successors

this was that

east bay,
337

THE STARS SHONE through the homes of the city of kings and queens—the tops of hills with rummaging streaks of greenery, royalty too deep in ivory to be stalled, gold too pure to be stolen. It wasn't morning, but it wasn't night either. Just a flash of time in between where the moon had decided to not stop anticipating the sun's rise. She was always awake this early.

       The girl looked back at the moon still unobstructed in the skies, she had always thought of it like a friend, smiling to her as the moonlight gleamed over the valley, fire drifted over her fingertips as she tried to reach for it—saying words only she could understand the meaning of. This was her ritual, her promise, a routine. She faltered trying to run over the hills where they were the only thing bare, not swelling with pubs and inns or taverns too steep—or crowds too crowded, or people that can be engulfed by her flames—only green grass and trees below with daisies and other flowers she can never name for herself. She tripped and smiled still, turning over her back as she looked at the moon idling above her.

        "Someday, I'll reach you." She smiled and closed her eyes, letting sleep take over her as she finally had a good night rest—without thinking of anything or anybody burning, severing and searing, she slept-only at these nights will she sleep like this, sound and calm, forgetting that something else would happen the next day. Of course, her maid would look for her again, and she would know where to get her. This always happened, her going outside to relieve herself of pressure and restraint. So they let her. She knew she needed this now more than ever.

        The 8 clans were always early to come to meetings, but this time she had come with. She had her hair up in curls, and her body in a dress, her mother had called upon her and told her to behave while the other clan leaders greet her along with their heirs, hoping that they would meet with each other and do as they would, claiming and forming friendships as their parents did. She let herself be free and made friends with most of them—making sure she talked to each and everyone without letting her mind run too fast or too still, just in between. Calm. Redundant. Potential. This was how she was supposed to be around everybody, fearing that her light might shine too bright and will eventually burn everybody in the room, except this boy who wore too much darkness around his body as if it were a pageant sash and he was a contender forced in this battle. She was the embodiment of light, and this boy was too clad in darkness to be someone she liked. But still, as the other children played along and off with each other, trying to avoid most of the boy's presence, she walked over to him.

        "Hi." She said as she held up her hand and introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."

       The boy looked as if he was affronted, but took in her hand. "Nice to meet you too, Pyra."

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