Book 3: Chapter 18 – The Great Blue [Part 1]
Book 3: Chapter 18 - The Great Blue [Part 1]
We all fly. Once you leave the ground, you fly. Some people fly longer than others.
- Michael Jordan
Today was one of those exceedingly rare days of rest. The morning light filtered through the library’s high windows, barely reaching the secluded corner where Seraphina had settled. Seeking a small measure of peace and quiet, she had chosen well; for the past half hour, she had been committing the major events of early Aranthian history to memory. Part of her wondered what use any of it was, especially if this was all a game, then she remembered she needed the knowledge for a perfect score, and anything less than perfect did not suit her. Another, smaller irritation worried at her mind.
A presence that was no longer here.
Her thoughts strayed to Hughes, who at this hour would usually be at her elbow, asking some silly question because he didn’t understand the material. Seraphina, being the beacon of kindness she was, would explain it slowly to him. The quiet without his incessant chatter, the very noise that so often drew shushing from the librarian or the student on duty, felt strangely empty now.
She found the whole thing vaguely irritating for some unknown reason. What was he up to?
Seraphina pushed thoughts of Hughes aside and set about committing a few more long-dead names and their petty annals to memory. A minor reform here, a tepid little rebellion there, an alliance with so-and-so—trifles, all of it. When her deeds were recorded, they would not be small. Her claws would score the pages of history, and no one would ever dare forget her.
With that, she snapped the borrowed tome shut; the thud carried. She rose, green eyes bright with new resolve.
But first, there was something to see to. As ever, she would put others before herself. At the very least it would serve to push a certain boy out of her mind.
***
Seraphina found a secluded part of the garden, alone, with not even her maid Miriam for company.
She had brought the things that Lady Yanmei had sent her, namely the equipment she had ordered from the Toymaker for her newest servant, Tia. Seraphina dressed the little fairy in the doll’s clothes, with the little creature surprisingly obedient under Seraphina’s ministrations. Even with the young noblewoman’s high Dexterity attribute, dressing the fairy in the custom-made miniature armor had been difficult, though it turned out, far from impossible.
Tia bore it without complaint, though her small mouth went thin. When Seraphina set her free, the fairy beat her wings and rose—an inch, two—and sagged again as if the air had turned to tar. She tried once more, managed a feeble wobble, then dropped into the grass, all breath and trembling, wings fluttering like a moth trapped beneath glass.
“Well, this simply won’t do,” Seraphina said, sounding quite disappointed. “We shall just have to get you to train. Perhaps you only need a little help. You will need to get a feel for the armor… and to do that, we need to increase the time you spend flying in it. I think I have just the idea! A little motivation is in order!”
With that, the young noblewoman grabbed the little fairy.
“Seraphina, I don’t understand!” the fairy cried out, looking quite worried and put out.
She did not have to worry long; Seraphina launched her straight up into the sky. Equipment in the game had minimum attribute requirements. De Sariens would see to it that the little Fae built enough Strength, or whatever attribute governed winged flight for the Fae, to use the armor she had gotten for her.
The trick to getting extreme growth was an extreme situation. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. This was the code that Seraphina had lived by, until she no longer had to and cast it aside like last year’s summer collection.
The little Fae flew through the sky, far higher than she had ever flown before. The weight of the new armor tugged at her down, and panic nipped. Tia beat her wings in a frantic blur, too fast, then too wide. She tilted and yawed, dropping sideways in a clumsy spiral as she was unable to push enough Mana, the power that lent her true flight, into her wings. She snatched at the air with quick, choppy strokes, wings slapping and buzzing, then shortened the cadence: three hard flaps, a brace, a wobbly glide. She pitched forward, overcorrected, and dropped again, gasping, before catching herself with another burst of desperate wingbeats as she, by pure primal instinct, channeled more Mana into her wings.
The fall slowed.
“That’s it, Tia! Keep on doing that!” Seraphina called from below, shading her eyes, voice crisp as a riding crop.
Tia obeyed. She spread the wings to their full pane, felt the lift bite for half a heartbeat, then hammered down in tight, furious beats. The world steadied, but for a few precious seconds, her Glamour faded as she forced more Mana into flight, and she became visible for all the world to see. Then the grass rose to meet her, too fast, until a pale hand slid under her like a landing field. She bumped into Seraphina’s palm, skidded to a stop against a curled finger, and lay there panting, tiny chest fluttering in a layer of steel.
“Well done.” Seraphina’s mouth softened. From a napkin-wrapped packet, she produced a small square of cake and pinched off a crumb no larger than a bead. “For your sterling effort.”
Tia took it with both armored hands, eyes bright, and nibbled. Sugar dusted her lip. “It’s good,” she whispered, breath still thin. Her trauma, it seemed, had already been forgotten.
“There’s more where that came from,” Seraphina said, lifting her to shoulder height. “Again soon. We’ll have you flying in armor as if you were born to it. All it takes is a bit more effort.”