Seven Infinities Away From Home

FIFTEEN

The rising of the morning sun called in the Day of the Souls, whatever that meant. Hazel pushed herself up, checking her bandages as she did each morning to make sure they were safe. Surprisingly, her fall from the day before didn't weaken the bandages, which was a relief. Having to get them replaced so soon would mean a chance of Siyan finding out what she'd seen the day before.

Hazel joined Nedoza in the adjacent room as they desperately searched for a gown that would fit.

"You're so small, nothing is going to fit!" Nedoza complained as she flipped around a sleeve falling off Hazel's shoulder.

"I'm taller than average on Earth," Hazel muttered.

"Well, you're not here. We'll just need to pin some things and you'll be all set. I can't have you going to the ballroom wearing what you've been."
Hazel grumbled. She'd never been one for dresses, but the red and black of the gown Nedoza pulled out next caught her eye.

"Can I wear that one?"

Nedoza looked taken aback.

"You sure? I was just moving it out of the way," she said with a hesitant smile.

"I like the colors, and it looks about the right size," Hazel explained, "do you not want me to wear it?"

The woman frowned, but eventually gave in.

"It's just strange thinking that you're wearing my old one. I last wore it during a dance with Mother, and haven't touched it since."

Hazel gave a sympathetic nod and held the dress carefully in her arms.

"Then I'll take extra special care of it today," she said, placing a hand over her heart.

As she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, Hazel could hardly believe the girl in her reflection was her. This Hazel's face was decorated with makeup imitating Nedoza's tattoos, though much more simple in design.She wore a beautiful black gown whose top puffed out loosely and tucked in nicely at the waist by a wide red ribbon which fell down to her knees. The glittery skirt of the dress just barely touched the floor, completely obscuring her feet. For the first time since she'd left Earth, she truly believed she was beautiful.

Nedoza wore a tight-fitting dress of red with gold patterns which accentuated her gentle curves. Her long black hair was done up in a curved bun secured by a bejeweled net. She ran her hand along her tattoos with a gentle smile.

"I hate the Day of the Souls," she said, "though it's nice to dress up like this."

"Why do you hate it?" Hazel asked, turning to her friend.

"It's basically worshipping the Jalaiko Empire and the Gevastian Souls. Sure, they're the reason my people are still around, but they're not exactly the greatest people around."

Hazel gave a confused expression.

"Ah, right. You haven't heard of it, have you?"

"I mean..."

Her mind drifted away to the day before.

Jalaiko drove me out, the woman had said.

"Sort of," Hazel said.

"Well, do you know why the Gyontanik people, like me, are so different from our Nafen brothers, like Dymo?"

Hazel shook her head.

"He said something about not being Altered, but that's all I really remember."

"Alteration is what separates us Gyontans from the Nafen. We can take our souls and drive their energy outwards," Nedoza said, forming a small golden sphere in her hand, "but they cannot. The Jalaiko Empire gave us the Verita pathway of the soul in exchange for our neutrality in their expansion, so we can take memories and turn them into objects. We can extract memories from anything we touch with enough training. But the Unaltered cannot. Their souls are static."