It could eat me, right here and now, and my guardians wouldn't be able to do a single thing about it. They'd try, but soon realize they can't piece someone back together after the chewing starts. Luckily, the black dragon's enormous head doesn't budge. It just beams at me with giant grey eyes that close for a long moment as his neck bows deeper to the ground.
I'm not fluent in dragon mannerisms but I think he's inviting me to climb up and ride my way to the Committee.
The wind shifts and blows my hair into my eyes, keeping me from seeing clearly. My feet gently step onto his nose, and my hands reach out to steady myself against the bridge between his eyes. The scales are smooth against the palms of my hands, feeling more like stone than skin. I crawl my way up his face and onto his head in a matter of seconds, careful not to hurt him and strike up a rage I won't be able to soothe.
The more I seek to become a wall of solitude, the more I realize that taking all of this in with an airy attitude is not the easiest way to cope and deal with it. The girl from my dreams pops up in my mind, but for once, I don't want to become her. Those blackened eyes and hardened heart cannot be the finished product of me.
I take one last look at my guardians and commit them to memory.
Steele holds Miyazu by the collar of his shirt and nods once to me, the only goodbye gesture I can expect from him. His stern citrine eyes, contrasted with the hard angled eyebrows, grow more and more vibrant in color. He has a strong square jawline, defining his face into maturity and confidence. The short brown hair on his head has grown out a little past half the length of my pinky finger. I haven't seen his facial expression change very drastically since waking up on the bed of feathers the other day. Part of me really wishes there was a memory somewhere that could help me see a smile on his face.
Rayce has both his hands crushed to his chin like a scared little child. Everything about the lines and contours of his face are softer than Steele's. His short blonde hair is spiked around in all directions on the sides of his head, but the top is manicured into a full volume mountain. His energetic blue eyes couldn't even try to hide behind his thick eyebrows. His skin is near pale, and everything about him works in an enticing yet juvenile way. Rayce can truly pull off being childish and cute. I'll miss his refreshing personality the most.
The twins, Kappie and Ezra, look identical with their boyish yet mature diamond shaped faces. Both of their eyebrows are thin and flat, leaving their eyes to be the center of attention. They have layered hair just long enough to cover their ears and forehead, but not while the wind ruffles it all over the place. The difference is their unique styles, Ezra with his silver stripe and Kappie with his auburn tints. The violet and scarlet eyes of these two men hold the most sincere compassion out of the lot, and easily tear my heart to pieces just from the eye contact.
And then there's Haruka. His jawline is more triangular and his silver hair forms voluminous wisps and spikes all over the place, sloppy in every sense of the word. The brows that shield his forest eyes are short. I saved him for the end, knowing that the emotion I'd see in his eyes would help me to continue through with my plan. But now, the look I receive from him is unexpected. Where I thought I'd see hate, I see concern and determination.
Even without saying the words, I know each one of them trusts me. They may believe there's a better plan out there that could've been chosen, but they still believe I can do this. Now I have to prove them right.
I steal one last glimpse of them from on top of the dragon as he and the others fly away from the clearing in the forest. My guardians are all clean shaven and from a distance, they sort of look the same. They're slender but muscular with the strength that comes for self-defense training.
If my memories are somewhat accurate, I have the same abilities as they do. In order to get back to them alive, I need to remember what my muscles have been taught. And I have to use what I used to call "the void" in order to walk away from Them and return to my guardians in one piece.
The gargantuan wings flap to catapult us further into the air. I turn my head toward the direction we fly, and allow the gusts of wind to take my mind off of worry and doubt.
They'd expect me to pay attention to where we're going just in case I need to make my way back, but only a fool would follow an identical trail to the one their captors took. Instead, I observe the dragons tailing us and watch for any indications of fatigue.
Whatever injuries they have, heal at a rapid pace. Aside from the grey color, their eyes are blank. My body shivers at the recognition I feel while looking at them. Drone's eyes. These creatures don't have minds of their own, they're being used as weapons. Which means Miyazu also must've been used as a weapon because his eyes are the exact same shade of grey.
I could applaud myself with the discovery, but my enthusiasm is short lived with my comprehension of having no idea how long it'll take me to get out of the prison I'll be put into. The dragons and Miyazu were turned into empty vessels somehow, and I need to figure out a way to avoid that.
As long as I keep reasoning, I'll be able to hush the panic that's inevitably creeping in.
If I can somehow nonchalantly convince Them that I want to be there, maybe they'll change their plans for my whereabouts in my cell. Assuming They aren't complete idiots, my prison chambers won't be anywhere near an outer wall, including the very top and the very bottom. Only weak people are placed in weak locations.
All of this deduction is beyond a simple teenager. I have the mind of a 1600 year old Goddess. People fear me and my power to destroy whatever I want. This brain is why I've always felt too articulate and too ahead of the game. My intelligence is the greatest strength I have. And just now allowing myself to believe this, feels too alien.
Faintly, a smile crawls out of hiding to shape my face into a glorious expression of will.
They won't know what hit them. They won't even see it coming. I need answers from Them, and they'll give me those answers in a false trade for my power. They'll have absolutely no control over me, not even I have control.
*****
The forest ends and turns into a canyon littered with mountains below the level of the forest floor. A large river mazes through every mountain and crevice, waterfalling off in the distance. The gorge is fascinating with multiple shades of black rock and blue water. One building stands out at the center of a large bowl shaped valley. It sits on top of the water, bridges lead up to nearly every mountain top nearby. The closer we get to it, the more magnificent it reveals itself to be.
The top is rounded with several smaller rounded buildings encompassing it. The palace is so big it could be a mountain of its own, it already looks like it'll never stop growing. The base shapes are squares and circles working to form different parts of the building like a mandala. Everything about it is regal and extravagant. The retired capitol of Linkai looks more like a small house compared to this place.
They, whoever or whatever They are, definitely didn't build this themselves.
The dragons dive down to kiss the rocky ground right at the opening gates, which are taller than the dragons, and wrap around the entire palace, extending miles long. A dark figure waits for us at the entrance, I spot it while climbing down the face of the black dragon, which still feels really impolite. Carefully watching my feet, as to not stab him any place to anger him, I catch sight of his large grey eyes. They're empty like Miyazu's. I glance behind me to watch all the dragons land on the ground with grace and caution. Shaking my head to clear my mind and focus, I realize they've planted themselves at every possible escape route.
An odd sense of betrayal creeps from my heart. It's not like I was planning on escaping. It looks as though no one trusts me here, and I didn't expect them to, but it still stings. I push back my shoulders and waltz to my captors, leading me to the dark figure.
Upon closer inspection, it isn't a living thing at all. He or she looks more like a fuzzy outline of a person, a shadow. It stands upright as if it's a person and holds out an unclear hand. I'm terrified just looking at the thing and instantly feel like I've been thrown into a horror movie. My skin covers itself in goosebumps, I underestimated how scary this experience might be. It doesn't say a word or make a sound, and I'm not sure if it even can. I don't dare open my mouth to let out a terrifying scream.
After a minute too long staring contest, the shadow finally realizes that I will not be touching it, and it escorts me through the gates, towards the palace.
I wish I could walk slowly and drag out my steps to increase my time to think, but the shadow moves impressively fast, so my instinct is to do the same. The nearby rhythmic sound of a waterfall splashing against rocks, calms my jittering nerves. It has to, because the next hour is crucial to my plan. I have to remain calm, cool, and collected. Careful not to change my breathing speed, my hands have to remain relaxed at my sides, and every part of me had to sell this story or I could get myself into a worse situation.
My heart is racing, unconvinced of the calm breathing I've been forcing on myself. The massive doors to the palace open up, and the shadow leads me in. The sight is breathtaking. Gold trims white and white decorates the walls surrounding us, painted onto every part of the archways, doors, and colossal columns. Impossibly large chandeliers hang from the tall and curved ceilings and bounce light off of every golden surface. The inside of the palace looks like sunshine and warmth, the complete opposite of what I'd expect from the Committee of Evil and Terrible people.
We pass by murals that I don't get enough time to gaze at, and walk into a smaller room without a door. In front of us is a wide staircase that leads to a dais, it's covered in decorative gold carpet. My eyes can't look anywhere without landing on something regal and white. The platform holds ten oversized chairs draped in white and gold fabrics. I realize what I'm gazing at is a royal throne. Not one chair is bigger than the other, and they could even be made for giants.
I look down to my feet and notice the thin golden runner identical to the stair's carpet. It lies on top of the pearlescent white marble flooring. White curtains drape the dais from the ceiling and curl around the pillars near the chairs. They have a "holy" and "pure" theme going on. Banners hang above each chair, all with different element symbols: rock, fire, electricity, water, sound, wind, ice, metal, flora, and poison.
Steele had once mentioned a plan to prove to Them that I'm still ignorant and therefore innocent of any crimes I could've committed. I'll toy with this idea first and see how the Committee reacts to my amnesia and confusion. It looks like they'd prefer the innocence plea over me asking for forgiveness.
The shadow lingers for a few minutes, staring at the empty throne just like I do. I feel anxious looking at the naked chairs, and wonder if these people are invisible. Proving me wrong, a door creaks open at the top of the stairs near the furthest chair.
Incredibly long, wavy, purple hair that fades to white at the tips, covers the back of the woman who eases into the room. She's tall, not a normal kind of tall, but a scary kind of tall. She could maybe be a head or two taller than Steele. Her skin is whiter than a snowflake, and her body is thin like an icicle. Everything about her reminds me of ice, including the dress she wears. It looks like a ballgown on the bottom, but as the icy cobalt dress tightens around her figure, it looks more like a second skin. Right at her waist the neckline opens up to reveal her pale skin yet covers most of her breasts. The edges of the fabric are glittery and veiny with the same designs that flow down the sides of the dress. It doesn't look like it has sleeves, but it appears to grow on her and flicker like ice in the light. It's layered with crystals of ice that don't melt. I try to take it all in, sensing something familiar about that hair.
Finally, my sight is set on her face.
My heart thuds in my chest, an earthquake inside my body, sends every single thing rolling back into me. Every memory I've ever had, every experience, and every moment of my life, it all surges into my mind the second my eyes lock onto hers. An audible gasp escapes my mouth.
I remember meeting each spirit guardian, every fight I've had with them and each time I lost in order to encourage them to join me. I remember their parents and their families and the villages they grew up in. I now remember my fighting techniques and training, the failures and the successes of each and every lesson. The blood, the bruises, and scars, every one of them. They're all vivid pictures in my head, including Their plan to send us all to Earth for a reason I couldn't figure out, and try and force me to forget about my power. I remember the evacuation of people and the millions of lives lost, I even remember Miyazu's funeral.
Now I can recall every event that has happened in my life with great detail, even the emotions attached to them.
A switch in my mind flips and everything lights up. My personality changes with these memories, back to how I used to be. I remember using the void not just this week, but for years I've used it, not frequently but sparingly. I used it nonetheless, and now I have the memory of being able to call on it when I need it or want it. The memories flood and engulf my mind at an overwhelming rate.
I remember this committee and everyone in it, I remember what they did and who they hurt. Even through all these memories, I never felt fearful of Them. I've only hated Them and what they've done.
I've felt a lingering revengeful emotion for hundreds of years, and I've even thought out this plan since They sent me to Earth. Even during amnesia, I never strayed from this strategy.
All of it went accordingly, exactly as I imagine, even the ambush in the forest. The Elementalists have all fallen into my neatly woven web. A web I forgot I created. But I don't recall planning to remember all of this at this point in time. This puts a strain on everything since I'm not a brilliant actress.
The final memory that pops into my head is littered with a red flags. It gains attention over all the other memories and takes center stage even lighting up with a spotlight. It's the woman in front of me, the icy Elementalist in the cobalt dress.
Her name is Isis, and she's my mother.
*****
Conclusion of FOUR