I fell asleep. I don’t know when but I was awoken with violent shaking. Evidently more gentle than being shocked with cold water but a gentle tap would’ve bode well, if I was a light sleeper but I can sleep through a whole entire war when I was a kid so… That was a lie. I don’t even recall anything from that war.

Uma looked annoyed at me as per usual, glaring at me with her bushy brows.”Your role is to stand and be presentable. Nothing else. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not show impertinence or disrespect in the face of Gemmas. You wear Flaris’s face so do not tarnish it. The imperial family let you pass the first few days you arrived, as you are not accustomed to our war of life. But no disrespect will be left unpunished from the point of you being known as the Hero of Gemmas.”

I nod. Or I think I do. Her expression is too scary for me to look past. But I feel like two days is too cruel to let me adjust. Well… I know I’m adaptable but not that adaptable.

“Before your official introduction, I will lead you to the South wing, the prayer room. You will speak to Saint Rubaine and seek her guidance and you will finally have a connection with her once you get in touch with Lustrous Julias. Get up, and follow me.” She turns to her feet and doesn’t bother to wait. I struggled to catch up as my clothes weren’t exactly the lightest.

Every step was hefty, my breathing laboured yet Uma has already taken so many turns. I pass by numerous paintings. The same woman, the same expression occasionally a blonde turns up but now most of them are of Lady Crea. Her face looks distorted the more recent the portraits look. None of them look the same, I can only tell it's her because she wore the exact same violet ruffle collar on her neck, cuffed in white fabric. Sporting the ruby red hair and eyes quieter than night.

I can’t get the essence of what she looks like. Art is supposed to make you feel something. But having all these portraits eyes on me just feels so uncomfortable. More so that all of the people in these images are dead.

Uma comes to a halt, she taps her foot once, startling me. Then shifts ever so slightly to face me. “This is where I stand last. You may enter. Do not speak to anyone, do not mind anyone, just go straight, to the very front kneel and pray.”

But what should I even pray for?

Although only I know how much I wanted to ask that question I just listen to her words and push open the doors. Their kneeled uniformed backs, faces, hidden under veils. No one acknowledged me despite the clicking of my boots and the drag of my… dress. I don’t know what to call this second skin. My steps echoed into the space. The sound makes me conscious of everything around me. I took in the design of the place, very white, bright and marble. Numerous statues stand tall with their heads bowed. No knee guards for a place to pray but everybody persevered. A walkway parted seemingly just for me and I followed Uma’s instructions. Go straight to the very front, kneel and pray.

I do just that. The coldness of the marble floor shot from my knees to my fingertips. My entire body shivered from the temperature despite the layers of clothing I had on. I take a breath, clasp my hands together and gaze at the statue in front of me.

I am directly below their hands, their palms wide and welcoming as if asking for alms.

“Hold her hands Hero.” a familiar voice says from behind. Edriane kneels by my left, clasping her hands together, her eyes clothes and her face relaxed. She was more decorated than when I first saw her. I don’t know how that could happen but she had layers upon layers of jewellery on her. Her eyelids were painted red as was her nails. Rings hugged every finger all with a shiny and big stone.

I find it impressive that she feels no discomfort from all her accessories. I feel sweaty watching her. Wait. I am sweaty.

“Why…?” I ask, my voice coming out like a hushed whisper. This room feels too chapel-like and I do not want to look disrespectful.

“Many people touched her for guidance. Even in death people caressed her hair, rubbed her fingers and cupped her waist to feel closer to her.” Even when she died? People touched her? That's weird. That is very weird. Did nobody think it was strange? I know they're very old timey here but what the hell is that?

“If she is a saint you put so much faith in, I feel like she’d be a good listener. And besides… It feels weird to touch people.” The last part was unnecessary but it had to be said. I don’t think anybody in this world knows boundaries.

Saint Rubaine. I hope you weren’t uncomfortable in your life, because I sure as hell am. I am a grown man with no ailments. I can take care of myself very well. Please send out a holy message to not lay hands on me again, thank you. I cannot stand people touching me in places I don’t even touch as much. Thank you. Again.

That was a prayer right?

Right Saint Rubaine?

I looked up at the face of the statue, I nearly popped my eyes out of my sockets upon seeing… nothing at all. No features sculpted. It made me take a second look at everything in this statue. Even her hands look unfinished. But everything else was done so well. Smooth curves and details on her dress. Stone looks like fabric. That sculptor knew what they were doing yet couldn’t be bothered to give her features.

I lean towards Edriane and whisper, “Why…” I couldn’t even finish a question because she already had an answer.

“Try painting or sculpting the most impatient woman who has ever lived. As much as we love and treasure her, she was not the most pleasant woman when it comes to artists like her. Painting and sculpting take time but she wants them done before the sketches are even cleaned up. She was known for being impatient and constantly angry.”

I don’t know who we’re talking about. I have a guess but it is rude to assume. “Who are we talking about?

“Saint Rubaine.” Huh. Must be because she’s a redhead. Not that all redheads have anger issues. My aunt is blonde.

“Why is she so impatient?”

“She’s an artist herself, she wants to get her things done. And if you get the opportunity to visit the many libraries around Gemmas, find those that are bound in gold or kept in cases. They’re likely her journals detailing how to operate specific inventions that she left in the respective kingdoms to help them in her time.” Huh. So it’s like a manual. I should skim through the book before putting it back. I might learn a thing or two.

“Take her hand. And feel. If you recall the first time you spoke to Priest Dottir, do just that.” What did I do the first time I spoke to her?

I held her hand and something started typing in my head. That was an odd conversation. Could it even be considered a conversation?

Despite my worries, I took her unsculpted hand anyway, whispering a pardon and closing my eyes and feeling.

Feeling absolutely nothing.

What should I pray for? What should I feel? Do I really have to do this? I’m not really the most religious one out of a bunch, I’m open to trying them but I still don’t know what exactly to do.

I kneeled in an eternal silence, well… that’s what it felt like to me. Until somebody lightly tapped my head, that was a bit soothing then they full on smacked me in the face. My eyes shoot open and I see a swamp headed man with a satisfied grin on his face.

God… or not god. Saint Rubaine? Did I just fall asleep? I should cut that habit out if I’m going to be in a war. A war… I have accepted that I am going to war far too well. I shouldn’t do that. Maybe I should since I’m going to it anyway.

“Fern… You shouldn’t have done that. He was praying.” His mirror scolded, he knelt beside me and cupped my face. “Are you alright? I hope he didn’t hit you that hard. My brother… can be heavy handed.” he mutters. His pretty shiny hair smells like an ocean breeze. 

“I’m okay, it doesn’t sting.” Oh yes it motherfucking does. My mind has finally registered that I am in pain, but I already told them it doesn’t hurt and I can’t take it back. Oh… well I can but I just don’t want to.

“He’s prayed enough. I have my doubts of Saint Rubaine hearing the prayers of the likes of him.” he spat. I don’t think Jesus would like you either.

“Fern!”

The swamp head named Fern scoffed and turned around. Holding his hand out, offering me a hand.

Or not.

Because as I try to take it, his younger brother grasps it first and hoists himself up. He chains the offer to me and I could finally stand. He gives me a cute smile, tiny yet genuine then gently lets go of me. 

He clasps his hands together and promptly opens his palms, a current of wind flows out, so powerful that even I could see it.

I’ve only seen these people use their power twice, the amazement makes me want to shit my pants. But I won’t because that’s disgusting and I have pretty good bowel control. 

“Neil, stop showing off. I know you want to be friends with our fellow hero here but do you really think that’s going to impress him?” I for some reason still don’t know their names. Jade eyes lady is Priest Dottir, Dottie, Rubaine. Tear drop earring is Uma. Gold Blondie Thorn Princess is Princess Edriane, Swamp head is swamp head. Shiny, icy hair is Neil I assume but this one who I had the most conversations with I don’t remember the name of.

They stomp their feet with so much force that it echoed through the chapel, the ground below my feet elevated in an instant, putting everyone beneath me. The change in height made me stumble and fall. I am getting a sense of deja vu.

Oh god I am falling.

I am dying.

I am wet and I am drowning.

I’m wet and I’m drowning?

I AM DROWNING?

I gasped for air and water pooled into my mouth and overtook my lungs. My arms wailed desperately to reach the surface but the tide seemed to be getting higher and higher. The chilling temperature of the liquid surrounding me began to burn quickly. It was getting hotter and hotter until a hand pulled me up with my collar. I choke out the water that was trying to kill me, god my nose is burning. I blink the blurriness out of my eyes and see fire on water. What the fuck how does that happen?

The hand had still not let me go and I veered towards the arm where the hand was attached and was met by the golden eyes of a ginger headed woman.

“Hi?” The first words are always wonderful.

“You can’t die yet. You can’t die until we tell you to die.” What is that supposed to mean? I can die whenever I want but I don’t want to die yet. You don’t hold my life so I cannot die. Not here. Because I still have to go home. The conclusion is I cannot and will not die. So, therefore I will be alive.

“Okay.”

“I am Princess Cinder Arianne Ember. The Hero of King Lumen Flarin-Ember of Gemma-Flaris.” she says, finally letting me go.

Icy blue, summons winds again and dries me off. “My name is Cornelius Wayward but you can call me Neil. I am the Hero of Duke Warden of Gemma-Sienna. I look forward to working with you.”

“Ferdinan Wayward of Gemma-Sienna.” his swamphead twin says. 

“And I… you already know me don’t ya?” a shiny, nearly bald-headed looking person under the light says. Do I know you? I don’t think I do. But I have spoken to you. Twice. Did they rat me out? DO THEY KNOW I’M A THIEF? UNINTENTIONALLY???

“Uh…” Did they ever tell me their name? Name? WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

“Ouch. I’m going to hold that against you.”

“Sorry…”

They burst out laughing, slapping my shoulders and nearly making me drown in the now inch deep water, but they grab me in record time. So yey I am alive.

“I’m Taryn Soot, Hero of Grimes or better known as Anaesthesia Ember. But I am from Gemma-Rozen. Nice meeting you.” Who names their kid Anaesthesia? Anesthesia? Wait… maybe they're saying Anastasia? Oh. That makes more sense than Anesthesia. Why do they pronounce it so weird?

“I’m glad to work with all of you too. Please take care of me, I’m a bit new to all of this.”

“And you’re taking it well.” I know. I’m surprised too.

They grab my shoulders, giving it a gentle squeeze. They pull me aside, a few steps away from the rest of the group and the lightness in his demeanour fades ever so slightly.

“I have a question for you my dear friend. Did you happen to hear a bird aftersol?”

A bird? The canary? “Yes I did but-”

“Alright. Did you call for it?”

“Call? I… no? I just saw-”

“Saw it? Give me a better story than that now, were you the one who whistled desolation?” Whistled desolation? “People saw you and heard you. It was a cause for alarm. My friend, if you see a bird… Kill it. There is no space for dangers in Gemmas.” The bird? Dangerous?

“It was just a songbird. I know you guys are terrified of this… crow thingy but it was such a tiny bird. I mean it was a canary. Or I think it was? That-”

“Hey. I don't think you understand the weight of it, you’re new we get that but when you see a bird… Kill it. When you hear one, never respond to it. The Nefarious Crow whistles as a sign to let everybody know that he’s here to kill you and everyone you love. Never, ever do that again. Not in Gemmas. Unless you’re lying to us about who you are. We won’t forgive you.” Lying to them? About who I am? What’s that supposed to mean? I have no reason to lie if they’re my only ticket home. I really don’t get their demeanour of me.

“I’m not. Why… would you think that?”

Taryn doesn’t respond and searches deep in my eyes. “You won’t hurt us would ya?”

“No! Why would I ever do that? Are… are you going to hurt me?”