Eight Reasons to Rebel

Chapter 2- We are One or we are Nothing

Content warning- contains themes of death and poverty and mental illness such as depression and grief

CHAPTER TWO

Jett

Loneliness was something I had become accustomed to. It followed me around as I walked the dark cobbled streets and played tag running from imaginary monsters. But it only really sank deep when I had time to think; like on those long nights sat on the roof staring at the stars, trying to imagine what my father would say to me if he was still here, running conversations through my head that I knew could never happen. I had never felt such pain, the pain of knowing that he would never breathe beside me again. He would never laugh at my bad jokes nor ruffle my hair when I felt down. It was knowing that I had not only lost my father but my best friend, my brother. Who's face was now in ashes instead of beside mine. It was then that I felt most truly alone.

At first, it was like the air had been taken from my lungs and every moment I struggled to breathe, I couldn't help thinking what if things had been different; if it had been me instead of him. I reached for the one thing that my elder brother left me with, his power. It was strange at first, shadows followed me down the hall, seeming to watch me as I lost control; snuffing out candles within my quiet rage and coating everything with darkness. A lot of my memory from that time has faded, but the agony I felt never left me. It always lingers in the back of my mind, making me feel cold and empty. It was like a piece of me had been snuffed out too. My brother had once been the Prince of shadow. Son of Lilith the queen of this kingdom but in his absence the power made me it's new home. The new Prince of Nyx.
That meant I had to get to know the queen as my mother, our relationship was strained as it was clear that I was not the son she wanted as her heir. She drank away her sorrows in the great dining hall of the palace, hidden away from the world. The dining hall used to be a place of great banquettes and feasts but now it remained a hall of lost memories. They clung on the walls like dark stains blocking any glimpse of hope.
When she would return from her imprisonment of grief, we would argue about pointless things, tears staining her cheeks as she realised her son, my brother, was gone and was never coming back. Coltan's father had also left, his son was the only reason he had stayed. I knew that I meant nothing to him. Why would I when my mother had deceived him in such a way, and I was only proof of her trickery. His face had always been plastered with that same stern look, there was a always a coldness in his eyes as if he was just the shell of a man he might have been. It was only at the funeral that he let his emotions show and allowed a single tear to crawl down his face. But when I caught his eye, his expression returned to that burning hatred that haunted me. He left shortly after. He didn't say goodbye.

It was just the two of us, the Queen and I, alone in an empty castle, full of shadows and empty spaces, crippled from the war and desperation trying to crawl out of the deep cavern in which we seemed to have fallen. But as time went on we learned to cover the cracks and although the scars always lay deep within, we masked our pain and were forced to move on without him, without both of them. It has been two years now and although the loneliness never truly faded, I learnt to focus on my power until I could master the art of bending and twisting the shadows and coating a room in a thick cloud of black. The darkness soothed me and I often spent hours in a hidden nook in the castle sketching with thick charcoal, marking my creations on paper. The shadows wrapped around me cloaking my existence from the ever-hungry rats that scurried aimlessly around the palace.

I'm hidden up in the attic again today, head resting against a splintered window frame, black charcoal smudged on my skin. It was one my favourite places, one of the only places that I felt safe. The slanted window, although covered in dust and cobwebs showcased a perfect portrait of Nyx, the winding path that ran down to the streets, the rows of smudged houses branching across the horizon and the crumbling church on the hill, I could see the dots of gravestones silhouetted around it. As if the dead had found the perfect seat to watch the living.
My eyes wandered back to my sketch, each rushed mark seemed lost on its own but together the chaotic stains started to form a creature: its sorrowful gaze locked on mine, it reminded me of a hopeless and hateful monster, stranded in a blank world of nothingness, it reminded me of her.
I shut the book, my fingers tracing over my father's name that was carved into the spine.
I froze for a moment, remembering . . . A trapped image of my father walked to the forefront of mind, the rough wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the yellow in his teeth, the calluses on his hands from working in the Gardens for hours , there were all the things that reminded me of home and I felt myself smile at the memory.
"Jett '' Lilith's voice echoed up the dark stairwell.
She almost always called me through the shadows, now that I can understand them.
I silently got up and slowly walked down the twisted stairs, wishing that I could travel through the dark portals like she did, but I knew my magic wasn't as advanced as that yet. She stood primly by the window, her long black dress trailing on the dark floorboards, her hair was pulled
back in a tight bun, as usual, it made her face look strained, highlighting her sharp, angular features. I hated the way her jawline replicated mine, and her nose was just as sharp. Now that I knew who I was to her, it's hard to believe that I didn't know it sooner.
As I walked through the door, she spun around and crossed her long pale arms, a cold expression on her face "Finally! There you are. Look what came in the post." Before I could reply, she strode toward me, holding out a pale white envelope. She nodded, and I reluctantly took it from her outstretched palm, "What's this ?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer from the seal, it had the symbol of Edrea plastered into the rich black wax. From first glance it looked like a wheel with eight pointed spokes sticking out from the main ring. Four of the spokes on the opposite ends were taller symbolising that they were the core elements, the other four were sharper and resembled shapes similar to daggers. On closer inspection, right in the middle sits a upright infinity which was sometimes drawn as a snake on some Edrian flags. Every kingdom depicted the flag in their own way but the most popular was the colourful Oryan flag where each spoke was represented by a colour that was assigned to each element and the ring was painted in a golden sheen. It was usually accompanied with the hypocritical slogan "We Are One, Or We Are Nothing." I opened the letter.