Rhea: Fire of the Last Sea Kingdom

Fire

What if I hurt someone? What if I burn one of my sisters?  

Rhea's thoughts rushed into her, murmuring like the brook from her forest home. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, but her heartbeat rose wildly in her chest. Would it work? Would it work? And what if it did? There were so many people around her.

Here in the mountain fortress, on the eastern side, where all the orphans lived and learned the craft from their elders, the Great Hall of the Stellaria loomed, as ancient as time itself. It welcomed hundreds of the orphaned girls into its depths, all waiting for Rhea to demonstrate her power today. What if it works?

With her eyes closed, she imagined the little garden near her home, the forest near the south wall of the Stellarian border. She could stay there for hours, reading the old books Lady Nyallostos lent her, enchanting her little garden to grow more wildly, or climb the blackboughs with Quinn all day long. She missed Quinn especially now, with all the pressure rising in the room, the sound of laughing girls young and old. She opened her eyes slowly.

So many girls were watching her, waiting for her to act. She just wanted to be home, or with Quinn... Even Tava and Celesa would make her happy now. She would sneak away with them if she could, but she promised Lady Nyallostos.

Her hands, cold and clammy, were the exact opposite of what she would need. She wiped them on her tunic, hoping her nervousness would leave her. 

The first section of the Great Hall was filled with her classmates and friends, the youngest sitting on the ground, huddled together cross-legged and waiting. The eldest women of the holy order stood in the back row, dressed in their dark cloaks, looking as respectable as they could. The iron circlets above held unlit candles, marking the transition of light to the dark ceiling above. 

Rhea stood in front of them, at the mouth of a large semi-circle, atop a raised stage where craft-bearers demonstrated their abilities.  Hundreds of empty seats flanked each side of the gathering, but the center section was full of her fellow sisters.

At least the whole Stellaria is not here to watch me fail. Where's Quinn?  

She looked for her, hoping to see her face smiling,  bursting through the doors of the Great Hall with all the bravery that Rhea wished she could muster. She told me she would be here. 

Everyone can see me, she thought. Everyone is looking. She's probably sneaking to the East Tower again while I'm right here, failing my first bearing.

She brushed her dark hair back with her fingers before looking around. The Sisterhood was the only family she had, yet she never wanted more to be alone.

Her teachers, the craft-bearers, walked the perimeter, lighting candles and whispering incantations to the goddess, Niyalsay. A few enchanted the walls to warm the cold night.

"Stand up straight," whispered Lady Nyallostos, her favorite teacher.  She smiled at Rhea softly. "Really, you will do just fine."

"We are almost ready," said Lady Arynnel, swinging an infant orphan in her arms. A small brigade of the youngest orphans crowded around her feet. She motioned her hand toward the ceiling. "We just need more light." She turned her head to the little ones. "Watch Lady Nyallostos."

Lady Nyallostos, with but a wave, lit the farthest candles. Several stories above the girls, sparked swirled around the blackened wicks. Then, another set of sparks, and then another. All candles took flame, resembling distant stars burning in the sky above. Her enchantments were always so precise.

I could never do that, thought Rhea. But if my light-stoneworks, then I may never have to.

The two orphans nearest Rhea, one six years old, and one eight, watched, wide-eyed.