Sparkly

Dust

Darius knelt in front of the grave of his mother, who had died when Darius was young. Darius' father had never told him how, only that she was too weak to bear another child.

"Someday I will return to dust as well. I wonder, what kind of legacy will I leave behind at that time?" Darius said, examining the dark sword in his hand and possibilities it offered.

"Master Darius, your room is ready for you." a maid said, bowing.

Without a word, he followed her, even though he knew the way.

This was the manor he'd grown up in. He'd barely gotten a chance to say goodbye to Kylis before he was called back here. And once he'd arrived he was told his father was busy and would see Darius when he had time.

The manor was the claustrophobic place Darius remembered, wood paneled walls lining narrow hallways, the smell of dust even where the maids had cleaned thoroughly.

He entered his childhood room and closed the heavy, dark wood door behind him, then leaned against it with a breath that came out slightly shaky.

He'd barely seen his room at this time of day even when he'd lived here. He had been expected to train until it was nearly dark, every single day. All for the purpose of getting this weapon he held.

He carefully put the sword down at the edge of the room, careful not to let the point touch the polished wood. He knew it would cut through the floor like it wasn't there.

Darius could tell from the air in the room that the windows had been open until right before he'd walked in here. He could see that the sheets were newly changed, free from the quickly accumulating dust of an old house.

There had been no maids in the school dorms. The relatively new buildings had barely needed any maintenance and the students were required to clean up their living spaces themselves.

Darius sighed, taking off his jacket and sitting on the bed as he tossed it across the room to land over the chair.

The bed was soft and deep, endlessly absorbent like the sleep he'd sunk into after a long day of sword practice, riding, command, history, or any of what seemed like a thousand other subjects.

Darius' nightmares were dark and terrifying, but in those days he was usually too tired to dream.

Darius lay on the bed and tried to sink into that familiar sleep, but his mind was writhing. He had to find a way out of this life his father had planned for him.

He couldn't keep going down this narrow path, he couldn't let himself be controlled like a puppet from one of those shows he'd seen once when he was a child. Not for the rest of his life.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he barked.

It was a maid.

"Your father wishes to see you." she said.

He noticed something in her hand- a phone. Technology was discouraged in this household, as Darius' father said having it around would distract him from his studies. He'd been taught enough about it to use it, but he'd never had a phone or a computer.

The maid noticed him noticing the phone and discreetly tucked it in her pocket as she backed away. Then she paused and reconsidered him.

"I feel I should tell you about some viral news, so you don't appear ignorant before anyone, young Master. There's been quite a stir- a young boy transformed into some kind of goddess and killed a leviathan."

Without another word, she bowed again and backed out of the room, shutting the door.

Darius pulled his jacket back on and headed to see his father, not sure what to make of the vague, absurd sounding news. If it was real, the goddess was just another powerful being- he hoped he'd never have to face it in battle. Destroying a leviathan was a feat of legend.

Darius wanted to get a phone at some point- not to use it much, just to be up to date on what was going on in the world.

After passing through the twists and turns of the mansion that would get any stranger instantly lost, Darius pushed open the large door of his father's study.

It was the same as ever, a spacious carpeted room lined with tall bookshelves. The antique desk at the center, with a plush armchair.

His father's blonde and grey head, tilted down as he considered some papers on the desk in front of him.

"Ah, Darius." his father said, looking up to pin his son with sharp grey eyes that stood out from a face faintly lined with harsh creases.

"Our country is fighting the traitorous Prillouians. You must defend our country on the battlefield. I've prepared a helicopter for you. You will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. You are dismissed."

Darius stood there, wanting to be stunned but only too familiar with his father's ways.

No word on why they were fighting this war. No word on why it was Darius' job to fight in a war. And what kind of magic or technology did his enemy have? Was Darius just going to die out there?

"Darius?" his father said, raising an eyebrow at him, still standing there.

"Sir." Darius said, and left the room.

He headed straight back to his room.

He picked up the sword, embracing the hatred in it, and transformed into Amber.

As he stepped onto the windowsill, he sensed someone in the open door behind him. He turned to see one of the maids.

"That sword... Darius?" she guessed.

It was just a wild guess. But Darius decided to confirm it- he didn't intend to return here anyway.

"Tell my father I'm not going to be his puppet. Not now, and not ever again." he said, wincing at the sound of his voice.

Even as being in this form hurt him, he didn't feel like holding back anymore. Life was pain. Why not choose a pain that might free him from the path he'd walked all this time?

He'd never been happy before.

Darius felt the anger inside him take the form of a tight smile.

It was time to try something different with life.

He jumped out the window, the bright green of the grounds surging toward him before he shot up into the sky, the rapid rising feeling convincing him that he'd made the right choice in leaving his entire life behind.

"I'll never see Kylis or anyone from school again, but then, on that path, was I really going to survive long enough to? I've never see Father again. I'll never visit Mother's grave again. But what's the worth in rolling in the dust of the past when there's..."

Darius realized that his path through the sky, upward and forward, had carried him above the clouds. He could see flashes of the bright countryside, faded with distance, through patches of cloud.

He relaxed, relying on his power to keep him in the sky.

"I wonder what the limits of this power are?" he wondered, the miserable feeling of the strange body he was in contrasting with the euphoria of being in the sky.

He told the power to make him invisible. He told the power to hold his sword for him, even though it had seemed as light as a feather as soon as he'd transformed.

He put a hand in front of his face, but he really was invisible, and the Cursed Weapon as well.

He closed his eyes, laughing, and recklessly let himself sink into sleep.