.
✧Pyrrhus✧
My hands are empty when I wake, so I resolve to live up to my name. Unable to shake loose a star, I become one, blazing through the midnight sky, scorching my path home.
Kyadel can't reach me now.
I face it as I plummet, slicing through the clouds, toward the home I was unduly ripped from years ago. Lapis-tinted windows flash with gold, and I laugh at the thought of Servile watching me now from his tinkling webs, watching me leave him: happy and whole.
Melt my crown. I'll fashion myself one of starlight.
The Shining One has no idea what it is to glow.
I am a firebird. My arms are wings, my fingers: feathers. Flapping, I wave goodbye to Servile, to Kyadel with its gleaming spires. Goodbye to my siblings who never were.
Goodbye, Izem. Goodbye, Yol. Goodbye, Sabriya, Taylan, Avė, Vere, Helio, Ilyas, Ankit, Jessamine-
"Pyrrhus."
Lene.
Flaxen hair waves like a flag, and not one of Pyrrhi. She doesn't sleep in her veil.
"Pyrrhus," she repeats, craning to reach me. To reach what's mine.
White rocks and wildflowers, green leaves and the red pulp of gutted fruits. A faceless girl steals my crown-
I snatch my hand away.
And fall.
✧
The noose wraps around my ankle, not my neck. For a moment, I dangle amidst a sea of silks, suspended by a string of false stars, watching my siblings upside down as they're lowered gently to the floor.
"My apologies, Pyrrhus. My one leg must be coming loose."
Eight legs. Twelve children. And I just happen to hitch a solitary ride on the unstable one.
"And my body will come loose from my leg if you do not release me."
"That may be a poor choice of words," tuts Servile, dropping the line so I fall until he catches me -at the last possible moment- and deposits me within the ranks of my siblings.
Across the swell, Lene catches my eye.
"Regardless, I am sorry for the abrupt, early waking."
'Pyrrhus', she mouths, and I nod, ready for the latest intelligence. 'Twenty-five fifty-four is-'
Out of reach.
Out of sight, blocked from view by the reflective brass of Servile's belly. He is more than master of Kyadel. Servile is warden of hopes and dreams.
The weaver twirls to face us, suspended by a single web. "Given a choice, I would have left you all to your slumber a little longer."
Turn.
Lene continues, 'Unlit-'
Turn. My own reflection in Servile's belly. My own expression, wiped clean. Butterflies fill my stomach, but I remain still. I remain sane.
'Valid because-'
"But the Shining One-"
'Oh, wuh,' Lene exclaims.
What? I reply with a frown to match my intended tone, but it reaches only Servile, who expects nothing less.
"But if I had allowed you a little more sleep, I would have lost the opportunity to say goodbye to you."
YOU ARE READING
Hide Your Fires
FantasyNations crumble when stars fall. ✧✧✧ PYRRHUS is the son of a tyrant and a captive of Kyadel, the Shining One's palace in the sky. To earn his freedom, he must compete against eleven fellow prisoners, many of whom possess kernels of the Shining One's...
