Chapter Three
“Talia Louise Sereneth, do you know what time it is?” my sister shouts when I finally make it home. I know that tone. I’m about to get a lecture.
Inside, Elara flies around the tiny kitchen, her patchwork apron fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, and her favourite wooden spoon dangerously close to falling from its perch in the front pocket.
As she flings open the oven, a cloud of steam fills the room. I greedily inhale the smell of lemon and poppy seeds.
I’ll never not appreciate coming home to the smell of cake after a day spent wrestling with a Soul Wraith – even more so tonight, after my run-in with the strange man at the market.
He promised he wouldn’t follow me home, but I kept an eye out nonetheless.
The thought of him skulking around outside right now, watching us through a crack in the curtains…
I wouldn’t think twice about using my shears if he tried to hurt Elara.
Elara retrieves the tray and sets the cupcakes down on the countertop. “Jeez, Talia, look at the state of you,” she exclaims. “What happened?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. It was a tricky Soul Wraith, that’s all.” I secure the latch on the front door behind me. “Don’t worry about it.”
Elara regards me seriously, a light-blonde wisp of flour-dusted hair drifting on to her face. “I wish you wouldn’t do this, sister.”
“We don’t have enough money not to. And you know me – there’s a twisted part of me that enjoys it.” I take a seat on the rickety three-legged stool by the door.
Shoes and socks discarded, I dip my feet into a bucket of warm water she’s prepared for me.
Elara hovers, her discomfort palpable in the way she chews her lip.
She’s never been one to handle Soul Wraiths well, and she’s perpetually concerned about my potentially tracking negative energies into the cottage after a job, even though we both know that’s not how our Emo talents work.
“How can I not worry?” she persists, pointing her wooden spoon at me. “Especially when you’re back this late.”
I press my back against the cool wall. “Sorry, El, but you know I like to clear my head by walking.”
Her eyes narrow. “Then why do you reek of voidroot smoke?”
Avoiding her gaze, I finish drying my feet and slide on my slippers.
Elara returns to her cupcakes, and I hope that’s the end of our discussion.
I wouldn’t want to spend the night after her birthday bickering over the same old thing we always do.
Especially since I haven’t even given her my gifts yet.
I watch quietly as Elara works her Emo talents. Her fingers twist delicately, drawing thin, gleaming threads of positive energies from the air – warmth and joy and whatever else she can sense that I can’t.
The energy swirls gently around her hands before she rubs her fingers together, and it drifts like glitter on to the cupcakes, soaking into them. Now, anyone who eats one should experience those same positive energies.
“I’m serious, Talia,” she says after a moment. “You’re my big sister, and I look up to you. I hate seeing you waste your talents. You’re so good at what you do. Why settle for a minimum-wage job clearing demons out of people’s attics for a living?”
“Even if I wanted to enrol somewhere like Nexus Academy, we can’t afford the tuition,” I say, rising from the stool and walking to the four-seat dining table. I grip the back of the chair. “Besides, there’s no way I’d make the cut for admission. I can’t sense positive energies, remember?”
“You used to.” Elara’s voice is gentle. She pauses a few seconds before adding, “Before Mum and Dad died.”
I gulp hard, feeling it tear into my heart.
Memories of our parents flicker before me. My mother’s freckled face, her laugh, the way my father used to carry me through the village on his shoulders…
Elara and I were both so young when our parents died that most of what we know about them as people was learned by way of second-hand accounts.
They were historical consultants at an excavation site in the southern principality of Wrisha, using their Emo talents to monitor energies at a lost temple.
One day, the temple collapsed, leaving only a handful of survivors, and our parents weren’t among them. That was the day I became half an Emo, only left with my negative-sensing abilities, and also, in some ways, a mother.
Since then, I can hardly recall what it’s like to conjure positive energies – unlike my sister, whose talents blossomed even in grief. She chose hope, whereas I found myself clinging to the past. To the shattered dreams of what our family could’ve been.
At school, the scholars didn’t understand my inability to sense positivity. They chalked it up to incompetence, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I spent hours in the village library poring over every book imaginable on the subject.
Studies have shown that an Emo’s talents mirror their deepest emotions. It’s all about one’s state of mind. Those who can only tap into negative energies have usually gone through some serious trauma or life-shattering event, which sounds about right in my case.
I’m not worried about it, though. I’ve been doing fine the way I am. But I hate that it bothers Elara more than it bothers me.
“What about you?” I ask, sitting down at the table. “Why haven’t you tried enrolling in Nexus Academy? You’ve got the potential.”
Elara piles spoonfuls of pastel-pink icing into a piping bag to decorate the cupcakes. The icing comes out in glistening swirls. “Like you said, we can’t afford the tuition.”
It’s a pragmatic answer, but there’s a deeper truth lurking beneath her words. She hasn’t gone to school because she doesn’t want to.
Where most elementals in the Triumstellar Accord are more than willing to play the game of societal advancement, Elara’s always been more of a dreamer, keen to follow her heart rather than chase money.
That’s where the two of us differ. I work hard so that Elara can dream. She doesn’t know it, and I would never tell her, but I’ve tried applying to Nexus Academy.
It didn’t matter that I could snuff out the most elusive Soul Wraith or identify any negative energy by scent alone.
As soon as the board discovered my inability to sense or conjure the preferable positive energies, they dismissed me – to no one’s surprise, really.
The Principal Academies have always been … selective.
There are ten academies dotted across the three principalities, all grand institutions with rigorous entry requirements. Nexus Academy specializes in Emotergy, and it’s situated just outside our village. We frequently see students visiting on their days off.
When an elemental graduates from a Principal Academy, they’re expected to choose from a handful of predefined career paths specific to their talent.
The options for Emos have always been limited.
There’s the path of historical consultancy, like our parents’ work; the path of emotional healing, helping individuals grapple with past traumas; the path of emotional architecture, designing spaces to elicit desired emotions; and the path of conflict mediation, arguably the most challenging of all, which involves influencing emotions during stately negotiations to promote empathy and understanding between opposing parties.
I wouldn’t mind taking up a career in emotional healing, as it can’t be too different to what I’m doing now. But in any case, it’s out of my grasp now.
“Our home power unit is running low,” Elara says, as though I hadn’t noticed, mixing more icing in a bowl. “I had to turn the oven’s temperature on max before it started warming up.”
I stare at the old tinny oven behind her. I suppose it’s been a while since we made a trip to the Principal Grid to recharge. The last time, it was so expensive we had to beg our landlord, Huck, for an extension on the rent. He wasn’t overly keen on the idea, so I’m not sure it’s a viable option.
“I’ll see what I can scrape together. Maybe we can go this weekend,” I say.
I can use some of the money I got for the rings tonight.
Or perhaps I can take our home power unit to be recharged at the Night Market.
It’s most certainly cheaper, but I’ve always been hesitant.
Elara already asks too many suspicious questions as it is.
“So,” she asks, flicking me a look, “this tricky Soul Wraith. Is it anything you’d like to talk about? Any reason for the blue smudge on your cheek?”
I laugh. “You’re observant as always, El. But no, not particularly. It was just another job.” My fingers trace shapes across the tabletop, a subconscious attempt to erase the unease tightening at my shoulders. I can’t stop recalling it.
The Soulreaper’s touch, so cold and jarring. The old woman’s final gasping breaths, before her soul was plucked from her chest.
“By the way,” I say, keeping my voice casual, “do you know who used to live in that run-down cottage, the one on the hill, overlooking Auxin Forest?”
“No idea. I can ask around the bakery if you’d like?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m just being nosy.”
Elara wipes the tip of the piping bag with her finger and gives it a taste. “I don’t know how you do it. The grief. The tragedy. The malevolence.”
“You get used to it.” My gaze remains fixed on the table. A cupcake unexpectedly appears before me, and I can’t help but crack a smile. “I saw you infusing these. Are you trying to use your talents on me?”
“What’s wrong with a bit of warmth and joy after a long day?”
“You make a strong case…” I sink my teeth into the soft, buttery cake, and there’s an instantaneous bloom of something warm and tingly in my chest.
The influence of Elara’s talents takes effect, bringing a smile to my face. It feels so real, so entirely undeserved. The Soulreaper, the old lady … they all melt away. I give in to the pull and let the happiness be.
“Mmm,” I mutter in between bites. “This is honestly so good. And I’m not just saying that because I’m riding a high.”
Elara bites her lip. “Do you think? I have an audition tomorrow at the bakery. If my cakes sell out, they’ll assign me a permanent spot in the main display case.”
I excitedly leap up from my seat. “Elara, this is huge!” I rush to her side, grasping her hands. Hers are so much softer and more delicate than mine. They’re a little clammy, too.
“Are you nervous?” I ask, sitting back down.
“Well, yeah, of course I’m nervous. This opportunity could change everything for me … for us.”
“And it will, El. Your cakes are irresistible.”
“Thanks. Although…” The smile on Elara’s face fades as she withdraws her hands and starts fiddling with her arrangement of cupcakes, each adorned with a perfect pink swirl and crowned with a teardrop berry.
“It’ll be an added expense. I’ll have to pay for the ingredients myself – I can’t use the stuff at the bakery – and I’ll have to bake them at home, too, so there’s the extra cost of the electricity for the oven and for the lights. And I’d be renting the display space.”
“What? That’s ridiculous,” I protest. “You’ve been working at the bakery for nearly six Stellar Years. The least they can do is offer you one measly shelf.”
“I know it’s not fair, but that’s how it is.”
“Well, luckily for you…” I reach into my pocket and retrieve the money I earned at the Night Market, dropping it on to the table and sliding it towards her. I smile. “My dream is to see you open your own cake shop, El. If you become successful, I can quit my job and sit around all day eating cake.”
Tears glisten in Elara’s eyes. “Thank you,” she says, reaching for my hand and squeezing my knuckles. “I don’t deserve you.”
“True,” I say, grinning. “Which reminds me, I believe I still owe you a gift for your birthday yesterday.”
I present the starbliss zest.
“Talia, no, you shouldn’t have…” Elara grabs it with both hands, eyes shining as she opens the top of the shaker to release the aromatic spice within.
I catch the most fleeting whiff – a dance of sweetness, nuttiness and a hint of something sharp that teases my nostrils.
“Wow, I can’t believe you got me this. The bakery keeps theirs locked in a box. It must’ve been expensive?”
I ignore her question and add, “That’s not all I got you.”
Elara shakes her head when I retrieve the gold ring from my tunic. “No, that’s too much. Where did you get this?”
“It doesn’t matter where I got it. It’s for you.”
Elara gasps and takes the ring, immediately placing it on her finger. “Tal, this is beautiful, but – be honest – did you … steal it?” A frown forms between her brows, and she shakes her head, tugging the ring off and pushing it away.
“I didn’t steal it.” The lie feels natural on my lips. “You’d be surprised how grateful some of my clients can be.”
“So, it was a gift?” She narrows her eyes before running her finger over the intricate patterns engraved in the gold.
“Happy birthday, little sister.”
She looks up with tears in her eyes, and it’s all that I imagined and more. “I love it. I love you, Talia. You’re the best sister in the world.”