stood out the closer I got, not because of my peculiar wear, no, I was travel worn and dirty. I might have smelled a bit too I realised, I abruptly turned around, embarrassed, I needed a wash and a plan if I was to gain entry.


    I found an Inn for the night, after finding somewhere to sell everything that was not dear to me, or useful. I haggled like I was dealing with old Tanja herself. I buried my largest travel bag later in the wood nearby, half a days walk, my legs thought it nothing to me now. I had oiled it in for protection, kept my traps, one good knife, sleeping tarp and string and kissed it goodbye, a security blanket of sorts. I packed the earth down, tossed over a few leaves and walked back to the inn With the rest of my belongings and a heavy money pouch. Filthy, I explained to the innkeeper I had run away from home, he believed me, that I needed a wash, he nodded, that I needed some simple clothes, if he could acquire some? He paused, I explained I would have hard dealings looking as I was and that I could hardly get dressed in dirty clothes again and that I would pay for it all, including the one night and food. I stupidly put my money on the counter.


    he sighed. ¡°Half¡± he said.


    I learned later he was a kind man, and I had over estimated the prices, this was the capital.


    He sent a maid up to trim my hair and wash it. Simple clothes were left on a chair for me to dress inn. I kept my boots. Polished, I thought no one would notice and this soft foppish thing could hardly be called footwear, whatever the style. But I was not ungrateful, I put them in my little satchel.


    Simplicity would be my disguise. I was going to fake being a noble to gain entry as a cadet. I was young and afraid of rejection. It was possible to gain entry as a commoner but haste makes waste also in thought. I started my elaborate plan with what every scam artist starts out with, pen and paper. I imagined my father, but more regal and hard, high and mighty, and started to write one sentence: My daughter thinks she can survive the academy, prove her wrong.


    I smeared some more ink on my father¡¯s crest and stamped it on the bottom of the sheet. The imprint it left was satisfying. I folded it and sealed it with a little wax and a prayer. I would obviously not hand over something so negative, willingly and logically nobility would not want their daughters to attend, it made sense.


    I nodded to myself, satisfied, plan in motion, simplicity itself and went to bed after a final check of my things. I twisted my timer so I could wake before sunrise and I slept wonderfully.


    Too well I slept, the timer mute and no bell had I heard. The maid woke me with a ¡°miss? It¡¯s time for you to go home now don¡¯t you think?¡± I got out quickly, I was already packed, I dressed faster than ever and took my moodiness and embarrassment to find breakfast.


    This was just like going to the Mines I told myself. I needed to eat. But I needed to eat like a lady. Shit, my plan was already unraveling. Pretending was hard, I ate slowly, like someone with half an addled mind, in my pursuit of imitating a posh woman I had seen with her bowl of soup. She tilted her plate gently away, and scooped her spoon from herself not towards, she tipped the spoon gently into her mouth, she did not slurp and she tapped her mouth with a cloth. No sleeve. She did not wipe her mouth, ever. I looked like I had never eaten before, and I felt like it too, hunger growling to consume. I abandoned the project for later, after a bemused smile from a fellow guest. I stalked off to the academy gates. It was go time.


    Not feeling myself I got to the entrance.


    This is no place for hesitation,¡± I whispered to myself. I clutched the rough strap of my satchel. It contained everything to me now: necessities, a handful of coins, a few blank parchments, my timer, slippers I still could not call shoes, fit for nothing and, hidden beneath the lining, my father¡¯s crest.


    Simple shirt. Clean heir in a bun, at the nape of my neck, plain grey trousers, a bit tight on my waist, with the belt I had used on my miners clothes. Solid shoes that grounded me and my necklace gently humming to me on my collar bone.


    I wiped my hands on my pockets, shoulders square and approached the guard at the gate.


    I was no longer Elana, I was Sari. A noble runaway. And the academy would believe her.


    ¡°You¡¯re standing in my way.¡±


    Her voice sounded bored and bothered. I blinked and looked back to see a girl with green eyes and a golden braid. She was beautiful. Her uniform was immaculate, the crest on her shoulder, unmistakable, but no cloak like the soldiers. Blue, a cadet.


    ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to,¡± I stammered, stepping aside.


    The girl¡¯s eyes narrowed, her gaze sweeping over me with a mix of suspicion and slight disdain. ¡°Sari¡± I said my name.


    ¡°A lesser house, I presume?¡±


    I nodded, being any type of noble at this point was a win.


    ¡°Hmm. Well keep up and don¡¯t stare, it is the last day of entry¡± she glanced at my pendant. ¡°Some of us have real legacies to uphold, so don¡¯t get in my way.¡± She walked passed the gates into the courtyard and stopped. Maybe curiosity got the best of her, who knows. She waited. Just looking.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Being watched did not make things easier. I got to the check in, the first guard just thumbed his hand in the right direction behind him, behind the wall, just to the right, on the inside of the gate. A simple counter, a table really, barely a plank and two guards.


    They both looked imposing, but I had just met one girl, surely there were more?


    ¡°Name?¡±


    ¡°Sari¡±


    ¡°Full name¡±


    ¡°Sari¡± I stuttered and handed him the letter quickly before any more questions.


    He cracked it open and paused. He read it three times, if his eyes were anything to go by and by the fourth run through his friend said ¡°what have you got there?¡± he angled the paper toward him. The second one paused whistled suddenly. Calling over another man. A third, scarred, grizzled man stomped over. Snatched the letter and read in one cool calculating thought. A man absorbed. He looked at me then, boots and hands and then walked over to the table fishing out a brass cilinder and stamped the paper. ¡° stamp it¡± he said to the others.


    They took out theirs and stamped it. A third whistle, higher this time. And a black bird shot out, it took the paper, cocked its head at me with a little beady eye and cawed. Questioningly? It then flew off. The guards looked at the grizzled man and he looked at me and I couldn¡¯t meet anyone¡¯s eyes so I looked at the girl. Her face utter disbelief.


    Then I heard the first man shout: ¡°Commoners quarters! Follow the wall, reception at building three!¡± The girls face turned to subtle haughtiness. Ooooh that was the true high and mighty look. Not over the top at all, something in the eyes. Too familiar, I didn¡¯t like it at all.


    She had regained her composure and gestured, a little shooing motion with her hand, as if to say, off you go then. The other guards packed up their table and left, the grizzled man shut the gate. I turned to go before my success was ripped from me. Then a little chime went off from my satchel. Shoot I thought, did nobles bother with timers?


    ¡°Interesting¡± I heard him say to my back, I hurried off not looking back. I had wound the timer late at night I realised, too late, it put this morning, fourth bell, just after sun up. I was an idiot.


    Had I looked back however, I would have seen, that he was not looking at me at all, but slightly surprised at his own brass timer.


    I was talking to myself in a steady stream when I got to the reception hall and another cadet, a wiry boy with a scar cutting across one eyebrow, a tiny cut of nose missing, leaned closer and whispered ¡°What do you mean, who was that girl?¡± a little imitation of my own words.


    ¡°I am Deven, by the way,¡± he resumed normally ¡°first day as well?¡± he smiled.


    ¡° I don¡¯t know¡± I said. But I smiled as well, put at ease.


    ¡°Probably Maren¡± he whispered, with a hand of secrecy ¡°gold hair, yes?¡±


    I nodded, Maren I would remember.


    ¡°Top cadet from the noble class. You don¡¯t want to get on her bad side, she makes a lasting impact.¡± He touched his own arm then, an absent minded gesture and straightened the bottom of his shirt.


    A que was forming behind us, I caught snippets of ¡°north gate¡± and ¡°Southgate¡± etc. and guessed this was one large square garrison. The imposing block of the academy was its center. ¡°I¡¯m Sari¡±, I said. But before any further introduction on my part could be made a soldier came down the line. And stood right in front of me.


    His voice boomed out ¡°You will remember your place in this line! The person behind you is your partner! inside you will find individual closets with your key. Do not lose it, or you will lose your things! Four to a room and one Bathroom. Tomorrow you will line up here again, before the sun hits your heads over that wall¡± he pointed and I noted it, west wall. ¡° I will not repeat myself, is that clear.¡± There was a pause ¡° I said is that clear!!¡±


    Everyone stomped once on the cobblestones, it echoed off the walls along with my high pitched ¡°yes.¡± Oh I hated myself then. Several leaned out to look. The soldier stared at me.


    ¡°Tomorrow you will get your uniforms, your orientation and Your breakfast.¡± He continued, he was still looking at me on the final shout. His cheeks tinted pink from the effort. ¡°Dismissed!¡±


    We all filed inn around him, Deven found his closet next to mine and took the lower bunk. We put away our things and then waited. The two other boys left immediately after. I didn¡¯t know what to do, it felt like a test.


    Deven a bit bolder, said ¡°well, no rule spoken is no rule broken, care to join me to the sparring quadrant I spied earlier?.¡± ¡°Emmm, ok¡± I said. It was not exactly hidden. It felt like a bad idea, but I went with it, I needed to fit in.¡±


    The short gates whispered open, they were waist high, more for show it seemed, this is a sparing ring it said, outside was safety, inside you get what you get. Deven and I stepped through, the air heavy with the hum of magic and machinery. It needed no introduction.This courtyard was alive with motion: cadets sparring in rings of metal and gears laid into the stone, gem powered and rotating slowly, instructors bellowing commands, blackbirds zipping overhead, carrying messages to and fro. The air heavy with sweat and that unmistakable hum of crystals. It was so loud I was surprised I hadn¡¯t heard it like this from the start.


    Deven suggested warming up, I could not agree more, I felt out of place. While stretching he asked ¡°do you know how to handle a sword?¡±


    ¡°No, not really¡± I said, before he could say anymore a sweet voice cut in.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll give her a lesson first¡± it was Maren. ¡°She needs the basics, yes? to find her place¡± it was not a question, all with a slight arch of the brow and that look again.


    ¡°I think, I¡¯ll just go with Dev¡± I said.


    ¡°suit yourself, little daddy¡¯s girl¡± the taunt worked.


    ¡°fine, I snapped.¡± If she wanted a sparing match I would give her one, I had the time. Dev stepped over and picked up a little red bat. Maren picked up a smooth wooden sword. I copied. She found a ring, I stepped in.


    And it was like stepping into a bubble. It covered you with a hum. A vibrating field that tingled to the touch. ¡°Ready¡± I heard Devs voice. My pulse quickened. I matched Maren¡¯s stance. ¡°Match¡± he shouted. She was fast. This was no lesson.


    Her sword flicked my elbow. ¡°Point¡± we squared off. ¡°Match¡± Deven said. She flicked my chin. ¡°Point¡± this repeated itself. And lastly she swung hard, edged into my ribcage and I felt my body harmonise with the field. ¡°Point!¡±


    she jumped back now. Weary, I was winded and she was sweating, but she had felt how solid I was on the last blow, she had had her fun and was backing out. But not without some ofhanded comment about being tucked in at night.


    ¡°Finished so soon¡± I said, she curdled.


    I was hurting and not just physically. She stepped in and as Dev said ¡°match¡± I sprung. All Mining grit. My sword was my pickaxe and I swung it down and she blocked it, I stepped in and swung again. She blocked it, bracing both hands against her sword. She was slower now, tired. She had fight but less stamina than me, I was a miner! Then I found my tune, that old rhythm and that heavy mountain pressing down. Crack, crack, crack, I felt the hum build in my chest and I brought my last swing down hard. her sword splintered in two and the last crack was across her head. ¡°Point!¡± she was still standing. Furious.


    Her arms pulled in tight with pain, green eyes never leaving mine.


    Dev jumped inn. Waving his bat ¡°Winner, point, and match to Maren!¡± Maren turned, placed a hand delicately on her head and walked off. Her golden hair a little crimson.


    We cleared off quickly after that and I sequestered myself on my top bunk. Dev sat reading on his. Eventually he spoke up to me. ¡°I have a nickname now, hmm, Dev¡± he sounded out his nick. I could hear the smile in his voice. He liked the nickname I had given him and that¡¯s how I knew I had found a friend.


    Later that evening, I went out the reception doorway and sat on the step with my fat¡¯rs pipe and tobacco tin. I packed it. Lighting it with a little cheap crystal I had bartered for the occasion. A little victory pipe was due, I had made it inn. The aroma was good. The smoke of home. I pushed the embers down gently with the flat end of crystals case, that they were put in for ease of use and puffed a little more. It was not my first smoke. Walking past, half a pipe later, was that silver haired commander, the air around him was unmistakable.


    He came over.¡°Not many ladies smoke these days¡± he said. It was an honest observation. I puffed a little smoke in answer.


    I took a guess and offered him my tin. He accepted, fished out his own pipe and took a few good pinches. He took a curious little sniff at the tin then and said ¡°ah, you have the good stuff, very good¡± shutting the lid, handing it back it back and lighting up his initial cloud. It was a content moment. His smoke caught up with my own little stream in the wind still moment, floating toward the stars, bright in a navy sky.


    Smiling at me from around his pipe, he gave me a slow and polite nod as he walked off again. No words were needed. I went to bed relaxed. I wound my timer half way this time and tucked it against my ear.

 Academy life. A start.

    At dawn, the Academy of Shea stirred behind its squared stone walls, its symmetry as rigid as its rules. Two barracks opposed the courtyard¡ªone for the nobles, with private polished stone floors and large windows, and one for the commoners, where cold, crowded rooms echoed with restless footsteps. Between them stood the central building, its towering halls reserved for officers, the dining halls, study rooms and a library. Beneath its foundations, whispers spoke of a swimming pool, hidden and exclusive to the academy¡¯s highest-ranking cadets.


    In one corner of the grounds stood the sparring ring, its little gate, its sand sprinkled cobblestone, encircled by a metal Harmony gears of a unique design. It shimmered faintly, keeping the chaos of training in check. But not the calls and insults. Across from it, the Aviary seemingly integrated into the wall of the perimeter, perched high and wide, its stone walls weathered and plain. It¡¯s glass canopy protecting the birds nested Inside. black messenger birds were groomed and trained there, their calls rising over this military''s square, as they persisted in their work with the sunrise, whether they only worked in the daylight or simply flew silent in the night none of the cadets new. their favour was a fickle thing either way, without a crystal present.


    The first weeks of the month had been torture. Me and my room mates had made it to the line that first day before sunrise, thanks to my timer, and everyone else who did not, were reprimanded. That means pushups.


    The few who cried were tossed out the gates in shame.


    Everything that followed was a blur, running everywhere, pushups, eating and drills. The dorm rooms were inspected every day, perfection in clothing, in conduct, where and how we slept, when and where we took a shit, and heavens above if the bathroom was not spotless after.


    I had been reprimanded six times in six days for my ¡®nail polish¡¯. My black nails were permanent, I knew. My best efforts to remove it, fruitless, and now its particular shine was part of my hazing as a cadet and the cause of much jealousy from Maren, who could not afford such a lustre. Noble that she was. Why any noble went through the bother was beyond my understanding.


    My strong sturdy legs accustomed to constant walking day after day were my saving grace. I was not last in line at stops and breaks, but the line was getting shorter.


    Weeks quickly turned to a few months, but I had yet to learn all of my officers names or rank. There was so much to learn and the symbol of a recruit, was less the badge on our uniforms and more evident in the fact that we had to stamp the foot and otherwise pay our respects with a nod, than anything else. If you did not understand your superiors rank, be that soldier, instructor or officer. They were clearly your superiors and were to be obeyed.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    My timer broke through the haze of sleep, chiming in my ear, leaving no room for comfort or hesitation. I sat up abruptly, my heart racing, the instinct to move drilled into me from my first day at the academy. Around me, the other cadets groaned and shuffled out of their bunks, acostomed to following my example. their tired grumbling filling the dim, stone-walled common quarters.


    ¡°Morning already?¡± Dev yawned from his bed near the door, ruffling his dark curls. I didn¡¯t notice his scars anymore. His uniform, was already half on, his lanky frame, somehow always poised for movement.


    I swung my legs over the edge of my bunk, hopping down, my boots hitting the cold floor. I slept with them on from to time, if you saw a Sargent or the like, eyes twinkling too merrily, it was often a sign a midnight exercise was imminent, it is a pain getting dressed in the dark when four boys are clunking around you.


    ¡°I feel like we just got to sleep.¡± Deven gave me a lopsided grin.


    ¡°That¡¯s because we did. We were up scrubbing the training ring until midnight, remember?¡± I said. I hated mornings more than anyone and he had the audacity to remind me.


    ¡°Get moving, cadets! Formation!¡± A voice boomed down the hallway.


    My roomates, Nathan and Sohee, exchanged glances before hurrying to get ready. Sohee¡¯s hands fumbled with his belt, while Nathan muttered curses under his breath as he shoved his feet into boots that had been worn by at least three cadets before him.


    My boots were non standard, the officers did not agree, but when they failed to find a pare that did fit my tiny feet, they relented with even stricter rules for spit and polish.


    I felt a twinge of envy for how easily Dev carried himself. He had adjusted fast to this life. Where I felt like a stranger in a world that wasn¡¯t mine, Dev seemed to belong, as if the academy had been waiting for him. I was additionally trying to be something even more than I actually was. Living a lie was hard business.


    ¡°Ready?¡± I asked, offering him another quick smile.


    ¡°Not really,¡± he said, but he followed anyway, casual, comfortable.


    The training grounds stretched before us, our formation still a little shoddy, a wide expanse of stone walls and open sky. Cadets gathered in their ranks, the nobles and commoners separated by an invisible, but unyielding divide. I stood among the common cadets, feeling their stares. I had been forced to the front from day one, my place determined by chance. Though most of the attention was fleeting, curious glances here and there, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that some of the whispers were for me. I was perhaps a little paranoid.


    Deven stood beside me now, arms crossed behind his back, face forward as the instructor strode into view. He was a tall man with graying hair and a voice that could break rock. He stopped in front of us. ¡°Today¡¯s session will focus on sparring. Pair up!¡±


    This was a refreshing turn of events, after my first day, I found out that half of us had no prior practice with a sword and that meant conditioning. Half days, lunging forward, front foot extended, repeated into oblivion. A small red ball suspended in the air which we had to hit with the pointy end of a stick after that. Not even a sword to start. My amazement at this new novelty with the crystal wore off quickly, when I failed to skewer the stupid thing. Sore legs, sore thighs, ridiculous stretching, every inch of me aching. After that, sequencing. Steps and parrying. Head, facing shoulder, followed point. ¡°You are a small target, be smaller!¡± I was told. ¡°Smaller movements!¡± ¡°Smaller steps, larger lunges!¡± Small, small, small or large, large, large! It was either or and it was wearing thin.


    The cadets shuffled awkwardly for a moment, the commoners glancing at each other while the nobles stood in confident clusters. No formal formation. Dev turned to me, but before he could speak the Instructor cut in, ¡°Yes you will be sparring together today, cadet common and noble alike. You are all cadets, remember that!¡±


    We were then forced to make space, mingle and form up for sparing. Two for two.


    Deven groaned. ¡°Seriously, Kellan? Can¡¯t you bother someone else?¡±


    Kellan ignored him, turning his gaze to me. ¡°You¡¯re with Corren.¡±


    This ¡®Corren¡¯, had been lingering nearby, stiffened at the mention of his name. His expression didn¡¯t exactly fill me with confidence, but he nodded and motioned for me to follow him in to the sparring ring.


    The familiar hum sounded and surrounded my body.


    The ring was a simple circle of cobblestone, sand and intricate gears fused into the floor. We were surrounded by onlookers who had not found space. I adjusted my grip on the practice sword I had picked up going in, its worn leather hilt rough against my palm. Across from me, Corren stood rigid, his knuckles white as he held his. I feared him a little more than his sword at this point. He was all hard angles and sharper than the worn smooth wood between us.


    ¡°Ready?¡± I asked, trying to sound confident.


    ¡°Sure¡± he nodded.


    The instructor¡¯s sharp voice rang out. ¡°Begin!¡±


    Corren moved slowly, his blade swinging in a wide lazy arc. I sidestepped easily, my reflexes taking over. I raised a sword to block his next attack, the crack, its own compliment.


    ¡°Keep your guard up!¡± Dev called from the sidelines, his voice carrying over the noise.


    I deflected another clumsy strike and countered with a quick jab. Corren stumbled back, then his faint became clear: He stepped in another lazy arc this time, but it was smooth and Graceful and bent impossibly low. He struck hard and fast then upwards into my sternum. I was winded and doubled over before I knew it. Being so small I had never practiced a defence from anything under me.


    ¡°Focus on control, not strength.¡± Corren said. ¡°Agility, not speed¡±


    When I had stood up straight, he held up a hand. A casual gesture, he waited, hand still raised. ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    He razed a lazy eyebrow and told me to hit his palm. ¡°Why?¡± I asked more slowly.


    I was still aching and a little annoyed at Dev, my distraction. And I wasn¡¯t exactly in the mood to have a new little ¡®noble¡¯ instructor. He was a cadet like me.


    He held up his sword again threateningly. ¡°Do it¡± I knew there was no avoiding this, he meant the threat, but he also meant to teach, I could see that.


    I jabbed the palm of his hand. ¡°No impact¡± he said. He took a step closer and marked a point a third of the way down on my sword. ¡°This is your new sword, there is no sword beyond this point, now hit my hand.¡± He stepped away.


    i looked at my sword, its new ¡®length¡¯ then at him.


    ¡°Your to far away¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes and your enemy will lay his life down for you, no?¡± I understood. He waited.


    I took two half steps for a burst of speed, focused on his hand and the ¡®new¡¯ tip of my sword, everything focused down to a narrow field of view and I lunged. I struck true. I nearly fell into his arms, but it was a good hit.


    He pushed me gently back a bit ¡°You felt the impact? The difference? You must always strike at a closer point, so your energy transfers through to the end.¡± He slid his sword smoothly under my arm for emphasis, standing close. ¡°You cut through your enemies, not onto them¡±


    ¡°I understand¡± I said. ¡°Like a pickaxe through rock. His eyes lit up, then were guarded. ¡°Just so¡± he said. And stepped back again.


    We continued sparring, the fight slowly becoming more balanced as Corren told me how to adjust my stance and movements. By the time the instructor called an end to the match, he was breathing as hard as I was. hard but smiling faintly.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± he offered me a nod.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I smiled.


    In the ring next to us, Deven and Kellan had not heard the instructor and were in a tight match. Kellan¡¯s strikes were aggressive, his movements sharp, but Deven¡¯s speed and agility kept him just out of reach.


    ¡°Come on, Kellan,¡± Deven taunted, sidestepping. ¡°Is that all?¡±


    Kellan lunged, but Dev ducked and swept his leg out, sending the bigger boy flat on his back.The crowd that had slowly formed erupted in laughter as Kellan scrambled to his feet, his face red with anger.


    Dev winked at me then, as he stepped out of the ring. ¡°Easy,¡± he said, brushing the dirt off his hands.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Later, back in the common quarters, a short recess before lunch, the tension from the day¡¯s training began to ease. I sat cross-legged on my bunk, watching as Sohee animatedly recounted his sparring match to Nathan.


    The room filled with laughter of another sort and for the first time since arriving at the academy, I felt a faint sense of belonging. The walls still felt cold, the divide between noble and common still present, but in that moment, I wasn¡¯t alone. It eased my heart, but not the hum in my chest or the twisting of my stomach, I shook it off and reminded myself I hadn¡¯t eaten properly, but I could feel a change.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    After a quick lunch in the mess hall we were scheduled for the aviary, the food was bright, colourful and good. It was also the only place cadets truly mingled. Officers ate separately in a mess hall that doubled as a lounge, the quality an indicator of who and where you belong, you did not cross that line or disturb them at lunch.


    Food and eating was almost holy here, soldiers could also use the officers lounge, but they also ate separately. we had our rotation of training, but had yet to enter the aviary. Until today we had not been introduced to the military¡¯s ¡®soft power¡¯, in the form of messenger birds.


    They were unique in their ability to get messages up to pilots and the airships that carried them.


    It was a brisk walk over, the day was getting colder and we lined up loosely outside, uncertain, tense. My chest was humming.


    Black feathers glinted like shards of polished obsidian as the birds shifted on their perches, their sharp eyes tracking every movement in the aviary. The air smelled of damp, bitter and something faintly metallic. I stood among the other cadets, feeling small beneath the vast dome of stone and glass overhead. Rafters and beams criss crossed, littered with perched birds looking down. One of them shat on Dev. He was not amused.


    The chatter among the cadets echoed in the enclosed space, a mix of excitement and unease.


    ¡°Settle down!¡± barked the instructor, Captain Victor, his voice cutting through the din. He was a broad, no-nonsense man with a salt and pepper goatee, bald and an ever-present scowl.


    The group fell silent.


    ¡°The black birds ¡®Ravn¡¯ are not pets,¡± Victor began, pacing before us. ¡°They are tools of war, trusted allies on the battlefield. They deliver messages through storms, over enemy lines, and across vast distances. They trust no one easily. If you can¡¯t win their trust, or feed them these,¡± he held up a little white crystal,¡±you¡¯re useless to them.¡±


    The birds certainly new what he was holding, eyes trained on him. He tossed it into the air. He did not expect it to come down again.


    ¡°Today you will each have a bird sitting on your arm, for however long it chooses to sit there, is that understood?¡± Everyone stomped a foot. ¡°You get a few tries, but no longer than this lesson and I do not expect our friends here to grace you with their company for very long¡± he added.


    ¡°Line up!¡± Victor ordered.


    The cadets shuffled into place. Deven was beside me, leaning slightly toward my ear. ¡°Think they bite?¡± he whispered.


    I glanced at the nearest bird, a sleek creature with razor-sharp nails and a cruel beak. ¡°Definitely.¡±


    Dev grinned, but there was tension in his shoulders. The stakes were high, and failure here wouldn¡¯t just be a blow to our pride¡ªwe all head it in Victors voice, this was make or break time, one of the rare ones that would have you out the gates by sun down. I felt like I was going to fail. The hum in my chest amplified twofold and I didn¡¯t like it.


    A cadet stepped forward, a boy named Jorric. He approached a perch with confidence, the bird on the perch tilted its head, watching him with unsettling stillness. Jorric extended his arm, but the moment his hand got too close, the bird let out a caw and snapped its beak, forcing him to step back.


    Some laughed nervously, but they exchanged knowing looks.


    One by one, cadets approached the birds. Some were met with wary indifference; others, like Jorric, were outright rejected. By the time Dev had a turn, the tension in the room was palpable.


    Dev took a step forward, his hand outstretched. The bird he chose, a large male? with a missing feather in its tail, regarded him warily.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Dev murmured. ¡°We¡¯re on the same side, right?¡±


    The bird shifted, but after a long pause, it hopped onto his arm, shat on him again and flew off. He hadn¡¯t realised that it was the same one until then. Victor made a tick on his clip board.


    ¡°Nice one¡± I said as Dev returned to my side. He did not smile.


    ¡°Show-off,¡± muttered Nathan who still had no success from nearby. The bird he had chosen was smaller, wary and uninterested.


    When it was my turn, Dev watched closely, curiosity flickering in his eyes but giving me space.


    But nothing. I had approached the nearest perch, where a slender female bird waited. She was beautiful.The Ravn shifted its weight, its sharp eyes locked on mine.


    ¡°Be calm, be confident,¡± I told myself, But the hum in my chest stirred and changed, fourfold as if the crystal buried inside me was responding to something. ¡°No,no,no,no¡± I whispered, but it made three quick ¡°caw, caw, caw¡¯s¡± and flew off.


    Victor was at the end of his board. He looked at me, then up at the Ravn. My chest was about to burst, I hadn¡¯t learned anything yet, I had barely started, the hum tightened and built. Tenfold I thought anyone not deaf would hear it.


    The bird hesitated, its head tilting. Then, to Victor¡¯s astonishment, it cawed and kept on at it, the other Ravn joined in, sounding out a rhythm.


    The room erupted in murmurs.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± one cadet asked.


    ¡°Who know¡¯s¡± another muttered. Everyone was looking to Victor.


    Tenfold and I was panicked, a flurry of movement, a burst of feathers and they stopped. I had flinched with everyone else, but as we all straightened up I felt a plump weight on my head. Victor was staring at me.


    ¡°No way,¡± Nathan said, his voice shaky.


    ¡°Have you had advanced classes cadet Sari?¡± Victor asked.


    ¡°No¡± I said. Shaking internally, I thought I might cry from the buzzing in my chest, it was starting to remind me of the mountain and that deep mine.


    The bird was stil there, I felt a rustling in my hair, a flap of wings and the hum resided abruptly.


    ¡°You lie to me again and you are out the gate Sari.¡± He gave me a stern look and ticked his board. ¡°you are to move up to the noble quarters by the end of the day, pack your things.¡± He dismissed the rest of us for evening dinner and let Nathan walk out the gate with a little dignity.


    I didn¡¯t know how to feel. I was promoted? I didn¡¯t get the bird on my hand, it landed on my head and I had spooked the whole aviary. I went back to my dorm room instead of eating and said a brief goodbye to Nathan, which was not the custom, but surprisingly he gave me a hug after packing, no ill will and walked out, his back strait to meet Victor for a final salute.


    Alone, finally for a bit of peace, i got on my bunk and laid down to settle myself, but not before i felt a stabbing in my head when it hit the pillow.


    A feather fell out. Great, I am a mess, I thought.


    Had I seen what Victor saw that day. It would have been the Ravn plucking a tail feather and sticking it in my coiled hair. A mark of a pilot.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The night was quiet, but not the kind of quiet that let you sleep. It was the kind of silence that wrapped around, like a warning. Maybe it was just my new room: it was single, simple and private. It had a trunk at the foot of my bed, curtains and a writing desk. One book case. A wash basin next to the door. All empty. Save my satchel in the locked trunk. My locker was in the hallway with all my other gear. I had been here a week and my rooms still felt hollow, empty, new.


    I couldn¡¯t explain how I knew. Maybe the way the shadows moved, a whisper of sound or something. This place, I didn¡¯t like it. It spoke to me softly like the hum in my chest. It was effecting my sleep. I did have a crystal powered wash basin, that was definitely a bonus I thought, ever the optimist.


    I slipped out of bed, the chill of the stone floor biting against my bare feet. The room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window, I opened my door carefully, I could here soft snores from the hallway, Corren, he mumbled something in his sleep, rolling over. Never one to shut his door.


    I peered further out and then I saw my locker slightly ajar, my stomach sank.


    She didn¡¯t even try to hide what she was doing. Maren was crouched in front of it, her back to me, her gloved hands sifting through my things like she had every right to be there.


    For a second, I just stood there, watching her. The sight of her¡ªtall, composed, her gold hair pulled into a perfect braid, even in the middle of the night¡ªshe filled me with a rush of anger


    She thought she owned this academy, just like a noble. And why wouldn¡¯t she, the work,The rules, they didn¡¯t apply to people like her. No rule spoken is no rule broken Dev would say.


    I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. ¡°Looking for something?¡±


    Maren froze, her shoulders stiff. Slowly, she turned, but her face was perfectly calm, not concerned, just calculating, crouched and predatory. how much of a threat did I pose? That didn¡¯t feel like a lot right now, i hadn¡¯t my boots on.


    ¡°You¡¯re up late,¡± she said smoothly, standing and brushing off imaginary dust.


    ¡°So are you,¡± I said, My voice was calmer than I felt, but my hands were shaking. I balled them into fists to stop it.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be shy on my account,¡± she cooed. Coming over then, invading my space in such a casual and insulting manner. How did she do it! Slipping between my defences. Why I let her take my hand was beyond me.


    ¡°Such pretty nails, hmmm, must cost daddy a fortune back home¡±


    I snatched my hand back, and walked over to my locker, kicked my stuff inn and slammed the door with a satisfying klick.


    She smiled backing off towards her own rooms ¡°where is home by the way? You always fail to mention, and you accent? I can¡¯t place it.¡± She was sickeningly sweet and poisonous.


    She had heard about my acceptance into this quarter, had stirred up a fuss and boldly claimed I wasn¡¯t a noble. ¡°If it walks and talks like a seabird she had commented.¡± The officers did not agree or disagree.


    But they did have concerns, these were stifled by my grizzled silver haired friend, who I still could not discern rank or function. His clothing as plain as a cadet, but there was no officer who did not pay the respects with an upward head nod, or a garrison soldier who did not stamp the foot. He had told her to be quiet, stilled concerns and she had walked off to sharpen her fangs.


    She tilted her head, striking pose, studying me ¡°You don¡¯t belong here.¡±


    ¡°Neither do you¡± I replied lamely. I struck gold with a flinch, but I didn¡¯t know why.


    Her lip curled, ¡°I¡¯ll find it eventually¡± she said, ¡°why not just show me? It clearly does not belong to you, and the house of its owner would surely need it back¡± she continued more darkly ¡°you do know what the punishment is, to steal a legacy item do you not?¡±


    She saw no flicker of recognition. ¡°Ooo, you don¡¯t¡± she cooed again. She walked off with her prize and tossed a gentle threat over her shoulder as she slipped into her own rooms. ¡°I¡¯ll find it eventually, commoner, and your nail polish, thief.¡± Her door clicked shut.


    Corren had stopped snoring.


    I was in my own rooms again backtracked in thought over the conversation, restless, it was then, just before sleep when I realised why Maren had smiled. My key was in my closet locker and now it was locked shut. My word I was dumb, I let out a long, low groan of frustration. I thumped the wall with my fist and thought I heard her silently chuckling at me in the dark as I got up again.


    I didn¡¯t sleep the rest of the night.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said shortly.


    I was chewing my breakfast wedged between Kellan and Dev.


    They practically hated each other and this was the result, to Correns silent amusement across the table. ¡°You look terrible¡± Dev said.


    ¡°She does not¡± Kellan turned to me ¡°oh,mmm yea, sorry, you do. What happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing!¡± I said.


    ¡°Drop it, Deven,¡± he was about to say something again.


    He whispered across me ¡°she gets cranky in the morning, best leave her be.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me what to do.¡±


    ¡°Just be quite would you both?¡±


    ¡°My word,¡± I seethed.


    Corren was chuckling and chocking on a piece of toast.


    I was shooting glances down the table at Maren, distracted again hoping to catch her with an evil glare that matched my mood and paid her back a little. She was hard to fluster.


    She never looked my way. Oh I wanted to know how she did that!


    She was also obsessively batting her eyelashes at Sohee, how his common background didn¡¯t bother her was a duplicity of no concern. She practically purred in his presence. I went back to my eating, my bowl of porridge cold and gelatinous.


    Dev frowned a moment later. ¡°You sure your ok? Because if someone¡¯s messing with you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I said, drop it,¡± I interrupted.


    Our portion of the table went quiet after that. The others back to their morning Breakfasts, but I could feel my unease hanging in the air. I needed to find out more about this humming, this blackness in my chest before it did anything again. It was a crystal I was sure, Ravn were black, they ate crystals, it made sense. Our classroom lessons would also be starting soon, now that we were considered ¡®climatized¡¯ : Harmonics, history and aviation. If we failed any subject, we were relocated to lesser academics and soldiering, further from the capital of Shea. But essentially it was not far from ¡®out the gate¡¯.


    Corren interrupted my thoughts having materialized behind me, taking my unfinished porridge away in the direction of the buffet tables. ¡°Come on Little Rock, a sparring match! We have time and you need practice¡±


    Later, as I stood in the training yard, gripping the hilt of my practice sword, I realised a few things, I felt Corren was starting to know me better than Dev to be honest and that Dev didn¡¯t like it, or my new pet name. ¡®Little Rock¡¯. It was the only time I liked the word ¡®little¡¯. my thoughts wouldn¡¯t stop spinning.


    The hum, unpleasant within me now harmonised with the field around me, but Corren was a good distraction. He knew how to get my mind to focus on the task and the lesson at hand, the training.


    Maren had been looking for something specific. A millennia crystal, most likely. That¡¯s what everyone thought¡­ whispered. How else explain my connection to the birds? I had heard the rumours after my little event in the aviary, a few unusual power surges in the sparring ring also lending them credit.


    ¡°Begin!¡± Correns voice and sword cracked against mine. Snapped back to the moment,


    we sparred.

 Classes begin

    The classroom had been a cold mix of stone, metal, and crystal, circular gears turning slowly, imbedded in the walls. Their movement in sync with the hum of the crystals. Students shuffled to their places, whispering about the obstacle course below. In the centre, I sat alone, preferring to sit at the back did not matter when that was everyone¡¯s preference.


    My gauntlet was resting on the desk, its intricate gears pulsing faintly. It was sleek and dangerous, but adjusted for use by cadets. I had been just a cadet, fighting to keep my place.Weeks of gruelling study: harmony, history, tactics, had drained me, leaving no time to search for answers about my fathers death. I was royally cooked! Faking nobility, endless reading into the night, when the last book my father had taught me to read was some ancient tomb about mining and before that, children¡¯s stories. The questions had lingered, I was woefully underprepared, one misstep in my training could lead to expulsion, and my noble status was in question, teachers where asking for me to register myself formally for cadet pilot training, should I pass my preliminary exam, they had extended me a grace period, but not for long. I had Maren spreading rumours and gossip that did not help matters.


    My only reprieve had come in the sparring arena, where I could momentarily lose myself, especially when facing Corren who calmed and soothed and focused. But even these fleeting moments had felt distant lately, I hadn¡¯t had any time to talk to Dev or much of anyone else. I was starting to feel overworked, overwhelmed and overshadowed by the weight of my struggles with the gauntlet.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The room buzzed with the low murmur of conversations, the soft clink of metal, and the occasional hum of energy as cadets around me began activating their gauntlets. And tuning them. One red crystal powered them, a blue mind crystal I learned used the energy from the red to harmonise with the green, the third that gave the wearers body a unique sense. A sense like the gauntlet was a part of the body. We needed to assemble and disassemble it after every use as part of basic training. The teacher handing out technocratic keys for each one, that we slotted into a compartment just above the wrist. The classroom felt more like a workshop, with sleek metal tables covered in training gear, cleaning utensils, tools and crystals. It was a place of learning as much as practice, but that day, the weight of expectation had felt heavy on my shoulders.


    ¡°Cadet Sari¡± officer Morgan said. Pulling me out of my thoughts. ¡°Ready to begin?¡± He was a plain man, young, with something to prove.


    I had nodded slowly, swallowed hard. I hadn¡¯t been ready for the last test, or the one before it. My gauntlet had sat in front of me, the leather and metal almost mocking me with its weight. It was a tool-but every time I tried to wield it, it felt more like a weapon, one that might slip out of control.


    Beside me, Maren had effortlessly slipped her gauntlet on, her posture perfect, her movements fluid. The faintest glint danced in her eyes as she caught my attention. Sure, now she saw me.


    ¡°You¡¯re falling behind¡± she had whispered, barely audible but cutting all the same.


    ¡°Focus, Sari¡± Maren had sneered, loader for others to hear, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°You might want to keep up for once.¡±


    I had clenched my fists, trying to ignore her. The other cadets hadn¡¯t helped either. The class was mixed, advanced with new, supposedly to create help and support, the result however was more pressure as you were inadvertently seen as competition, the gates were always looming and teachers were quick to issue collective punishments in the form of docking our evening meals. Kellan at the front of the class, had flashed me a nervous grin. Pity, encouragement.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Alright Cadets¡± Professor Morgan had called out, his voice sharp and commanding. ¡°This exercise is about harmonising your crystals with the machines. If you cant control the flow, the device will either overload and fry your key, or fail to respond. Like mind to muscle, mind to machine and like closing a fist, each crystals energy is brought together. You will not be getting spare keys today. This is a test. Harmonise or fail, you have had enough time practicing over these last weeks.


    Maren looked like a cat with a bowl of milk.


    A collective shudder passed through the class. Failure meant being sent for revaluation, or out the gate. Nobody had wanted that. They wanted ultimately to become pilots or go back to there families with pride, a badge and access to other educational directions. Some simply wanted the officer track, nobody really wanted the soldier track of a commoner. All I wanted was access to some military records, to see what life my father had led and I felt like I was getting bogged down in my own stupid made up story. Why was I pushing myself? Why pretend to be a noble at all? Honesty would be liberating, but Maren¡¯s taunt of me not knowing anything of the laws and punishments had me flustered. I could feel her voice in my head.


    I looked around. The class had been divided into groups of two. Shit, I needed a partner again. Maren had paired off with Kellan, who had kept working. Always working. Corren was absent today. I tried to steady my nerves, but the absence of a partner had made the task feel doubly intimidating.


    ¡°Pair up with Cadet Sari¡± Morgan said, pointing to a quiet boy in the back, Jordan, a rather shy but diligent student who had always kept to himself. He had given me a timid nod. I didn¡¯t like him, not for any fault other than sharing a name too close to my brothers and having no grit, no spine. He did not have that ¡®quiet strength¡¯ I felt he tainted a memory somehow.


    I smiled weakly back at him, relieved that I wouldn¡¯t be completely alone for the test and loathing myself for it as well. I felt his weakness was contagious. We both moved to the far side of the room, where a large machine had stood, its gears glowing faintly.


    The challenge was this: harmonise your crystals, power your gauntlet, put your gauntlet into the machine and control the little red ball. The stupid red ball again. Your partner was to catch the red ball on the other end of the machine and send it back. One complete pass and back was a success.


    Maren, of course, had already been moving with purpose, directing her energy with a flawless ease. Her gauntlet had hummed as she had effortlessly synchronised with the machine she had chosen, passing it to Kellan. He had barely managed to keep up, struggling to maintain control.


    ¡°Try to focus Sari¡± Maren taunted from across the room, her voice purring. ¡°You might want to actually make it work this time.¡±


    I clenched my jaw, trying to block out her words. Jordan, looking at me, had given a silent nod, trying his best to support me. Together, we both had activated the machine. I activated My gauntlet, hum made my fingers tingle, sending a tremor of energy through my arm, it was unsteady.


    Putting my gauntlet inn the machine it had sputtered at first, then lurched to life, barely. I felt the power building, but it wasn¡¯t smooth; it was jagged, erratic. Jordan shot me a concerned look as sparks shot from the side of the machine.


    I can do this I thought to myself with gritted teeth.


    I tried again, power forced into the machine. But it had been too late. The machine had shuddered, overloaded by an unpredictable surge, and with a deafening sucking sound, it had collapsed, it looked like someone had taken a pickaxe to the side. I certainly lacked fineness.


    Maren laughed softly from her corner.


    My face burned with embarrassment, and I quickly deactivated my gauntlet. Jordan, who had tried to help, had been shaking his head in defeat. Then curiously he claimed responsibility, spoke to officer Morgan and exited the classroom. Morgan seemed deeply displeased and simply said, curtly ¡°Out the gate then.¡± I was in luck, maybe some had no desire for military life? Morgan looked at me, then out to the others ¡°class, we are going on a little trip to the lower levels, those of you who have passed will get to hone your skill a little further, and those of you who have not exactly succeeded this round, will get to try again. The principles are the same, in practice¡± he bit out the last words.

 Training hall disaster.

    The underground training hall was darker than the classroom, crystal light casting shadows, stretched long across the stone floor. The space had been full of machines and strange constructs and contraptions. The air had been thick with an unnatural hum, the hum of energy flowing through the room. I didn¡¯t like it, it felt like the hum in my chest was all around me.


    The cadets had been scattered around the hall, each of us assigned to a different task. I had no hope the second part of the day would be easier, the weight of the gauntlet on my arm seemed even heavier then it had just been. The fear of failure came back with a vengeance when I saw my new ¡®test¡¯.


    I walked to the centre of the hall, where a large machine sat waiting. This had been designed to test both precision and power I was told. My task had been to synchronise with it, sending energy through a series of conduits. And that was all. But the moment I had placed my hand on the activation plate, I had felt the gauntlet stir.


    I glanced across the room at Maren, who had already connected to her machine, effortlessly guiding it with grace and ease. It floated gently of the floor. Kellan, standing beside me, had seemed to be struggling just as much as I had earlier, save Maren¡¯s commentary. But was focused on the task at hand. He was to power a slightly smaller device and make it float if he had adequate control of its power input.


    Just a little power I thought. Just a little control, I can do this.


    I nodded, but my hand trembled as I activated the gauntlet. The crystal at its centre flared to life, pulsing, tingling. At first it had been steady. The machine had begun to hum in response, and I had felt a brief moment of relief. Maybe this time, I could do it.


    But that brief moment of calm shattered. The power inside the gauntlet surged, wild and uncontrollable. My heart had leapt into my throat as the energy had spiralled out of control, my chest tightening, fingers burning, everything thrumming and before I had known it, the machine had lurched, screeching as it had been overloaded.


    ¡°Stop! Stop!¡± Professor Morgan shouted, but it had been too late. I saw true fear on his face then as he saw every vein or spot of crystal on my contraption shine like the stars in the dim.


    The hum in my chest I was certain was audible to everyone at this point and pain lanced through me.


    A violent explosion of energy ripped through the room, sending pieces of crystal and metal flying in every direction. The force of the blast sent cadets tumbling to the ground, the air filled with the sharp scent of burning. The floor, scorched stone. Smaller contraptions were mute, fried and some lightly smoking in front of cadets with their ears covered. A piece of my device had careened to where Kellan stood. He cried out as it hit him in the side, sending him sprawling to the ground. There was blood.


    I stood frozen, my chest heaving with panic. The gauntlet still thrumming violently on my arm, as though it had been angry. Around me, cadets had scrambled to regain their footing, some clutching their arms or their heads where they had been hit. Maren of course had dodged or escaped unscathed.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Kellan was groaning on the floor, officer Morgan rushing to me then, in quick manner clicked my key out and ripped the gauntlet off my hand and arm, an arc flared from my fingertips burning him. He had no time to stop for surprise, he went down on a knee beside Kellan, his side was bloody, his face pale, his hands shaking. He passed out from the shock a little later, oddly only when he saw Morgan had control of the situation.


    Only after class was dismissed and Kellan had been carried out, was I left alone with officer Morgan. He had given everyone else a pass on the tests irrespective of actual results.


    Maren had wanted to stay, but was refused.


    ¡°What happened?¡± He asked me.


    ¡°Does it matter? Shouldn¡¯t you just send me out the gate?¡±


    ¡°I should, but I have never seen anything like it, it¡¯s out of my hands at this point.¡±


    ¡°Cadet Sari, you are to pack your things, leave them at the foot of your bed and report to officer Victor, he will be going over the details with the higher officers in preparation for your¡­ explanation.¡±


    ¡°The military counsels will decide your fate, before the sun sets on the gate¡±


    I was sure he said that last part to indicate what he thought the result would be.


    He turned and walked off. Leaving me alone in the carnage and the smoke.


    I laughed a silly little laugh then, in the dark, that oppressive room and the smoke, it almost reminded me of home. I felt the need to get outside.


    It was only in the midday sun, having a quick pipe to think and settle my nerves that I realised I was also unhurt. No one had thought to check, I hadn¡¯t thought to check, even though my hand had literally been touching the stupid mechanism that blew half my class to the floor.


    My silver haired commander came prowling round the corner of the building then,


    ¡°Well, you look better than the boys at the medica, sturdy stuff,¡­ are you ready?¡±


    ¡°For my hearing? No, I need to pack first¡±


    I offered him my tin of tobacco. He took it graciously.


    ¡°A good by gift¡± I said. ¡°Why did you stamp my papers?¡± I asked suddenly. Some answers I could get before I went out the gate.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know?¡± He took out his stamp and showed it to me, the same spiralling design as my father¡¯s crest.


    ¡°That mark is from the first war, too early for those young officers to know, whoever marked your papers, marked it with the same as mine. They needed to see it, see mine to understand, and save themselves the embarrassment, should they have another new recruit with the same. It could not have been acquired by chance or theft or any other way, than by rights. Such marks go from father to son, they are never buried, never lost and if the family perishes, they are melted down. It is an old mark.¡±


    ¡±No one would buy such a thing and only a fool would think to use it under false pretences. The law regarding such things are still held firm, a pilots legacy is never tainted, lest you find yourself hung by the neck and buried in an unmarked grave or your body slung out to sea.¡±


    He handed the tin back to me.


    ¡°save me a pinch for after the hearing, it¡¯s early yet.¡±

 Chapter 8: Skyship

    The sentencing chamber was packed. Word had spread quickly through the academy, and every officer, cadet, and dignitary who could find an excuse to be present, came to watch. Most of them had however been bared entry and were now lining the halls outside, the accident halted everything. I stood at the centre of the grand chamber, I wore shackles, it seemed they already passed judgment before my case started. My ¡®hearing¡¯.


    The tribunal sat elevated above me, dark polished wood, as dark as their expressions and colder than the grey walls surrounding us.


    They did not ask me questions, their interests were in the form and function of the case, their papers making slight rustles as the last light of the day filtered on through the tall windows.


    After more details and whiteness accounts had droned on, they got to the meat of the matter. A central figure rose up to deliver the final blow. A beady unpleasant man almost in a hurried summary to conclude this farce of a ¡®hearing.¡¯


    I had yet to say a word!


    ¡°Cadet Sari, your recklessness has caused grievous harm, damaged military property, and endangered lives. Your fraudulent use of a war crest to gain entry into the academy is a disgrace to the service. As such, you are hereby stripped of your rank as cadet and sentenced to execution for treason and defamation of the honour of this academy and the pilots it represents. This sentence is to be carried out by tomorrow morning to spare us from further disgrace.¡±


    There was an erupted of whispers and gasps out in the hallway. I stood frozen, if they were aiming to shock me into silence it had worked. If they had figured I was unprepared for a defence, they were right, I wasn¡¯t. Everything I had been thinking to say, gone in an instant.


    Two guards stepped forward, reaching for my arms.


    ¡°WAIT¡± !


    The voice was my grizzled old friend, now filled with authority and no friendliness at all. It lashed through the air, silencing the room.


    ¡°Step forward Commander¡± they said.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± the beady man demanded, his tone icy.


    The commander ignored him, his sharp gaze fixed on the tribunal as a whole, taking it in. In his hand, he held something small and glinting my timepiece. I blinked in confusion. When had he taken it?


    ¡°You''re making a mistake he said,¡± his voice steady but with an edge of urgency. ¡°Before you carry out this sentence, you¡¯ll want to see this.¡±


    He twisted the timepiece open, something I did not know it could do, holding it up for the tribunal to see. Stamped into the lid of the tarnished metal, was a crest of intricate design. A mountain adorned with a pickaxe, a hammer, a pair of wings and a cluster of stars in Array. Murmurs and voices and looks of recognition dawned on some of the older officers.


    ¡°That mark¡± one of them whispered. ¡®Eilanara¡¯


    The eyes of the tribunal narrowed. ¡°Explain yourself, Commander.¡± tho they were weary


    The commander turned the timepiece in his hand and began to speak more steadily, i come from common stock, but i fought with the ships of this house,¡± indicating my timer again ¡°and rose through its ranks, a privilege i gained through the merit of this mark¡± he held up his own little brass stamp, the war crest¡ª ¡°This mark, by my father who came before me, in the first war. I know both of these well. I knew this family¡± he said ¡°I also heard that one of the sons of this renowned house went missing many years ago, the last of his line, a stir that was promptly forgotten for whatever reason. But this girls war crest is one of very few not accounted for. And this family crest we also have here that accompanied it, can¡¯t be mere coincidence. As luck would have it, one of the family ships is in circuit,¡±


    ¡°I sent a bird.¡±


    ¡° It will be here any moment.¡± As if timed to perfection the windows of the hall darkened. A vibration could be felt in the walls and floor.


    I couldn¡¯t make any sense of this. I hung my head and gestured to the commander. ¡°I am just a commoner girl¡± I said. Then a little louder. ¡°I think your making a mistake commander¡± I didn¡¯t want to be executed, but i didn¡¯t want anyone else¡¯s blood on my hands. I was literally at the end of my rope.


    ¡°Impossible¡± one of the judges snapped, ¡°you heard the girl. And besides, The line was ended, we have suitable pilots who have assume command of their fleets. Their lands and titles were claimed long ago by the academy.¡±


    ¡°Then explain how this girl carries their crest and carries a war mark? Or perhaps you¡¯d rather hang the last of a bloodline in disgrace without even investigating?¡±


    The room went silent.


    I could barely breath, the humming in my chest was building again.


    The judges hesitated, then asked: ¡°and what makes you so sure?¡±


    The commander grew weary then. I suspect my own daughter, a commoner I left behind for glory, is the one and the same who stole a young man¡¯s heart. I believe this young girl is their progeny.


    The judges leaned back in their chairs, the beady man in the middle spoke again, rich in distain. ¡°This is a tribunal for military matters not a hearing for an old man¡¯s fancies, speculation and sentimentality, however heavily decorated the individual who does so is.¡±


    The commanders posture straitened his anger building, Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Furthermore it is quite ridiculous, the claim that an esteemed noble would choose the life of a peasant for love.¡±


    Before the commander could respond, another voice broke through the tension.


    Everyone turned as a man stepped into the chamber, his presence, a force. He wore dark leathers, seductively plain, but they held a sheen and suppleness that spoke of use and quality. His chest adorned with a badge bearing the same crest as the timepiece. His hair was the black of the ¡®ravn¡¯ and streaked with grey, and his eyes burned with a quiet intensity.


    He wore a gauntlet on each hand, polished black, gleaming. A field of power radiated around him.


    ¡°I serve House Elia¡± the man said, his voice calm but firm. ¡° I am here to claim what remains of it. This girl.¡± He pointed at me.


    The old man now looked triumphant.


    The beady judicial drawled. ¡°And what of her legacy? Their is no claim without one.¡±


    ¡°I am an emissary of one of the High Skye Houses¡± the man interrupted smoothly, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I also hold a title of ¡®sky lord¡¯ in my own right. My ship stands above this court. I think it well within my rights to ascertain the truth of the matter for myself. Perhaps without shackles.¡±


    He made a flick of the wrist and my shackles warped and flacked off. It was both a powerful and strangely delicate movement.


    The room froze. The judges jaw was clenched firm. Then unclenched. ¡°No one is above the law, not even a sky lord¡± he said ¡°have you no more important matters to be dealing with in the midst of a war? we have cadets to train.¡±


    The man had started leaning towards me, ignoring the Tribunal. ¡°You don¡¯t have a little black crystal on your person by any chance?¡±


    I think at this point my neck was aching from looking around. My head was spinning from the news and the hum of the gauntlets were making me sick. I absentmindedly touched my pendent while I said ¡°no, sorry, nothing like that¡±


    But he just rose a cool eyebrow and held his gauntlet up, hovering over me.


    My necklace drew tight towards his gauntleted hand, a smile of satisfaction as he turned to the judges. He made a flick of a finger and the necklace snapped and flew to hover just a foot from his face. Then it began to spin and the humming in his field amplified until heat was emanating from that point. I saw the paint smoke and a little flame.


    ¡°No don¡¯t!¡± I said, ¡°that¡¯s my fathers!¡±


    But he hadn¡¯t broken it. As I feared. In its place instead, shed from its pale blue cocoon of paint was a small black crystal.


    ¡°Gentlemen of the tribunal, I give you a legacy crystal, and by the little woman¡¯s own account, it belonged to her farther¡±


    There was a pause, so he continued ¡°I see that this is a little bit of a shock, but since she was unawares of being in possession of one, it stands to reason she has not been taught to harmonise with one either. Further I speculate that using a shielded and keyed gauntlet with such a device on her person, and by one so untrained, she is also less guilty of this negligence you were causing her of earlier.¡± He continued a little loader. ¡°It¡¯s actually a miracle or a talent by birthright.. that she did not shoot herself into the sky or blow up her classmates earlier.¡±


    Some of the judges looked as sick as I felt.


    ¡°Come, Lady Sari¡± he said, offering his hand. ¡° Its''s time for us to be on your way.¡±


    I stared at him, my mind reeling. Lady? None of this made sense.


    Before I could respond, The commander stepped forward. ¡°Wait¡± he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He looked between me and the crest, his brows furrowed.


    ¡°Are you taking her¡­ I thought.¡±


    But the emissary cut him off, his tone firm. ¡°No she will not be staying here, her father¡¯s whereabouts is of great importance.¡±


    The commander hesitated, his hand tightening for a moment


    ¡°I am going with you.¡± he said finally, his voice rough.


    Before I could ask what he meant, the emissary took my arm, guiding me toward the exit. We walked briskly, like we were pressed for time. The crowd was parted on either side of the hallway, their stunned faces blurring together as I was led outside. Maren was there as well near the end, caught between her loathing of me and a sparkling shine for this ¡®sky lord¡¯ fellow, as well as the same confusion that plagued the hall. It would have been funny any other day.


    The skyship waited above, its shadow blanketed the courtyard. Its sleek form glowing softly under the evening sky. I was ushered aboard a black polished disc the length of a two men, we all stepped onto it, my mind still struggling to catch up with everything that had happened. We shot upward to the deck of the ship. Like the flat top of a boat, but faint crystal and something like pale stone lined its surface instead of wood.


    We were lifted over a little railing and looking out to a sunset, the courtyard below now completely shrouded in dark. Movement could be seen, but barely.


    As the ship lifted into the air, I found myself staring out the at the academy growing smaller and smaller. It was unreal. But I suddenly felt lighter and free..


    the sky lord turned to speak to me then ¡°so, Sari.. where is your father to be found? He asked.


    ¡°Oh, he died earlier this year¡± I said, my heart going numb along with my hands and face. It was getting colder.


    ¡°Shit¡± he said. ¡°Sorry for your loss, I mean, ah, this makes things a little challenging¡±


    The commander cut in ¡° you¡¯ll have answers soon enough he said¡±, placing a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Its been a longe day don¡¯t you think,.. captain¡±


    ¡°Quite right he said¡± his thinking changing tracks. Activated again.


    ¡°Find yourselves appropriate quarters and we can speak later¡±


    I heard a sharp whistle then and the whole ship. It¡¯s sleek black Finns folded inn to its more pale lined center, its wings flexed back like a seabird and it tilted violently to one side, sweeping round. I could see the whole length of her. It was roughly the length of the whole academy and then some, and I was stunned at the speed. The wind picked up, the light brightened as we climbed higher and just as I saw what looked like a sea of clouds I was ushered below decks.


    The commander found me a cabin to rest up in, my things had already been fetched from the academy.


    Before closing my door he had one last question. ¡°Is Sari your real name?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Elana¡±


    ¡°Of course it is¡± he let out a long pensive breath ¡°your family owns quite a bit of land, including one of our great mountains, it¡¯s famous you know, the best crystals in all of Shea are mined there, perhaps you¡¯ve heard of it ¡®Eilanara¡¯?¡±


    I nodded glumly then said ¡°wait, no, I haven¡¯t, I mean I didn¡¯t know it had a name¡±


    Of course it has a name, it¡¯s house is named after it! And you have its namesake¡± he chuckled.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to rest, forgive me, noble Elana, noble Sari¡± he winked and shut the door.


    I don¡¯t think the commander truly understood how I knew that mountain at the time, or that I failed to understand what I represented to him, or anyone for that matter. I was in plain shock and looking for something familiar to hold fast. I hadn¡¯t spoken to Corren or Dev, I didn¡¯t know where I was going and I had forgotten to ask the commander his name! All this time! Something so simple was polite for common and noble alike! I was First to be executed, then a noble Flying high and out of my depth, i groaned, then I did the first sensible thing that day, I went to bed. It was late.