“Let me tell you a story,” my mother whispered dramatically to me and Tassi.
“A long time ago, the world was a beautiful and magical place. It was because of the weavers.”
“Weavers?!” My sister, only four at the time, cried fearfully. Everyone knew that the weavers were evil creatures able to manipulate and become shadows.
“Oh my, dear, don’t be afraid, because back before the rectifiers came there were many weavers of many elements like water, air, earth, and fire.” This was the first time I had ever heard of other weavers. I had always thought that the weavers were sent as punishment from the Gods.
“Wait, but the apostles said that all weavers are bad and should be killed,” I voiced. My mother then turned to me with a fierce look in her eyes. Her necklace swung with the movement; it was a simple thing, a water lily charm at the end of a silver chain, but whenever I saw it, I felt a sense of freedom and ferocity.
“Shuba, you are a strong girl. Are you going to let others make your opinions for you?” She stared me down and I sagged due to the weight of disappointing her. Then, her eyes softened, and she beckoned toward Tassi and me to come closer to her.
“I realize that you two are not yet ready for this story, but one day you will be and when that day comes, you must allow yourselves to listen. Promise me that.” Tassi and I look at each other. Tassi looked confused at why she had to promise, and so was I, but we promised nonetheless. I wished we hadn’t. That became one of many promises I have broken. Our mother never got to tell us the story, because that was ten years ago…and I haven’t seen my mother since.
As I think back to that day, I felt a sharp pain on my cheek and then felt the pull of gravity propelling me to the floor.
“Enough of your daydreams girl, get back to work!” A guard commands me. I quickly picked myself up and make my way to the market.
As I walked down the hallways of the palace, covered from floor to ceiling with art or precious metals, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much all of it could be worth. We care about the safety and happiness of all our citizens. I snorted at the overused lie the rectifiers tell whenever people start getting antsy.
“If you care so much about your citizens then why are half of them living on the streets?” I thought. When I made it to market, I start looking at a booth that is selling spices, then I heard commotion.
“Stop that man, he is a fugitive and an enemy of the Empire!” A guard shouts, pointing at an old man running, more like staggering, away from him, and coming straight toward me.
I tried to get out of the way, but the man grabbed me and started mumbling gibberish, “You’re like me… protect it, you must protect. Promise me you will protect it. Promise me!”
“All right you swine back to Deathridge!” the guard says when he catches up.
“No, you must promise it! Protect it! Promise!” the old man said, shaking me for emphasis.
“Let go of me!” I cry, not knowing what he is talking about. The guard ripped the man off of me and threw him to the ground. He then took his sword from his belt and pointed it at the man.
“Move along girl, this doesn’t concern you.” He declared stone-faced.
I left with a foul taste in my mouth. Why did that man grab me? And why did he want me to promise him? What am I supposed to protect? All these questions and more swirled through my head until I reached the alley beside my home. As I unlocked the door, I realized my bag was heavier than it should be. I looked into it and saw a bracelet inside. It was silver and had little waterlilies all over it. It reminded me of my mother’s necklace. Then what that man said came to my mind.
You’re like me.
I entered my house and put the bracelet on. Suddenly, I felt this fierce, yet, calm power wash over me. I looked down at my hands and they are smoking. I screamed and started to try to get them to stop, then they caught on fire. I pulled the bracelet off in fear and the fire went away. I looked down at my hands again and wondered out loud,
“If I could control this then what could I do?”
*5 months later*
I now have control over my powers and am walking down the halls when two guards appear.
“You are required in the throne room,” one guard tells me as they pull me toward the room. When we approach, they open the door and throw me to the ground.
“You have committed the highest level of treason. Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” The Dark King says.
“I don’t know what you speak of your majesty.”
“You are a weaver are you not? You can manipulate fire.” He states.
I don’t know what to do. I am scared to admit what I am. But then I look down at my wrist, it is covered by my sleeve but I know what is there, the bracelet covered in waterlilies. Just thinking about them brings me the courage to look at the King,
“Yes, I am a weaver. And you can’t do anything to stop me.” I throw a fireball at the window and it melts, then jump out of the window and scale my way down to the garden. I start running and only stopped when I no longer recognized my surroundings. I just committed treason, I have nowhere to go. Things are about to get interesting.
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