Ascension to Paradise

“You.”

Taní instinctively reached for the covers of his bedroll. It wasn’t there. Good blood, did Danza really have to wake him so early all the time?

At least the roll felt nice. No, not nice…amazing. Like a guest bed they’d have prepared in a Monastery. So plush and light…it felt just like a fluffy cloud. And he wanted to float on it forever.

“Boy.”

The muffled lull of the ocean drew him back into the comforting depths of slumber. God, he loved when he could barely hear the waves. Gentle, yet powerful. A noise that could wash away your worries.

And it sounded close, too. He recalled them setting camp some ways from the beach, but they never risked resting on the sands. That was plain stupid. Sand just got everywhere, and the tide? That salty strangler’s unpredictability could lead to an uncomfortable if somewhat eye-stinging, death.

“If you’ve any sense, disembark now. Students are prohibited from departing without the Deputy Headmaster’s express permission, and I’d rather your disagreeable stench not profane our Lady’s cabin.”

Annoyed, Taní lifted a single, unwilling lid. The blurry world of the living greeted him, but instead of finding the lush countryside, he saw only the doll’s gaudy room.

Right. Danza had left him.

Rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, Taní blinked thrice—scattering the residual crust from the corners—then faced the stern entity. The monitor towered over him, trembling arms folded.

Her short, gilded hair framed her angular face, and judging by the intensity of her thin brow and that straight nose, she was Tyrian. A set of saffron-chambray eyes scrutinized him, and though she loomed over him—the nightsip table off-kilter—he had the sneaking suspicion she’d restrained herself from throttling him while he slept.

“I shan’t repeat myself, boy. Disembark at once, lest I drag you overboard,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Taní’s gaze drifted across the table. The doll wasn’t there anymore. Alert, he glanced around for any traces of her. Even the hall, partially obscured by the monitor’s imposing physique, revealed nothing.

“Where is she?” Taní asked.

“She was the first to step off this vessel, as was to be expected.”

He frowned. She never considered wishing him goodbye?

The woman cleared her throat, returning him to the moment. She didn’t speak, though; she just stared at him. Her folded arms strained the fabric of her sleeves.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Taní said, looking over her for any signs of the doll.

The woman’s eyes flared with disbelief. “This is my current duty, boy.”

“Watching people sleep? Kinda creepy.”

“No, I am to ensure the safe passage of every student that boards this vessel. Including the contemptible, ignominious recalcitrant.”

Taní slowly sat up, scouring through his internal vault for the matching definitions of those words. When he turned up empty-handed, he opted for a “Thanks for your sacrifice, I guess.”

Her only response was an aggravated inclination of her head.

Right.

Taní recovered his belongings, and after triple checking his pockets for the shiny pebble, hopped off the sofa. The woman stepped back, granting him access to the hall.

Half-way through the space, he paused and spared the cracked doors a glance. The contents once hidden to him revealed humble if somewhat attractive interiors with slightly less space than the doll’s cabin. A sturdy, if somewhat drab-looking table sat between the silken-covered seats on either side of the room. Their surface littered with mugs of quarter-filled, lukewarm nightsip.

“D’Histell, are you simply going to stand there, or shall I hull you off?” came the monitor’s impatient voice.

Taní cocked a brow at her. “How do you know my name?”

“I’ve two offices in this Academy. One just so happens to involve the transportation of insufferable children.”

“That doesn’t explain much…”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Because of my position, I’m briefed on every student who has registered for the school year.”

“So…this is your job?” Taní guessed.

“Essentially.”

“Are you in charge of every trip?”

She scoffed. “There’s not enough time in the day, D’Histell. One woman cannot man the entirety of the Academy’s security.”

“Then this isn’t the only ship?”

“No, it is, however, the king’s private vessel.”

Taní blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “Rather fortunate for a commoner.”

Before he could press, she started down the hall, her hands clasped behind her back. Taní immediately followed, but her long, powerful strides effortlessly outpaced him. Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he had to run just to keep up with her.

They broke onto the deck, greeted by the muted radiance of a brooding sky.

“How long have you worked here?” Taní said, as he finally caught up to her.

She didn’t spare him a glance. “For the last decade, give or take.”

“Do you like it?”

“Some days are better than others.”

Once they reached the gangway, Taní gave his surroundings a thorough sweep. He had passed a great many cities in his travels, and though this port bore some manner of resemblance to the wealthier cities, a single object stood out to him: The distant crown of a silvery keep that poked out from behind the rooftops.

Taní couldn’t keep his eyes off the thing as his legs carried him down the gangway. A sky castle. Fragments from their ancient past with the Unifier. For years, he had thought them to always exist, but to his surprise, he had learned that they didn’t predate the Unifier. An invention otherwise associated with the Juneacão of Eld, created by an Agent not from this realm.

Captivated by the celestial marker, Taní took another step, but instead of finding ground, he met air. Gravity arrested him, drawing him to the swishing waters below, but before he could plummet into their chilly depths, he froze. No, someone caught him.

The gray waters blurred into a fuzzy-clouded sky as they wrenched Taní back onto the tiled street. When he stumbled into his savior, he found it to be the monitor. Good blood, she didn’t even appear winded.

“Be mindful, D’Histell.”

Taní nodded, suddenly feeling stupid. At least he hadn’t drowned.

He followed her through the port town, crossing dozens of luxury shops and boutiques as they went. Just more places to spend pointless vines. Having only dealt with peddlers, he recognized none of them.

Groups of children Taní’s age kept to themselves as they shopped, but unlike the ones on the ship, their uniforms bore two distinct differences. An extravagant shoulder cape, and a dagger on their belt. The shoulder cape came in two parts: The left cape, which ranged from the colors of orange, violet, and white. Then on the right, a deep black.

Several armored individuals stood on guard across the port. Juneacão, by the looks of it. They blended into the shadows; their gazes set on the wider streets. An overwhelming sense of peace permeated the area, but not in a forced, silent way. More in the “nothing bad ever happens here,” type of way.

“Hey, Misses,” Taní said, breaking their silence. “Are there really monsters past this island? You know, in the ocean.”

“No, the world just falls after the edge,” she answered dryly.

“So, it’s true.”

“As Tygenna is green.”

Taní nodded thoughtfully. “Misses?”

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

“Eleanor.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “But you shall refer to me as Master Sanrevelle.”

“Doesn’t sound very Tyrian,” Taní remarked.

“It is the name my parents adopted. My Tyrian name is of no concern. Not to you, nor any instructor or Juneacão under the sun.”

“Oh, well…what do you teach here, Master Sanrevelle?”

Eleanor returned her gaze to the path ahead. “Art.”

Taní tilted his head. “What?”

“I am an instructor of the Fine Arts, D’Histell.”

“But…why?”

“Because they will be your greatest boon when your back is to the wall.”

Taní racked his brain for answers. He knew that Juneacão—or at least the highborn ones—prided themselves on their diverse education, but art? No other phrase besides “needlessly extravagant” came to mind.

“How’d you qualify for it?” he asked.

“I applied, as any other would. Then we took a test. Rather brutal, but I managed.”

“Those must’ve been some pretty good paintings.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Eleanor’s lips. “Yes, I suppose I did paint a good picture.”

Taní’s eyes traveled to her robes. Her outfit made sense now that he thought about it.

Turning upon the next street, they came across a series of alleyways. Most were as wide as a narrow street, others so thin you had to squeeze through just to walk. That’s when he caught it: the soft pop of an uncorked phial.

Taní glanced all around until his eyes landed upon a trio of students in one of the larger alleyways. They ran at the walls, stopped before slamming into them, then pushed themselves away from the solid red surface.

One student—a girl judging by her blouse—laughed, branding them cowards. When called to prove her courage, she smirked and stepped back. She brandished an unsealed phial in one hand, and though she held it at an angle, her thumb prevented the liquids from spilling.

Suddenly, the contents bubbled. She sped towards the wall, though she didn’t slow as she approached the red surface. No, she just got faster. Waves of nigh invisible shimmering heat washing around her like a Sun’s Peak heat wave.

She stepped higher and higher until the tips of her shoes caught on the wall, but instead of stopping, she pivoted mid-step and lunged across the alley in an explosion of energy! Adjusting mid-flight, she crashed feet-first into the opposing wall, then repeated the motion. Climbing higher and higher until she pulled herself over the lip of the roof and lorded over her companions. The phial drained of its essence.

Sedd! A girl his age had just used Sedd! Juneacão rarely made use of it outside of combat, yet she had used it to climb a bloody wall.

Taní watched as the last member of the trio reached into her Blood-Loader with a smirk. She bounced from wall to wall, though she had to use sloppy half-pushes to propel herself skyward.

They eventually reached the top in twice the girl’s time, but instead of insulting her performance, the first flashed a broad, somewhat proud grin at them.

“What do you think you’re DOING? Sedd outside of class instruction is strictly prohibited!” Eleanor screeched.

Taní reeled as the sheer blast of noise left his ears ringing. The trio swiveled to the Art instructor and immediately blanched. Not one second later, they vanished. Or at least the two on the rooftop did in a mad flurry of limbs.

“Blasted first-years… One would think they’d possess a modicum of self-restraint…” Eleanor muttered to herself.

Taní turned to her, his ears still ringing. “It is really that bad to use Sedd outside of class?”

She folded her arms. “Yes. Beyond its likelihood of leading to a deadly altercation between brain-starved squires, reckless use of Goem—the School of Enhancement—leads to locking. You can see why that would be inconvenient during a spree of acrobatics.”

Taní recalled the various tourneys Danza had participated in during their travels. Newly anointed Juneacão—often wanting to prove their worth—would push themselves through the high usage of Goem. His Master would often take advantage of these “spry” opponents by leading them on. Eventually, their heated blood led to a temporary paralysis, or as his Master put it: “An easy win.”

“Do Toem users suffer the same locking?” Taní asked.

An amused glint twinkled in her saffron-chambray eyes. “No, though the School of Judgment suffers from a related issue. This, however, has more to do with its similarities to Goem. Stirring, transmission, and even their most potent fuel source all stem from the basic foundations of our oldest and most reliable Path,” she explained, her stern voice carrying all the authority of a teacher.

“You sure know a lot for an Art instructor.

“Any good educator should want to expand beyond their field.”

As they continued through town, Taní caught signs of other students using Sedd. Most suddenly stopped whenever Eleanor crept around the corner. She didn’t yell at them, though she slowed her pace just long enough to fix them with a heart-stopping glare.

“So.” Taní stepped ahead to get a better look at her face. “Does every first-year know how to use Sedd?”

“All except you,” Eleanor said, though her tone wasn’t condescending. She stated it as if it were an indisputable fact. Not that it hurt any less.

“Don’t other people have trouble learning how to use it?” inquired Taní.

“Rarely.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“None that I know of.” She raised a hand, forestalling him. “I’d direct all future inquiries to your general Sedd instructor, D’Histell. They should have the answers you seek, not I.”

Right. She’s an Art teacher.

As Taní safely tucked away a mountain’s worth of questions, a thought squirmed in from the back of his mind.

“Master Eleanor?”

Eleanor’s lips dipped into a deep grimace. “Sanrevelle, D’Histell.”

“Yeah, sorry. Master Sanrevelle, you said there’s a general Sedd instructor here, right?”

“As there should be in any adequate school of learning.”

“So…you have specializers in Goem and Toem, right?”

“Specializers isn’t a word, but yes.”

“Then do you have a God's Fire instructor?”

A small, too-tight smile wormed its way onto her lips. “Child, there’s no such thing as a God's Fire instructor.”

“What? But Danza said that it’s the fourth school of Sedd…” Taní murmured, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“A simple campfire story Grazers pass around when they’ve nothing better to do,” Eleanor said with a wave of her hand. “You needn’t concern yourself with children’s tale, D’Histell. The skills you’ll learn here shall surpass those you’ve heard of in legend.”

“Then it isn’t real…?”

Eleanor turned away. “Perhaps for a time, it was. What’s dead is dead. Seeking to revive it will only result in disappointment.”

Taní suppressed a sigh. That seemed like the best answer he’d get out of her.

With nothing better to do, Taní fidgeted with his training sword. The revelation hadn’t stunned him. Not overtly, anyway. God’s Fire—strictly the Path, not School—had gone extinct in the late eleventh century, shortly after Cari’s tragic defense of the then prince Afonso. Taní didn’t like the idea of such a heroic piece of history buried in the past, but he thought it—if Danza dared—poetic.

The Path’s very creation came about the desire to protect another, and it died in the process of sacrificing their life for another’s sake.

Releasing his hold on his sword, Taní turned his mind to greener pastures. So, he asked the monitor, “How many years until I graduate, Master Sanrevelle?”

Eleanor tilted her head. “You’ve yet to begin instruction, and you’re already asking when you’ll finish?”

He nodded. “That’s what I said.”

“Well, if all goes according, then you’ll see yourself out in five years.”

“Around Sun’s Peak?”

Eleanor clasped her hands behind her back, stiff as always. “Late Greentide, but yes.”

“Wait…that’s around the same time as the Tourney at Godsfield, right?” Taní said, remembering the year.

“Correct.” Eleanor raised her chin. “Rather fortunate now that I think about it. Only a full-fledged Juneacão can participate. If you’ve registered even a year later, they would not permit you entrance to the festivities.” She shook her head. “Do be mindful of your academic performance here. Failure to reach the pre-requisite score will prevent you from graduating on time.”

Five years…

In five years, Taní could make his Wish. In five years, he would commune with the Beholder of God. Just like in the olden tales. He needed only to train.

And learn… He almost groaned in physical disgust at the word. God, I hate learning.

He’d bear with the overly critical eye of the educational system…for now.

“Master Sanrevelle?” Taní called.

“Yes?”

Curious, he leaned forward. They were on the subject already. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “Do you have a Wish?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to the Tourney, then?”

Eleanor’s saffron-chambray eyes shifted to the corners, critical as always. “Now why would I do that?”

“I dunno…cuz you want your Wish to be granted?” Taní said, cluelessly.

“I’d rather it stay as is.”

“What? Why?”

Odd. They had an easy way of manifesting their deepest desire, yet she’d rather trudge along?

“Is it…” Taní worked up the courage to finish his question. “Is it embarrassing, or…?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s something as deceptively simple as it is complex. I doubt I’ll ever know what it feels like, though,” Eleanor said, though she didn’t sound upset. Just indifferent. As if she had truly accepted defeat as a fact.

“Well, if you’re as smart as you sound, then maybe it’ll happen. You never know,” Taní admitted.

Eleanor graced him with another small smile. She didn’t elaborate this time around; she just kept walking. Except this time, her grin never faded.