A man stood before her, wearing a welcoming smile. Nellie hadn’t heard him approach. He was young, somewhere in his late twenties, and didn’t seem to mind that his suit—tan, with a blue silk shirt underneath—wrinkled as he kneeled, studying Nellie. His eyes were the color of honey.
“I’m Andrew,” he said, pushing waves of auburn hair behind his ear. “Come, let’s get you off the ground.”
Nellie hesitated. She tucked her legs close, feeling for a bruise, and wiped the tears away with her good hand as she helped herself to her feet. Her dress had gained several smudges and scuffed footprints but Nellie didn’t seem to care as she smoothed down its flowered tulle skirt before returning her attention to the man.
Though tall and slender, Andrew remained on his knees to look up at the eight-year-old. “Is this your board? ” He queried, handing it to her. “More Musae Classes, huh? It’s really well done. Might I ask what it’s for?”
Nellie narrowed her eyes. “We were told to write one-page about our favorite story of the Instruments.”
The man chuckled, “This is much more than a one-page paper.”
“Yeah.” Nellie offered a small grin. “I got carried away.”
“The first Eden,” murmured Andrew, studying the board a little closer. “Where did you find this?”
He was talking about the photo at the World Treaty. Nellie tensed, her heart beating fast. Who was this guy? The photo was hers. She wasn’t going to answer anything that she didn’t have to.
“I’m surprised is all,” Andrew said after a moment, sensing her apprehension. His voice held fondness and respect, but retained a sense of urgency when he continued, “It’s been a long time since our first Edens lived. They went through a great deal to leave us a legacy with so much to learn from.”
Nellie nodded, relaxing a little. “My mother left it with me one night after she told me the fable of the Gentle Breeze. She said it was a story that was disappearing, that everyone who knows it was also told to keep it a secret because of the wind musae—”
“It is a secret.” Andrew cut her short. “A promise that the people of Tennkū expect us to keep.”
Nellie frowned, pursing her lips defiantly.
The man continued, “Peoples’ worst enemy can sometimes be their own memory. There are certain things that we just have to accept and move on from in order to make progress.”
He paused, almost as if recoiling from the bitterness of his words. “But of course, there is your assignment to consider.”
Nellie gulped. Was he going to make her change everything?
“You’ve put so much work into this project, it really is a tremendous effort. You feature Edens Otsuka and Irnaedi, and yet, your topic doesn’t seem to be entirely about them. If you’re able to cover the World Treaty briefly and with the right prudence, then I’m sure I could trust you to recount its events to your classmates. After all this is, oh- how did the prompt go? Your favorite story about the musae, correct?”
Nellie shook her head. “No way, nothing tops Armani Reem!”
“Of course,” Andrew laughed, feeling the tension drain. “The Diamond Bolt. Cast out as a babe by usurpers only to earn the love of the people and reclaim her birthright.”
“Exactly. She’s one of the greatest musae ever!”
“So why focus on bringing More Musae Classes when you’ve got a topic like Armani Reem to explore?”
“You didn’t read the board,” Nellie said, allowing a smirk at the edge of her lips. “I chose this because everyone already knows about the Diamond Bolt Rebellion. It’s a great story and all, but there are other parts to our upbringing with the musae that are much more important. There are lessons to be learned in everything that’s happened. Why wait until meteora to learn about how the musae affect our world? If we keep those stories secret, then we’re kind of asking to repeat history, don’t you think?”
“And what if these secrets keep us safe?”
Nellie thought for a moment. “Nothing is as safe as understanding what’s coming, that’s why we prepare for things. Otsuka and Kōh knew what they had to face, they knew it would cost them everything, and they still used it to their advantage. We have our Eden and his Rosid thanks to them, they brought the first generation of peace with the musae, but no one should’ve gone through what they had to go through.”
Andrew revealed an impressed smile, nodding thoughtfully, but otherwise offered no response. Nellie continued, “We need to know more of our history. The stuff that really happened, like what being a muse means to different cultures. It’s the only way we’ll ever trust each other, especially with Meteora arriving so soon. It’ll be our only chance to wield Instruments for the next four hundred years, we can’t mess that up.”
“You’re too smart for your own good.” The man grinned, leaving her an affectionate pat on the head. “I’ll tell you one thing before I go. This photo, the one you have here of the Edens, it’s the real thing. Taken right after the treaty was signed and our alliance under the Rosid became official.”
“What?” Nellie raised a brow, “How do you know?”
“You mean you can’t tell? Well for starters, we didn’t have cameras back then. And even if we had had them, no image could have maintained such a sharp quality after nearly twelve hundred years, nor could we have printed it on a translucent fabric like this.
“What you have here is a product of two musae, wielders of the light and dark Instruments. It’s proof of everything you’re arguing about in your paper. These powers exist to inspire more than violence and the stories that the Rosid chooses to pass down do a good enough job of teaching those lessons. Otsuka & Koh however, their tale is a much darker one. One that has served its purpose and that Eden Otsuka herself was proud to leave behind in the winds of history.”
Nellie wanted to protest, but the man stood finally as a door by the auditorium flew open and several adults walked out into the hall. Most were staff members from the school, wearing collared shirts and ID badges on lanyards, but the others, the ones Nellie didn’t recognize, seemed a little more uptight, dressed as professionally as Andrew.
A woman with glasses spotted them and hurried to their side. “Mayor Erra, we’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
“Well, you found me,” said Andrew, offering a meek smile in return. At that, the eight-year-old beside him blinked in surprise. This was the guest speaker? The politician from the Pharum?
“I was taking the opportunity to mingle with some of the students.”
“I understand sir, but we have another visit to make before we return to the capitol.”
Another woman broke from the group and approached. The school principal; her eyes were trained on Nellie. “Hurry along now, Perenelle. The mayor doesn’t have time to waste.”
Nellie hated when people used her full name. But the principal and her had their own history, no thanks to Nellie’s mischief when she had first arrived in Comet Hill, so she knew this wasn’t the time to protest.
Andrew placed a hand on her shoulder. “Go on, enjoy the rest of your day.” He said the next words very low, so that only Nellie could hear him. “And remember, Meteora will be here in a few short years. The abilities it brings, stem from the small things each and everyone of us already does in their everyday life. We have always been part of the stars.”
…
The midday sun hung high in the sky as Nellie skipped out onto the schoolyard, her mind swirling with thoughts of the conversation with Andrew. Was he telling the truth about her photo? Could she have really had a product of two Instruments this whole time and not known? The Pharum was the crown jewel of Mach; a city so large, it needed eight governors to oversee all of its sectors. Andrew seemed young, but if he was truly the Mayor there then that meant that he had real influence. Surely he had to know what he was talking about?
She set her belongings down against a wall in the shade. Several teachers sat on benches nearby watching their students jump and scream, throwing balls at one another, sliding and swinging through the jungle gym with joy. Nellie raced out to join them.
A group of kids, gathered around a rack of dodgeballs in the back, were deliberating loudly about who would be on whose team for Instruments and villains, the preferred playground game amongst kids in Comet Hill. The meteor shower came around only after 400 years had passed, so this was the closest most of them would ever get to wielding Mach’s fabled powers. After splitting into teams, each participant would grab a dodgeball and peg their adversary while shouting the name of one of the eight Instruments. But because the point of the game was simply to outlast everyone else, it was never clear who was supposed to be the villain. The only rule was to stick to one Instrument when you played, if you didn’t, you were automatically out.
That day, Nellie wanted to use light as her Instrument.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
All eyes turned towards her. The tension was sudden and palpable. Nellie couldn’t tell who had spoken and hesitated, anxious, trying to hide the feeling that she didn’t belong.
“Put me on a team,” she demanded, “I want to play.”
At that, the kids around her all broke out in laughter. “You’re kidding right? A pip-squeak like you?”
“What use would you be?” Snorted a girl with glasses, “You’ve got a broken arm.”
“No one wants you,” another kid claimed. She was pretty sure that he was from her class.
“You’re going to get hurt.” Someone else warned.
Nellie bit her lip, balling her hands into fists. “I—”
“Aww look, she’s getting angry.”
“I know how to fix this!” A boy with blonde curls and a fat nose quickly reached for the rack and chucked a blue ball at Nellie’s face. It was too fast, she didn’t have time to react. Wham! Nellie fell to the ground, hitting the pavement hard.
“Out!” The boy with the fat nose japed and a brutal laughter erupted from the group once again.
Nellie’s head rang, her face throbbing from where she’d been struck. As she opened her eyes and pushed herself onto one knee, she caught sight of a kid with glasses watching the encounter from a distance.
He ran to tell a pair of teachers sitting nearby but they waved him off, uninterested in leaving their spot in the shade. They told him that there was no reason to be so alarmed, these kids played like that all the time, but he persisted, waving his arms in desperation. The teachers sighed, taking another look at the group around the dodgeballs, and mutually decided to head back inside the school.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nellie saw something blue rolling her way. The ball. No one had bothered to pick it up after it’d hit her. She grabbed it with her good hand and, in one sudden motion, hurled it back at the boy with the nose.
POW!
An audible gasp ran through the group as the boy with blonde curls staggered backwards, holding his nose. Blood was spewing down his chin and onto his shirt. Nellie smirked, her face aching still.
She wiped her nose and said, “That’s what you get, jerk.”
“Get her!”
The kids all swarmed to the dodgeball rack before Nellie could so much as regret the taunt she’d made. Next thing she knew, two dozen balls were flying her way in the eight colors of the Instruments. Most of them missed completely. She ducked beneath one that got too close and caught another that was headed straight for her gut. The next one was easy to sidestep but the one that followed struck her in the shoulder causing her to stumble.
Nellie whirled on her assailant but was instantly pegged in the back of the head and knocked to the ground. Her eyes swelled at the unfairness of it all. All she’d wanted was to play and joke around with the other kids. Why wasn’t that enough? Why did she always have to go through so much to prove herself? The flurry of dodgeballs never ceased. Snickers and jeers arose from the kids throwing them, but Nellie had grown numb to them and stole a glance at a sky sparsed with distant clouds.
A shadow fell on her then. It was the jerk with blonde curls, approaching with the same bloody ball in his hands. He cracked a supercilious grin, winding back to throw the ball, and said, “You stupid girl. Don’t you have any friends?”
BLAM!
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