Hera Giala woke up tired. She checked her reflection in the mirror before the maid, Mira, rushed her off to the bath. She saw the deep bags under her eyes. Those aren't bags, she thought. Those are suitcases. She grimaced as she felt the hot water run off her fatigued body. It was something Lily, from her book, would say. It reminded Hera of her dream, which she abruptly pushed out of mind. The ritual would go smoothly, as everyone else's did. She breathed in, then out, turning off the tap and stepping out of the shower. It was cold without the hot water and steam. Hera shivered, wrapping her towel around her and stepping into her underclothes. She sighed, wrapped her hair up in the towel the way her mum had shown her when she was little, then walked into her bedroom.
Hera made a little oomph sound as Mira pulled the ribbons at the back of the dress tight. They were so tight they bit into her skin and she could hardly breathe. "Mira," she gasped. "Too... tight!" The ribbons were loosened marginally. At least Hera could breathe now. Mira stepped back, and Hera took a look at herself in the mirror. The pale blue fabric clung to her, but loosened down the bottom, falling gracefully down to her ankles. The could feel the fabric was silk. She tied the ribbons at her waist, and pushed her glasses up her nose. She couldn't deny it. She looked beautiful.
Her silver heels clicked on the hall floor, making almost a tune as she walked. Hera couldn't hum along to it like she usually would. She tried to focus on getting to the hall where she would undergo Kolawi, the protection ritual. She shivered. The dress she was wearing had only spaghetti straps, and the halls of the castle felt cold. It was a still cold, one that ran shivers up and down Hera's spine. Hera breathed in. Hera breathed out. She focused on doing these things.
And then she was there. Facing the big wooden doors that were elegantly hand-painted with gold lettering. The Grand Hall. She would have snickered. It was so classic of a castle. Hera placed her hands on the handles, long, black, curved iron carved with the Giala family symbol - an impressively fancy G. The handles were so cold she wondered whether her hands would stick to the handles, like the kids' tongues did in the movies. The thought was weird. It was vague, and it felt so fragile it felt as though it would blow away when she breathed out. When she tried to hold on to it, it fell through her hands like sand. All her thoughts were. She assumed it was nerves. She was wrong.
Hera knew these handles were hard to turn, so she yanked them as hard as she could, pulling them towards her. She stepped back to let them swing open, the wind of the force of them passing pushing back one of the strands of hair hanging in her eyes. She brushed it back swiftly, trying not to remeber the dream she'd had not so long ago. She could no longer hear the clicking of her heels as she walked towards the Magic Fountain, trying not to look at the crowd. The floor here was still stone like in the hallway, and it was dead quiet. Her shoes just made no noise. This thought was also fragile, and blew away quickly.
She could make out the individual strands of magic in the water of the Fountain when she heard the scream.
It was shrill and blood-curdling.
It made Hera want to scream herself.
Which she did, when she looked up.
It was a Conjured.
In the hall.
Looking at her.
~~~~~
The whole crowd was screaming then. Shrill shrieks as they pushed through to get to the wooden doors she had just come through. The noise pounded through her head and made her eyes throb. Hera closed her mouth when she realised she was still screaming, unsure what to do. There were now three Conjured. Why were they here? How did they get in? She saw a small kid nearly trampled by the crowd, picked up by his mother, who was also crying out for help and tears were streaming down her cheeks. A woman fell to the ground, scrambled back up, kept going. There was a wave of people, so many people, and then they were all screaming and pushing and shoving to get to the doors.
The Conjured were flying around, and Hera followed them with her eyes. She moaned in horror and shock when she saw they were heading for her. One of their sunken in eyes locked on to her's, and it hollered. It sounded like it was puking savagely. It swooped towards her, and she moved, her feet no longer locked in place. The other two flew towards her parents as she ducked and dodged. "Mum!" She shrieked when her mother got lifted into the air. She dropped to the ground from the Conjured's hand and hit the stone floor with a sick crack. "No!" But Hera knew it was no good. Her mum was dead, and her dad was also falling to the ground. This time she shut her eyes momentarily so she didn't have to see her parents' crumpled bodies, twisted awkwardly.
The Conjured picked them up and went out of a window into the moonlight. Hera was horrified. Why did they do her ceremony at night. She wished she hadn't asked for it to be later so she had time to prepare, mentally and physically. Maybe then her parents would still be alive. She whimpered. "No," she said again.
The third and last Conjured made that puking noise again, coming straight for her. She was standing in front of a window, the moonlight flooding in and shining on the Conjured, making it seem even more scary and evil. It's blue eyes glimmered, it's heart pulsing in it's chest. It was going to knock her out of the window. Just then, she felt hands grab her around the waist and haul her out. She felt air rushing past her, falling, but it was only quick. Then she saw the wall coming in and yelped as she smacked into it.
"Grab it!" A female voice yelled. She struggled, grasped the windowsill and felt the girl's hands relax and release. Hera turned to the new girl. She had never seen her before. She had a stocky build, brown hair with highlights, and deep brown, caring eyes. Hera trusted her immediately. "May," the girl said. "Now get back inside before we fall." She had an accent Hera couldn't quite pick out. Speechless, she dragged herself inside, landing in a heap on the ground, stunned. May helped her back up.
"C'mon, Hera, we should go." May said to her. Hera almost asked how she knew her name, then realised, duh, she was why May was in the castle. She cried out when she realised she had put everyone in danger. May put a comforting hand on her shoulder, gesturing on. "Yep." Hera nodded. "Let's go." She led the way out of the hall. "A girl named 'Iv' is waiting for us. I think it's Iv?" May said as she trailed after Hera. Hera laughed. "It's Is. Her name's Isabelle, but we all call her Is. She's my best friend." And just as Hera finished her sentence, there Is was. Waiting for her. They cried out as they saw each other, rushing to hug each other.
"Is," Hera whispered, using her little bit of magic that came with being a Giala to transfer her newfound information to Isabelle. She felt her best friend nod, and they broke apart, looking at May. May and Is nodded at each other.
"We have to go to -" May started. "My room." Hera interrupted. "Trust me, it's the safest place ever, Mum and Dad made sure." Her voice broke at the thought of her parents, who she would never see again. She shook it off. "Let's go there." And so they did.
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Dull Colours [UNEDITED]
FantasyHera Giala never asked for this. She never asked to be born into a kindom of war, let alone a kingdom at war with evil spirits the inhabitants of Giala call the Conjured. She also never asked to be the heir of it. But, when the ritual that would pro...