I scramble to my feet, the bright early morning sun momentarily blinding me.
“Shit!” I mutter. I grab my bag and shoving it through the small opening in the blackberry bush wall, clamber through afterward, and push the makeshift door into position behind me.
I’m totally screwed.
Not only did I miss dinner, but I was out the whole night. I am now vaguely remembering Master Mullein telling me that he needed my help with something relating to the Royal Princess.
I start sprinting through the forest back to Zyri. Leaves crunch and twigs snap under my feet, my breath fogs in front of me in the crisp morning air. I’m hard-pressed to not run into any trees or trip over any fallen logs or misplaced roots. In twenty minutes I’m back at the short wall, gasping with my hands on my knees. After heaving a few deep breaths, I grip the top of the wall and pull myself over, landing ungracefully on the other side with a hard thud.
I sprint through the streets just narrowly avoiding ramming into a cart full of barrels of wine, likely for the Royal Family to feast upon during the recruitment. Just minutes later I collapse, panting heavily, under the old worn wooden sign reading in indented cursive letters: Herbal Medications and an Assortment of Other Odd Mixtures.
I push myself to my feet, stumbling through the door still breathing heavily. Master Mullein is sitting behind the desk, a stern look unmistakable within his harsh features.
“Oleander. What a nice surprise. Please, do come in.” He states curtly, causing me to scramble to my feet, intent on following his word. I enter the heated shop and sigh in relief at the stark contrast between the chilling outsides and the comfortable insulated-enough shop.
“Master Mullein! I’m so sorry! I meant to-” I start, though I'm quickly interrupted.
“The Royals arrived early this morning. The princess has reported some sickness of the head and is in need of your help, Oleander.” He uses my full name again, which is never be a good sign.
I nod my head, dropping my bag beside the door before rushing to the shelves and scoop up herbs in a hurry. I grab feverfew, lemon balm, chamomile, passion flower, and ginger root. I dump them on the desk before returning the shelves, searching for the last ingredient.
“Ahem,” Master Mullein clears his throat, and I look up to see him pointing to the jar of skullcap a few shelves over. I snatch it off the shelf and hurry over to the desk with all of the tools, promptly getting to work.
***
It is late into the night and the sun has gone to rest by the time Master Mullein finally lets me retire to my bedchambers. The only thoughts on my mind are sleep, and tomorrows Ceremony of Entlea. There had been whispers that there was a new Selection Crystal, developed by the Royal Alchemist himself, that would make its debut at tomorrow’s ceremony.
The next day, at first light, I will deliver the remedy for the princess, and then hopefully stay for the ceremony. I had never seen the Ceremony of Entlea itself, seeing as I was seven during the last one, and (not at anyone's disposal? Use?), but I had heard many stories in the recent weeks, especially following the announcement that here, the small town of Zyri, is where the ceremony will be held this decade.
The Sayn Candidates are chosen in the Ceremony of Sayn, as is the purpose of the ceremony. I don’t know as much as most, but I know enough to know that the Sayn candidates are chosen using a choosing crystal. What a choosing crystal is and how it chooses candidates is beyond me, which is part of why I’m so excited to watch this year.
And so, as the light begins to peek through the curtains above my bed, creeping into my room, the shadows just starting to shrink and retreat to their darkest corners, I leave down the road with my worn leather satchel, on my way to deliver the medicine to the princess. I pass Dianthus’ shop, heading towards the big open field that has been cleared for the ceremony. In the field, a massive tent has been erected, stretching from the main street all the way towards the forest on the east end of the town, big enough to fit all of the travelers coming from far and wide to watch or participate in the selection.
I turn before reaching the tent, heading towards the best Inn in town, where the royals have rented the entire building for them and their guards. Guarding the door are two burly guards, dressed head to toe in silver armour, red capes draped elegantly over their shoulders, flowing down their backs, and the hilts of their peeking from under the thick red fabric. Not the Sayn, whose emblem, the Adrycian symbol for Theuros, a blazing swirling pattern, twisting and looping upon the skin, was emblazoned on the top of their left hands. It
“What business do you have here, boy?” One of the guards crosses his arms, moving his cape enough to fully reveal the sword hanging from his hip.
“My Master sent me with the remedy for the princess’ ailment,” I start. They quickly share a glance before pushing open the door and shoving me inside. I have to admit, this security is slightly more relaxed than what I had imagined.
I am led up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, stopping at a big, and, by the look of it, thick, wooden door. The guard knocks.
“Princess? I am here to announce the presence of the herbalist. May I let him in?” We hear a muffled affirmation from beyond the door, and the guard slowly eases it open.
Inside, the room seems to be just a regular room, that is, until I notice the heaps upon heaps of fine silk and woven blankets along with carefully stuffed and colorful pillows covering the bed. And, in the middle of what seems to be a nest of fabric and stuffing, is a girl. I can only see her head, as the rest of her is covered in pillows and blankets, but she opens her eyes and slowly blinks up at me.
The girl's hair is a light dirty blond, long and perfectly straight despite her sickness. Her eyes are a bold blue. Maybe she has Theuros? But I know better, her eyes are just slightly too mid tone, not quite dark enough, not quite light enough. Also, I don’t quite feel that special ‘aura’ I sense around people with Theuros, where it feels as if the light is attracted to them specifically, as if it dances around them, or folds itself inside of them, or encases them in its brilliance. I haven’t sensed it in quite a while. Not since before I arrived in Zyri, at least, and that was a long time ago.
Remembering my place, I sink at the waist into a low bow, my head hung low, my curly black hair falling in front of my eyes.
“Please, rise,” The weak voice comes from the bed again. I slowly rise and carefully meet the eyes of the princess again. “What is your name? You look too young to be an herbalist already.”
“I am called Oleander, princess, and I am merely an apprentice to my Master, just here to deliver your medicine before the ceremony,” I present the bottled concoction in my hands, “After drinking this, your headache should improve within an hour or two, princess.”
She beckons me forwards after breaking an arm free from the mountain of blankets. I take a few steps forwards and place the bottle in her pale hands, almost as pale as my own. I look back up at her face to find her smiling at me, and I can’t help but blink and smile back at her.
“Have a nice day, Oleander,” She says as the guards lead me from the room, “I hope to see you at the ceremony; you have very interesting eyes.” I immediately choke and start coughing, trying to fight down the newly formed lump in my throat. One guard gives me a concerned glance but they continue to lead me down the hallway as the door thumps closed behind us.
Soon, I am back out on the street. With just an hour to kill before the ceremony, I decide to get something to eat, so I pick one of the many food carts now lining the road in front of the tent. They sell cheap food to the travelers and all those who wish to witness this decades Ceremony of Entlea, and buy half a loaf of bread. I make my way to the edge of the tent towards the forest. I begin popping some of the warm bread into my mouth, savoring the sweet dough, as I settle against a tree. Pulling a book out of my satchel, I relax, feeling one with the life around me, melting into the grass, the tree, and into the sky.
After a while, the commotion in front of the tent grows much louder, people bustling to enter and quickly find their seats. Packing up what’s left of my bread along with my book, I rise as well. I swiftly weave through the crowd, having to mutter a few apologies for the bumping of an elbow or a hip.
Inside the tent, the sky above is still visible, the cloth making up the ceiling seems to be translucent. Surrounding a stage in the middle is a colosseum of constructed wooden seats, meant to seat the hundred who have come to watch. On the far side is an encased booth which is where I would guess the Royals would be sitting. I take a seat in the top row, furthest from the stage. All those who participate sit in seats upon the stage, some looking around in awe, while others look on in fear or confidence.
The seats fill quickly, and soon the tent’s entrance is drawn closed. The loud chatter of conversation and gossip falls silent as a man steps onto the stage. He’s dressed in Adrycian royal court robes: the royal alchemist.
“Ladies and gentlemen! After another ten peaceful years, I am incredibly honored to welcome you to this decades’ Ceremony of Entlea! In honor of Entlea herself, I have discovered a new choosing crystal in my experiments! Once activated by a drop of royal blood, the crystal will automatically activate the Theuros of anyone who has it within this tent!”
I drew in a sharp breath, immediately realizing that I am exactly where I shouldn’t be. I quickly jump to my feet, muttering the occasional apology as I trip over the legs of seated onlookers. Why did I choose to sit as far from the exit as possible?
I glance towards the stage quickly, where I see the alchemist, holding a vile of what appears to be blood over the golden glowing crystal. The Royals are in their booth, well, at least the King, Queen, and Princess are; I don’t see anyone that could be the Prince. Looking closer, I can see the princess watching me calmly. She smiles when she meets my eyes.
I’m sprinting now, screaming towards the exit as fast as I can, but I can see guards placed in front of the closed entrance. Panicked, I look around, but there’s nowhere to go, absolutely nowhere.
That’s when I feel it. My heart begins to throb, as if trying to jump from my very chest, my throat burns, and my fingers tingle. My eyes burning, I peek up at the stage one more time to see the royal alchemist holding a glowing crystal, blood sliding and dripping from its smooth edges, but what my eyes are drawn to are two of the competitors. They’ve crumpled to the ground in twitching heaps, but that’s not what I’m looking at. What I am looking at are the dim beams of light extending from their eyes, damply illuminating the stage they are looking at. It’s they’re Theuros, called out by the crystal.
I peer into the crowd trying to see if they see whatever it is I’m seeing, but they’re not looking at the toppled bodies, they’re all gazing at me.
I started to grow faint, my fingers itching to release whatever it is inside of me, my eyes throbbing, my heartbeat quickening to the point of pain.
And that’s when I lose consciousness.
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