Shards of Flame

Chapter 1: Esmerella

The alarm blares out, loud and clear, waking up everyone in a ten-mile radius, as is its purpose. I grumble, pulling my pillow over my head, a futile attempt at blocking out the noise. After waiting a few seconds and the noise not miraculously disappearing, I give in and swing my legs out of my bed, freezing air swirling around them, a stark contrast to the warmth of my bed. Shivering, I walk gingerly across the stone floor, the smooth surface numbing my feet. My eyes still struggling to open, I clumsily push open my bedroom door and I'm met by another blast of bitingly cold air.

More awake now (the threat of frostbite does that to you) I walk through to our tiny kitchen, no bigger than a broom closet would be at the Ember Palace. Mother is cooking something, probably Baktot, the only thing that even grows this far north in the country. Sometimes I long to live in the heat of sections further south, like the inferno that is the Ember Ranges, or the tepid, gentle warmth of the Meadow, where there are trees piled high with green and yellow fruits. But alas here I am, stuck in the coldest place of all, the Glass Plains, where nothing grows but one singular plant that's as tough as the people that live here. The Plains are large, sweeping expanses of ice and snow, marred only by the occasional gathering party, bundled so thickly in scarves and sweaters that they look like massive pincushions of white and grey. Huge mountains of packed ice needle holes in the clouds, their peaks invisible through yet another layer of white. Klay says that the landscape is beautiful, with all crystal water and sharp lines that fade into soft curves against the pale blue sky. Though, he would say that, he's the type of person who always has a sketchbook with him, someone who takes walks for pleasure and draws the land surrounding us. He showed me some once and they all looked the same to me, just white pencil on white paper. Well, only white if he can afford it. The paper we get normally, if at all, is more yellow than white, bumps causing pencil lines to go squiggly and a bit wonky. The paper elsewhere is white. Pure white. Paler than our skin, which has a worrying lack of pigment, blue veins shining clearly through it, like water through the fissure of a cracking lake. Other than Baktot, we Glass People are mostly known for our distinctive features. Our eyes are the same colour as the sky, pale blue, the same colour as the leaves of a Baktot plant. Everything about us is pale, from our skin to our lips, to our eyes. Except for our hair. You would think that our hair would be like the rest of us, colourless, dull, utterly devoid of character but surprise! It isn't. It's almost as though our hair leached all the colour from the rest of our bodies and kept all of it for itself. It does somewhat keep in with the theme of blue but it is undoubtedly our most identifiable feature. Our hair is teal. I've heard it be compared to the ocean, a peacock's feathers, and once, quite notably, the colour of a royal blue cloak that has been washed one too many times.

So, the overall look of the citizens is the defining thing that differs from place to place. The people of the three sections all have very different features. The Meadowers for example have blonde hair the colour of the sun, forest green eyes, and smiles that could light up the world. They're beautiful, no doubt about it, but by far the most gorgeous citizens of Ailech are the Embers. Their skin is the same colour as caramel and looks as silky as it too. Their glossy chocolate brown hair sweeps down past their shoulders, framing their faces making them look like dolls. They swan elegantly around their city of flames, effortlessly graceful as the infernos tickle their skin, causing blazes to dance in their dark eyes. They are perfect, poised, and potentially deadly. Fire flicks from their fingertips, flitting through the air like ballet dancers on a stage. Sparks smoulder in their eyes, red and orange glowing through the black, like coals on a fire.

All Embers are inherently irresistible, it's part of their lineage. It doesn't mean anything though. If anyone from a lower section is caught with an Ember, they'll be publicly executed. Not the Ember, just the lower class citizen, the peasant if you will. The last execution was several years ago. A Meadower was caught in a... compromising position... with a high standing Ember. The execution was televised, shown in the square, a fancy word for what is just a large patch of ice with some screens surrounding it. These screens are massive, so large we could see every tear that streaked through the grime on the meadower's cheeks as she screamed for anyone to help, but no one would dare defy the ruling of the Ember Court. So she thrashed and fought. To be fair, she was fiercer than I expected, the Meadowers are known for being sweet and kind people. I guess not. My mother covered my eyes when the meadower was pushed to kneel in front of the cameras, looking up as the executioner pulled his gun out... my dad covered my ears.