Page 19 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

No, I’ve never had dragon berries, but I say, “Never had dragon berries this good.”

She slides another dish to me slyly. “The secret ingredient is nectar.”

I walk to my first class, Philosophical Theology. The difference between the way the well-off and the starving view the gods wasn’t hard to pick up on in my childhood, mostly because my mom had used to be the former, and she brought her belief of Zola with her to the septic. Zola is the goddess of balance, and Mom would always say things like, “You are the good thing to right all the bad before.”

It was the only time she was ever really sentimental with me.

The teacher is a Lucent, who begins class too cheerfully in the name of Sulva. He goes on and on about her greatness, and I’m thinking that I thought classes at such a fancy school would be a little more put together. It feels like I’m listening to ramblings.

Sulva sacrificed her first descendent Eira for Ayan’s first descendent Amun. Eira died and Amun found a way to die too. Super romantic and the first love story of Elsyia, so it’s a story I’ve heard a thousand times. Folklore back home, and apparently something Mr. Auberwitz truly believes in.

Zoning out, I start to plan my escape. I’ll have to portal—it’s the only way to go from one world to another. I know that it’s harder to portal between worlds because our life force is tied to our homeworlds. And considering I can’t even start a fire, I’ll need someone to channel.

So I’ll have to not only find some unwitting Folk to steal magic from, but I’ll also have to get past whatever kind of alarm ticked off the headmistress that I came in.

When the class is over, it’s far from too soon. But I think I might prefer it over Elemental Magic.

The first faces I catch are Aralia and Calista. I avoid them while they avoid one another, and when the teacher says my name I duck my head. And when she adds, “A Fire Folk,” I don’t wallow in the whispers around the room. What I do enjoy is the subtle feeling of fear that is bound to boil in some of the students. If only I could find a way to make it last, to succeed in whatever lesson Ms. Abrams is going to give us and foster their fear like a knife.

I drop the hope when she says, “Today we are going to be doing something extra special. A practice in control, if you will.” When she looks at me, I feel like this is a directed attack. Not many people like the Fire Folk. We’re dangerous beings, after all. There’s that, and that everyone believes my dad to be one of the most infamous Folk of the generation. I wonder, not for the first time, if Dalin really is my father. “Each of you will take your elements to their absolute limits, and when I say yield, you will draw your power back in.”

Some of the class smiles, and some of them look as nervous as I feel, though I’d never show it. I stand tall, my face cold as stone.

“I will pair you each up with a partner to warm up with before we begin.” She goes on to pair up the class, and when she says my name after one Kai Contarini, I will myself to stay calm. Contarini is the Royal name of Lorucille and I’m hoping my partner is not related to them, but it’s a foolish wish.

Again, this feels deliberate. I wonder if the headmistress is behind it. A Contarini is bound to be powerful, one of the two Royal families left in the entire universe of Elysia which have held onto their power through force alone. I don’t want to imagine what will happen if he cannot reel back in his power when he’s supposed to.

I make my way to the blond boy, and when he smiles I feel a little thankful for Aralia’s glamour.

“I’m Kai.” His floppy, dirty blond hair sweeps over his forehead. He has bulbous cheeks and big lips, like Damien. Soft and kind brown eyes, a smile that could convince anyone of anything. The kind of smile I’ve spent my entire life envying and emulating from my mom.

“Des.” I quickly add, “demona,” not sure if they do nicknames the same way we do in the septic.

But he smiles and says, “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Des.”

“You too,” I say, mimicking his smile.

“The only thing I ask of you is to take it easy on me,” Kai says.

“Oh, yes,” I say. “That goes for you too. I’m more fragile than I may seem.” I’ve noticed people like when the Fire Folk have self-humility, and when he laughs, I take note.

“What makes you think such a thing?” he asks, and I close my fist tightly around the cut on my palm.

“Perhaps my limited experience. I’m from Utul,” I tell him, going with the lie I told the Eunoia in the kitchen earlier. It’s the most peaceful part of Lorucille, a perfect utopia to hide behind.

Bet they didn’t have a mile-long death toll every day during the war.

“Well, then you have a lot to learn. Perhaps I should go first, as an example.”

“Sure.” I bide my time.

Kai closes his eyes and purple bolts of energy flicker between his fingers, growing and covering his entire hand while they morph into a yellow shade. Soon enough, both his hands are glowing a deep yellow color, the light bouncing between them before there is a steady stream flowing between both his palms.

An image begins to take root in the light, a garden like the one at the school with homes built of wood and stone. A far cry from our clay dwellings. He pulls his hands apart further, the image growing around me.

My feet are in the grass, but I still feel the flat surface of the classroom. The sun is shining on the trees and flowers, but I don’t feel its warmth. I hear the snap of a finger and Kai stands before me.

“It’s not a current image,” he says, “but one from memory.” I nod and keep my bewilderment from reaching my face. I never knew that the Light Folk could do anything like this. “It’s been years since I’ve been to Utul.”

---