They were on their weekly parade through the city and Layla wished more than anything that she could actually walk through the streets, rather than waving from a carriage.
Celeste was a beautiful place to walk in, too: towering skyscrapers, glass buildings and marble statues. The whole city was filled with rivers and lakes, and if you weren't part of the fussy nobility, you would make your way through the blue and silver city on boats, gliding across water as clear as the glass around it. And at night...
But no. They were in a carriage, feeling distant and royal and waving. Royalty held a very low status to Layla despite the fact she was spare heir to two city-states and two powerful dynasties.
Layla breathed in the clean, fresh air of Celeste, the crisp morning wrapping around the city.
If Veron was hearth-fire, Celeste was a shimmering lake.
Sighing, Layla made her best attempt at a pretty little wave that seemed extraordinarily pretentious to her, but everyone else seemed to like. Maia mimicked it, looking even more frustrated.
That was when a scream pierced the air, and the whizz-thud of arrows splintered through the calm. The carriage erupted in flames that did not burn. She was shocked enough that her mouth opened in surprise, and before she could stop them, words began to slip out...
The Song was nameless and eternal. It did not belong to this world. It belonged to a goddess, not an elf. It was beautiful and wild, as though a goddess was singing. In a way, one was. It was death and life and rebirth; it was the sky she held so dear and the fire burning in human hearts and the raging sea that valkyries so loved.
It came like a ripple, across the city. No fire, and no ice, but simply a ripple of destruction, like a painting of before-and-after. No matter how much she tried to close her mouth, the song raged wild and fierce, as everything faded to nothing.
She felt fire and ice and lighting reach for her, her mother, father and twin trying to stop her. She wished that their powers would halt her, she wished they might weaken the song long enough for Layla to take control again. But they were nothing, and the song swept them far away.
Layla was drowning, drowning in herself. She pulled, as she had before, to rein the song back into herself, but it was like riding a tsunami. It tore free of her grip, and then she plummeted deep into the water.
She felt a sting of pain and heard the thud of a hand that made contact with her face and suddenly she realised that she could not speak. Someone had put a hand over her mouth. Layla felt a sudden relief, and then looked at the world around her.
Her father stood over her his hand still clapped to her lips. Selene, her mother, clutched Maia tightly. They were all unharmed. But Celeste itself...
The streets were ash and ruin. The people huddled amongst the wreckage and her parents stood, exhausted, fire and ice still gathered in their hands. They must have been trying to use to stop her or shelter the city from her Song. No. No, this couldn't have happened again.
Layla vomited, and then fell to her knees and passed out.
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From the very first time that she had summoned it, it became very clear that she would never control her magic.
Once she had heard her father liken it to a wild wolf that thought it was a dog, and Layla, its owner. Her magic loved her. Unconditionally. Obsessively. Dangerously. Any perceived threat and it would lash out, destroying anything in its path. Layla had to be protected, no matter the consequences. And quite without meaning to, her magic drowned her. The moment she let it free, it could no longer hear her, and so she couldn't control it.
It was not a person. It was a god, and a wolf, wild and unpredictable, and if it wasn't tied to Layla, it would destroy anything in its path. It could not be understood, and it could not understand her, but she and the magic loved each other nonetheless.
Think of an elf's magic as a companion, like a dog, if a dog loved its owner as much as magic loved its wielder. Witchairian magic was not a witch's companion, nor was the Crimson magic Medea's or her son's companions, but elfin magic was almost alive. That was the problem.
Her mother was there, sitting beside her bed and watching her with unblinking blue eyes. Maia sat beside her, still pale and trembling. She had done that. To her sister, the other half of her soul, her mirror, her everything, her twin.
"The assassins are dead," her father said from behind her. The unspoken words lay between them: she had killed them.
"Are there any others?" she asked him.
"Two," he replied. Layla closed her eyes. It was better than it could have been. If they hadn't stopped her when they had, she could have made the whole city fall and crash into the sea
"Will this always happen?" she asked her mother. Previously, she had told herself that the Accident was singular and would not be repeated, so long as they took the upmost care. But now? What if every time there was a threat, she would make everything far worse by letting her magic spiral out of control?
"Hopefully we can get better at managing it," her mother said brightly. "But as you get older, your magic will only grow." Layla nodded.
"Can I see the place where it happened?"
"That's not a good idea, sweetie." her mother said.
"So now they know I can't control it." She said resignedly.
"Not necessarily," her mother replied. "The assassins are dead, and our people have sworn never to speak of it to an outsider. When news does come out, it may be dismissed as rumours."
"And what do the people think of it? Of me? Of the fact that I destroyed so much?"
"We are losing some support," her father admitted. "But that is not your fault, Layla. We already have a lot of support-we have led our homes to a golden age. There have been protests, from the people and the politicians alike, but all the elves know what it is like to grapple with their magic."
"What happens when nobody can stop me?" Layla asked, her voice shaking. "What happens when nobody could clap a hand over my mouth, because my power stops anyone from coming near?" There was a silence that lay heavily over the four.
"What happens," she asked. "When our luck runs out, and I Sing and Sing and can never stop until my power is spent. What does every last drop of my magic look like? A fallen city? Two? Ten? A kingdom? The continent? When all the volcanos erupt and plunge the world into ash and flame? When I crack the Witch Walls? What will it take for my power to run out? Or will it just keep going on and on forever?"
Layla might have seemed like a blessing at first. A child born with goddess-like power, a child that even the endless breeding of power to power that had gone in the Charlize and Swallow lines couldn't explain. But the truth was that her magic was a curse.
Silence filled the room. There were no words to comfort her.
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Maia
"I know what you're thinking," Maia said. "But it's not your fault and you shouldn't worry about me."
"If I'd just-"
"Don't. It's not your fault and it could have just as easily have been me with this power. And you shouldn't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm not completely helpless, remember?" Maia smiled, dancing little purple and white lightning sparks between her fingers.
Indeed, she wasn't helpless at all. Her lightning ability was almost as strong as her parents' fire and ice abilities and would have been considered extraordinary, world-changing even-if not for Layla's goddess-like Song gift.
Another thing she pretended not to resent her sister for, like the fact she wasn't going to inherit the throne, that she would live her life free and that she would not be subject to a political marriage to someone she barely knew.
But none of that showed on Maia's face as she smiled down at Layla. She still loved her sister, even though she had the freedom Maia never would. Resentment and jealously could never tear them apart.
"Promise me you won't worry about it?" Maia asked. "We'll figure this out. Together."
"I promise."
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When Layla woke, she thought of Maia, her twin sister. She had come into the world a mere few minutes before Layla had, but was regardless destined to inherit both the thrones they were born to.
She had never minded, of course, because Layla had no interest in petty power games and a throne of sapphires and rubies when she could stand behind her sister, Talia to her Orion, for all her centuries. Maia minded. She'd have preferred to be the second child, to avoid the looming weight of duty.
Maia wasn't as powerful as she was, but with her parents, her magic was deadly nonetheless: she could control lightning. Indeed, that lightning seemed to suit Maia's wild, frazzled nature. Her sister was as unpredictable as a summer storm. Never was she pretentious or arrogant or melodramatic, so their mother liked to call her Lightning without Thunder. Layla was always Star-Girl, or Moon-Girl.
They had given their Names to each other at age five and never squabbled and rescinded them, much to everyone's surprise. Most children gave Names out like party gifts and took them back in a heartbeat.
The two were identical, much to Maia's delight. They would spend hours formulating clever plans that took advantage of the fact no one could tell the two apart.
Despite the fact they looked the same, the two were polar opposites: Maia wild and unpredictable, Layla calm and serene. Maia was practical, whilst Layla was the dreamer, the one who always thought that there were unicorns and dragons-not-yet-extinct. Maia was the dancer, Layla the singer. Maia was the tambourine and she was the flute. Layla was the countermelody on their duet.
Maia was brave and merry, and Layla was dreaming and pondering.
The two girls were the other pieces of each other's souls. They were mirrors in more ways than their looks. Sisters in more than blood.
But despite her promise, she couldn't help but remembered the terror in Maia's eyes, the fear. Her sister's huddled form. Their mother rushing to protect her, arms wrapped around her child.
She couldn't let her magic hurt Maia. For although she loved its wild, beckoning Song...Maia was her soul's inverse. The other half of her.
She could not let her be destroyed by the magic that bubbled within her.
.