Chapter 15
Fifteen
Rana
L eaning against the railing of my balcony, I stare down at the one-hundred foot drop side of a cliff while rivers of lava and dry, cracked earth stare back at me.
How much would it hurt if I jumped off? Would my wings instinctually burst from my back, carrying me away with the wind? Would I hit every rock on the way down, breaking every bone in my body, leaving with no way of ever escaping this hellhole? Maybe I would get lucky and land directly in one of the molten rivers. Yeah, that would fix everything.
“Princess?” Pushing off the cool metal, I turn to find my handmaiden holding a basket in her thin wrinkled hand.
Zenora is an elderly volcanic gnome. She has a short, squat body—not much taller than myself—with graying hair pulled tightly up into a bun at the top of her head. Her weathered graphite skin has streams of glowing orange throughout. Behind a pair of small, circular glasses, which are always perched on her long, downturned nose, are small eyes the color of embers.
“Hi, Zen,” I sigh with a soft smile. “I’m guessing the cleansing starts now.”
Dipping her chin, she looks at me with the same pity everyone has today. She knows the wrath I’ll endure if I fail the emergence ceremony—the leap from my balcony would be more pleasant.
Taking soft steps towards me, Zenora wraps her warm hand around my arm. “Will you follow me to the tub? We know how long this process takes.” Blowing out a deep breath, I trudge inside.
The sound of bubbling water and the scent of myrrh fills the air as we approach the dark room. Zenora snaps her fingers, lighting the hundreds of candles decorating the volcanic cave. Built into the center of the room is an enormous rounded bath—truly meant for a bath house—surrounded by four stalactites so massive they almost touch the floor like pillars. As ostentatious as my father is, this room has to be one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
“Please disrobe and go directly into the bath. I have already prepared the water with the oils.” Zenora moves her finger in a circle, signaling for me to turn around. With a speed and precision I will never understand, she has my corset unlaced, pulling it over my head. Next, I loosen the ties in the front of my dress enough to step out of it, removing all undergarments as well. I kick the heavy material out of the way, glad to be rid of it.
Stepping down, the water is hot enough to sting but not enough to scald, and the steam billows around me like a privacy curtain. I keep moving until I’m in the deepest part before fully submerging myself. Under water there is a certain kind of peace you can’t find anywhere else; it cocoons you in warmth and soothes the innermost parts of you. Unfortunately, my body isn’t designed to stay under. My lungs remind me of this as they beg for air, forcing me to the surface.
Why couldn’t I have been a siren?
Bursting to the surface, I find Zen with her arms crossed shaking her head. “Rana, you can’t avoid this forever. Take the pumice stone and begin to cleanse your skin. If that beautiful umber skin isn’t a shade deeper then you’re not doing it hard enough.”
The stone was brutal against my flesh, grating away layers until I was raw. The entire cleansing process is over the top and physically and mentally exhausting. By the end, everything from my hair to my toes has been purified and lathered with a million different oils until I’m shimmering in the light.
Now I sit at my vanity as Zenora yanks at my scalp. Pulling until my curls are tamed and braided back into a low bun.
“You know you don’t have to pull that hard. I’m thirteen and definitely don’t need a face lift.”
“Maybe Zen can do my hair after. I could use that facelift,” my mother sweetly chuckles as she glides into my room with elegance.
A wide smile graces the old woman’s face, showing off her pointed teeth. “Your Majesty, it would be an honor.”
“Oh please,” my mother wraps a hand around Zenora’s shoulder, “you know I hate when you call me that.”
“Alright, Erika, but only when the King isn’t around. I don’t need to get on that man’s bad side.”
“Khafre needs to pull the icicle from his ass. You used to change his diapers for gods’ sake.”
A snort forces its way out of me. I can’t even wrap my head around the thought of my father as a child. And definitely not Zenora tending to him.
The wrinkles around her eyes deepen in amusement but she doesn’t dare give a response. You never know when Father’s minions are listening.
Zenora’s small hands lovingly squeeze the tops of my shoulders after placing the last ruby pin into my finished hair. “I’ll give you two some space,” she says lovingly, glancing between my mother and I.
“Thank you, Zen. And no need to return; I’ll get Rana dressed and bring her down to the catacombs.”
“Very well.” Zenora walks around the ottoman I’m sitting on until she’s in front of me. Cupping my face, her amber eyes glimmer with unspoken worry. “I believe in you, Rana Thorin Naar. You will make it through ascension.” Slipping a hand into her apron, she pulls out a gold ring with some kind of black crystal inlaid, and places it on my middle finger. “Black tourmaline for protection.”
Throwing my arms around her, I hold her tight to me. “Thank you, Zen. I’ll never take it off.”
With that, Zenora turns and leaves my mother and I alone.
“Oh, my beautiful girl, are you ready for tonight?”
Standing up, I take the dress from my mother and lay it out on the bed. “Not at all.” I huff.
“I wish you didn’t have to do this, Rana, but I know that you are strong. And no matter the outcome you will always be my little girl.”
Plopping down beside my dress, I throw myself back against the mattress and stare at the ceiling. The beautiful painting of flaming wings mocks me. My forefinger and thumb tap together involuntarily, searching for the smallest sign of magic—if I could at least wield fire I might stand a chance.
“Ra, the magic is within you. Close your eyes and feel the well deep in your soul. Picture yourself filling it until it overflows into every inch of your being.”
I do as my mother asks, squeezing my eyes so tightly sparkles glitter across my vision. The image of a well appears in front of me, but when I look inside it’s bone dry. Desperately searching for my magic, I dig into the ground hoping it might spring up. I dig and dig and dig until magma begins to fill the space. Frantically, I claw my way out of the hole but I’m not fast enough. The magma scorches my bare feet. I can feel the dry, red earth give way beneath my grasp, sending me back towards my demise.
“Rana, breath baby! It’s not real. Open your eyes.” The gurgled sound of my mother’s voice hums in my ears. “Breath damnit!” she screams, shattering my false reality.
I shoot up straight, gulping down every excruciating breath I can. My heart rattles in my chest so hard I fear it may break my ribs reminding me I’m alive.
“That’s it, beautiful girl. It wasn’t real,” my mother coos as she rubs circles into my back.
“Wha–What was that?” I can barely get the hoarse words out.
“I–I honestly don’t know.” Using the bell sleeve of her dress, she wipes the sweat from my forehead. “Why don’t we just get you ready. The ceremony will start shortly.”
All I can do is nod. There is not a thing in this world that can change my impending fate.
Tracing my finger over the gold filigree embossed into the double doors in front of me, I listen carefully for my announcement.
“Today is a day of great honor,” my father’s muffled voice leaks through the space between. “On the thirteenth birthday of every pixie, they come into their magic and get their wings!”
Great honor. More like great horror.
“Four years ago we all gathered here to see the ascension of Prince Cairo, and what a wondrous experience that was. My son has great power which grows stronger every day.”
Prince Cairo, the Almighty. No one will be better than Prince Cairo. I roll my eyes in disgust.
“Now, on this very night, the people of Incedis will witness my daughter, Princess Rana’s, ascension!”
That’s my cue.
Amir gives me a wry smile, holding the door open for me. “It will all be over soon, Princess.”
“I really hope so, Amir.”
Crossing over the threshold, hundreds of eyes turn their attention towards me. Eyes of other royals. Eyes of diplomats. Eyes of high fluents. Every step feels like walking through quicksand.
The saffron lace train of my gown trails five feet behind me, showing each ruby stitched within. The deep yellow fades up into a burnt orange from my feet to hips, then a crimson red from my hips all the way to the ruby and lace encrusted collar. My back is completely exposed—much like how my soul feels.
The last set of eyes I see before I reach the dais are swirls of gold. My mother looks like the embodiment of a queen. Two carob locs frame her deep sienna face, while the rest are tied up in a beautiful bun, holding her obsidian and ruby crown in place. Fanning out behind her are her biggest fuck you to my father. While she may be the queen of Incedis, she is born of Zephyr and her wispy opalescent wings remind us every day. Erika Thorin Naar is no mere queen, she is a goddess among men.
She steps in front of me, cupping my face with her palms. “Be strong. You are so loved, Rana,” she whispered, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead.
I must linger too long because my father clears his throat behind me—ever impatient. “ Now , Rana,” he grits through a forced smile. Taking my final steps, the king guides me to the kneeling bench.
My weight shifts from foot to foot as my father fills two goblets with faire wine. I watch closely, waiting for him to pour the bliss powder into my drink, but he doesn’t. Why isn’t he giving me the bliss? Cairo got bliss—he didn’t have to feel a thing. My father hands me the wine with a venomous grin and warning in his soulless eyes.
“We are born in flames. We die in flames. May the blaze within your soul forever be ignited,” he shouts, his gruff voice reverberating off the walls. The king lifts his drink to his people and looks to me. Together, we let the cool liquid flow down our throats, making sure not to waste a single drop.
Turning my back to the people of Incedis, I get down onto the kneeling bench and lean my chest against the bar. I feel a looming presence to my right. Cairo glowers down at me, a pair of cuffs in his hand. He roughly yanks my hand, slaps one cuff around my wrist, feeds the rest through the ring underneath the dais and finally cuffs my other wrist.
“Can’t wait to hear your screams, little sister. It’s your turn to burn.”
The woosh of blood pumping fills my ears, my breaths become choppy. This is really happening and not a single being in this realm can stop it from happening.
“With the flames of the father, may the child rise from the ashes, renewed!”
Behind me, my father slaps his blazing palms into my bare skin. Pure agony slices through my flesh—a heat I’ve never felt before enveloping me down to my very core.
I scream. I scream and pull against my bindings. I scream until my throat is raw and wrists are bloodied. A tugging at my rib cage has my body convulsing with no sign that relief may come. If anything, my father curls his long fingers into my skin as if they can reach inside of me.
“I give you wings so that you may rise above the being you once were! I give you the gift of fire! Unto you, my daughter, I summon the magic deep within you to transform every fiber of your being!” I can hear my father preaching but it sounds a million miles away. I’ve begun to free fall into darkness.
My mother's words come to me. “ Rana, the magic is within you. Close your eyes and feel the well deep in your soul. Picture yourself filling it until it overflows into every inch of your being.”
I find myself peering into the well once more—still empty. Frantically, I plead to the gods for help, begging for even a drop of magic, “I promise I will use my magic for good. I will help those in need. I will never take for granted the gifts you bestow on me. Please help me save myself.”
Slowly, magic seeps from the dry, dead earth, filling the well. The iridescent liquid becomes high enough for me to swirl my ringed finger through it. Instantaneously, my body cools and my veins hum with power.
Forcefully freed from the oppressive weight of my father, sounds of shock fill the ceremonial hall.
Prying my eyes open, I chance a glance over my shoulder. The charred and bloody handprints burned into my back have begun to heal over, leaving pink scars in its wake.
“A healer! The princess is a healer,” a man bellows from my left.
“Her blood will save us all,” a woman’s shrill voice adds.
“But she has no wings! A defect of her mother’s bloodline for sure,” someone else points out.
A loud cracking brings silence to the hall. “I WILL HAVE SILENCE! NOT ANOTHER WORD IS TO BE SPOKEN,” my father spits from the broken dais.
He turns to his guard with a wild look on his face. “Take Erika and Rana to the caves. They will be dealt with.”
“Leave Mom alone,” I shriek through a broken sob. “She has nothing to do with my failures!”
A gust of air is the only warning I get before the back of my fathers hand connects with my face. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he seethes. “The only reason you would not ascend is that whore must have fucked someone else.”
One of his trolls drags my mother to the king, throwing her at his feet. With one hand he grips her face forcing her to stare at him, he takes the other and tears her crown from her head. “You are no queen.” Another troll comes to uncuff me from the bench, roughly jerking arms behind my back and magically binding my wrist together.
As my mother and I are taken away, Prince Cairo and King Khafre stand with their chins lifted chanting.
“Bodies to ash. Bones to dust. Your souls will wither. The fire will do as it must.”