Nocturne

I

Any normal person might have marvelled to step into a room that was lit entirely by starlight, but the hairs rose on the back of my neck and goosebumps prickled as the door closed behind me. The air didn't stir with the movement. Silver light reflected onto the grey stone beneath my feet as I moved into the room. My skirts flowed with each step as if caught upon a wind that could not touch my skin. Above my head, I knew there was a large dome with ornate, golden scrollwork to keep the glass in place; the room basked in the beauty of the constellations.

Underneath my skin a feeling stirred, an itch, a desire, to harness the thick weight that hung in the room. It was more oppressive than inky-black darkness, than suffocating heat, as it is the last true essence of pure, untarnished power. The instinct born from generations hunted, persecuted, unavenged, stirred to claim it.

I refused to look around, to search for the source my fingers flexed to touch, to grant them the view of my discomfort. This was my legacy, my birthright, and the time had come that I was allowed to step into it instead of being hidden in the shadows.

I am the first daughter to have been born to Nocturne in three-hundred-and-seventy-one years. Sorcery is woven into every cell of my body. Had they known I existed, they would have attempted to kill me. I have managed to reach twenty-five, my blood sings with potential, and now I am finally deemed ready to embrace the power that belongs to me. 

"Fascienne," my father's voice fills the room.

Once again, I do not turn my head. I do not search. It would be a pointless endeavour. I would not be able to see him with my sight.

"Father," I reply, trying to keep my voice as devoid of emotion as his had been. Despite this being one of the most important days of my life thus far.

I can almost feel the exasperated sigh.

The air begins to hum as I take a step forward. I am in the heart of Nocturne, but I am currently its adversary. There are layers upon layers of protection upon this room, and I am unable to see what truly lies beneath the glamour.

I have no doubt my father is watching me, as are my four younger brothers who have all been privy to this room since they were children. They were not guarded. They were not girls.

They went through this moment when they were young, before their minds had raised barriers, and were open to the possibility of something greater. It is far easier for a child to open their mind to the arcane.

I take a deep breath as I close my eyes. Sight is my enemy. I need to have a perception of the room without using corporeal senses. I allow my fingers to flex once again.

The first glimmer I notice is the smell. I catch traces of a deep, musty smell of age; of leather and vellum. As if the notes are dancing through the air, the wisps fighting my nose, the scent is gone as quickly as it is noticed. I take another breath, sinking my body into my stance, relaxing my muscles, and try to empty my mind.

My entire body begins to tingle. The same feeling once you shift after sitting upon your leg for too long and the feeling once again returns to your skin. It amplifies every single movement that I make. Each flare in my nostrils, the rise and fall of my chest, the slight part of my lips as I exhale.

"-really-" I catch the faint whisper, as if from another room. The rest of the sentence is lost underneath a weight. A crackle. Like a storm. I think it is the voice of my youngest brother, but I could not hold onto it enough to know for sure.

I want to open my eyes but I don't want to risk disappointment if all I see is the room I entered.

I take another breath. Moment by moment, degree by degree, the walls around my mind begin to crumble. I feel more aware of the space around me, of the way the openness I had stepped into had diminished. I hear the ruffle of clothing, as someone shifts their weight, and the smallest of smiles dares to flicker onto my lips.

"She's here," I hear the whisper, knowing for certain that it is Cassius, my youngest brother. I can hear the youthful excitement in his tone.

My eyelids flicker and for a moment my heart hammers in my chest. There is a dread that settles deep down into my bones. I need to open my eyes, but the weight is still there, it is stifling, and I fight the urge to close off the new world my body is discovering.

Nocturne is my home, but my mind senses the change, and it is fighting to stay onto the path it knows.

"You're safe, Fas," my father's voice comes to me once more, a kindness in his voice now that was not there before. He sounds closer, less ethereal, and I know it is because I have entered the plane where he stands. 

I allow my eyelids to flutter open. The first thing I notice are the candles. They burn on multiple surfaces, casting a soft, white glow across the room. Large books rest upon tables, open to various pages, with a script written in a language I do not instinctively recognise but something in me instantly begins to interpret the words.

"Fascienne." I turn my head to my father, finally realising I had been slowly drifting toward the book and its arcane knowledge. "In time."

Bookshelves line the curved walls, filled to the brim with leather tomes. There are doors at equal intervals, and I count seven in total, including the original one I had walked through.

Once again, I turn, and finally notice the well at the centre of the room. I take a step, pausing, waiting for my father to give a word of warning, but none are uttered. I take another step. Slowly, I make my way to the raised stone. A soft, silver light seems to pulse from the centre. My father comes to stand beside me.

"So much power in such a concentrated space made Nocturne alive. It became more than just a building for our kind to live, to practise the arts, and share our knowledge. It works itself to protect us, and this was created as a way for us to see the energy we had leaked into the stone.

The light is fading. It has dimmed each year that I have lived. Soon, Nocturne will no longer be a sanctuary. We will be discovered and hunted once again. The wolves are prowling at our gates, they pace, waiting, for the moment our armour cracks."

I knew my birth marked the change of something. Once, it was said that women held far more power for the arcane. Males not born to the knowledge struggle to understand its nature, the majority of those who learn the rules are female. My own mother, may she rest in peace, had been taught sorcery from her grandmother. She had fled to Nocturne and it was here she met my father.

I am potential.

When my father looks at me I know that is what he sees. A weapon. A saviour. That is why I was hidden. Even those beyond my immediate family do not know that I exist. To them, my mother's first pregnancy never gave them a child. She later bore four sons. She gave her life for the youngest of them. They did not learn that I was their sister until they were old enough to understand the consequences of such an existence. I was kept a secret my entire life. Confined to our quarters.

The start of my life is about to begin. I know that such a life will be filled with horrors. Death follows me, it knows that I am the reason for the next large reaping, and it croons sweet nothings in my ears. My future is destined to tear my family apart. Nocturne itself will crumble under my storm.

When I was younger, I dreamed of fighting my future. I dreamed of a world where I could right the wrongs without shedding a single drop of blood.

I am not a girl anymore. That innocence I had is dead. No man will crumble under the weight of words and promises. They will only answer me if I speak in the language they know all too well. So I will accept the power given to me, I will accept the birthright given to me by Nocturne itself, and I will use it to bring any that dare to oppose me to their knees.