Standing in front of door to Fyra's rooms, Cirain hesitated. She hadn't looked back at him once, and didn't seem to hear him call her name before she walked to her chambers as if possessed. He desperately wanted to see her, tell her she didn't deserve to suffer for what she couldn't control. His hand refused to reach up and knock the door, though his heart wanted nothing more.
A voice in his head was asking him, what will you say, what will you do? He thought she had gone through much during her life on the streets, as a thief, but in light of the marks branding both of her wrists, he had no doubt it went far beyond what he had thought. Noting in his life had even grazed the surface of the suffering she would have faced as a slave, and a woman slave no less. Anything he said would be overshadowed by the fact that he was a pampered prince who knew nothing of the world.
She could have killed those who dared enslave her with a flick of her hand, and yet she hadn't. She had lost many people, and been hurt by yet more others, including the soldier that filled her face with so much pain. There was age in her young eyes, age and wisdom that was carved into her soul through suffering. She wouldn't use her gifts to save herself from rotting in a cage, yet she had used them to save him. Her scars were so much more than skin deep, yet she was the one saving him. He would never have the words to tell this beautiful, broken girl how much her life brightened the world.
She was safe in her rooms, at least for the moment, and that was all he could offer her. With a heavy heart, he dragged his unwilling feet to his own chambers, hoping that the new dawn would bring hope to both of them.
•••
King Henry of Aceria cursed under his breath. This damn ball was causing so much more trouble than it was worth. First this foreigner swaggers in, brining with her an air of uneasiness that settled over the room. Then she had to do her little magic trick. And now, all these infernal people were causing a fuss. If only they knew how many magic users actually resided in the castle; how many members of their own families had diluted magical gifts that could be channeled, with time and effort. Yes. This ball was just the end to a wonderful week.
He wasn't worried that the girl would cause trouble, two guards had undoubtedly already brought her to the tower until further notice, as they had been told to do with any exposed sorcerer after a magical mishap.
The king whispered to one of the guards beside him to send for Athan and René. Both were talented mind manipulators in his service. Athan, a boy he had been discovered in the town outside the castle gates, could project illusions onto the threads of reality, blending air and spirit elements into a seamless falsity. René could manipulate memories with spirit magic. Both abilities were limited, but when the two used them together, they could bend nearly anyone's mind to the king's liking.
Those whom the King had entrusted with sensitive information pertaining to sorcerers, the army, and other plans, had undoubtedly already left the room. If they hadn't, they should be properly marked in order to avoid the memory extraction that was about to commence.
The spirit element was a strange and twisted one; it allowed its user to shape and change human perception, dealing with thoughts and the spiritual connections between people and objects. Any element empowered the person who possessed the ability in a unique way.
Being able to change the memories of others was an extremely useful commodity that was used with care. If the person channeling magic overextended their power, they would die. He had learned that the hard way. Spirit users were rare, and finding an adequate one with useful abilities was even harder.
Though he despised magic, it was both useful and necessary for keeping a tight grip on his kingdom. As far as he was concerned, magic and the people who possessed it, were tools to be wielded by him, and him only. Anyone who refused to serve under him was slaughtered along with the rest of their tainted bloodline. The king took steps to avoid any sort of magic from seizing his own mind.
The sorcerers who served him worked in a special branch of the army. Most of them specialized in darker branches of their element. While the group had almost no special privilege in comparison with other branches of the army, they made up most of the Royal family's personal guard.
The girl, who seemed to have an affinity for fire, would make a useful addition to the army, considering there was only one fire user currently serving him. Fire users tended to be quick to anger and reckless, leading to many messy deaths. In the end, it made no difference if she lived or died.
Athan and René, followed by a guard, stepped up to the throne and bowed. He nodded for them to stand, and described the way he wanted his guests to remember the evening. They complied, joining hands and working to unravel and re-weave the threads of each persons' memory.
•••
Queen Isabella rubbed her temples, trying to block out the flurry of people panicking around her. Fyra, the poor girl whom her heart ached for, had been revealed. And now her husband was aware. This struck a chord of fear in her heart, for the girl was in true danger now.
The fact that the multitude of people in the ballroom had witnessed the spectacle meant absolutely nothing when Henry had spirit users at his disposal. He believed he was erasing her mind as well, but Henry didn't know of the protection she had provided herself.
Not only were the pins and jewelry she wore made of iron, a simple protection rune would prevent her mind from the suggestion of change.
This wouldn't work if the spirit user had honed their gift specifically on her, but when targeting a large group, the magic would be spread thin, weaker and easier to resist. The nobles in the room would have no problem taking on the memory modification, considering that most of the people were already denying what they had seen with their own eyes.
Those who possessed the spirit element were not particularly rare; many people with dormant or watered down gifts were affiliated with spirit. The spirit element touched a wide range of ability, but those who could actually manipulate any form of spirit energy, which was used in the brain, were exceedingly rare. Most wielders of spirit were gifted thinkers, making them useless to the king.
Once, Isabella had possessed the element of air. She had been the mistress of the winds, free, and yet so foolish. Since she was a girl, naive and estranged from the family who didn't understand her, she had sung to the wind, and somehow, the wind sang back. Before her hope and freedom were wrenched away, she had always carried her songs with her.
The scars she bore were the constant reminder of the piece of herself that she would never be able to find again. The songs she would never sing again.
Since before she could remember, Isabella had seen the vitae fila that drew everything together. They were like thin, glowing threads of light that flowed and danced, twisting round objects and meeting the lines of other people. They a portrayed a person's emotion in a such a pure way. The life threads were incapable of lying or deceit.
Every person had at least one vitae fila. The main thread branched out from a person's chest, connected to the place humans believed affection sprung from, the heart. This thread intertwined with the threads of the people they loved. Another vitae branched out from the dominant wrist of a magic user. The anima allowed the magic user to manipulate that vitae fila.
Isabella turned towards the two soldiers that Henry had summoned for the memory wipe. She saw their threads intertwine where their palms met, then spread into a thin membrane that hovered above the people before flaking apart and dancing down like little snowflakes.
After they faded, the soldiers released hands, but their stings still remained facing the other, as if there were still a small attraction between them.
People began dancing and talking again as if nothing had happened, and a knot rose up in Isabella's throat. How sick and twisted this court was. These people had no way to prevent being abused and manipulated into pawns in an unfair game. People suffered without even knowing.
Unable to bear it any longer, Isabella gathered herself and walked out.