The Red Soul

Chapter Thirteen

Myris watched as Fyrian picked up Viera with the blanket still wrapped around her and put her on Myris' bed. Viera did not respond, seemed even more relaxed in Fyrian's arms.

Then he walked around the bed towards Cearen. Fyrian lifted the boy as if he weighed nothing. As soon as he lay on the bed next to Viera, they both immediately turned to the new heat source, which ended up in them cuddling.

Myris smiled with how much care and precision Fyrian moved, with how much love. She lowered her eyes, remembering a time that seemed so far away. A time when she too huddled against someone without hesitation, embraced her and closed her eyes without fear. Her lower lip trembled slightly as she thought about Yrag, who she operantly could not reach anymore- not now she knew they were all stuck in Olèrian. It should have been the other way around. She should have been the one still imprisoned, possibly dead, while he would be here with the others.

A hand on her cheek brought her back to reality, but the feeling of lips on hers made her wake up in another world. Her mind had jumped from one to the other in the last few days, most of them discouraging her and depriving her of hope, but with the touch and breath of the man across from her, she became increasingly confident. Even if he was a High Soul.

Fyrian took her hand and led her out of the room towards the library in the cave, as if he knew she would be unable to sleep. Myris wondered if Fyrian even knew what sleep was. He always seemed to be awake.

They quietly crept through the castle until the brown stone had exchanged for the grey again. The crystals shone like stars in the swirled ceiling.

Fyrian took her downstairs, holding her tight as she crossed one of the many bridges. He seemed to want to make sure she would not fall, but he himself walked backwards so that he could look at her with a smile, not caring about the abyss he could end up in himself.

They passed rows of books. Myris slid her hands over the covers and picked up several books that caught her attention. Leaning against a column, Fyrian watched her walk down the many paths, but immediately came to her aid when a bookshelf was out of her reach.

Usually he just grabbed the books when she asked him, but, one time, Myris let out startled cry when he lifted her up so she could reach them herself. He did not complain about the number of books he carried for her, although more and more were added. Sometimes, he even gave an approving sound to her choices. Yet, he eventually raised his eyebrows when he looked at the pile of books in both their hands. “Those are some very different types of books that you are choosing.”

Myris shrugged. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, there isn’t. I was just curious if you have a special reason for choosing these books.”

“I just thought it would be a good idea to have some variety after ears of having been told the same stories over and over again,” she said, lowering her head.

“The stories about Olèrian… about us…”

“Yes,” she whispered, “When I was young, I loved to hear stories. My parents used to tell me one every evening. They… they… were also about Olèrian…” she said almost breathlessly as she remembered them. Or more like, only parts of it. “But they were not bad like the others… They were wonderful. Almost-”

“More realistic?” Fyrian gave her a cheeky smile. “Well, your father was the former High Red Soul. They must have told you the more accurate versions of all those stories.”

“Yeah… it seems so.” Myris was silent as she recalled them. Most of them, she had completely forgotten, others were vague. Yet, all of them had been overshadowed by darker ones. The versions of her parents were like dreams. Dreams that had gradually been replaced by nightmares. And the nightmares were the ones that had been repeated the most, until it had completely overtaken her mind.

However, now she knew the truth. But she could not help but wonder if those who told the bad versions, knew the truth as well- if Yrag knew the truth. She did not think so, because then he would not have told her the wrong stories.

And if he would know one day, how would he react? She had still trouble accepting it- accepting the kingdom and its many monsters… She still partly refused to believe that she was a High Soul herself. How could he, the first one that had told her how horrible the Souls were supposed to be, welcome the opposite reality? How could he accept her, if she could not accept herself yet?

Myris dropped her arms full of books onto a sofa, standing on the edge of a plateau. The hole into which the water endlessly fell was clearly visible, and she stared at it, lost in thought.

“If you would let them fall any harder, you would have to jump into the aperture to get those books back for me.” Elyos walked down a couple of stairs leading to a plateau above them. He himself had only one book in his hand.

Fyrian chuckled, apparently not surprised of the man’s presence in the library.

“It seems you have found a new victim that stays awake with you every night.”

“It seems that you are jealous that it is someone else than you recently,” Fyrian retorted with a grin.

Elyos did not respond. Instead he turned towards Myris, his eyes still inexpressive. “Your mood alternates fast, doesn’t it Myris? You are not screaming anymore.”

With a reddened face, Myris looked away. Fyrian approached her and pulled her down on the sofa. He sat down next to her and reassuringly took her hand, which Elyos immediately noticed. He studied them with a tilted head and narrow eyes. “Strange how a single night can bring so many changes.”

Then the corner of his mouth slightly raised. It was the second time Myris saw him smile, or what came close to it in that matter as it only gave her goosebumps. “I believe, it is not polite to take advantage of a lady who is struggling, Fyrian.”

Grinning, Fyrian put an arm around Myris' waist, pulling her close to him. “I would not dare.”

Elyos huffed, his face back to being impassive. The dark-skinned Fae walked around the sofa and sat down on a chair next to it, his legs crossed and his head leaning on his hand. With his other hand, he waved the book he had been holding all the time in front of Myris. “For your collection.”

Taking it, Myris looked at the cover. Then she swallowed. It was about…

“How you master your magic.” Fyrian's words soft. Her nails pierced the cover as she stared emotionlessly at the book.

“We want to help you, Myris, despite what you think about us. You're one of us,” he continued. “We want to help you, support you and teach you to master your magic, to become a true High Soul... if you want to, of course.” Fyrian took the book from her hands, trying to make eye contact with her, but instead of looking at him, Myris put her head in her hands.

“We have everything needed to help you, and are willing to do everything you need us to do. The only one left in your way is yourself.”

Myris let out a shaky breath. If it were to go wrong, if she lost control even for a second... There was such a high chance that she would lose everything. If it were to go wrong, she would lose herself too. Could she take that risk? Would it be worth it? She had tried controlling her magic before, but it had always ended up in calamities. It never went well. The last times she tried it, she ended up in the most guarded prison of her kingdom. Only there, her magic had been under control.

She was absolutely not enthusiastic about the idea. On the contrary, she felt the opposite. If she would try it, attempt to control her magic, there was such a high chance that it would happen again. Those before her could protect themselves perhaps, but that did not count for everyone.

She could say no. However, it would most likely have the same outcome. If she would say no, it was only a matter of time before her magic would fully break free and go on a rampage. If she said yes, the same could happen, perhaps only earlier. The same consequences would follow her in both choices.

For the umpteenth time, it felt like she had no choice or worse… she did have a choice, but she did not want to choose either of them. And yet, she knew she had too.

Grabbed Fyrian by his shoulders again, she stared at him with a sharp look in her eyes. Elyos rose a bit in his seat, a flicker of interest passing his normally illegible eyes. His eyebrow raised as well when she looked at him too. “If I agree to do this… if I agree and try to learn to control my magic and become the High Red Soul... promise me no one will get hurt. Promise me that if I use my magic, no accidents will happen anymore.”

Fyrian and Elyos looked at each other briefly, making Myris wonder what they thought. When Fyrian gave Elyos a small nod, Elyos scoffed. “Don’t be foolish. We can’t guaranty you anything, and you know that.”

His words made Myris’ grip on Fyrian tighten, and she lowered her head, but Fyrian lifted it just as fast, while shooting Elyos a glance, which the other male looked unbothered by. “Although Elyos said it perhaps a bit blunt, it is true. We can't promise you that there won't be an accident or that nobody will be injured, but that's because it happened to all of us as well. We also know moments that we regret a lot. Yet, we continued, until we were able to master it. And now, if an accident happens or someone gets injured, we are able to help those who need it, as we should. We may not be able to guarantee you total safety, but we can promise you that it is definitely worth a try. You can stop whenever you want. We will not judge.”

Elyos quirked an eyebrow, which Fyrian noticed and made him role his eyes. “Or at least, most of us will not judge you.”

Staying silent for a minute, Myris weighted her option, or at least tried to as scenarios flashed through her mind. So many things could go wrong. But they mastered it. So, there was a possibility that she could learn to control her magic too… She did not know what to think anymore. Perhaps, it was better not to think about it for now.

Instead, she took a deep breath. “Alright then.”

Restlessly, Myris shifted on her pillow, unable to sit still.

They were waiting for Viera and Cearen in the sun-drenched dining room, but the rays did not warm her. Yet, even if the sun did not manage to warm her up, something inside her started to glow again as she tapped her finger on the wooden table. Myris felt her magic becoming more active again. As if it knew what was about to come.

Soon the time would come when she would deliberately use her magic for the first time in two years. Magic that she had either been trying to supplant in her body for years, or had been supressed for her by the unknown powder. Always had she hope that it would disappear forever and that it would never come out again, but today it would be freed, and it was voluntary too. She kept wondering if she had made a huge mistake with this.

Fyrian noticed her tense body and barely took his eyes off her.

A murmur could be heard across the room where Elyos was pacing. Occasionally he would stop and stare straight ahead, only to continue walking. His hand was in the air, waving as if he was pushing aside things no one else could see. His movements were as fluently moving as his eyes that shot everywhere. Words that seemed to belong to another language passed his lips as he mumbled. It looked like he was in a trance.

As soon as the door opened and both Viera and Cearen stepped through it, he looked up as if he had been somewhere else all the time and was suddenly back in the room.

When Viera noticed Myris’ pale face, she hesitated a bit, but then gave her a hug. Myris had to admit it felt good, calming, but it was not enough to completely reassure her. But nothing could reassure her now.

Just like Myris, Viera now wore black trousers and boots instead of a dress. Her mint coloured shirt was covered with a brown bodice. Her hair was tied in a braid, but what Myris noticed most was her attitude. She radiated determination, unlike Myris.

Her own hands were shaking as she accepted a tea cup from Cearen. Careful not to spill, she took a sip. It was delicious, tastier than any other tea she had. The sweet taste rolled over her tongue, but she did not recognize any herbs.

The male looked at her questioningly. Moving his hands, Myris was aware that he asked her a question, but with her limited knowledge on the sign-language, she could not figure out which one. She wanted to ask Fyrian for help, but he was in a deep conversation with Viera and Elyos.

Cearen also realized that the others would not translate for him and put his hand in his brown coat. Myris put the cup down without taking her eyes off him. In the inner pocket of the jacket, he pulled out a black leather notebook, together with a small quill. To Myris’ surprise he did dip the quill in ink before he wrote something in it and gave it to her.

Fascinated, she took it. The pages were full of words and sentences in a small handwriting neatly written under each other. Some looked older than others due to the faded ink, and some parts had straight lines running through them. Curiously she flipped through it and saw that it was the same for almost all pages he had already used. Then she looked back at the page he pointed at. There were two sentences in the side: Do you like it? I made it myself with the herbs from the garden.

She nodded in surprise. “It was delicious.”

As she gave back the notebook, he showed her a beaming smile.

In return, a smile appeared on Myris’ face as well, and for a moment she had forgotten the fear of what was waiting for her. Yet, it did not take long for it to come back when Fyrian stood up. He reached out his hand to her. “Are you ready?”

Myris bit her lip, but eventually grabbed his hand. A tingle passed through her as he planted a kiss on her hand and then took her to the hallway and towards a small door to their left.

She blushed when Viera also stepped into the hallway and stared at them wide-eyed, but the woman did not say a word and followed them with Cearen by her side. Elyos already opened the door for them, exchanging a few glances with Viera.

The door led to a staircase going down, lit by torches. The walls were cracked and loaded with ivy, as if it was not used often. The sound of running water grew louder as they descended the staircase. They kept going down until they were stopped by another closed door.

Looking rustic and slightly bend due to humidity, the door almost seemed to fall apart when Fyrian pulled it open. Light poured into the tunnel, followed by the sounds of birds singing. The stairs were another passage to the garden.

It was bigger than Myris remembered. Trees full of fruit rocked back and forth in the wind. Flowers coloured the green field, and the waterfall created white clouds of glistening drops.

Myris wanted to sit down, stare at the sky, at the sun and clouds without thinking about anything, but there seemed to be more thoughts running through her head than ever before. If this was the place where they would practice... The last thing she wanted was to destroy this place, but the chances were too big.

She took a deep breath, telling herself that was why she was doing this. No more destruction, no sorrow. She would learn to control it.

Amearon was waiting for them a few meters away from the lake. When they had approached him, the others stood around her, their faces focused, expect for Elyos, who simply covered his arms over his chest.

Myris looked nervously at the latter, trying to prevent her legs from shaking too much. She excepting him the say something, but it was Amearon who asked for her attention.

“Myris... You now know that you are the High Red Soul, but since we assume that you mostly know about the souls through… inaccurate stories, I shall briefly enlighten you with our perspective. As you probably now, every soul has a colour,” he began but stopped when he saw Myris surprised face. He tilted his head in confusion. “You look like you heard this for the first time.”

Myris shook her head. “I knew that the High Souls had each their own colour, and I assumed that people who have magic have a colour too, but I was not told that everyone has a coloured soul.”

“Really?” Viera raised an eyebrow. “How come that people do not know that their soul has a colour. It is supposed to be a day of celebration when one’s soul has chosen its colour. It is the first time your soul reveals itself to you.”

They all looked at Elyos for explanation, whom shrugged his shoulders. “By creating this barrier and locking creatures and magic in it, it seems reasonable that almost all magic outside the barrier disappeared, meaning that people would not be able to see their soul anymore, since that requires the involvement of magic. And when people can not see something anymore, they tend to forget about it. It would take only a few generations to make such a phenomenon only a myth, a forgotten memory, or even something people never heard of.”

“Then why did Myris have her magic outside Olèrian?” Fyrian asked.

“I assume because she had become a High Soul after the barrier was created,” Elyos answered briskly, gesturing for Amearon to continue, to which the other male nodded.

“Well, like I said, every one’s soul has either a colour or it is grey. Despite there being seven main colours, those can variate between different tones, which we distinguish between light and dark. You assumed that everyone who has magic has a colour and that is true. Magic corresponds to the colour of the soul. The colour of the soul decides the magic abilities one gains because each colour represent a virtue. One hue of the colour gives natural magic, while the other gives internal magic. The souls with internal magic are perceived as the rarer souls. For example, Viera is the High Blue Soul. People with a light blue soul can control water as natural magic form. The dark blue souls on the other hand, can create illusions and some also control dreams. Since the magic of the dark blue souls is internal, the dark blue soul is rarer than the light one.”

“Does that mean that the dark green soul is rarer than the light one as well?” Myris saw Cearen shaking his head after she asked it.

Amearon chuckled, but shook his head as well. “That does not have to be the case. De soul is rarer when it is linked to an internal power instead of a natural one. With the green soul, the earth is the natural power and healing their inner one. For them, the light green souls can gain healing magic, making them rarer.”

“However, not everyone gains the magic belonging to his or her soul,” Fyrian added as he wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on her shoulder. “Both humans and Fae can have either a colour or a grey soul, but humans are normally not able to use magic because of their nature. With Fae it differs from person to person. Some get magic, others not.”

Myris hummed as confirmation that she understood. But she had many more questions. “What does my soul stand for?”

“As the High Red Soul, your soul represents the virtues perseverance and tenacity. The former is linked with the lighter hues of the red soul, and comes with the gift of continuation. When you are stuck it will aid you. In addition, it provides the strength to not give up, even though you would like to do it yourself. This internal magic comes in many forms.”

So, that was why she was alive; why she had been able to continue despite the injuries she sustained in the forest- injuries that should have been her death. It had been her internal magic. But the forest was not the only place where her magic had kept her alive. If it had not been for that red light- something she now knew was part of her internal magic- she would have been dead many times before.

 “With the darker hues of your soul, on the other hand,” Amaeron continued, “the soul that stand for perseverance and is the natural soul, comes the ability to control-”

“Fire,” Myris finished, despondent. Yes, she was fully aware of that ability. She had a destructive element as a force. Why could she not be the Blue or Green soul? Why did she have to be the Red one?

Yet, she had to admit she also did not know what the others could do.  Other than Cearen's healing powers and Viera’s magic, which Amaeron had just explained, the rest was unknown to her. She did not know their virtues nor their magic. Yrag nor any other person had mentioned it. However, she was confident that she would find out soon enough.

Fyrian let go of her waist. Instead, he held his hand in front of her face, with a flower petal between his fingers. “We are going to teach you how to control your magic, beginning with the fire. We're going to help you, but to do that you have to trust us, okay?”

She nodded with closed eyes. They had to start now or she would faint. The tension was becoming too much for her.

“Good.” He placed the petal in her hand. “Myris, I want you to burn it. Focus completely on the petal and nothing else. Focus all your energy on it. But what is also important is your breathing. Breathe in through your nose and out of your mouth. Try to relax both your body and empty your mind. Take as long as you want.”

Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes even closer. She tried to ignore her surroundings, emptying her mind like Fyrian had instructed. She tried, but she could not. Her concentration was lacking as she could only think of the possibility that it would go wrong. Images flashed across her eyes and her breathing started to quicken.

As the heat within her grew, she opened her eyes and saw that the red light had returned, but it did not help her. It only made her more anxious.

Scared, she took a few steps back. The burning feeling became stronger and she wanted it to go away. However, it only became worse, making her panic. She no longer knew what to do. Fyrian's simple instructions suddenly seemed impossible. She felt her magic coursing through her at a fast rate, but she did not know how to stop it.

Before she knew it, an energy burst rushed through her. With a scream she felt the warmth of the fire go out of her body through her hands, but not towards the petal.

A swear escaped from Fyrian's mouth as he jumped to the side just in time. A flash of fire swept past him, leaving a line of burnt grass.

Terrified, Myris put her hands over her mouth. It had been to close. If he had responded a second later, she would have hit him. She bit her knuckle to keep the tears from flowing.

Yet, instead of hearing disappointed sounds from the others, Elyos burst out laughing as he received a death-glare from Fyrian. Shocked, she looked at the Fae, who head thrown his head in his neck, not sure if it was because of his reaction or the fact that the man actually could laugh.

“You have gotten slow Fyrian. You barely dodged it. Such a shame you did though. That blast could have made you unconscious by its sheer force,” he taunted the other male, before he jerked his head towards Myris. “Again!”

She wanted to shout back that he was crazy, that she never wanted to do this again. She looked helplessly at Fyrian, but he nodded encouragingly. “It's fine. We just have to keep trying. I know you can do it.”

She shook her head vigorously. Her heart was in her throat and she could not stop trembling.

Viera walked over to her and grabbed her hands lightly. “Look at me.”

Still struggling to keep her body under control, she watched how Viera relaxed and closed her eyes. When she opened her blue eyes again, they glowed. All the shades of blue Myris could think of were hidden in the light. Calmness flowed through her like water and clung to her like ice. Although she could let go of Myris at any moment, Viera waited and held on to her. She did not move and kept pouring a rush of tranquillity through Myris.

Myris stared at their intertwined hands. She could feel Viera’s magic connecting with hers. But as it tried to balance, her own magic started raging against the intrusion. The calmness melted away in a flash through the fire that ran through her veins. She could only meet Viera's growing eyes when another outburst came.

Viera fell to the floor with a groan, her hand pressed to her side.

Myris did not have time to react as Cearen and Fyrian were already beside her. Fyrian held her tight, while Cearen looked at the damage. And although Myris wanted to avert her horror-filled eyes, Viera was all she saw. Burnt clothing revealed a large red wound from which blood flowed and blisters began to form.

Myris dropped to her knees. It had happened. She had injured someone again. Again, someone had been hurt by her actions. She should never have agreed to use her magic. It was all her fault. She should have never left. She should have stayed in the prison; should have let them inject her with those herbs so that her magic stayed supressed. As it should.

“Myris.” Viera reached out her hand. Despite the pain, she had a small smile on her face. Green light danced around the wound, which slowly disappeared, while Cearen healed her carefully. As soon as he moved his hands away, there was nothing left, just the burned clothes. It was as if the wound had never existed, as if it had never happened.

Supported by Fyrian, Viera rose again. She turned her upper body back and forth without a single grimace, but it did not reassure Myris.

Fyrian walked over to her and kneeled in front of her. With a worried face, he studied hers before moving to her hands. She had expected blisters similar to Viera's, perhaps even completely black hands, but there was nothing, not a single spot.

 “I'm so sorry.”

Fyrian covered her face with his hands and kissed her forehead. “No, it is not your fault. We were too reckless, and you are still to stressed. We should do this another time.”

Preferably, Myris never wanted to continue; just wanted to forget this moment. She would not be able to do control it. The mere thought that she had a chance… it had been a big lie she had whispered to herself as comfort.

Approaching footsteps sounded beside them. She saw Elyos looking down at her from a short distance, the enthusiastic expression he had before was completely gone. His face showed even a darker expression than ever before. “Do it again.”

“What?”

He grabbed the dropped petal from the ground. Not a single expression was visible on his face, unlike Fyrian who looked at him angrily. The latter seemed to want to snarl at the dark-skinned man, but Amaeron stopped him by putting his cane in front of Fyrian’s chest. Instead of being angry, he was contemplating. “I think he's right.”

Fyrian turned to the older man. “Are you crazy? What if she hurts herself?”

Scowling, Elyos waved the petal right in front of Fyrian's face. “It will not work this way. She is too unstable. In order to control her magic, she must control her emotion. She has to let go of everything first, let every emotion rush out. It does not matter if she destroys everything here. You can rebuild it again, but she is not going to learn to control her magic if she does not surrender to it first!”

He tore the leaf apart, letting the pieces fall of his hand in front of Myris “You are the most pathetic Red Soul I have ever encountered. The High Soul of perseverance cries and immediately gives up when she makes a mistake! Useless. This way, it will consume you within a matter of time.” He bended over, their faces barely apart. “If you want to control your magic, you will have to surrender to yourself.”

Silence fell over them as turned around.

For the umpteenth time, everyone, except Elyos, looked at her. She could feel their gazes, but she could only stare at the shredded petal. Elyos’ words cut deep into her. He was right, she was worthless. Either she would continue or give up, she would probably end up the same way as the petals laying at her knees. Just like everything she had loved so much.

She had hoped it would work, but again she seemed to destroy everything. She did not understand why she was still trying. It was all hopeless, she was hopeless. Maybe it was better if she ended up just like the petal

There was a flicker. A small flame formed, which turned the shredded pieces of the petal black, followed by the rest of the environment around her. Towering flames surrounded her and the world was hidden from view. Everything turned red. Red like that day. And with the fire that was kindled, she closed her eyes and let her heart go.

Her magic rose, fuelled by tears that always choked her. Driven by the emotions and memories that tormented her. A sea of flames enveloped her and she let herself lose in it.