Yet to Be Titled

Hey guys, a recent novelette length story I've written in the fantasy/Dystopian genre. Open to title suggestions too!

1.

Feysepone

Feysepone landed with a thud in the glistening dirt. After spending a few moments in

her own mind, she felt the ground, damp beneath her. As she lifted her head, long

brown hair shifting around her shoulders, she could see it was high-tide outside the

Dome. Dark would be upon Dythropia soon, and she was yet to make her way home.

Feysepone often came to the Border Forests to climb the thick, majestic trees and

practice moving with agility across the rugged terrain, yet it was very rarely that she

ended up spending as many hours there as she had today.

As she picked herself up and dusted herself off, her hair turned a silvery shade of

blue. Hair colour change was customary for an Aphex-clan Dythropian woman upon

her emotion shifting and today, her worry was evident. Her parents would be

fretting, and who knew what consequences would await her should she arrive home

on the edge of darkness. Yet, over the last few days there had been a lot on her

mind, and the time alone was all she had to be with her own thoughts.

Walking down the cobblestone streets that turned and twisted through Parox, home

to the Aphex, the unshapely houses that lined them seemed to loom like boulders. It

seemed every shutter was closed, with small slivers of light gleaming though some,

hinting at the private family gatherings occurring within. Feysepone’s thoughts

drifted to her father. A member of the Aphex Political Representatives, his authority

and official nature within Parox made him something of a brick wall as a fatherfigure.

Feysepone had never cared for status or reputation, yet it was all her father

seemed to care for. This was where she often doubted she was her father’s

daughter. He wanted her to be an Aphex woman, one of poise, grace and intellect

who lived within the acceptable boundaries such a woman would. Too often, her

hunting of Rabbi, her ability to jump across building structures, swing from the

boughs of trees and sharpen a knife with ease concerned her father.

Yet these were the things that fuelled Feysepone’s inner passion, a deep, burning

fire which sometimes burnt others, and even herself. Her nature was that of a wild

and untamed, fearless force which absolutely petrified her regal and officious father.

Her mother, gentle and ever-supportive of her husband was the silken voice of

reason in his ear, appealing to what softness remained within him. Many number of

times she had softened his blows as he criticised his daughter’s “belligerent and

unladylike” behaviour. Every night she would sit by Feysepone’s bedside and comb

her daughter’s long hair, whispering stories from a magical time of youth and peace.

Now at the doorstep to her home, Feysepone had barely thrown off her satchel

when her mother came running to the door. It was now well and truly dark, and

Feysepone braced herself for what awaited her. “Fey! Where have you been? We

have been so worried about you! Don’t answer, I know where you’ve been, oh what

will your father say?”

“Hush, Fonseca.”

The deep, quiet tone of her father’s voice seemed to steal all other sound from the

room and render it silent.

Feysepone found herself suddenly quite exhausted. “Father…”

Herald turned and made his way into the den. This was a clear signal for her to

follow him although she wished she could ignore it. In the warm glow of the den, the

fireplace dancing and casting shadows across the deep red velvet sofas surrounding

it, the pair sat. After what felt like an hour of silence, Herald spoke.

“Your mother has been very worried about you.”

“And you?” Feysepone shot back defiantly.

“Don’t act as if you are entitled to something here, Feysepone. You have more than

any young Dythropian woman could wish for. A safe home, a family of good

standing, a line of young Aphex gentleman waiting for you to turn of age to be

proposed to. Yet all you do is play the fool. I just cannot comprehend it.”

Feysepone knew she would be best to hold her tongue, yet she found herself unable

to. “Nor could you comprehend it, father. You are fixed in your ways and you wish to

fix mine, yet have you not heard that each flower is of a different seed and finds its

own blossom? Or have you so completely forgotten that there is colour in this

world?” She could feel her hair changing and sure enough, her father observed it

becoming a deep shade of red as he responded. “I have forgotten nothing! There is a

war upon us, Feysepone. Do you think it is safe to be out at night, dancing across the

skyline like bait for a hungry wolf? These are trying times, yet I seem to be the only

one concerned by that.”

“Herald….” Her mother’s voice, silken yet tinged with anxiety found its way into the

room. She came up beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder gently. “Herald,

she is young. She will find her way…”

Herald seemed to brood within himself for a moment before raising his eyes back to

meet his daughter’s. “You have many affiliations and behaviours which will not bode

well during such times, Feysepone. It is my job as your father and protector of this

household to see that you do not put yourself or this family at risk.”

Feysephone’s eyes, glittering like black diamonds met her father’s as her hair turned

an even deeper red, the colour of wine. “Each day my heart dies a slow death,

thanks to your wish to fashion me so specifically to your liking.”

With that, she got up and made her way to her room for another sleepless night.

She could still hear her parent’s muffled voices hours later.

 

2.

Blayze

The Border Forests were only reachable through the place where all clan capitals

met- Arbor. Feysepone was no stranger to Arbor, which may have struck many

Aphex as strange and certainly struck her father as blasphemous. Yet she had good

reason to pass through often. On the other side of the pass, lay a beautiful, silent

glade which led into the deeper forests. It was a place Feysepone could go to reflect,

connect with nature and escape the political grimness of her home capital. She

chuckled to herself as she realized, despite the clan separation which seemed to

reign across Dythropia and the identity each one seemed to cling to, she never felt

more like herself than when she was there in the Border Forests, a no-man’s land

with no identity, no allegiance. There was one more reason, one that some days

clenched her heart with such a grip she swore it would burst. One that made her

spirit sing and her soul soar.

Feysepone’s thoughts returned to reality as she realised she had reached the

entrance to Arbor. The bustling and shouts, the chatter and sound of sea-nodes

lugging heavy carriages and barrows of wares indicated to any passerby that this was

a place of business and communal trade. The only reasons anyone would leave their

clan capital and venture to Arbor would be to trade, or to start trouble. It wasn’t a

safe place, yet it didn’t stop Feysepone from frequenting it often. Over time she had

found the safest way to pass through was to keep her head down and avoid eye

contact with anyone. If she walked at a consistent pace and didn’t attract attention,

oftentimes she would have no trouble. Today, she did the same. Using only her

peripherals for vision and praying her hair would not give away her nervousness in

its colour change, she walked forward into the throng.

Along side her she could feel and hear interactions between other Dythropians. She

heard the sound of barrels clattering to the floor as a Maeze clan member upheaved

an Arzurius wagon of stock, simply to be malicious. A brawl erupted as she skittered

past, and she could feel her hair colour morphing. A few metres on she heard,

“Pretty blue hair my dear, not a Maeze girl that is for sure….” Feysepone dared not

look up to identify whose croaking, leathery voice was jeering. She was only metres

away from the border, only a little further to go. “I’m sssspeaking to you girl!” The

male voice hissed, now raised and appearing to follow her. Maeze, she thought to

herself. Keep walking. If she could make it to the border, jurisdiction stipulated no

cross-clan violence could occur and if did, the penalty was death. Therefore, any clan

member passed through Arbor at their own risk which Feysepone was remembering

vividly now.

A few more steps and the hissing voice fell away, she had crossed the border. As she

stood facing the glen she knew so well, she noticed how much her heart had been

racing. As it slowed, she began walking towards the forest edge and into the clearing.

She heard a cough, that familiar cough, and as she made her way further in she saw

atop a log, the solid, stocky figure she knew so well, his back to her. Feeling she was

being stealthy and silent, she jolted as his deep voice, amused, floated back to her.

“You always keep a man waiting, Fey…”

Her lips curled into that smile she could never hold back when she was with him.

Blayze.

Member of the Arzurius clan, he had travelled through Arbor an hour or so before

her, from his home capital of Marter. Feysepone felt her chest warm and her

muscles relax for the first time in some while. “You never fail to remind me, Blayze.

And what have you to tell me?” He slowly stood and turned, his deep brown eyes

fixing her with their gaze, his long, brown hair splayed around his wide, strong

shoulders. He was the leader of the Arzurius Army, a shining figure of what an

Arzurius man exemplified. When faced with Feysepone, her slight figure and pale

skin, her ethereal hair floating constantly around her pixie-like face and her eyes like

black crystals, it seemed only fitting for such a brute of a man to find solace in a

woman with the feminine characteristics prized by the Aphex clan. He advanced

towards her, not dissimilarly to his battle stride, and swept her clean off the forest

floor into his arms. His eyes sparkled as his lips met hers and her cheeks instantly

flushed with the joy of being in his arms. Two weeks between them was not an

uncommon thing, and the yearning they both felt for each other in those times was

almost excruciating. It was these stolen moments in the border forests where they

could cherish their somewhat forbidden love.

Inter-clan relationships did occur from time to time in Dythropia and while not

punishable by law, it was punishable by society; an unwritten decree that rendered

any such couple slighted by their own clan-men and labelled deviants. It severely

limited opportunity within Dythropia for any citizen involved in an inter-clan

relationship and certainly public war figures such as Blayze would suffer at the hands

of his clan and their realm. Likewise, public figures such as Feysepone’s father, a

prominent Aphex political figure, lived in constant fear that her relations with Blayze

would tarnish his reputation and leave him with nothing to his name.

As the low-tide light warmed their skin, the two lovers chattered and laughed,

regaled each other with stories and confided their deepest fears to each other. As

high-tide drew near, Blayze suddenly fell silent. It was as if he could feel the dark

approaching and all that would mean for them. He took Feysepone’s hand. “You

must go while it is still light. You’ll have half an hour to make the pass and reach

home in time.” Feysepone drew his face close to hers and kissed him. “My father

paces at night and talks in his sleep. My mother says so. The Axis War worries him.

What about you? What will it mean for you?”

“Me, I will lead my men into war as always. All I can be thankful for is that this time it

is a common war against the Maeze, and not between our two clans. Maeze

destruction must come to an end. I will fight with pride!” His face flushed

momentarily, betraying his calm exterior and displaying his true passion for his

purpose as Arzurius Commander. Feysepone pleaded with him. “I want to fight,

Blayze. I cannot sit back and do nothing! I care not that I’m a woman, I care not for

my face! Let me be battered and bruised, I’m not afraid!” Blayze smiled at the

woman he had come to know so well over the last few years. This was typically her

way and it warmed his heart to see her passion and fearlessness, two things that had

drawn him to her magnetically when they had crossed paths in Arbor that fateful day

of their first meeting. “And who could stop you, my love.” His expression seemed to

darken under the weight of his concern. “I fear for you, yet not at all for myself. This

is a war that takes place outside the Dome, Fey, you have never left the security of

Dythropia. Operating in pure water is no easy feat, let alone fighting a battle.”

Feysepone’s eyes were lit with determination as she began to walk towards the

forest’s edge, ready to return home. “Take me outside of the Dome next time we

meet, teach me to be outside of it. I have to, Blayze. It is my birthright to fight in this

war.” Blayze’s serious expression seemed to relent somewhat. “To deny you would

be impossible Fey, you know that. I’ll take you wherever you ask me to.”

With that, hearts heavy, they walked towards the border. Blayze would walk her

halfway through Arbor before needing to take his own path towards Marter. It was

wise not to draw too much attention being together in a place such as Arbor,

especially with the political climate as it was.

 

3.

A Child’s Dream

Feysepone entered the dimly lit dining room, the joy of meeting with Blayze still

fresh in her mind. Yet she was glad to be home for dinner. With the way her father

had been lately there was a mild tension ever-present within the family home. Even

her mother, closest to her heart, often passed her by like a lost sea-hub.

Dinners seemed to serve as a time the family could at least sit in each other’s

presence for an hour, enjoying a home cooked meal. Almost like in a fairytale,

Feysepone often found herself thinking. Almost.

On this particular evening, the smell of rue-leaf and shellfish floated through the air,

along with another familiar scent. It was the scent of her mother’s favourite

perfume. It had been a long time since Feysepone had noticed the crisp, sea-flower

scent in their home, remembering it as a perfume her mother would wear when she

and Herald would attend his fancy political dinners in the main town. So why

tonight? Feysepone wondered. She couldn’t help but feel a niggle of excitement in

her stomach, was something special about to happen? Were her mother and father

feeling closer, finally, after months of tangible distance between them? The

possibilities scurried across her mind as her mother walked softly into the room,

carrying a large dome-lidded tray with the evening’s delicacies within. She laid it to

rest upon the sea-oak table and came to where Feysepone had seated herself,

resting her arms upon her shoulders and kissing her head.

“Mother, you smell beautiful…” Feysepone said.

Her mother made her way across the table to pull out Herald’s seat, in preparation

for his arrival. “Thank you darling.” She said gently, yet not revealing anything that

would put Feysepone’s mind at ease. Herald arrived, long strides through the hall

until he appeared in the doorway tall and magnificent, his political robes still freshly

pressed after a long day of conferences. “My dear…” he referred to Fonseca, taking

his seat. She placed a large cloth napkin on his lap and went to take her own seat,

still, Feysepone noticed with a frown, far from her father’s own seat. As she lifted

the domed lid of the dinner tray and scooped shellfish into her plate, her father

began speaking. “One of the chambermen’s daughters completed her elocution

course this afternoon. Her parents are quite pleased, and proud.” Another of

Herald’s matter-of-fact statements which left Feysepone wondering why she was

even there, if not to engage in a conversation. A commentary designed to show her

once again, how she was not pleasing her parents in any way, shape or form.

As she lifted her spoon to her mouth, she could feel Herald’s gaze now upon her. “In

times such as these, it is important for women to make themselves as skilled as

possible in their area of expertise so as not to fall behind in any given political

climate. Even a Maeze government have need for women’s skills; writing, dancing,

food preparation. Feysepone, are you listening to me?”

“Yes father.” She mumbled. All I do is listen. Your voice echoes in my mind like a

tolling bell, she thought to herself.

“Well then, when will you take action upon what I advise? There is not long until our

destinies will be decided by the Axis War. Where were you today?” Herald’s spoon

clinked onto his plate as he considered her through the shadows, eyes waiting.

Pheysepone gathered all her strength to lift the heavy stone-weight which seemed

to have settled upon her chest enough so she could respond. The smell of seaflowers

was still strong in the air. “You know where I was. Why do you ask what you

already know?” Herald shifted in his seat but his gaze remained upon her.

“Feysepone, your affiliation with that common Arzurian…”

“He is NOT a commoner! He fights our wars with bravery and strength! See if you

can use your wits and wisdom to fight like he does, you could not!” Feysepone was

surprised at the volume of her own voice.

“You will be condemned in the new society! Is that what you want? To be cast aside?

All for love!” Herald’s voice was now also raised, booming across the length of the

table between them.

“There must have been a time when you remembered what love was! Have you

even noticed that mother is wearing a perfume you once loved? Why, I cannot

fathom, since my failure is what we came here to discuss!” Feysepone shot back.

She could feel her hair change, blood red. Her face was burning with anger. Her voice

now lower, wavering. “Father why don’t you tell me what this is really all about? I

am a disappointment to you, in everything I am, everything I do, and now for the

man that I love. It’s not the new society accepting me that you’re worried about….it’s

whether you will be able to accept me.”

Herald paused. When he spoke, Feysepone knew this would be his heart’s truth and

she listened, mesmerized yet so afraid of what she would hear.

“To retain my seat as an esteemed political representative in both this society and

the next, I need to have all my wits about me and I need to be surrounded by people

and projects which support that esteem. The shame you could bring upon me with

your affiliations and your choices is immeasurable. Sometimes I look at you and I

cannot be sure you are of my blood-line.”

“Herald!” Fonseca’s shrill voice protested.

There was the screech of chair legs across oak floor as Feysepone got up with a

sudden jolt. Her hair was now a silvery shade of gray. Deepest despair and sadness.

“Thankyou mother, for the meal.” Her voice barely a whisper, she drifted solemnly

away from the table and up the stairs to her room. At least silence was safe. Words

seemed to betray her too often.

 

4.

Rain

She had read stories about rain. How it would patter on glass window panes, how it

would move diagonally with the wind, sometimes so harsh it could cut. Sometimes,

so soft that one drop on skin could sit for many moments at a time, gently quivering,

a point of coolness on contact. All these stories in books that belonged to her

grandmother passed down through the generations and sometimes read to her by

Fonseca at night. Yet she would never know what it was like for a human to

experience rain. To see it, taste it, smell it. The closest Dythropia had was a kind of

condensation within the Dome, dependant on the water temperature outside of it.

If there was a time Feysepone wanted rain more than ever, it was now.

Her mind felt like a movie, playing the same scenes over and over, no colour, just

black and white. It wasn’t good enough to be who she was. Her father would never

be proud of her. Her love for Blayze was forbidden.

Her love for Blayze.

She remembered the day she fell from a tree and found herself surrounded by a

group of three Welps. Fangs glistening in their wide, perpetually open jaws. Black,

depthless eyes glittering like diamonds, matted gray hair and half-bitten ears alert

and pointed. She remembered the fear of knowing it could have been her end,

knowing they were hungry for her flesh. Knowing that she was so far out from the

border that nobody would hear her blood-curdling scream.

Then, from the clearing, an unsheathed sword.

Strong hands lifting one of the Welps by the neck and throwing it into a nearby tree.

A yelp as its neck broke. The towering shadow of Blayze standing over her where she

lay defenceless on the floor, eyes wide with terror. She had always been so strong,

yet there she was, capable of nothing. Gleaming steel, slicing through the neck of the

second Welp. The final Welp running, retreating into the bush from where it came.

Silence in the clearing. Those same strong hands that could kill a Welp with so little

effort, reaching down to pull her up and holding her against him. Stroking her hair,

kisses on her forehead. Blayze was always there to save her. More than once, more

times than she was comfortable admitting. Who wouldn’t love someone deeply for

that? Who could forbid such a love, restricting it to the innermost chambers of her

heart under lock and key, somewhere not even he could reach in and touch it.

She remembered the first time they had lain together. It had been altogether too

soon and yet they had been consumed by a passion burning within each of them. It

was her bedroom, her parents out of town on business. It was a stolen afternoon in

the softest sheets. Blayze, grunting as he entered her room, feeling instantly out of

place as he loomed in the doorway and leaving dirt across the floor with every step

he took. She remembered thinking he was such a hulk of a man, with arms that could

crush a Bhoar. She had felt almost a little scared. He, the Arzurian Commander, at 28

Dythyears of age and her, a mere 21. Yet his hands were so gentle, so skilful, almost

as if he were scared to break her. His kisses were deep and seemed to say more than

that voice of his ever did. His body heat enveloping her, almost burning her and their

passion wordless, yet animal like. She had never known what it was to allow a man

where Blayze had been allowed. He had said later that his heart had never known

what it was to melt before that afternoon, and that he had spent days trying to

“solidify” it afterwards.

Feysepone giggled at this memory, a temporary relief from the cloud of heaviness

that had settled upon her. Her thoughts now drifted to the Axis War. Present in the

political discussions now constantly taking place between the clans, and in the lines

that now framed her father’s once-youthful face. The discussions worried Herald,

she could see it in his demeanour. Everyday that he was involved in those political

discussions seemed to steal a year of life out of him. Who would have time for a

daughter at a time like this? Feysepone found herself reasoning. Sometimes she

forgot the weight her father carried around on his shoulders, a weight that used to

be her, at five Dythyears old, squealing with excitement at the chance to sit on his

strong shoulders, so high up in the world. She wondered if he would be proud of

what she knew in her heart of hearts she would be doing. She would be fighting the

war alongside other valiant Dythropians, fighting for her people and for peace.

Fighting for respect.

Sometimes, just for a fleeting moment, she wished she could be one of those girls

who would never know pain or sadness. She wished she had some small inkling of

desire in her heart to find a simple, pretty happiness in a demure and manicured life.

Then she would see a hierarchical Maeze government in her mind’s eye, destroying

Dythropia, taking over it and sucking all the colour and joy out of every living day her

and her people would be forced to endure. She saw Blayze and the Arzurian soldiers

being worked like sea-nodes, but not for the noble honour of fighting for justice.

More for erecting statues and structures, carrying out hard labour just for Maeze

enjoyment. She saw her parents, political prisoners forced to renounce their beliefs

and assist a Maeze government, or even worse, the Maeze government finding no

use for her father and casting him out of his livelihood to fend for himself and his

family however he could. It was these thoughts alone that lit her inner fire over and

over again, making her more determined than ever to fight outside the Dome.

 

5.

Journey to Dome’s Edge

It was an unseasonably warm day in Dythropia, the day the war propaganda started

appearing across Parox. Feysepone didn’t remember seeing Maeze clan members

skulking around town posting slander where they could, yet a sick feeling in the pit

of her stomach told her they had been. If it weren’t for the posters and flyers, or the

indicative black-tape crosses that were beginning to appear on the doors of innocent

family homes (a long-time Maeze method of marking territory) it would have been

an otherwise bright, warm and cheerful day. But something was amiss. Feysepone

could sense it in the air. She felt her hair turn silver as she rounded a corner and

walked down a narrow alley which would eventually take her out towards Arbor and

then, to the border forests. It was there that today, she was meeting Blayze. From

there, they would travel one hour west through the forests until they came to the

Runelands, further on from which they could reach Dome’s Edge.

Feysepone’s stomach turned as she thought of what lurked in the Runelands. This

was the place Maeze called home. While she wouldn’t need to travel through the

capital itself, its proximity was uncomfortably close to Dome’s Edge, only ten

kilometres by foot. She knew she would be glad of Blayze’s strong and reassuring

company. As she entered Arbor she realised that what she had felt so dismayed

about on awaking in Parox that morning was nothing compared to what was

happening in Arbor. Her cheeks burned as she was confronted with the sight of a

young Arzurius boy being shoved and kicked by three older Maeze boys. From the

corner of her eye she could see an Arzurius man spray painting in red across one of

the customary Maeze black crosses that had been plastered across a door. She

couldn’t help but notice she was the only Aphex in the vicinity. Cowards, she

thought. At such a time they would be shivering under their bed-sheets back in Parox.

She looked upward towards the sky. Midday is already upon me. The urgency of time

never seemed to leave her.

Her attention came back to the scene before her with a sickening jolt, as the Arzurius

boy was thrown to the ground, blood streaming from his mouth. Fire was rising

within Feysepone, and she felt her hair turn bright red. She was just about to

intervene when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A hand that seemed to bring with it

an instant calm, a grounding-weight that she could not seem to find on her own. She

felt him before she saw him. “Wait my love.” That twinkling eye. That curled corner

of the mouth that gave away the lithe spirit within the stern exterior. Her surprise at

seeing him was replaced by the need to express her anger.

“Blayze! The injust…” Feysepone’s passionate eruption was abruptly interrupted as a

shrill yell filed the air. She turned to see the Arzurius boy standing tall now, and the

three Maeze boys sprawled across the floor before him, rolling in agony! Feysepone

stood, mouth agape, while Blayze laughed heartily. He gathered her close to him,

knowing she had been scared. “Never underestimate the strength of an Arzurius

boy! It was our clan that helped forge this land with our own bare hands, if you

remember your history lessons correctly my love. We were built for combat!”

Feysepone knew he was right, yet sometimes it was this same desire for justice and

display of strength that worried her. She lived in fear that one day these magnificent

Arzurius qualities would be the downfall of her beloved, in battle. Yet she knew

there was no quelling his fire, just as hers could not be quelled. Her heart, which had

been pounding now slowed as she took Blayze’s hand and they made their way

through Arbor. It was not the same as when she walked those streets on her own.

Now, she felt safe, like she had a protective shield around her, the magnificent

Commander Blayze. His hand somehow, in the midst of all that was going on around

them, found its way to her long flowing hair. She seemed to drop layers of built up

tension as he stroked it lovingly. In fact, she was almost certain she could feel it

turning the colour of a delicate pink rose.

They passed out of Arbor soon enough and into the significantly cooler climate of the

border forests. The walk through the forests was always pleasant and soothing, aside

from the ever-present danger of the resident Welps and Bhoars. However she had

many times observed Blayze’s skilful yet silent command over such creatures. He

avoided hurting them if he could help it, yet if respect was not given he would easily

crush the head of a Welp with his bare hands or wrestle a Bhoar, eventually twisting

its heavy neck in one swift movement. This seemed to bring her great relief as they

trudged silently towards the Runelands and to Feysepone’s great fear and

excitement, Dome’s Edge. Today was the day she had been waiting for. Today, she

would leave the safety of the Dome for the first time and prepare herself for war.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves in the dry, dusty terrain known far and

wide as the Runelands, home of the Maeze clan.

Feysepone felt the air become heavier. It was becoming slightly more difficult to

breathe. Blayze seemed more accustomed, although it did become apparent after

observing him for a few moments that his breath-intake had reduced significantly.

“It will take a few minutes to adjust, but reducing your breath intake to around

seventy-five percent will make it easier around here. Plus, it’s good preparation for

when you’re outside of the Dome, where your breath intake will be much less.” He

said, reaching into his Bhoarskin pouch and pulling out a machete. Feysepone’s chest

tightened. She knew he was preparing for attack and there was something truly

terrifying about that. “Walk steadily, keep up with me, it’s only ten kilometres from

here until we’re out of the danger zone.” Feysepone remembered now how one of

Blayze’s long strides always seemed to equal four hurried, scrambling steps of her

own but she gulped down her fear and remembered their purpose. Pass the

Runelands and make it to Dome’s edge. I was born for this, she thought, picking up

her pace. Nothing will stop me!

 

6.

Gills

The crystallized, glass-like structure of the Dome became clear to the two now-weary

travellers as afternoon settled upon them. Feysepone had been struggling greatly to

breathe in the changed atmospheric conditions as they travelled through the

Runelands, and only now at the end of their trek had she become more accustomed.

Despite the discomfort of her predicament, she could hardly contain her excitement

as Dome’s Edge came into view. From afar, it was almost impossible to discern

between the inside and outside of the Dome, or to see the crystallized shield that

was the Dome itself, however as they drew nearer Feysepone could see small

imperfections in the Dome’s surface, most likely formed by the salt as it solidified in

its formative years. Blayze grunted quite suddenly, as if sensing her excitement and

wordlessly reminding her that this was more than just an enjoyable excursion.

Feysepone’s expression became grim as she prepared for his lecture.

“Fey. Once we find and enter the portal we will immediately find ourselves in pure

water. Do you remember what this means?” he said, his eyes narrowing as he

walked alongside her, his gaze not meeting hers. Feysepone did remember. She had

been schooled so thoroughly on the breathing abilities of her semi-amphibious race

in her younger years, and now found the information flooding back to her. She

would be leaving the Dome and the safety she had always known. She gulped,

answering Blayze with a voice more shaky than she would have liked. “I will only be

able to breathe at fifty percent capacity.”

“Right,” Blayze answered. They now stood in front of the portal. “We will not stray

far from the portal to begin with, as I need to be sure you are comfortable with

breathing. Don’t leave my side Feysepone, do you understand?”

Blayze had a way of commanding even her, which often made Feysepone cringe,

however today it was crystal clear his orders were out of concern for her safety, and

in many ways, a preference not to take her out of the Dome at all.

“I understand, my love,” she said softly, taking his hand. It wrapped around hers

almost a little too tightly. “Let’s go.” He said, pushing open the portal door.

Feysepone’s lungs seemed to clench and then shrink as soon as she hit the water.

Their transit through the portal had been fast, as minimum water was to enter the

Dome at any one time. Any that did enter was captured and carried through the

Dome’s internal drainage system, to be used in the households of Dythropia.

However this was far from Feysepone’s mind as she struggled to adjust to her rapidly

adapting body. The reduction in oxygen intake was immediate, the decline from

seventy-five to fifty percent being much more merciful than a full decline would have

been. Still, it caught her by surprise and found her gagging. Water began to enter her

nose and throat, and she felt a terror unlike any other. The terror of drowning. She

could see Blayze close beside her, he seemed to be signalling but to her dismay, she

found her vision darkening. This is it…she thought…this is how I’m going to die. I’m

going to die. She closed her eyes and awaited her fate, gulping and gagging for the

air she had known up until now and choking on the water that was steadily seeping

into her nasal and throat passages.

Then, the sensation of the skin on the sides of her neck tearing. Her eyes opened

with a jolt. It was a searing pain that filled Feysepone’s awareness now. Her hands

instinctively shot up to her neck and touched what felt like narrow, slimy slits

embedded now in her skin. Gills. She then became aware that water was no longer

seeping into her system as it had been just moments ago. She was breathing almost

normally, except of course that each breath seemed to bring in only half as much

oxygen as she was used to. To her amazement, yet also her recollection from history

class the gills were extracting oxygen so she could breathe!

Feysepone…

She paused. It was almost like a voice in her head, calling her name. So why was it

Blayze’s voice? She turned to find him facing her, staring intently. Then she

remembered. Sonar thought patterns. The way Dythropians could communicate with

eachother outside of the Dome. Blayze was speaking to her through her thoughts.

She focused and responded wordlessly. I can’t believe it! Gills! I’m breathing!

I’m…I’m outside the Dome Blayze!

His face remained grim. He motioned for her to come towards him. She had always

been an apt swimmer, and easily made her way in strong strokes over to him. He

pulled her in close to him. How are you feeling, little soldier? He asked.

Feysepone was relieved to hear some tenderness in his communication now; he had

been nothing but serious and stone-faced throughout their journey to Dome’s Edge.

I feel alive, Blayze! She said. I finally know I can make it outside of the Dome! I’m

ready to fight! She petered off, as his expression once again darkened. Sometimes

she forgot that in his eyes she was a delicate flower, to be protected. The fact that

she was throwing herself into this war was no doubt a source of great heartache to

him, yet he withheld it out of respect for her wishes, and she knew that. She stroked

his face. I’m sorry my love, I know how it pains you, she said. He responded. Let’s not

talk any more on the matter. You have seen the outside of the Dome, are you now

satisfied enough to come back home with me? It felt almost like a plea, or as close to

one as an Arzurian Commander could muster. Yes, she communicated, gently. Take

me home.

 

7.

The Beginning of the End

Feysepone could feel the chill of evening approaching as she trudged back through

the now familiar Runelands, damp and shivering. Blayze followed a few steps behind

her where he could keep her in plain view, on the lookout for any approaching

danger. Shrieks and shrill laughter could be heard in the distance, accompanied by

the sound of slightly off-tune musical instruments playing what sounded suspiciously

like one of the Maeze clan’s war hymns. Chanting floated upon the otherwise still

evening air. Feysepone shuddered and walked on. In ways she was thankful the

wretched clan were preoccupied with their celebrations, as it allowed herself and

Blayze a peaceful passage back to Arbor.

Their journey, much swifter than it had been earlier that day, found them rather

quickly at the edge of the boundary-forests and ready to enter Arbor. It seemed

eerily quiet there, almost as if the usual trouble makers had abandoned their

meeting place and found somewhere or someone else to terrorize. Papers and trash

flew across the cobblestone as a light breeze now blew. The streetlamps seemed

dim, and some flickered as if threatening to go out completely. Feysepone

swallowed, but she couldn’t get rid of the lump of fear that seemed to be forming in

her throat. Something didn’t feel right. She looked over at Blayze who was now

standing completely still as if sensing something. He turned to her and gestured for

her to follow. She stumbled forward, taking her usual hurried steps to keep up with

him, and grateful for his massive silhouette in front of her.

Then, a familiar voice. “No!” she heard. “Please, no!”

That voice. She dared not believe it. Why would he be here? She felt Blayze stiffen

next to her, and before she could gather her own thoughts she was standing before a

scene that confirmed her worst fears.

“Father!” she screamed. In front of her was Herald, his usually regal figure now

cowering on the ground. His arms were held up in front of him, hands attempting to

shield his face. From what?

Sensing their presence, his attacker hobbled round to face them. A ragged-looking

Maeze man with height to his advantage, slimy black hair framing his head and

shoulders, his stench permeating the air around him, yellow eyes gleaming in the

now dusky light. It was almost dark, except for the glowing amber bar of metal he

was holding, the tip seemed to have been exposed to extreme heat and the Maeze

clan member’s gloved hands, protected, held it at its base waving it threateningly at

Herald. As it swung close to his face, he cried out. Not naturally born to fight, a

confrontation of this nature was a common Aphex citizen’s worst nightmare as wits

and intellect was of very little use and strength was not a gift given to their clan.

Pheysepone felt the colour drain from her face and suddenly the night air felt biting

cold. Before she could act, Blazye was holding the Maeze clan member by the scruff

of his ragged shirt, hot iron in the other bare hand pointed directly at the now

terrified Maeze man’s face. “Let me go!” the Maeze cackled. “We’ll destroy you, and

your clan! Don’t get on the wrong side of a Maeze member you fool!” he hissed.

Feysepone rushed to her father’s side, kneeling down beside him and gathering him

into her arms. She was dismayed to see he was sobbing. She didn’t know what to

make of his shivering form now, her father, reduced to tears. Her face flushed with

anger. She looked up and screamed as she observed Blayze’s punishment to the

Maeze attacker. “Go back to your clan and let your punishment be their warning!”

Blayze boomed, and before Feysepone could look away in horror he brought the hot

iron down upon the left hand side of the Maeze man’s face, dragging it down to the

neck, his already putrid flesh melting away exposing bone. The Maeze’s cries of

agony were deafening, cutting through the air, bloodcurdling. Feysepone, tears now

streaming down her face pulled her father up off the ground. “Father!” her voice

thin and raspy. “Father come with me, come on, get up! You must get up now!”

Herald seemed to jolt into action, looking over at Blayze briefly before getting up,

stumbling after Feysepone further into Arbor towards Parox. Feysepone kept

running. All her ears could hear was the blood curdling scream, all her eyes could see

was rotting, burning flesh. It was at times like this she feared Blayze, for what he had

seen in life, for what he was capable of, for all he did not fear.

They did not look back until they were both well out of Arbor and had reached the

cobblestone streets of Parox. They slowed to a brisk, anxious walk. Feysepone’s

heart was beating so hard it felt as if it may burst out of her chest. She noticed there

were new black-crosses since morning, more than before. Herald did not speak the

entire way home. Even on arrival back home as Feysepone sat him down in front of

their glowing fireplace with a blanket around his shoulders and seaweed soup, he

was like a melted candle, spilling into the seat, weak and lifeless, his eyes sad and

fearful at the same time. Fonseca had rushed to meet them both at the door,

worried sick when they had failed to return home and hurried to help her husband

feel more comfortable. For the first time, her father was lost. Feysepone warmed

herself briefly before the flames before drawing the window curtains aside and

anxiously pacing. Would Blayze come back here? What became of him? Why had he

not contacted her somehow? Two hours passed. Her mother eventually retired

upstairs. Her father, still seated in the den and now well asleep did not hear the

thump at the door, or see the sight of an exhausted Blayze standing there, scruffy

and breathing heavily. Feysepone pulled him inside and slammed the door shut. For

the first time, Arzurius Commander Blayze was standing inside her home.

 

8.

Hope and Despair

As light streamed through the windows of the den and enveloped Feysepone where

she lay, she felt something close to what the warmth of sun might be like, were she

able to feel it directly on her skin. As she lay across the sofa where she had

eventually fallen asleep, her thoughts seemed to drift. Would the sun burn me

because I live underwater? Would I become a whole different colour? Would Blayze

enjoy the bright warmth sun could bring?

Blayze.

She awoke with a jolt, sitting upright. She looked around her, where hours before

Herald and Blazye had been sleeping in the same room. The same room! She began

to panic, her imagination presenting worst-case scenarios, arguments, broken hearts

and tears…then she heard the low, muffled sound of voices drifting over from the

kitchen. The smell of spiced coral-toast wafted over into the warm room where she

sat, the last glowing embers of the fire crackling and spitting. Not daring to assume

what may have conspired while she had been asleep, she got up and tiptoed towards

the kitchen. Her heart pounding, she arrived to a sight she had not expected. There,

seated closely together at the kitchen table was Herald and Blazyze. They were

somewhat huddled together, the low muttering being produced by their

conversation.

They both turned as they became aware of Feysepone’s presence. “Hi…” she said,

trailing off awkwardly and hoping one of them would voluntarily explain what had

transpired in a detailed manner. Neither of them did, Herald instead indicating to the

freshly prepared toast on the stove and smiling grimly. As she turned to scoop some

breakfast into a plate for herself, she listened intently to their resumed conversation.

Blayze’s unmistakable voice, hushed now, “We are making preparations. We are

assuming the worst and preparing accordingly. No stone will be left unturned. We

think we may have numbers in our favour.” Herald’s voice now, strong again and

nothing like the shaky, cowering man Feysepone had witnessed last night. “Yes, we

are very lucky to have your clan on our side. I dread to imagine the fate of the Aphex

without the support of you and your people. All this political unrest has served to

create separation where really, there should be allies.”

Allies? Had she heard correctly? Here was Herald, thanking Blayze for his support!

She turned, more swiftly than she would have liked and almost dropped her plate. As

she sat down, Herald finally included her in the conversation. “Blayze saved my life

last night, and for that I am forever-indebted.” He turned to Blayze and placed a

hand on his shoulder. “One thing an Aphex never does is forget a kindness done unto

him. You are always welcome in our home.” Always welcome in our home!?

Feysepone felt the moment was surreal, not knowing what it meant for her and

Blayze, or for the future. Yet the words had been said, and Feysepone knew her

father always honoured his words. Fonseca, who had been absent until now drifted

into the kitchen, placed a hand on Blayze’s shoulder before moving towards the

kitchen sink to begin packing away breakfast items and clearing away mess.

Feysepone couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Then, she heard Blazye introduce a

topic she herself had been too afraid too until this point.

“You do know your daughter wishes to fight in your honour, for the Aphex and for

what is right…” he said, his voice calm and seeming to hold very little emotional

colour. Herald sighed. Fonseca’s clinking and clanging of dishes stopped, but she did

not turn away from the sink. It was like time, and sound, stood still. Feysepone swore

they would have been able to hear her heart pounding. Herald was the first to speak.

“Feysepone has been and done many things which bring me great anxiety, Blayze.

Her affiliation with you being one of them. Before last night, I thought I knew how

the world worked, what was right and wrong, what was safe and what was

dangerous. I thought I could protect my own daughter by caging her in. I wish I

could. Blazye, I wish there was some way.” Blayze responded, as Fonseca moved

towards her husband to comfort him. Feysepone sat next to Blayze, if only to remind

them that she was in fact, in the room and present. “I would love nothing more than

for Fey to give up this dream of fighting for honour, if I could cage her in I would. Yet

my desire means nothing to her, if only an inconvenient sorrow she must consider

before charging on ahead. If I could stop her, I would. Yet the price she would pay by

not following her own inner fire would destroy her, and therefore me. I have even

less of an answer to this than you, Herald.”

Herald turned to his daughter now. “Feysepone. I want you to know one thing

before you confirm your decision. I love you, and despite what it may seem like, you

have not disappointed me as a daughter. You have made me uncomfortable, that

you have. You have challenged how I see things. Yet at the heart of all you wish,

dream and involve yourself with there seems to be goodness of heart and truth. Are

you really sure you want to participate in this war? If you are, I cannot stop you aside

from locking you here in this house. Even then, who is to say it does not get broken

into and destroyed, you along with it in my absence?” Feysepone knew her father

would be in political protection, overseeing from a secret location what was

occurring on the war front. Fonseca would of course be with him. She could feel his

unspoken plea for her to join them there. Yet she could also feel him let go, which

made it somehow easier for her to assert her answer with passion and confidence.

“Yes. I am sure father. I can and will fight. It is my birthright.” Herald’s face crinkled

as the pain and worry of her decision bore down upon him, yet he did not look

surprised. Blayze placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I will do all I can to make

sure she is safe during battle. She is able and she is not like any other woman. She

could easily overpower a Maeze man with her agility and strength. Other than that, I

can provide no other comfort.”

Despite how warm and inviting the house had seemed just an hour earlier, the air

now seemed to have a biting-cold quality about it, as if all the joy and innocence had

been wrung out of the room.

 

9.

The Gong

Although it felt like months since war had been declared by the Maeze clan, and it

seemed like war was all anyone had been talking about, the day the gong rang out

across Parox still sent shock racing through Feysepone’s being. She had barely

awoken and was still lying in bed, enjoying the warmth of the light filtering through

her part-open curtain when it sounded. The first gong rang out, and then another,

deep and menacing. Feysepone’s days of childhood flashed before her eyes,

memories she had hidden in the back of her mind now surfacing. Laughter and

voices echoed through her mind. In the silence between gongs, she tried to listen for

any sound of activity elsewhere in the house. What were her parents thinking? What

were they feeling? Her thoughts turned immediately to Blayze. Hearing the war-gong

this morning would have been a call to arms for her beloved.

The final gong sounded and then silence. Feysepone knew she would not hear

another until the time of battle. This was merely a wake-up call. Finally, she heard

doors slamming downstairs; she heard Herald’s voice speaking hurriedly to Fonseca.

Her parents would now be preparing to leave for the secret location of their hideout,

kept safe by the current government’s protection. No political representative was to

be involved in battle during this time. But I’m involved, Feysepone thought, leaping

out of bed and hurrying to gather her things. She would be heading to Arbor and

then beyond to Dome’s Edge. She remembered how to get there, for this time she

would be making the journey alone. Bhoarskin satchel, knife, bread. Pride. Courage.

She ran downstairs, made eye contact with her parents, who seemed to have so

much to beseech her yet she gave them no time as she ran. Her heart was now on

fire. She bolted through the front door; she wouldn’t stop until she reached her

destination. There was no time to feel her emotions, to gather her thoughts. She felt

like her insides had turned to stone. To be soft now would destroy her.

By the time she reached Arbor, chaos was ensuing. Troops were everywhere, the

Arzurius army well on its way towards Dome’s Edge. There were only a few

recognizable Aphex soldiers, Parox’s small offering considering that the Aphex clan

was bred for thinking, not fighting. They, as she, would join the force at large and

fight alongside the Arzurians. The Maeze soldiers would be departing from the

Runelands directly to Dome’s Edge. Feysepone searched the crowds anxiously for

Blayze. He was nowhere in sight. Where is he? She wondered. She could feel her

stone-cold inner armour melt away and anxiety began to grip her chest. And then, he

was there, as if in response to her heart’s call. “Fey, I need to make my way ahead,

keep up with me.” She nodded, understanding immediately his responsibility as

Arzurius Commander yet also that he wished for them to remain together as much

as possible. She quickened her pace. Officially, the war was to take place outside of

the Dome, and no war violence was to occur in Arbor itself, yet she could feel the

inter-clan hostility as they made their way quickly through.

Before long, they had crossed the border-forests and were on the last stretch past

the Runelands. By now, it was herself and Blayze heading up the travelling party with

the entire Arzurian army, Aphex members interspersed, following behind. When she

dared to turn back, Feysepone was in awe at the sheer mass of soldiers. It was

majestic, it was frightening. So many men and some few women, willing to sacrifice

their lives for honour and to retain their government as it was. A few rows were

shouting war cries and chants, which only served to heighten the feeling of tension

and fear. Feysepone reminded herself, stone, I am stone. She looked over at Blayze.

It was an odd feeling, for here today he was not her lover Blayze. He was

Commander Blayze, Arzurian soldier of honour, leading his troops into war. He finally

spoke, after what had seemed like hours. “When we enter the Dome, you need to

adapt quickly. I can see you’re handling the seventy-five percent breathing capacity

much better this time.” True, she thought, I hardly thought about it at all. He guided

her to step aside with him and allow the troops to take over and march ahead.

“Once adjusted, you need to find your place in the battlefield, you cannot stay with

me for I will be placing myself in the way of great harm and there is a high chance

you will be killed immediately if you follow me. I am trained for these situations, Fey,

I want you to promise me you’ll stay with the other women and fight on the

outskirts.” Feysepone looked at him; his eyes were now piercing hers, dark and

searching. “Yes my love, I give you my word.” She said. “And you?”

She knew the answer before it escaped his lips. “I will do what I have always done. I

will fight until the end. That is all I can promise you for now, my love.” They turned

their attention to the Dome’s edge which now loomed in front of them. A small

group of soldiers stood near the portal entrance, for the purpose of organizing the

exit of each batch of soldiers so as not to allow too much water into the Dome. “Step

forward! Step forward!” Rows of soldiers, stepping forward in perfect

synchronization, through the portal and out into the open water. Feysepone felt her

throat clench as she noticed her and Blayze were moving closer and closer to the

portal entrance. The words “Step forward!” were the last she heard before plunging

into the murky depths.

 

10.

War

This time, Feysepone welcomed the lack of air, knowing the sooner she adjusted to

the changed conditions the sooner she could fight for her clan’s honour. She looked

around anxiously, Blayze was nowhere in sight. Immediately, her mindset changed.

Time for battle she thought, hand reaching instinctively for her knife and pulling it

forth. It was a shining, heavy thing, which she had only really ever used for the

purposes of skinning a Bhoar or cutting shrubbery free when she wished to take the

fruit, berries or herbs they held. However it was not small and its sharpness could

easily cut through flesh. She had grabbed it when a young Maeze man dropped it

during a scuffle with a member of another clan some years back. It had proven to be

a reliable and versatile knife and well suited to the nature of combat that would take

place during the Axis war. Most soldiers only had swords or knives, a few even

choosing to use hand-to-hand combat. Her position on the outskirts of the battle

field was to target any stray or weakened Maeze soldiers that came her way.

She glanced quickly around her again and noted that she was among the slightest of

frame in the group of women, many of them almost built like men. A good few of

them were Arzurian women and she could only see one girl who appeared to be

Aphex, which was confirmed as she observed the girl’s hair colour change to silver.

Feysepone’s attention now focused on the battle scene in front of her. The soldiers

were heavily engaged in combat, one Arzurian soldier letting out a deep war-cry as

he sliced a Maeze soldier’s neck. Feysepone shuddered slightly, yet her stone-set

resolve was back. She had spent a lot of time preparing for a time like this,

researching and learning about past Dythropian wars and even the historical human

wars before them. In that research, she had ensured she exposed herself to the

grimiest details of battle so her stomach would not easily turn at a time like this.

Suddenly, a shrill yell as a weedy looking soldier came up beside her, sword poised to

pierce her in the heart. Her strength found her, and quickly she locked his striking

hand and stabbed him in the abdomen with her trusted knife. From hunting, she

knew just where to stab to wound a Bhoar badly enough that the stomach acids

would spread and poison its system in a matter of minutes. She turned the knife to

ensure a job well done, the soldier’s eyes meeting hers, wide and then glassy as he

fell away, floating lifeless through the water. She turned, agile as ever and met with

two Meaze men, larger this time. Feysepone noticed a tall Arzurian woman poised to

strike behind him, she signalled to her and before the Maeze soldier could act, the

Arzurian woman grabbed him in a solid stronghold from behind, arm around his

neck. Feysepone jumped forward, knife plunging this time into his chest. A turn of

the knife and he slumped to the ocean’s floor. Then she felt an icy cold grip around

her own neck and the mind-whisper of her assailant. Time to sleep, Aphex girl. She

struggled, yet his bind was now around her waist too, and he was squeezing tightly.

He’s too strong! Her mind screamed. She didn’t know if he had heard her thoughts

but his grip seemed to tighten even more. Her eyes darted around, searching for an

ally to help her, yet everyone seemed to be pre-occupied. Blayze entered her mind,

and then her family. Then, her breath diminishing, her vision darkened.

 

11.

Political Ruin

Hair of gold and skin of snow,

This place here is where you’ll know

Home is home, you’re here my love

Time and distance never enough

The ancient Dythropian chant her mother would sing to her before bed as a young

girl floated through Feysepone’s mind as her senses began to slowly find her again.

She went to take a deep gulp of air as she attempted to revive herself, yet found she

was once again lacking oxygen. The sound of rushing footsteps and frantic voices

signalled to her as her awareness increased that the battle was over and those who

had survived were either making their way back towards Arbor or assisting the

injured. There were many questions burning in Feysepone’s mind. What had become

of the Dythropian government? Were her parents okay? Where was Blayze?

She realised someone must have brought her back through the portal as she was in

the dry, strained atmosphere of the Runelands once more. Chaos surrounding her,

she attempted to move her muscles, dreading discovering a severed limb, yet

grateful to be alive. One leg, another leg. Her arms, her fingers. All seemed to be

working. Her throat and ribs pulsed painfully where the Maeze soldier had

attempted to squeeze the life out of her body, yet she seemed relatively unharmed.

As she brought herself up from the dirt, she wondered why she could not feel her

long hair falling around her, inconveniencing her as it had many times before. Her

hand moved to her head and she froze. There, where her long hair had once been

was a short matt of bleeding hair. Suddenly she became aware of how much her

head hurt. Her hair had been cut by sword and she assumed, she must have been

struck to the head as a final touch. She didn’t have time to fathom why she had lost

her hair and not her life, as she was swept up in a new crowd of people, moving in

the direction of Arbor. Anxious to find her loved ones, she too began to run.

As she approached Arbor she could already see the throngs of aid-workers, moving

injured soldiers towards safe-bays to be attended to. She searched the crowd

anxiously for anyone she could recognise. Where would Blayze be right now? He

could be anywhere! Then, Feysepone saw something that made her blood run cold.

The dead bodies from battle were being brought into the square and laid out for

identification before being moved away for incineration. Although back in the safety

of the Dome, suddenly it felt hard to breathe again. She tentatively made her way

towards the bodies. Before she could look closely at any of them, she felt a hand

pulling on her shoulder, she turned and it was Herald. “Thank goodness you’re okay

Phey!” she couldn’t remember the last time he had embraced her so tightly.

Fonseca hurried to her side, holding her tightly and kissing her head over and over

again. “Your hair, they took your hair!” she cried. “But they spared your young life,

thank goodness!” Her parents were okay. She was okay. “I…”she began. Herald

interjected. “I haven’t seen him either.”

Then she heard something. It was a somewhat distant voice in the crowd, audible

over the other voices. “The Arzurian Commander is dead! The great Commander

Blayze is no longer with us!” the crowd’s chatter raised in volume until eventually

the voice was drowned out. Feysepone felt sick. Suddenly, the fear flung her

forward, and she ran towards where the voice had been coming from. There, a space

had been cleared and next to all the other hundreds of bodies, lay her beloved. He

was pale, the colour drained from his face, his eyes had been graciously closed shut

by whomever had found his body, his left arm was completely missing and there was

a large wound, the blood now dried, in his sternum. The world around her, all the

activity, all the voices seemed to fall away and all she could see was his body. She let

out a blood curdling cry as she fell to the floor by his side, weeping above his lifeless

body, her hands buried in his now matted long hair, and her face buried in that same

strong chest she had hidden in many times before. Yet this time was the last time.

Feysepone’s heart felt like it would tear clean apart, she almost wished for it, so she

could feel something other than the excruciating agony that pierced it now.

She was still there, hours later, as high tide swept the last light away.

“The Axis war ended today, as hundreds of bodies were brought into Arbor, many of

which seemed to be Maeze however not short of Arzurius soldiers either”,

An Aphex news-crier proclaimed across the town centre through his conical speaker.

“Reports advise that the purpose of the Axis war has not been served however, as

many soldiers died and a high contingency of Maeze strength still remains in

parliament. With no decisive loss on either side, there are no grounds on which to

determine a satisfactory political arrangement. Therefore, the clan representatives

shall duly meet in parliament in three days to diplomatically discuss further action

and accurately gauge the remaining threat posed to Dythropian government by the

Maeze clan. Until such time, Maeze shall remain in control of our key resources to

quell further unrest. Many honourable men and some women were lost, including the

well-respected and essential Commander Blayze of the Arzurian clan, prompting new

assignment of a Commander as soon as the clan is able.”

 

 

End.

 

 

GLOSSARY:

Bhoar- slightly shorter in height than a Dythropian but with a stocky, heavy build and

matted brown fur, one of the few species that cannot survive outside of the Dome.

Despite its similarities to what humans would have known as a bear, it is unable to

walk on its hind legs and is often hunted for its skin.

High/low tide- outside the Dome, the water’s tide level affects whether it is night or

day, light or dark in Dythropia. As the earthly elements (sun, moon and weather) still

exist above sea level despite all else having shifted during the inversion, these

elements reach the Dome as filtered through the water’s tide.

“Of Age” to marry- 25 Dythropian Years.

Rabbi (Rab-eye)- variation of mammal similar to a rabbit but semi amphibious and

with webbed paws and silvery fur.

Rue-Leaf- Harvested from a particular breed of Dythropian seaweed, has a sweet

taste and red coloured leaf.

Sea-hub- an underwater, compact submarine used for exploring outside of the

Dome.

Sea-nodes- semi-amphibious horses with webbed feet for swimming if needed and

green, tangled manes. Their heads very much resemble that of a sea horse.

Welp- A four legged dog-like creature with wide jaws which remain fixed open, and

rows of gleaming, sharp teeth with two particularly long fangs for tearing flesh.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[joshua deathdealer]

I think this is amazing. I'm new to this style but I love it. Complex but a beauty to read. Keep it up.