The Red Soul

Chapter Fifteen

It had become a routine. Every day they would take turns staying with Myris to watch her light a flame in her palm and then put it out so she could do it again. The first time, Myris had refused, fearing she would burn everything again, but they managed to convince her. And as she had predicted, several pieces of furniture and clothing had gone up in ashes, always leaving her hands scorched.

Nobody was surprised when corridors were suddenly full of smoke or when a room they entered was black with soot. But while Myris still learned to completely control the fire, something that not seemed to happen soon despite her endless practising, the others no longer pretended to be supervising.

Viera was humming as her hand, which was holding a brush, ran over a canvas. Her hands were covered with paint and there was also a green smudge on her cheek.

In recent days, Myris had noticed that her friend was often staring at her over the edges of several paper sheets, after which she turned back to the paper with a small smile when Myris made eye contact. Curiously she had sat down next to Viera to see what she was doing and her mouth fell open when she saw all kinds of sketches of herself on the paper.

Now, they were in Viera's room. Books lay on the table and clothes on the chairs. Loose papers, some of which were crumpled, were scattered across the floor. Some of the papers, as Myris had expected, were only piles of ash, which lay in front of the fireplace and left dirty marks on the floor. She quickly turned her eyes away from it. In the corner of the room beside a large window, an easel was accompanied by all kinds of paintings against the surrounding walls. Between the canvases, Myris saw six different handprints at the bottom of the wall, each with a different colour.

The flame in Myris' hand went out as she continued to stare at the white-haired woman. Myris was intrigued by the smooth movement that Viera brushed with her brush to and from, combined with her focused gaze. The young woman seemed to be completely absorbed in her work.

Myris rose from her seat, checking that the flame in her hand was gone and the skin felt cold again before she stood behind her friend. She gazed in wonder at a cave, where rays of sunlight shone through an opening on a sea of white flowers. Yet, the light could not entirely reach the flowers as shadows formed a barrier. In the shadows, Myris could make out a hand on a pair of beautiful black eyes as if a person was hidden in it.”

“I dream about this place sometimes,” muttered Viera. Clinking sounded inside the room as she cleaned her brush in a cup of water. “It always seems so real… I wonder if it even exists.”

Myris gestured to the shadows mass. “What about the person in the shadows?”

“What person?” Blinking, Viera put down her brush. Her head tilted as she studied the canvas. When she saw were Myris was pointing at, her eyes widened. “I was not even aware I painted someone. Neither do I believe I have seen that person in my dreams before. Although, I can barely distinguish his or her features anyway, so who knows? But what does it matter? It's probably just another image in my head that I can only dream about.”

“Be glad you have such dreams,” sighed Myris, trying to dislodge her own images. She wanted to step away, but Viera took her hand.

“Don’t worry. You will get your own dreams that you can look forward to.”

“And what if I don’t.”

“Then I'll share mine with you.”

As soon as Viera had said it, she averted her eyes with a red face. Silence fell between them. But, whereas Viera seemed embarrassed by her words, a small smile formed on Myris’ face. However, the smile quickly turned into a startled expression when they heard a scream emerged from under their feet.

Before she knew it, Myris ran through the halls behind Viera. As soon as they almost fully descendent the circling staircase, they looked shocked at the scene below. The hall was full of people and creatures from different villages. Some of them were there because they helped with the household chores, while others had come with reports for Amaeron.

They turned briefly to Viera and Myris, but their attention was currently on something else, or rather someone else. Myris heart skipped a beat.

Fyrian stood in front of the main doors, drenched in blood so dark it almost looked black. It dripped from his white hair on the floor and a sword, he was holding. Cearen stood with him, unaffected by the smears and splashes of blood Fyrian left on his coat as he leaned on Cearen’s shoulder.

Myris stayed right behind Viera, who was pushing her way through the crowd toward her twin brother. Her hands also turned red when she took his face in her hands. Immediately her gaze went to Cearen, who gave her a reassuring look.

A languid grin appeared on Fyrian's face, but as soon as his eyes fell on a pale Myris, he approached her. “Myris! Don't worry, it's not my blood. There is nothing wrong with me, just a little shortage of breath.”

Myris looked at him incredulously. He was not the only one who was now short of breath. “What happened?”

“I think we all want to know that.”

Repeated tapping could be heard at the top of the stairs and everyone moved aside when Amaeron descended the stairs. Standing in front of Fyrian, he leaned on his cane just as much as Fyrian had leaned on Cearen. “You are not injured?” He asked, his gaze wandering over Fyrian.

Fyrian shook his head.

A glimpse of relief could be seen on Amaeron's face, who had relaxed a bit more, but worries still marked his face.

Fyrian's eyes darted between him, Viera and Cearen and the rest of those in attendance. His voice was low as he moved closer to Amaeron.

“It were nairons again, not far from Irlémento. But they did not seem to attack anything until I came, as if they had not gone there themselves with a purpose. I am sure she released them there as a message. For a moment, Fyrian fell silent and glanced at Myris before turning back to Amaeron. “Akratis knows about Myris. So, she knows about Myris.”

A murmur rose and everyone looked at Amaeron expectantly.

Myris looked puzzled at Viera, having no idea what was going on. Who knew what about her? And what did they know about her? That she was also a High Soul? It did not seem like a surprise to her. She had heard that after the firestorm, the news had spread through Olèrian like wildfire. With that, she had also noticed that the attitudes of the people and creatures had changed when they had visited the cities again. She did not know why, but she almost swore they stared at her with a hopeful look whenever she walked by. Even though she had to get used to their stares and sudden more joyful attitude towards her and the other high souls, she had not questioned it yet towards the others. Not when the others also seemed more cheerful the past days. Her learning to accepted herself as a High Soul seemed to be something good.

But, then why did Fyrian sound so worried?

Amearon frowned. “I think we need to visit Akratis again.”

Fyrian snorted and turned around. “Then I'll go there on my own to discuss with her.”

“I think we'll be more successful if Myris comes along,” Amaeron responded calmly.

As if he had been struck by lightning, Fyrian stepped closer to him, letting more blood drip on the ground. “You want to send Myris to her? Are you mad? Why would you want to put Myris in such a situation? Everything was alright for…” His voice faded when he saw Amaeron's gaze.

The man himself pulled a velvet handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped away the tiny splashes of blood that had fallen on his cheek. His eyes were calm, but his voice had a strong undertone. “The ‘her’ you're talking about has a name, Fyrian. And you know that sooner or later Diva would have found out. Just like you know that if we don't introduce Myris to her ourselves, she will definitely come to us, something that can have serious consequences. After all, right now would be a proper time to consult with her again, since she has what we need.”

Myris did not understand much, but what she did understand was that everyone was restless. She wanted to ask who this person was who could make the others so tense. What else was there in Olèrian she did not know about? And why did it have such a bad influence on the atmosphere around them?

Somewhere, she did not want to know. She had grown fond of this bright and colourful place, and something told her that the one they were talking about would not be the same. She had been astounded at how different Olèrian was- better than she always had been told. She no longer wanted to believe that the stories were real. Not now that everything had proven her wrong. But when she thought back, Fyrian had also said that there were parts of it that were true. And how she heard the others talk about it, those parts sounded almost inescapable.

If she had to believe Amaeron, it would be much worse if she did not come with Fyrian. So, just as Fyrian opened his mouth again to respond, she grabbed his arm. “I will go.”

With doubt in his eyes, Fyrian took her hands. Myris did her best to ignore the bitter, iron odour he had around him, and the blood now also covering her hands. “You don't have to if you don't want to. You've done a lot for us already. You can also rest once.”

Rest… she could not deny that she always wanted it. But the other thing he said she could not believe. She had not done anything for them. On the contrary, she had destroyed everything. The first day she was with them, she had hurt them. For the biggest part of her stay, she had caused trouble. They, on the other hand, had already done so much for her that she was not sure if she ever could repay them. But this could be a start, right?

“I'm coming,” she said firmly.

“Then we all go.” Viera came to her side, smiling approvingly.

Cearen also smiled as a sign that he agreed.

“We will be going with the four of us,” Viera said and then pointed to Amaeron, “If you keep an eye on the rest of Olèrian for temporary intruders, we will try to reach an agreement with Diva.”

Amaeron's eyes wandered thoughtfully over the others. His finger tapped the small green pebble on the top of his stick. Then he looked at Viera who stared back determinedly. Then he chuckled. “That sounds clear to me.”

For a moment, Fyrian squeezed Myris's hand, who hesitated for a moment but then nodded firmly. Then he sighed. “All right then. I will freshen up quickly and then we will go immediately.”

He held her hand for a few seconds, but then started walking up the stairs. Halfway through he turned, but not towards her or Amaeron. Grinning, he looked at an elderly woman and began to wring his shirt over the clean floor. “Sorry, Dwee.”

A woman raised her hand threateningly, holding a wet sponge. Grinning, he exaggeratedly blew a kiss her way, sending even more splashes of blood all over the place. The sponge flew through the air, but before it could hit Fyrian, the male had already run away.

The atmosphere had turned, had gotten colder as Myris looked up at a new city.

It was not just a stone city rising above them, it was a gigantic fortress city. A city with a massive wall surrounding it like a shield, impenetrable to outsiders. It did not seem welcoming at all. The dark grey stones were nothing like the warm tones of Evario. The wild environment showed no trace of bright flowers and plants, and there was no happy buzz or laughing voices. There was dead silence.

The city seemed to suck out the light in the area. The castle towering over the wall in the centre of the city was no better. It was nothing like the open structure of Ovèrio. It had thick, dark walls with only small windows. It seemed almost more closed off than the city itself.

Goosebumps formed on Myris’ arms and Fyrian wrapped an arm around her waist. She began to regret her choice. Was this really part of Olèrian? Was this really part of the same country where they had run through valleys and flower fields?

The black gate opened slowly, giving a view of narrow streets, but there was no human or creature in sight. Smoke did not curl from the many houses, and curtains hung from all windows, preventing her from looking inside. It seemed almost deserted, except for the guards who watched them in the shadows.

To Myris' surprise, Fyrian was pulling weird faces at the almost invisible guards, joking about how boring and dull it was again. There was no trace of the doubts he had before as if they had turned into pure confidence. While the guards seemed to want to keep their identities hidden, Fyrian casually addressed them all, not forgetting to say their names extra loudly. Some of the guards disappeared immediately when he dropped their name, others tried not to cringe but remained in position.

Only one seemed unaffected by Fyrian's behaviour. He even came their way. His face was hidden behind a black hood and his steps were still reserved, but it was more like a test than that he was trying to hide.

“I hope you're happy with that stunt from back there, Ragnos,” Fyrian sneered with a dirty smile.

The figure petrified for a moment but soon regained himself. Black claws like hands reached for the hood and knocked it back. Myris had expected a black face to match the claws, but a white one stared at them. As before, black tattoos curled along his pale neck and cheekbones to his pointy ears that contained multiple piercings. With a long, pointed finger, he brushed his silver hair out of his grey eyes. “There's no point in fooling you either, is it Fyrian?” the man said, laughing, but it did not sound joyful at all.

“And yet you came.” He stepped around Fyrian, towards Viera, and stroked her cheek with the same finger, which he quickly pulled back before it got stuck between her teeth.

Cearen stood between them, his smile completely gone.

A faint laugh hung over Ragnos’ lips. “Don't bother Cearen. We all know that you don't hurt anyone, with your purity.” He spat out the last word.

The said male only glared.

“Are you going to be talking nonsense for a long time or can we go on?” Fyrian asked lazily.

Ragnos chuckled, his eyes still on Viera. “That's why I'm here. To lead you to her Majesty.”

Viera coughed. “You really did not have to.”

The silver-haired man reached out to her with a bow. “And yet I insist.”

She walked right past him, pulling Cearen with her, to Fyrian who was already walking away, humming.

Myris wanted to go after him quickly but immediately bumped into something hard. Ragnos stood in front of her and grabbed her wrist. He studied her in silence, then clicked his tongue. “This is what we've been waiting for?”

A low growl escaped from Fyrian’s throat. “Watch your words, Ros. She can be your only way out.”

The man stared at Myris with narrow eyes, but then released her wrist. His face showed disapproval as he walked past Fyrian with great strides. “I doubt it.”

After that nothing was said anymore as Ros led them through the narrow paths. The castle grew bigger as they got closer. Like a gigantic shadow trying to block out all the light, it reached over the roofs of the small houses surrounding it. But despite the castle fitting into the rest of the city, it did not seem to belong. It looked newer as if it had not been there as long as the rest. It seemed darker and more closed off than any other building. It resembled a self-standing structure, radiating a certain chill, influencing the surrounding streets.

The silence ended as they stepped through the entrance. However, the new sound had no real vibrancy. Through the drab walls, Myris heard the gloomy melody of a piano.

More and more guards silently followed them. Myris did her best not to keep staring. She could not see the figures' faces, but they seemed to tear through her. It felt as if every bit of her was shows as if every part of her was exposed, waiting to be used against her. She gripped Fyrian’s arm tightly.

Fyrian, however, seemed completely unimpressed, rather staring defiantly at the silent creatures. But his fingers pressed heavily into her flesh, pressing her tightly against him. Viera had firmly wrapped her arm around a troubled Cearen.

There were no decorations in the hallways. Small crystals floated, but the yellow and gold light they produced was more mysterious than pleasant.

They kept walking straight ahead towards the only open doors in their area. They ended up in a throne room, which contained the only noise in the city. Creatures sat quietly talking to each other or dancing to the music together. They parted as soon as Ros made his first move.

Creatures with horns, claws, tails, feathers and scales looked at Fyrian and the others with terrifying looks. Like Ragnos, their eyes narrowed as they focused on Myris. A murmur rose as they all stared at her, and Myris wished she had not come. She noticed that there was no human insight.

The only sunlight illuminating the room came from a large round window across the street. A staircase rose to a black stone throne surrounded by gold ornamentation, which contrasted strongly with the black walls and floor. The throne seemed to be intended for two people, but there was only one person on it: a woman. A Fae, with a skin that had a silver sheen. Just as silver as her hair. But where Ros's eyes reminded Myris of moonlight, the woman's silver colours were like ashes. Myris could not deny she was beautiful, but it did not strike her as intensely as it should have. Not after all the creatures Myris had seen. The woman did not have the same grace as the flower bearers, nor had she the intriguing animal-like wilderness that Midow had in her eyes. The silver crown on her head was the only thing that made her look more special than the other creatures. And yet Myris dared not move in her gaze.

Her sapphire blue eyes did not stray from Myris as she followed Ragnos. As soon as Myris and the others were only a few steps away from the throne, it became silent again and the woman opened her mouth. “So, this is the new Red Soul we've all been waiting for? A human?”

Myris did not respond. She felt the disapproval resonate through the room, through her bones. She ventured to take a quick look at the exit, which she should not have done. Guards had joined the other creatures. Myris did not know what scared her more. The hidden faces of the guards or the death glares of the ones whose faces she could see. She lowered her eyes and saw Cearen carefully grabbing Viera's hand, which she stroked comfortably with her thumb. Myris turned again with a thumping heart.

The woman got up. Her black dress slid gracefully behind her as she walked over to Myris. Her voice was like a rose, elegant and alluring, but it was a rose, which many thorns she felt all too well. A scolding sound echoed through the room when Myris said nothing for the second time. “It's not polite to be silent when a queen asks you something, Myris.”

Myris blinked in shock. She had only heard about a king in Olèrian, nothing about a queen. And now she suddenly appeared to be facing one. A queen who, according to Myris, had absolute power in this city. Could the others not have warned her?

The woman noticed and a small smile formed on her white lips. “Oh? Have your new friends not told you about me.? Didn't they say anything about Diva, Queen of Akratis and everything south of it?”

Myris swallowed. The Fae was not only the leader of a gigantic city but over a large part of Olèrian. The woman seemed to have much more influence than Myris had thought. And that influence radiated emptiness. Venom. She agreed to go without knowing exactly where they were going. She had done it to reassure the others a little, but now she needed to be reassured herself. Why had the others said nothing?

The woman's smile widened as Myris gripped Fyrian's arm tighter. “I see that you have already become good friends with each other. How naive of your Myris.”

Myris raised an eyebrow at the words, not knowing what the woman meant by them, but they sounded anything but calming. And it did not help that Fyrian's eyes darkened. She felt his muscles tense under her hands. “Stop it, Diva. We are here for business and nothing more than that.”

“But of course. I was only kindly introducing myself. You see, Fyrian, a good first impression is very important. I heard your first impression was not so pleasant...”

Fyrian grinded his teeth. “Says the person who sends her pets as an invitation so they can be slaughtered.”

Diva clicked her tongue. “But you do that without a problem or not Fyrian? Tell me, how long did it take to get all that blood off you?”

A smug grin came to Fyrian's face. Nonchalantly, he held up his shoulders. “At least I can wash the dirt off me, your face will always stay that way.”

Growls could be heard from all sides. Myris looked back in shock at Viera and Cearen, who had both covered their mouths. Cearen, like Myris, was appalled. Viera, on the other hand, was just trying to keep her laugh down.

With a flash, Ragnos pulled off his cloak and a scythe made of black metal appeared in his hands. The giant weapon loomed in the air, threatening, as he was ready to attack. Yet, Diva raised her hand and with a grunt, he swung it on his back, where it attached to metal chains on his back.

“I think the introductions are over,” Viera said, trying to draw attention to her. “Maybe we can move on to more important things now?”

Diva sat down again with a raised eyebrow. “I know what you want, but the question is: what will I get in return?”

“Isn't your freedom a good deal?” Fyrian sneered.

A smile cold as ice followed. “There is only one thing I want and you know very well what it is, Fyrian. And yet you dare to come without him!”

The last sentence had come out screaming. Diva's nails had pierced her throne. Nobody dared to breathe. Some creatures tried to hide by the walls. Others came forward with a grin, encouraged by the sharp sound in their queen's voice.

Ragnos also looked down at Fyrian with a dirty look, who stared back just as hard. “If Elyos wasn't so stubborn, I would have tried to take him with me. Just to see him pulverize you personally into dust.”

“I would not get as hopeful if I were you, Fyrian,” Diva laughed. "If Elyos wants to turn something to dust, it's her kind.” Despite the calmness on the woman's face, Myris saw disgust in the blue eyes, loathing that was meant for her. Suddenly Myris realized why there were no other humans here.

“Her kind is the High Souls,” Viera fired back. “Just like Elyos.”

“We will see which side Elyos is ultimately on.” Diva leaned forward; her teeth bared in a crooked smile. “I keep it simple for you. Bring him or I won't help you.”

Fyrian bowed excessively, not afraid to make another foul gesture at Ragnos before they walked away.