8 Orphic

The docks were not an inch of what I imagined a public transportation settlement to be. The dock wasn't a dock- neither was it open to the common orifice. Not to see not to use. It was a massive port extending acres of land laid by solid concrete. Monolithic.

I had comprehended such a site when I tried to fantasise the dynamics of books I used to read. With its legendary fictional troopers and the men training under the sky, on a floor so rich that it caused their actions and collapse to appear heroic and incredible by how it is usually described. I would draw a frame in the snow with a stick- roll a ball of shaved ice, the size of my then small fists- sculpt them into a sloppy man and have them stand in line- like a soldier inclined for battle.

But even in the infinite scope of my mind, I wouldn't have reckoned that my dream arena would be nothing more than a pathway to vessel for some in new world.

There are lines, separating us from the guarded ones. While ours weighed, searched and approved the identification and baggage we carried, the other was empty- a stark division between the highborn and aspirants even when the goal is to reach a single destination.

No.

It's not. I shake the childlike assumption.

None of their motives is similar to ours. Their success begins where the sufferings of frontliners commence. They can'tify those who believes in the merit of crumbs they rain down when they have devoured much and can't have more.

They show us a dance of illusion of what we can't have. Could never learn.

As dorin's mother would say. A victim of falsehood herself.

The guards in green shout rules, people packed in herds move, the students of scholar hood are here too, similar to how we fared in trial- they did in their academic evaluations held in Found. While we used body- they exercised their brain to reach this phase.

I was late- the absence of nightmares has spoiled me into a habit of prioritising my slumber more than this journey. It could be my last if things spiralled from our non-existent plans in Esseth. But neither the gruelling death of a girl nor the surreptitious threat of the man who killed her seem to affect my rest.

Wish it was as easy when I am awake.

They haunt me.

Her lifeless eyes, the merciless edge in man's laugh and the cold he conjured. It's the cold. Always. No matter where I run, hide or fight- memories of Ivyaki or any touch or feel that awakens my recent past coils me into nothingness.

It's as if I am reminded again and again and again that I am nothing. I was nothing there. So so helpless. So weak. I still should be nothing. A slave. Still a slave. So much a slave to fate and destiny that I sometimes am convinced that I must have been born into a bloodline of such.

Maybe I should coin a heritage. The lavera's - Service blood and born of misery. Sounds spectacular.

Where is my tiara?

"Finally awake sleepy skull?" There's a sight shove as I yawn, lazily glancing at Dorin who grins like a sun. He is intently pleased these days and it should bother me. But it doesn't- the denial has passed and we are mooching on what we could.

"They all seem excited, it wouldn't be like its there first wise in a ship" I eye the travellers with morning frown, I know my blonde wig was a mess- it's more yellow than blonde almost as if it's dyed wrong. But it shouldn't receive so many bad stares from them. "-unlike us, they should have been on these"

I don't know what I am nasty towards, but I surmise that I dislike how they stare at me. Even if they had just watched me after shoving tongues down the throats- as if I made their barf-worthy kiss somehow sour in memory by simply existing.

"Not in a martial I believe" we roll in line. It's the same as when Mr. willow got us through the gates of Keld. But now we had our cards and tickets. It was a woman with potential build, she stared into our faces with a grunt and pushed us forward. When the bags got inspected they found nothing as well, not when I had the essentials bandaged to my waist. Papers, maps, flat vials of my mediocrizing oils, there were stacked likes abs in me.

"What is so special about them- isn't every other one is to be-

I pass through a small divide panel and I don't speak.

Though still, I could see it, standing proud by the largest river line in record were five ships which doesn't appear in the likes of any normal ships.

The docks aren't docks.

The ships aren't ships.

They are massive in structure. Large enough to veil the rays of the sun even when we are feet's far from it. They are forbiddingly strong and are painted in a thick stripe of red and blue While the one residing in middle was white and black with detailings of gold. Its edges are bent like an eagle's beak- i count four perimeters, two at the tail and two at head with an oval curve for the body. There's a constant rumble of vibrations that keep resounding from them, and I am too awestruck by its beauty to care.

Someone touched my elbow and it was Dorin. He wasn't better than me. He has a weak smile on his face-

"I think it should be fine to let the delight flow"

I nod, straining to steal a glimpse of it again. Unfortunately, I unnecessarily discover castlenas hostile form glaring at a harmless Slate. He is animated with his arms, creating her a picture of what his said words are. The words said are screamed in fashion.

"I can't seem to catch your name?"

"You are breathtakingly beautiful, you should be made aware of that miss"

"I am slate willow"

"Your brother is my friend"

I hear a growl from Dorin, surprised I watch him storm off to them muttering-

"That fool is not my friend" his voice raised when he reached them, the innocent gaze of Slate widens with giddiness- his golden hair proms in the breeze while Dorins dark shaved one stood like a spike "She is not my sister- we are fostered by a man"

He claimed as if it should solve his problems. Castlena closed her eyes as if in agony.

"She can hear you," I say aloud for Slate to hear as I hoisted my bag up on my shoulder. I walk to them while he gawked in shock. He reached castles ear,

"I should be hanged by my toes for putting you in such turmoil-

Dorin swats his hand away from her as castle glared at me, I believe I had committed a grave mistake by revealing it to slate, knowing how much he loved women. He wouldn't leave her side until she took note of his existence. We revived odd glances- credits to the wails and screeches by Slate who seem to have a novel worth of context to apologise.

By now, Dorin appeared further amused by slates dramatics than be pissed at him for being infatuated with Castle. Because he seems to have made amends- they weren't a match. Castle could never be a match for a boy with a pure soul as his. She was a complication that couldn't be handled by-

"Is there a problem?"

The enquiry wrap us over like silk, the owner of it was a intellectually nosy moth and only if I could swat him like an insect with the back of my hand. I blinked at Marlon saga whose height towered us in an utmost outshining attitude.

"We-we are trying to locate our ship sir" I draw out clipped, a feeling of the shift among us. In his ventim suit, he stood out to and from the by-passers who staggered and slowed in steps to ponder in naked surprise when they saw him. He shouldn't be here, in this lane. Not here to blemish our comfort.

"Can I see your ticket?" His feline eyes sweep over us, it stops at castle- wavering a bit longer than I would have liked. But unfortunately, the girl can't detect a danger when she is surrounded by one. So when she meets his stare with a vicious one of her own, I hop into the feverish wagon to drive the tension away.

"Here it is sir" I raise it to his level, but he extends his hand towards castle. A delicate smile settled on his lips.

He waits.

She looks at me, her fingers moving.

"I won't show him my tickets" I have little to no clue, but I noticed she had a small green bow pinning up the left of her wavy tress. I am more impressed by that than what she was still gesturing to me "Do you happen to acquaint with this creep?'

I can bet my life on her.

I can bet on the score that she will be the reason we all might die one day.

Cooking a pot of lie, I struggle to find words-

"She says, she is thankful for your-

"I know what the girl says"

Silence.

Empty blinks of anguish.

Truth.

Why wouldn't he?

My eyes are wide saucers on him. His tone has lost its breezy touch- they were amused and challenging now. I dare not look behind to see Castle- I snatch the tickets from them all and hand them to him with my eyes cast low.

"It's the last to right- you all are on Orphic" he dumps the slips back on my outstretched palms "I am assigned on it as well- hope to see you all around" he spares no intimidation when he fixates on a pale Castle and then leaves, parting through us even though he could have taken a broader and unrestricted route.

Once he was out of earshot I am laying out a blueprint to make them infer in their gut on how I am not their mother and why they should cease to stop behaving like immature kids. I am whispering, I am yelling and I am turning red with desperation. So slate walks with me while the other two follow us with a slack.

"You are not a mother Timo" slate pacified, I could lean on him for a supporting embrace because he, unsuspecting of all seem to inflict that- "You are a father, grow a moustache soon and you'll even look the part"

Change of thought.

I am no mother.

I am murderous.

Smoke, oil, coal and river.

They generate a fascinating odor. The hoots from the tankers symbolise that it's time. We are at its entrance- it's bigger than any man-made vehicle I had ever come across. With trifle awareness of its mechanical functioning, I savor every little entity that I could to complete the puzzle it is. Four of us stood by the fenced stairway watching others load into it. A hand slips to hold mine. Dorins.

Castle looked like she could pass out with how much white she had turned after I narrated who she had dubbed a creep a while ago, it was scary sight to see castle so unsettled. But it was a relief to know she still was humane. I hate how protective I was of her when she is the reason we are imprisoned here.

I feel a flutter of something and a note of whistle, a bird lands on my shoulder. A cerin. It's the one employed for communication by Caelum. I am tensely staring at it as Castle explained.

"She is yours now" it bobs its tiny head as i fasten the grip on my case "It's a gift from Caelum for doing such favour"

Apparently, Rixilians had a different notions for favour. In our language, we call it enforcement. Kidnapping. And blackmail.

But there's no use of lodging in past. I look at the ship once more and refused to look back.

***

The craft in which the high blood reside is called Midnight Pearl. It set sail before ours does. And I am yet not affirmed with the Saga gallivanting around, catching enticed gazes and polite courtesy from the squadrons like a hunter would with birds. He talks with men in uniform and avoids confronting acknowledgement of any who is useless to his job.

He was setting a base for the operation. He was a captain.

And yet he has no reason to be here with us,

Then I see him come out of the cabin, The Ezdan.

He wore the colours of Armin, every shade adjacent to what I am used to relate him with. His collars are red, his cuffs are deep blue, nightly. It makes his hair appear lighter and I can't see his eyes, its casted low- his shoulder tensing with each ticks of an order being thrown across. But then slowly it reduced, the chatters and rumble, and I know he is seen.

There are very few of us on the open pier. But who is, they disperse from him- those who sat stood up and those on feet regarded him with raw curiosity. Not a nerve in him flicks at the crippling attention soaring on him. He must be used to more.

But not us.

He shouldn't be with us.

He was the crucial heart of the diamond that was left exposed on display, and everyone seem to be keen on memorising him. As much of him they could so there is a story for their grandchildren and siblings to hear.

Of how they saw him for the first time. How he looked, what he said. If he is the shadow of sun or moon. Or if he wore a crown.

He wore a uniform.

He is a warrior.

An aged man, a chieftain perhaps speaks to his ears. The Ezdan nods once and he takes his leave. He only stood there by arc front looking at the vast river, I had stayed when others had separated and spread in a quest to explore. I must have gone with them. The Ezdan was a gaping wound to my esteem, it scorches and hurts every single time I am near him.

And I am on fire when he looks at me.

And it's consuming me, reducing me and threatening me. And when his gaze swiftly fixes on me, I cease thinking. Breathing or moving. They seem to be a luxury- to be able to have say upon my body.

But all I receive are warnings.

He seems to know of my presence like how I am aware of my pulse. There is something wrong and I don't know what.

But firstly, he shouldn't be in Orphic.

In our ship.

I hear a cluster of voices from those who wasn't in our deck, I hear Dorin and his call- I rely on it, I turn and I run. To my people. To the known.

***

Three days into the week-long journey the information of the prince's occupancy in Orphic has taken a recess. The rumours would have milled if his presence was accounted for- he wasn't seen after that morning, and his ghostly disappearance cradled me into a convenience.

But for how long?

At least four more days gratifyingly.

In these days, I had managed to win the respect of the lower-ranked crew who burned coal with some kind of fancy corneal stones to increase the sails speed. I hadn't seen anything as such, similar to how I hadn't seen many of it - so had implored the harmless question,

"How does it work?"

The response always and ever is-

"Ventims mastery is to never be questioned"

And then I am questioning its unquestionable rule. but that didn't trick their warm hearts from touring us into their gambling chambers, slate and Dorins greed itched their palms and pockets, to scratch the trouble away they threw me into the den and sponsored my games.

I got a joyful pat on the stomach and they got a jug of beer each from the big, burly sailor with large belly. Not to neglect the chimes of silver coins in our pockets. We probably were the only ones who were venturing the world beneath the last floors of Orphic- and it was something we were familiar with.

work, labour, soot and community.

Though the one here is relatively friendlier than the deadlier ones we were habituated with..

Not mere us are who sought to Trinkle our savings before we reached the sterile grounds of Esseth, there are academicians of curation who smuggled intoxses that provides the host with elated hallucinations, beauty enhancers were the steamiest sold in market- I saw an artist draw its sheet out to sell live portraits- and as for us? we wagered.I also feed and frown at my new pet who seems to equally disapprove of me. I now have a small scar from when she nipped on my skin along with her dry meal.

When my belly is full and I am as tight as the nail on a plank- I fall asleep with the sway of water and I dream of no future. but she haunts me at times, the girl who was executed for failing her assignment. For lacking to report my information.

And when I wake up, I slouch, look over my shoulder and maze around the hallway until Dorin buys me another game. It had been a routine until on day four I decided to creep out of my hide. I come here alone at night when celebration vibrates beneath my feet in the lower tier. when I see the stars alinged, i am reminded of the day i got into Orphic.

The scenic mountains welcoming us with arms spread, the exhilaration of young boys who climbed a pole to peer ahead, the first lurch when it moved and the solemn breeze on my skin. Then I had seen him lounge handsomely and I never returned to feel the unexplainable.

Tonight I did, unknown to my objectives I did and I find myself looking over the beak of the ship ripping through the water tersely, I bend over the fence to look further as if I could read the secrets of water and its kinds if I did so. I don't know what I want from the moment, but when my leg slip and I hang in there like clothe in dryer- I am contemplating my stupidity with my heart in my mouth. I am not even calling for help, too stunned I tip my toes to retain my balance-

But accidentally push my frame forward solely to be yanked back like a sack of paralyzed limbs, I gasp touching my heart and glaring at the vice clutch on my arm.

"Why is it that every time I see you, you are on the edge of tasting death?"

One can bottle up the most ethereal darkness in a pit- but none of it would come close to resounding as his. It cuts through the air and I am the one gathering the pieces of me.

"I was looking at the water-

"You look at everything"

His eyes searched mine, no- it rips through my soul. And he still hadn't freed my hand.

"You look at everything as if it is your first" he steps away when he saw the glazed conflict I must demonstrate. It must be painful to stare at me. Acknowledge me. I have so much of lies to be embarrassed by.

"I am born of scarcity Your Grace, not everyone has a life of blessing"

"Or a curse?

Or curse.

He was mine. Ours.

He was our curse.

He veered to stare ahead at the unseen horizon. Defined, lean but muscular in the suit- he fills them with his arrogant perfection.

"It's said that mothers discipline their kids with my tale" a dimple emerged as he smiled, I lost a breath at his elegance, but my heart staggered at his words, it sought to console with this man. The impression of such emotion is nauseous so I let my lips be sealed "You think I am cursed because I refused to have my greens in breakfast?"

I don't answer.

"Did your guardian borrow the story?" he blithers. nibbling on the inside of my lower lip I reel from revealing that he was bigger a monster in fiction than what he is illusioned in where I come from. I wouldn't tell him that,

For one- I am in love with my head.

and Two- it's rude.

After a prolonged silence I say-

"No"

His shoulder slags in slight, he sighed. Stonily.

"Then why are you scared of me?"

I yelp in conscience at the straight confrontation. For a potential answer, I shuffle on my feet and declare-

"I am not scared of you"

He is grim when he tilts, not an inch of him seems to believe me. Why would he? My heart withers like a leaf in autumn when I see him.

"I am not the one who you should be scared of" he advised, the glow from the cabin casts life in his visage and I am lost on him and his words. I am counting reasons to trust him. I find none. but I also can't find an incentive as to why I shouldn't.

Could it be that he is misunderstood?

Or am I swindling my innocence to a predator.

"Why do they want me?" my voice trembled and he attained, he has answers. He knows things that I don't. Except me, he doesn't know me.

He must not know me.

"Gifts are morphed into a weapon, ally or foe. The one who has it gets the leverage"

It.

Not him. Not her. An it.

I am an it in their scheme.

"What if I wish to do nothing?"

There is no thought behind it, he knows things. Things i don't.

"Better in grave than available"

Learning is what I am, he teaches and indicates like it wasn't my life he spoke of.

It.

I am an it.

I remind.

But why mentor me himself? Does he plan to expend me as bait? How does he know that I had a girl spying on me? Or what does he know of the man who killed her? My mind is a repository with trivially splayed commotions. So I try to change that-

"Who was the man? Do you happen to know him? How did you know that he would be there?" I am mumbling and sizzling with apprehension while he regards me with light eyes. Entertained "What is funny, your grace?"

Grace

Indeed.

He dislikes being addressed such- so be it.

My displeasure seems to touch his sense and fall, boasting his arrogant aura drastically.

"Took you long to ask" he satires. I didn't laugh.

"So yes, are you going to answer them?"

"No"

I want to crack his skull and inspect his psyche. it wouldn't startle me if I see it made of iron and ice.

"Why are you on this ship? I assume I saw some of your friends too. Is this not -

He is not my Prince. And the manner I have begun to speak is blurring the imposter in me.

He presides with a narrow stare and I swallow. I gulp in the letters bitterly with a smile.

"You must have theories" I hear him say, my smile slips when he looks away- the breaths of river flutters his dark strands.

"Pardon?"

I should have gambled tonight as well.

"With that small head, you are always thinking Tommy. Didn't you draw out a conclusion for my presence?"

It must have shown in my pale features that I, surprisingly hadn't. He alarmingly began to unravel.

"It's safe here" his eyes dart up- scanning the course in second. they are- patient and composed. It envious. but horrifically, it's the embarrassment that limps me when with him, it's the constant worry of making a slip or mistake that makes me shy.

I should be terrified.

But Instead i am shy.

My wits have decomposed into a blotch. And I have started to attend to my pathetic heart as I realize what he meant. The Midnight Pearl would be the initial target if it gets swarmed by danger. If there ever is an invasion. These ships have no row, they work on the different leases of suction. Slowing at certain miles then raging for a few. There is a large bell that chimes once for stop and twice for inertia. and now-

I hear it thrice.

"What is that?" I grab his arm as the ship shake with tremors, something ticks beneath my feet. Crew, patrollers and the voyagers from under pools in, the movement vibrates through my nerves. we are not noticed in the corner and elevated platform as the shrill of beautiful melody distracts them all. It's like the ecstasy of sirens song- and before we know- the body of the cruise is plunging down. the water splits and rises on either side.

The crew is laughing, grinning and cheering at the morphication while the students and aspirants witness this divinity with an awestruck muscle.

My stomach flips and the person I am holding lets to be held. I am dizzy as the gravity around us seem to dispers. Water rises on either side in a crystal blue glow until it wraps the ship in circle.

we are in a tunnel under the water.

And the water is the tunnel.

Like an invisible layer, it sluggishly spins around the cruises sail. I look at the arm I was digging my nails in, it baths in faint blue. The hue from river that has come alive-

I remove my hand and look behind him, the edge I was incidentally dangling from was now concealed by a wall of mist. It is light. It is radiant. It is...unreal. Everything and everyone around us erupts in celebration- and I know, I know why they had been excited to be here.

This wasn't a common carrier.

We were concealed from the world above, cocooned in the camp of safety. In the protection of the military.

"It's beautiful," I tell myself. I forget him, of everything that I am too. and I don't ask questions.

Because I learned.

A ventims mastery is never to be questioned.

"You can touch it"

My steps are brisk- but I listen to him in obedience- staring deeper and deeper into its form. I rest my palm.

It ripples, rings after rings. Three of them. They rise, play and disappear. My hand is not wet- a flimsy seam seems to separate it from me. I press further- and it breaches just for me to let my hands reach.

The river is quiet. It is sleeping. It honours the night.

My heart warms at the sensation, then it doesn't stop. Something changes, it's a change in far- far time. The water turns black, vines similar to the spill of ink slither across my arm and it's all a flash.

It's thunder, it's bolt. Its disaster.

I hear cries, I see death. A boy screams to me for help- wet in the deck, his jaw unhinged. I see Dorin's iris flame in orange as he fights. so much scream and I would too. but I am suffocating in the midst of chaos as if it's yelling at me to return.

Return into time I belong.

This is not present.

I retreat to run. run away- hide, wake up. Something slashes through the water- it's bright, it's hot and it's coming my way. I close my eyes at the junction when I see someone shield me from it, I hear a heart sleep. it wasn't mine.

A small green bow in hair.

Castle.

I wake from it gasping, I hear someone command me. It's furious, it's demanding. I stood there as the Ezdan shakes me into a reality.

"Breath" his eyes are contentiously determined and he is examining me. I do as he says, I breathe. I try to find my voice and instead I wheeze. "Breath" he ordered again.

A minute is disposed of in my wellness before he is up on my nose,

"What happened?"

I don't know why I say it- but I look around to see my friends, I see a nearing shift of time. I hear the clock in my head. And somehow in the frenzy, I trust this man in front of me.

"The ship is fated for a doom"

I am...gearing up for next chapter. This one is like the longest one so fast in CoC. Any guess what might happen next? :)

A/n unedited.