Chapter 19
Nineteen
I wonder if she’ll hate us. I wonder what she’ll think.
We are not strictly connected to the rebellion, but we are not strangers to their leader or his trusted.
Alexandros, after all, had attended the university alongside Varian, Castiel, and Percius.
Rovan I’m sure would have been even closer to all of them as well if he had studied here instead of Moiraio Academy in Corr.
They have an end goal, the rebels, and we. . . we have an old prophecy. Whether we want to enact it or not is something Varian hasn’t fully decided yet. Either way, both goals are entangled. We also help each other when we can.
Callahan said he had asked her after the first attack what her stance with the rebels was.
If she agreed with their cause or if they should be destroyed.
Her exact words to him were, Their final decision for whether or not they were going to kill me was made the moment they saw me as a vampire.
If the rebels were really trying to push the agenda they are wanting everyone to believe, they would treat all beings and races the same.
So I care about the rebellion as much as I do the Mage Board.
It had been a valid point, though it’s not possible for a race like the devils to be the same as the humans. Not in strength, not in aura, not in mortality. Human lifespans are too short for them to compare to even non-mortals.
Humans can barely make it to a century, and while there’s been controversy before about shifters and mages having a closer relation to humans, they can still live up to a millennium.
Esmirra always told me I should not look down on humans even with their weak bodies and mentality. As a boy, I would internally scoff and not pay the old witch mind. When I turned seventeen she told me about a girl. With pastel eyes and sapphire and rose colored hair.
Throughout that year whenever Esmirra came to the estate she would always have something to say about the girl.
Her strength, her power, her intellect. My mother fell in love with her before I could even process an active emotion about her, though my mother initially fell in love with how good and kind she was.
Story after story I was told, and eventually throughout that year a fondness formed for her. This girl who loved vegetables and would waltz around her room alone and could sing in a way that made you believe there was no darkness in the world.
It was only after I already cared for this fairytale Mavyllora when Esmirra told me about the day she met her. The first action Esmirra had seen Mavyllora do was sit across from some homeless man in a park.
He was a filthy, haggard, foul human being who had let himself fall and chose to sleep on the streets and beg for scraps.
And Mavyllora was playing a game of chess with him. A little fourteen-year-old Elaycia Sorenli had welcomed into her home, sneaking off early in the mornings so she could sit with this man and offer her company.
I expected to feel disgusted by the knowledge, especially because I was not in complete love with her at the time. It hadn’t mattered to my seventeen-year-old self that I was already obsessed. I knew Esmirra was scheming though, so I asked her why Mavyllora would do that.
I watch her twirl alone across the gold and red painted dance floor. Her hands up in the air as if there’s an invisible person there, dancing with her.
She should be hiding, running, doing quite literally anything other than being out in the open. Callahan had showed us the memory of her and Darian. He had been giddy about how this night could go. When I asked about his question before he had told me I would likely find out later.
Death rolls in silently but I don’t shift from my position, leaning against a column on the balcony, as Darian strolls up to the railing. He peers over and hums.
“Still mad about her being your fated?”
Mad. . . ?
How can I be mad at that? At her?
“We were supposed to be meeting this summer,” I murmur. “After the school year for break my mother and I were going to visit Esmirra and meet her.”
Darian and Callahan have both heard about the infamous Mavyllora.
They weren’t close with Esmirra like my parents and I were, but they’ve met her before and Darian has conversed with her.
Esmirra even said once that Mavyllora would probably like spending time with Darian, and he boasted about that to Callahan and everyone else for weeks.
None of them knew that Esmirra had told me she was my fated, but back then I never really believed her.
I’ll need to speak to her about that. How she knew or suspected.
She should be coming in a few weeks to help the first years with defense training.
After all the attacks from the rebels the Mage Board and University council have agreed strength training and self-defense will be required by all students.
“I remember,” he answers quietly, reminding me he’s still here. “I was there when you received that letter and I saw your soul for the first time.”
I side-eye him and recheck all of my walls and barriers within. The mental and spiritual controls that shield me from beings who can hear and see things they shouldn’t.
It’s illegal for a devil or angel to let their true form out. They’re dangerous on a level most can’t explain and are too much for us to behold.
Percius was the first true formed celestial who was able to become one with his and stay sane. It’s something that should be studied, if only he wouldn’t be killed for it.
Darian is the closest after to who I believe could be one with his true form.
His control over his body, mind, magic – it’s a true control.
Not a form of containment, not a suppression, not a cage he has to continuously lock.
He is in absolute control of everything about himself.
Including his control over being able to use part of his true form magic while keeping his true form controlled within him.
Soul rendering. Able to see, touch, twist, move, balance, and destroy a soul.
Of course, it goes beyond that to a state I will never be able to fully understand, but that’s the scope of what he can do. Which is how he was able to see my soul before, however we’ve been practicing on my shields within.
He sighs. “I want you to take her to the cages starting sometime next week. And I want you to make sure she fights with her arms and legs exposed.”
I slowly turn my head towards him as he pushes off the railing and beings to exit.
“Why,” I demand.
Pausing near another column shrouded in shadows, he looks back and his ice-chip eyes spark with flecks of silver.
“Because I told you to.” Nothing about him fluctuates.
His aura does not spike, his magic does not rage, his true form does not try to take over his body. But my soul wishes to heed, nonetheless. His primal nature more dominant that mine. More dominant than almost Varian’s.
It makes me. . . nervous.
Then he tilts his head and it disappears. “It’s in her best interest. She needs it, because I’m suspecting something, and if I am correct in my assumption then what I’m doing with her will no longer work for what she needs to help her in the end.”
For some reason I remember Callahan’s question at the forefront of my mind from earlier in the night.
Would you hurt Mavyn physically if she gave you consent and it meant it helped her in the end?
This is a puzzle I can’t currently solve. A game of chess already in play but I did not begin it with all the pieces already on the board.
“She also,” he adds, “wants you to be her true first. Not that she’ll admit it, but she’s had feelings for you from before when your bone witch started talking about you two to each other. I can see what part of her soul wants.”
Then he’s gone and I’m left in disarray.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information?
I scoff at his ghost and fist my hands. She couldn’t possibly still want that. I tried to kill her without a second thought before we had actually even met. Then after I had tried doing as she wished. I believed she was nothing, but part of me could never quite erase her from my mind.
Still, I hated her because she was a vampire and therefore considered weak.
Even when she faced us at every confrontation, rolled her eyes at us at every battle.
I hated her for the way she seemed to dismiss everyone and for how she seemed to care about nothing.
I hated her for how much she made me think about her.
I hated her for how much I wanted her to submit to me.
Then I had seen her in a state where I would have believed Esmirra’s description of her.
Hands positioned before her, bloodred aura surrounding her, and a voice that calmed the monsters within the darkness of me.
I had prayed for the first time to gods who have only ever been silent. Begging them that she was it. She was who Esmirra described. She was my Mavyllora.
There was a moment right after she opened her eyes.
She had lifted her lids and her lashes fluttered and I was the first thing she saw.
I pleaded then. Waiting for my soul to recognize her and for fate to click.
Those milliseconds felt like eternity, and when nothing happened I hated the gods for always being silent.
But all she saw in that moment was hatred for her.
And when she burned down my rooms my hatred – not for her but for circumstance – renewed because I didn’t care about my belongings or the relics or those ancient books.
I cared about the letters Esmirra would deliver from a girl with pale pink eyes.
I hadn’t realized it before the first attack from the rebels, but my hated for her shifted. I no longer hated her because she was a vampire – even though I knew she couldn’t be one after that attack – but because she wasn’t mine.