The Final Strife

“My mother’s office will be open,” Anoor mouthed to Sylah, and in a few footsteps they entered. They didn’t hear Aveed’s reply before they closed the door.

Once the door was closed, they both gasped for air as if they had been underwater. Anoor fumbled in the dark for the runelamp. She pulled on the bloodwerk lever that connected the series of runes, illuminating her foolish grin. Sylah took in their surroundings.

The office was bare, just two desks and an oppressive painting hanging above the larger desk. She read the inscription.

Yona Elsari, 1st term as Warden of Strength, 38, pictured with her daughter, Disciple of Strength Uka Elsari, 15, the youngest competitor to win the Aktibar.

Anoor was no longer smiling; her eyes were watching her mother’s painted ones with an aching sadness that Sylah felt in her core. Their severe cheekbones and deep-set eyes were mirrored in Sylah’s face—so different from Anoor’s rounded features.

“How did you know the office would be open?” Sylah asked.

“They have an open-door rule, technically, so anyone in the empire can petition the wardens. But really only Embers can access the Keep. Ghostings can, of course, but the wardens can’t understand them. Of the Embers only the nobility will ever be granted an audience. Their doors might be open, but their ears are very much closed.”

“Hmm.”

Anoor was still looking at the painting, her shoulders slumped from the weight of the dynasty in front of her.

“I won’t be like that, you know,” Anoor parted the silence.

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ll listen to them all. Dusters, Ghostings too.”

Sylah was looking at Anoor and believed every word. For a short while she was sad that Anoor’s dream would never come to fruition.

“Let’s go, I think Aveed’s gone.”

As they turned to leave, Sylah paused and threw a rude gesture at the oil painting. Anoor’s smile overflowed with warmth. The sight filled Sylah to the brim.

—

Anoor felt the prickle of her family’s eyes on her back, despite now being in the corridor. The image of her mother and grandmother haunted her every time she saw the painting. Uka had caught her staring at it once.

“I’ll have one made for you.”

Anoor was shocked by her mother’s generosity—until the painting arrived. She found it nailed to her bedroom wall.

It was a painting of a baby, no older than two, lying in a field of blue daisies. To everyone else it was a painting that signified youth and celebrated life. To Anoor it was a reminder that she would never be the baby in the picture—Uka’s true daughter.

From afar the blue daisies looked like a field of blue blood. Intentional, Anoor was sure.

Sylah poked Anoor in the ribs.

“Are you all right? You look weird.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

They reached the stone door of the warden library. Anoor hadn’t been in the library since the night her mother locked her in it seven years ago, just to see how long she would last in the dark. Another game she played with her. She looked at Sylah, whose eyes were focused on the door, and pushed the memory and the fear it brought away.

Anoor knew she wasn’t going to be able to get Sylah in with her blood, or Gorn’s blood for that matter. But she wanted the adventure more than anything. It was nice to spend time with Sylah outside of the training room.

“The runes go there, right?” Sylah pointed to the slab of slate where a door handle should have been.

Anoor nodded, still mute.

“Are you going to try, or are we going to wait until Aveed comes back?” Sylah hissed impatiently.

Anoor withdrew her stylus and slowly drew the combination of runes. Sylah watched the bloodwerk intently. At least she’s interested in learning, Anoor thought.