Between Destiny and the Heart

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Then again, there weren’t always mages in the Valley, either. Even now, when Fennon was supposed to be reciting the prayers of the Goddesses, she couldn’t stop thinking about the message her mother had written across the first page of her Alnesora Tome. It was the last, and truly only thing her mother left her. She tried to shake the phrase from her mind, bringing herself back to the morning offering, but her grip tightened around the tome she held in her arms. An exasperated groan rose from Fennon’s chest. The sound echoed against the slick walls of the temple, bouncing around the five Goddess statues behind her. Fennon adjusted, trying to relieve the discomfort of cold granite seeping through her dress, biting at her knees.

“It’s nothing against you, Goddesses,” she whispered as she placed the tome on the ground in front of her and sat back on her heels. “I just think that there’s nothing wrong with a nice pillow, or even some moss, to pray on.”

She took a breath and began again, naming each Goddess and reciting their blessing. Fennon could feel the weight of their gaze on the back of her neck. Their statues towered behind her, a half circle of legacy that reminded her daily of the power of her gifts. Not every girl was born with magic in her, and even then not every girl survived herself long enough to be brought into the safety of the temple. Fennon knew she was especially fortunate. She held no memories of life outside of these pillars and walls, her mother choosing to stay in training even after Fennon was born. Fennon knew the names of the Goddesses before she knew her own mothers name, she could sing the histories of the kingdoms by the time she was five, and she cast her first controlled spell at nine years old. It was a simple thing. The summer solstice festival was about to begin and Fennon felt that the Goddesses should match the decorations of the festival. Placing a hand on the hard folds of Meythera’s skirt she conjured a solar vine, weaving it through the outstretched palms of the statues. The entire Offering Room they stood in filled with the sweet scent of citrus fruits, and the goddesses held absurdly large Solarvaris blooms. The petals were larger than Fennon was tall at the time. All of the Priestesses and apprentices had been mortified at the sight of them but Queen Philareal had given Fennon a bright smile and whispered in her ear later, I think I like them better that way. Her mother had gently scolded her but when she tucked Fennon in that night she laughed and told her that Solarvaris flowers were her favorite. The Offering Room kept the faint scent for weeks, up until the night Fennon’s mother—

Fennon pushed the thought from her mind once more. She needed to get Alnesora’s Tome back to her room and out of her sight. Fennon had to focus on tonight. Determined to rid herself of thoughts of her mother she straightened her shoulders, and rushed through the end of her prayers.

“With your power and guidance I vow to live by your ways, abiding the course of nature, virtue, wisdom, truth, and grace.” Fennon gazed at the basin of floating Hawthorn in front of her, holding her breath. She added one last quick plea.

“And maybe, if possible, some help escaping the infamous nature of my mother as well.” She held her breath, waiting for lightning to strike or the earth to rend in two, swallowing her into a pit of blasphemy for deviating from the dawn prayers. When there was no movement Fennon let out the breath she had been holding. She grabbed the tome, and stood quickly, tripping over her skirts as she went. Her desperation to get the tome out of her sight grew with every second. Her mothers handwriting seemed to burn through the cover and into her chest. There hadn’t always been dragons in the Valley… Fennon came to an abrupt stop before she turned down the hallway, realizing she hadn’t taken an offering.

“Shit,” she murmured, jogging back to the basin. She ripped a petal from the nearest flower, sending it spinning haphazardly on the surface. The water sloshed up and over the side, the rest of the flowers bobbing with the wakes. Fennon shoved the petal between her teeth, its bitter scent filling her mouth and nose as she chewed. 11 years of the offering and still she hadn’t gotten used to the vile taste of Hawthorne flowers.

Bells from the village center sounded, a gentle reminder that the day had just begun, and she was late. She would be the last apprentice to get to the courtyard if she took the time to replace the tome in her room, but she knew that if she didn't, thoughts of the past would consume her all day. Fennon turned to sprint back to the apprentice chambers, immediately colliding into the thin but surprisingly sturdy frame of High Priestess Amanthyia. Fennon swallowed the Hawthorne. She stifled a cough as the petal burned a trail down her throat and into her stomach.

“High Priestess,” she choked out, “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

Amanthyia tipped her head to the side.

“Surely you didn’t forget the Winter Solstice Festival begins today,” Amanthyia spoke through tight lips, her voice edged with annoyance. The High Priestess wore a deep blue gown that accentuated the harsh angles of her frame. Everywhere she went she cast long shadows with her body, and even if Fennon was an adult there was something about Amanthyia’s height that made her feel like she would always be a child under her gaze. Light bounced off the large pendant hanging from Amanthyia’s neck, blinding Fennon momentarily. The golden skull of a deer stared at her, pressed into Amanthyia’s collarbone, its horns draped in delicate chains that were meant to represent intersecting solar and lunar vines, the emblem of the royal family. Fennon couldn’t help but feel it was a vulgar display of the Queen’s seal.

“Of course not,” Fennon bowed her head. She tightened her grip on the tome in her arms. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the offering basin rippling still, the Hawthorne flowers bouncing off each other and the walls. Amanthyia sighed, and began rubbing her temples with her sharp fingers. She took a deep breath and locked eyes with Fennon, reaching out her hand to rest a single finger against the Alnesora Tome.

“Alnesora was one of our most powerful mages, Fennon. So much so that she earned her place in the halls of the Goddesses.” Amanthyia spread her arms wide, gesturing to the bright hall they stood in. Fennon began to speak but Amanthyia held up her palm, silencing her immediately.

“Your mother may have become one of the Goddesses as well, Fennon, the most promising apprentice we had seen in a long time. We see a lot of her in you, her potential, her energy…” Amanthyia’s voice fell flat. Her eyes narrowed in on Fennon. “And ultimately, perhaps most importantly, her lack of commitment, and complete refusal to make hard, but necessary decisions.”

A knot formed in Fennon’s stomach. She focused her eyes on a spot on the floor, willing the tears in her eyes to wait to fall. A few of the younger apprentices turned down the hallway, giggling and running towards the courtyard. Amanthyia donned a light smile in a snap as the girls paused briefly to say hello. Their arms were full of solstice garlands, the unopened buds of lunar flowers bouncing as they skipped to deliver the garlands, an air of lightness following them. Amanthyia stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with Fennon and lowered her voice to a heavy tone.

“Tonight, I will be stepping down as the Queen’s High Priestess, and she will appoint my successor. And you will make sure to stay out of her way.” The weight of her warning landed in Fennon’s chest, echoing through the hollowness of her body.

Amanthyia was rounding the corner towards the personal chambers before Fennon could inhale from their interaction. The tears she had been holding back began to freely fall, and she cursed herself for her inability to contain her emotions. She could hear more apprentices making their way to the courtyard, the excitement for the evening tangible in the air. Fennon quickly ducked into the alcove behind Alnesora’s statue, holding her breath so the others wouldn’t notice her. She listened as the sound of their footsteps had faded into silence before she let the first sob escape her lips. Cloaked in the shadows of Alnesora she let herself drown in emotions; heartbreak for the way Amanthyia was disappointed in her, loathing for herself, and a deep, hollow hatred for her mother.

Fennon had thrown the tome onto her bed with a careless force before marching to the courtyard to help prepare for the festival. Apprentices were lost in concentration, setting candles to float at various heights in the ceilingless circle in the middle of the temple. The candles mirrored the constellations above them. Others wrapped the solstice vines around the pillars. When the moon reached the middle of the courtyard the light would cause the buds to bloom, allowing the vines to flower for the rest of the evening before wilting at dawn. Baskets lay at the base of each pillar, ready for the apprentices to gather the wilted petals. It was the most potent of apothecary additives, and strictly reserved for the Queen’s Army in case of war. Underneath the temple were thousands of bottles full of the dried petals. One petal could raise the dead if a mage willed it.

A small throne had been placed at the back of the courtyard, raised just enough for Queen Philareal to oversee the festivities. The apprentices would dance and perform for the Queen, until the Goddesses revealed to her which would become the next High Priestess. The girls gossiped among themselves, debating who would take over for Amanthyia. The majority agreed that it would be Lyric. She was logical and excelled in all areas of magic. And she had been Amanthyia’s obvious choice since the girls were 12. A few of the older apprentices disagreed that Lyric would step into the role, each thinking they would be the ones to take over. They had a hunger for power that blinded them to how unqualified they stood in comparison to Lyric and her abilities. and each of them seemed to be blind to how unqualified they were in comparison. No one would dare to say that the High Priestess held more power than the Queen, but everyone in the kingdom knew. It was the only other voice in the courts that mattered, and given the talents of the mages the Queen never questioned the Priestess at her side. It was a responsibility that Fennon wanted nothing to do with.

The sound of approaching hooves, signaling the arrival of the Queen, sent the apprentices hurrying to the entrance of the temple. Fennon hung back for a moment. She had been sitting at the edge of the pond in the corner of the courtyard, running her hand through the water and letting the fish rub their backs against their palms. She looked down at the shimmering scales that flashed red and orange beneath the surface, little fires that refused to extinguish. Fennon smiled as the largest one came to rest against her leg. She ran her hand along its spine, the bright scales shifting to a glimmering white and blue.

“Time for winter, little friends,” Fennon said, placing both hands in the water and extinguishing their fiery scales herself. The fish danced around each other, transformed from fire to winter storm.

When Fennon made her way to the entrance the other apprentices had already surrounded Queen Philareal. Her gentle laughter rang out above the sound of the chattering girls. The quickest way to find the Queen was to listen for her laughter. It was more music than laugh. Fennon stayed at the back of the crowd, letting the younger apprentices have their time with the Queen. The royal guards were spaced out down the hallway, and had begun to remove their helmets. While they were still positioned in a way that allowed them to monitor the ins and outs of the temple, Fennon could feel them relaxing within the walls. The Temple of Suvalon was a sacred space, which meant even the army could have an enjoyable evening.

Standing on her toes Fennon searched the faces of the guards. She watched as Amanthyia broke through the gaggle of apprentices, politely guiding the Queen away from the girls and towards the Offering Room, reminding everyone that while the festivities would soon begin the High Priestess and Queen had duties to fulfill. Fennon scanned the faces of the men and women again, all familiar but none the one she was looking for.

“Miss, would you mind showing me to the courtyard?”

Fennon jumped at the voice that came from behind her, close enough she could feel a warm breath on the back of her neck. She whipped around and shoved Kamill’s shoulder, ignoring the sting that followed slapping armor. Kamill stumbled back and exaggerated a wince.

“Not funny, Kamill. I could have killed you,” Fennon fought the smile tugging at her lips.

“Come now Fen, you wouldn’t kill me of all people, would you?” Kamill ran her hands through her hair shaking it loose from being in a helmet all day. It fell across her back, shimmering like dark oil in the sun. As if on cue, Lyric rounded the corner.

“Commander Eurodin,” Lyric smiled and bowed her head slightly. She looked around and then leaned in towards them. Fennon bristled at how close she was to Kamill. “Rumor has it that there’s a promotion in someone’s future?”

“You know what they say,” Kamill shrugged. “Rumors tend to be based in truth.”

Lyric nodded and turned to Fennon, placing a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed softly.

“Good luck tonight, Fen.” Lyric squeeked in excitement and practically floated down the hallway. The gentle blush that usually filled Fennon’s cheeks boiled into a hot jealousy.

“Looks like you’re off the hook. I’ve got someone else to kill,” Fennon growled.

Silence surrounded them before Kamill burst into a fit of laughter. Her deep voice filled the hallways, making everyone glance at her. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she caught her breath. Fennon wanted to disappear into nothingness.

“Fen,” Kamill was gasping for air. “Is that jealousy I sense?”

Fennon stuttered, searching for the right words. Lyric was the most well known and most desired woman in the kingdom. Talents aside, she was beautiful. Her gray hair curled softly to her waist, matching the gray of her eyes. Her lips seemed to be permanently stained by forest berries. Fennon was a jarring contrast to Lyric. Her skin was varied in tone, including streaks of gold across her face, as if she was covered in a burst of sunlight. It was a trait passed down in each generation of her family. We were raised in the forest, and this was our camouflage, her mother would whisper. We learned it from the deer. Shocks of white sprouted in random patches across her scalp, shining through the rest of her dark hair, which she kept pushed back and cut short on her neck, because she couldn’t stand the way it felt on her face. And where one would get lost in the storm of Lyrics eye’s, they would get dizzy in the confusion of Fennon’s: one dark as the depths of the sea, the other edging on translucent. Fennon locked eyes with Kamill.

“Come now, little bird,” Kamill spun Fennon by her shoulders, pointing her in the direction Lyric had run off to. She was laughing with Xander, a broad shouldered, quiet guard. He kept his gaze towards the floor, smiling wide while Lyric talked wildly with her hands. “Lyric only has eyes for Xander.” Kamill turned Fennon back around. “And I’m sure you can see the only person I have eyes for.”

Fennon’s whole body filled with warmth, her heart settling into a soft rhythm. Kamill reached for Fennon’s hand, interlocking their pinkies together. She tugged, pulling them both in a slow walk down the hall towards the courtyard. A sly smile spread across Kamill’s face.

“Besides,” she said, “it would be awkward to have to come retrieve the helmet I already dropped off in your room if I spent the night with Lyric.”

The whole temple was alive with music. Bright strings and rambunctious drums filled the courtyard as the apprentices took turns performing the histories of the kingdom, or harmonizing in uplifting songs. The energy was intoxicating. Fennon stayed near the pond, where she could easily see Kamill. Her heart nearly burst in her chest when the youngest apprentices led Kamill to the middle of their production of the Battle of Ebon Mountain. She played her role of the enemy valiantly, allowing the youngest girl Ameera to stab her with a sword, which truthfully was just a dull stick. Kamill made a show of the dramatic death and “warning the land” of the all powerful warrior, Ameera. When the crowd erupted into applause Kamill lifted Ameera on her shoulders and ran her around in circles before returning her to the watchful eye of the mages. Ameera giggled and twirled when she was back on the ground, excitement bursting from her fingertips. The Queen’s husband nodded approvingly at Kamill as she took her place at the Queen’s side once more. She made a point to find Fennon’s gaze. She winked, simultaneously touching her hand to her heart, before she turned back to the crowd.

As the moon began to approach the middle of the sky Queen Philareal held up her hand, bringing the music and laughter to halt. The crowd parted, allowing the apprentices to line up in the center of the courtyard. Lyric took the front and center spot, while Fennon pushed her way as far to the back as she could. The Queen stood.

“It has been made clear to me tonight which of the apprentice’s shall step forward and assume the duties of the High Priestess. Amanthyia,” Philareal turned a warm gaze towards her former mage. “Your service, wisdom, and guidance will never be forgotten, but I have great faith in your successor.”

The Queen held an open hand out to Amanthyia. She took it in both of her hands, keeping her eyes trained on the Queen for a moment before stepping down to make space next to the throne. The crowd supplied a reverent applause, to which Amanthyia bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. The Queen met the gaze of each of the apprentices before she spoke again.

“The Goddesses have been clear in their direction. My next High Priestess will advise with wisdom and strength, keeping our Kingdom thriving in peace.” The queen held her hand out in front of her, to the center of the courtyard. All of the apprentices glanced towards Lyric, a nervous excitement filling the air. In the same moment that Lyric took a small step forward the Queen turned her eyes to the back of the line of apprentices.

“Fennon,” she stated, “will you please join my side as the newly appointed High Priestess.”

Fennon felt every eye in the courtyard turn in her direction. A cold chill fell over the crowd, people leaning into each other and murmuring. The Queen had a comforting smile on her face, while Amanthyia was turning a ghastly shade of purple at the base of the throne. Fennon thought she was going to puke. She stayed in place, sure that she had misheard Queen Philareal, until she felt someone push her shoulder forward. Lyric turned back to Fennon.

“Fen,” she whispered, “it’s you. Go.” A single tear slipped down Lyrics cheek as she nodded towards the Queen.

Fennon couldn’t keep herself from shaking as she wove through the rest of the apprentices. For the first time in the evening she avoided Kamill’s gaze like the plague. She walked up the steps and took the outstretched hand of the Queen. Her palm was warm but her fingers felt cold to the touch, but the firmness of her grasp sent shivers up Fennon’s arms.

“Little bird,” she could hear Kamill whispering. Fennon didn’t dare look anywhere but the ground, and the tone of Kamill’s voice sounded heavy with fear. The crowd continued to mutter amongst themselves in the aftershock of confusion. Fennon began to shake, her breath coming in shallow rasps. She felt like a thousand Alnesora’s Tomes were pressing on her chest. The cold fingers of the Queen wrapped around Fennon’s arms. She looked down at Philareal, unprepared for the intensity of her eyes.

“It’s not every day one is chosen to join the Queen’s side as High Priestess,” the Queen began. She didn’t whisper, nor did she aim to address the crowd. She simply spoke, and everyone understood they were only to acknowledge what was meant for them. “And it’s not every day that the position is met with sorrow instead of celebration. This is your first lesson, Fennon. If you can keep the darkness that threatens to overtake you buried beneath a facade of ease you will always stay one step ahead of even your worst enemy.”

It was as if the Queen had pulled back the curtain and allowed Fennon to see what was resting beneath the surface. The Queen was terrified. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, a flash of truth to show Fennon she wasn’t alone, before retreating behind a forced confidence. Fennon nodded, trying to remember how to twist her face into a smile. She wasn’t sure if she was smiling, or if her lips were drawn back like a dogs, a sure sign that soon there would be a mess to clean up. She turned to the crowd. Clusters of people had broken off into separate spaces in the courtyard. No one stared in her direction, but everyone glanced in between the whispers they exchanged between each other. The older apprentices formed a circle around Lyric, interlocking their arms together and rubbing her back. They all talked at her, and Fennon couldn’t tell if she wasn’t responding because they wouldn’t let her get a single word in, or if she had nothing to say to them. Lyric’s face was blank and unreadable as she stared at Fennon. Ameera and the other children had begun playing a loud game of Mage Hand in the middle of the courtyard, blissfully unaware of the plummet in party spirit. A flash of blue caught Fennon’s eye and she watched Amanthyia’s gown rippling behind her as she marched away from the festival, disappearing into the shadows of the temple. Queen Philareal was choosing to ignore the solemn tone that had overtaken the evening. She clapped her hands together twice.

“The moon will soon reach its peak, just in time for the Lunar blooms to welcome Fennon at my side.” And with that the music picked up again, the band starting slowly back into the fast paced melodies, but no one turned their attention from their conversations.

Fennon stood silently by the Queen’s side. Her husband tapped his foot to the beat, bouncing and humming with the band. A goblet danced in his hand, sloshing wine into his lap. Philareal sighed. Hoping for any small bit of comfort Fennon glanced at Kamill. Her face was tight. The veins in her neck and muscles in her shoulder bulged away from her, like she was clenching her jaw so tight it could shatter at every second. But most concerning was how she too was refusing to look at Fennon.

Fennon bit back tears. She’d known Kamill since they were in diapers, immediate best friends from birth. Eventually friendship had turned into something deeper, something that made Kamill like a magnet for her. Kamill would flirt wildly and Fennon would catch her staring when she didn’t think Fennon could see. There had been plenty of times Fennon could have grabbed Kamill by the shoulders and kissed her just to explain exactly how she felt. But Kamill had a job to do, and it was everything to her, so Fennon had waited. She let her heart get wrapped up in every inch of Kamill, her laugh, the way she hated to eat anything green, how she would search any room for Fennon before she carried on, the way she called her little bird. A million little threads of Kamill had stitched themselves into Fennon’s heart. And now they were ripping it apart at the seams. The voice of the Queen echoed in her mind. Kamill was no enemy, but she wouldn’t let the rest of the apprentices see her cry. Fennon turned back to the festival. The moon was nearing the peak.

A breeze drifted through the courtyard, chilling Fennon to the bone. A sharp pain stabbed in the palms of her hand. She flexed her fingers to get blood moving through them again, but they continued to ache. Slowly the music shifted into the melody that signaled the blooming of the lunar buds every year.

Fennon gasped as another sharp pain radiated in her palms. Another breeze blew through the temple, more forceful than the time before. Goosebumps raised on Fennon’s arm, and she turned to the west where the breeze was originating. She could hear a sound from beyond the walls, small at first but growing louder. It reminded her of the way her mother would whip blankets and dresses in the air to free them from dust.

“Fennon?”

The Queen was now standing. She and Kamill had both taken a few steps toward her, the rest of the courtyard oblivious to anything but the Lunar blooms.

“Is everything okay?” Kamill asked.

Fennon looked around at the crowd. They were raptured by the unfolding flowers, the emerald green sheaths falling away as the white petals un-twirled from their casings. Ameera was standing in front of one of the blooms closest to the ground, tracing her hand down the petals. One of the older apprentices knelt beside her, explaining how the petals would wilt and fall but in their death they would give the mages the power of life.

“I’m not sure,” Fennon murmured. There was a hum in the air that was weaving its way under Fennon’s skin. Voices cut through Fennon’s uncertainty. Grainy whispers echoed in her ears, drowning out the music, Kamill, and the Queen. Fennon covered her ears as the voices grew louder, the overlapping cacophony becoming a single voice demanding that she look to the sky!

She turned as a shadow shot up from outside the temple, blocking out the moon. Without a second thought Fenon dove to the Queen, wrapping one arm around her she went, pushing Kamill with them as they fell, seconds before a massive stone crushed the space where they had been standing. The courtyard filled with screams. Chaos erupted around them, as the shadow spread its wings and blocked out the light of the moon.

A deep scream pierced the night. The vibrations shook the lunar blooms free, their white petals disintegrating beneath the stampeding feet. The crowd rushed towards the doors of the temple, desperate for escape. Royal guards had surrounded the Queen, rushing her in the opposite direction. The quiet guard, the one that had dropped his gaze from Lyrics eyes, was ripping up a patch of moss by the pond. He lifted a handle that Fennon hadn’t seen before, pulling a stone up from the ground. He dropped into the earth, followed by the Queen and three other guards. A hand stuck out from beneath the boulder that had been dropped from the sky. It was clasped around the goblet that had been shaken to the music just minutes before. The last words her mother left her rang through Fennon’s head.

There hadn’t always been dragons in the Valley.

The shadow twisted in the sky, falling back towards earth. Fennon could see the shape of a human on its back, leaning against the beast's neck as they plummeted towards the ground.

Then again —

Another boulder was clasped in the creature’s feet. The rider pulled back on the reins looped around the glistening snout. Another hellish scream tore through the night, beating wings bringing the quick descent to a halt, sending a torrent of wind ripping through the temple, carrying the scent of rot and death with it.

— there hadn’t always been mages in the Valley, either.

Fennon saw everything happening at once. The boulder loosed from the creature’s grasp, tumbling towards the pillars holding up the weight of the temple. Bodies pressed against bodies as the crowd pushed towards a door that would no longer open. The creature and its rider continued riding into the night, without need to see the extent of their destruction. When the boulder connected with the top of pillars it pulverized its way through the stone, sending an explosion of dust and debris towards the people below. Kamill was running towards the mass of panicked citizens, aiming for the sobbing child in the middle of the madness. Fennon knew instantly that this was what Hell would be. The pulsing of the wings, the desperation to escape, the stone that had been pulverized to dust. And in the middle of it all, the look of terror on Ameera’s face as the temple ceiling began to fall.