Castle of Ashes

Chapter 11

“May I present to you the fifteen contenders of this year’s assortment!” Maia declares in front of the elite people of Charming.

The elites’ loud applause resounds inside the hall one more time, making my heart tremble jiggle like it’s coming out of my mouth. The elites look at us like cloudy rocks before getting cut and polished. Diamonds in a rough. Those who possess the perfect cut will be auctioned at a higher price, while those who remain unpolished and unattractive will be exiled and buried somewhere else.

What’s more intriguing is that Prince Hekter’s gaze never leaves my sight. His smirk continues to grow as he pretends to render applause while comfortably sitting like a king on his golden, royal cushioned chair.

Maia introduces us to the elite class who are clapping nonstop. The colors we hold and the division we represent have a vital role in this competition. There will be events wherein the survival of one color lies from a particular jury coming from this group of wealthy and influential people.

I try to wear the best smile on my face, but my muscles betray me as soon as I begin to lift my cheeks. My lips start to tremble as the overwhelming feeling in front of the crowd starts to shatter my confidence.

“All eyes are on the primary colors,” the young girl in white veil tries hard to whisper under her cover but, I managed to hear it.

I gaze below my shoulder and notice that she is as nervous as I am.

In her early twenties, the girl in a black coat, a tall, muscular contender, does not move. Her gaze is peering against the glittered crowd as if unaffected by the intimidating attention that the red, blue, and yellow girls are getting. She maintains her head held high like a pride worn with an impregnable conviction.

For the very first time, she throws me a gaze. In some ways, her gray eyes that lay still under her ivory hair do not scream a shape of intimidation but an encouraging and undaunting. She tries to poke a smile on her thick sullen lips, and it reaches my core.

“I’m Shiloah from the coal region. Thus my cloak speaks more about what I do. You must be the girl from the militia?” her deep voice peers against the unending cheer of the crowd.

“Yes, I’m Tali Lemour.” I confirm.

“What about you, young girl? Must you be from the north? The ice clan, I suppose?” Shiloah continued to flame the conversation like a spark of fire continuously fuelled by her mysterious interest and engaging spirit.

“Yes. I am —I’m Eirwen from the town of Chilalea. Nice meeting you,” the fair-skinned girl answers nervously. She gently knots her head to show a drop of gratification, and the veil on her head fully covers her face.

Shiloah bends her head back then bravely gives her strong façade to the elites. I face the crowd just like what Shiloah and Eirwen do. The wealthy group does not stop from checking on us—most of their attention pins towards the primary and secondary colors. A few are looking at the tertiary contenders, while none considers us as a valuable contender.

“No one wants to gamble with our colors,” Eirwen mutters.

“No one may be looking at the three dull colors right now, but who knows? The flat colors are what they need to color this monotonous competition. I’ll make sure I will give these rich people a good show.” Shiloah’s forbidding statement makes me want to look at her.

Her face is as firm as her statement. She does not flinch.

Inside my chest, I want to accord her the agreement that the black, white, and gray deserve ab attention, too, like what those pastel and bright colors are having. Because I know, deep within me, I am more powerful than the gray sheets around me that I can do more to survive until the final call, if not win this assortment.

The gray cloak that has wrapped and hidden my true identity is like the fear that has haunted me since I discovered my actual ability. I have suppressed the hunger of this burning power inside my chest because of the desire to live normally.

That fear served me well. I lived in peace for almost a decade since the day I discovered that I was different.

Ten years ago, the nine-year-old me was running towards the clearing of the Parington forest. A burning flame was behind me like the mouth of that huge creating that breathes fire from its mouth. That creature had visited me countless times in my dreams. I thought the mold of the monster had been stuck in my tiny skull that even the wildfire that killed half of the forest’s population was that monster with gold and bronze scales.

The people believed it happened due to the heat from the sun, a lightning strike, or a careless camper that had caused such a disaster to happen. My father made them believe that after hours of scouting and tracking what had caused the wildfire. He did everything he could to hide the real culprit —me.

Out of fear and desire to be ordinary, I tried to suppress it as much as possible.

Now that I have no escape from Charming, not to mention the impeccable and desperate efforts of the militia to bring me here, I can’t survive this hell hole by keeping the face of a commoner from Parington. For many years being suppressed by fear and conformity, the flame must come out under these dark sheets.

I must survive even with the slightest chance this gray color has provided.

“Tali! Tali, we have to go! Off we go to the exit.” Shiloah calls my attention.

Erwein stares at me under the edge of her snow veil confusingly. Then her eyes go back to her toes.

I did not realize that I had fallen into deep contemplation and missed what was happening around me. I was startled, realizing that I had been in a deep state of shock. I almost jump to where I am standing. I immediately pull the scattered composure which I momentarily lost in front of the crowd.

I sulk in the lump in my throat and begin to inch the door, but right before I could reach the doorframe, I caught Prince Hekter’s teasing gaze at my sight. I tighten my jaw, and my eyes begin to narrow as I throw him a warning glare.

He does not look away. He locks eyes with my face and body, not my eyes, then pins his eyes back at mine like he’s having a hard time peeling his eyes away from me.