Wren of West

The air smelled of aged paper and coffee. Behind me towered rows of wooden shelves packed with books. The faint yellow glow entering through the window made the flying dust shimmer, a rain of glitters. On my right, Elora read a book about ancient myths. On my left, Niobe sat hunched over a book called Herbalism. Across from me, Spyro had his eyes fixed on a book about fire. Below me, Shadowface crawled across the table.

I smacked my palm on its stupid grin. The others looked up, and I told them it was a fly. They dismissed me with a frown and turned back to their studies. Shadowface never spoke to me, it only grinned, but I spoke to it sometimes. I knew it could hear me, understand me. It knew everything about me. It visited me when I was at my weakest. Shadowface loved my misery. But I was patient. One day, I would be the one enjoying its misery.

Just as I turned my attention to the pages underneath my chin, the shrill scream in my head began. My toes curled and I hugged myself. I knew I could make it go away today. I felt strong today. Not the kickass kind of strong, that had never been my thing, but the inner strength sort. My body did not feel heavy today, and the ground underneath my feet felt steady. After counting to a hundred for six times the scream stopped. Pride swelled up inside of me and a quick smile flashed across my face. I did not run from it today.

"I'm so excited for our awakening," Niobe said without looking up.

A frown appeared on my forehead, but I said nothing. I did not want to disagree with Niobe today, not when even looking at her made me feel ashamed of myself. A week ago, Niobe had planted crops in the soil in the garden of the Reverie, tomatoes and strawberries and cucumber. Soon after I had seen her meditating next to her freshly planted crops. I never asked why, but I guessed it was to make them grow faster. Elora had called her a tree-hugging hippie, and I had laughed along. Who was I, the damned freak, to laugh along? Not too long ago I had been everyone's joke and I knew I was in no position to laugh along.

But Spyro disagreed for me. "Our awakening is not a good thing, Niobe. It's only going to get worse, you know."

"I'm not scared," Niobe said. "There's a reason this has happened to us. This is our destiny. We shouldn't be afraid of it."

"Destiny..." Elora scoffed and placed her book down. "We are demons, Niobe, and demons have nothing to do with destiny."

Niobe looked up with narrowed eyes. "Oh, really? What do you call it then? Of all the people in the world, it's us. We..."

"We are pawns," I interrupted her, and briefly shut my eyes and cringed as those words left my mouth. I should've kept my mouth shut. Well, what's done is done. "We are nothing but pawns, Niobe. God did not create us. Hell didn't even create us. Some bastards, right here on Earth, created us for God knows what, ending the lives of dozens of innocents while they were at it."

Niobe shook her head. "Still doesn't explain why of all people it's me and you who..."

"The same reason it's not me or you who's the prince of England," I said. "Pure coincidence and a lot of bad luck."

The hurt expression on her face made me feel even worse than I did before, and the snuffling laughs of Elora and Spyro made me want to throw books at them. Shadowface rose up from the table and appeared in the air, growing larger as it shoved its smug grin into my face. Don't you fucking laugh at me, Shadowface. Underneath the table I balled my hands as I tried not to look at it. I smiled at Niobe and turned back to my studies.

The book I read was about my element, water. There were instructions on how I could link my energy to water, and control it as I controlled my own muscles. It said how I could use a minimum amount of my energy to make sure I did not run out, as nothing on this world came infinitely. It said a lot of things, but most of it would remain useless until we were actually awakened. It was like driving a car, I imagined, its theory being nothing similar to the actual practice. Not that I would know. I'd only had one driving lesson, where I panicked and drove onto the wayside of the road within the first five minutes. The instructor had then told me to try again, it did not end well. Then he had told me that it was best if I would stay far away from driving, that my mind was too chaotic and I'd be a danger on the road.

Someone knocked on our table and we looked up. At the end of the table stood Nestor Krol. It was the first time I saw him outside his office. I had imagined he'd look less aggressive if he were not sitting behind the too tall desk on the too big chair. I was mistaken. His eyebrows stood hostile without a frown, his mouth was stern even with the slight smile, and his grey eyes remained cold despite the faint sunrays shining upon them. But today there was still something different about him. Krol seemed tired, the way I imagined a lumberjack felt after chopping down five fat tree trunks.

Krol turned around and said, "Walk with me."

Walking through the halls, I tried not to look at the walls. The walls, once showing beautiful carvings of angels and men, had now been covered in Anti- and Pro half-breed posters, horned creatures crossed with an X on one and the other with a childish drawing of people holding hands. Some of the posters had been ripped off and shredded to pieces and thrown on the marble floors. As the 'Anti' group grew larger, so did the 'Pro' group. A crowd with identical black shirts, reading ANTI-WATCHERS, bumped their shoulders to ours as they strolled past us, hissing abomination as they went. Along my way, Shadowface followed me, creeping on the walls and enjoying every bit of the hatred of the 'Anti' ones. A little while later, another crowd of footsteps echoed through the hall. I straightened my shoulders. These wore matching black shirts reading PRO-WATCHERS and patted our shoulders as they went by. The first few weeks I had not been able to keep the species apart. At first glance they all looked the same; faces with a sick pale glow and a smile. But eventually I had figured it out. It was in their eyes. A witch's pride, a vampire's hunger, a werewolf's fury, I could read it in their eyes.

When Krol opened the door in the purple wing, I was welcomed by a strong scent of spices, and a sweet smell of flowers, and the spring smell of wood and moist earth. The walls were an aged shade of white and had been painted with small handwritten black words. I supposed they contained ancient spells and recipes. Like in the family tree tower, there was no lamp here. The pale purple and white and blue and orange lights shining upon the room came from the transparent pipes hanging from the ceiling where illuminated elixirs flowed through. The lights coming from the elixirs were bright enough to read the words on the walls. In the front of the room, near the teacher's desk, stood a row of big black pots on unlit logs. On the tall and narrow wooden tables, placed in neat rows through the room, stood wavy and round and square and triangle transparent glass pots. Some of the pots contained boiling liquids, their bubbles popping in the air, while others were empty. Between the tables stood tall display cases containing jars with dried plants, insects, organs, crystals, herbs, and more, each of them labeled.

"This is the Alchemy room," Krol said as he closed the door. He walked over to the glass cabinet and reached for something at the bottom. He took out two jars, one with earth and one with water, a candle, and a small fan. "Seeing it's six months before you will reach the age of awakening, you should be in transition right now." Krol placed the small fan in front of Elora, the green candle in front of Spyro, the jar with earth in front of Niobe and the jar of water in front of me. "That means your element should be reacting to you. All your lives you have studied, from now on I want you to start communicating with your element." He looked over each of our faces with a frown, then turned around. "Good day."

And with that, the door slammed shut. For a long moment we stood frozen, glancing at each other like idiots. Their faces looked grim, and I imagined mine did too. Spyro picked up his stump of a candle and began to observe it.

"Not only did he forget the dinner, he forgot to light my candle," Spyro said. "Not very romantic of him."

With a chuckle, I reached into my pocket and handed him my lighter. "I'm pretty sure Krol will make up for it with a candlelight dinner at the beach."

Spyro lifted his shoulders and fluttered his eyelashes. "I can't wait."

"Be sure to wear your prettiest dress, Spyro," Elora said.

His eyes surveyed the bright green dress Elora wore. "I'll just borrow one of yours."

"If you do, don't forget to shave your legs," I said, then frowned. "And your hands."

"Guys, be serious," Niobe snapped. "If this weren't important, Krol would never bother to come to us with it." She ignored the annoyed expressions on our faces and fixated on the jar in front of her. "Okay, I've read a lot about this. All we need to do is focus and connect with it. Like, call out to it in your head. Let it become real, a part of yourself. If you do it right it should answer you."

I knew that, as did Spyro and Elora. Sometimes Niobe tended to forget that she wasn't the only one who had spent her life studying to become a Watcher. Elora pushed on the black button of her fan, then made it stop oscillating so the air only hit her face. Spyro lit the candle. I turned off the cap of my jar and dipped a finger in the cool water.

"Wren, don't touch it," Niobe said, startling me with her loud voice. "It has to move by itself."

I know that. My hands began to shake. I felt myself shrink more and more. Though there were many things I wanted to say, I remained silent, but this time not out of guilt. Conflict had always been something that frightened me. Even the smallest arguments caused me to tremble. After taking a few deep breathes, I finally calmed down. Placing my hands on the table, I leaned my chin on my hands and narrowed my eyes at the jar. A few times I grew excited at a rolling little wave, or another movement softening the sharp line of the water, only to realize it was caused by the wind coming from Elora's fan. Hours passed with me staring at the jar of water, trying to connect with it. I got an urge to drink it. Too often, my mind traveled to distant places. It showed me as a rockstar performing a perfect solo in front of a wide audience, as a warrior leading an army of ninja's flying on dragons, me swimming in a sea of whipped cream.

From beside me, Niobe yelped. "Look."

Snapping out of my thoughts, I hunched over to get a closer look at her jar. A layer of dark sand floated above it, tiny dry crumbles. A wide grin had spread on Niobe's cheeks as she glowed of pride. The sand dropped upon the rest of the earth, and Niobe took off. More hours passed, and Elora managed to turn the wind in a tiny spiral, its color white as it wheezed and coiled over the table. Only I and Spyro remained. With his hands balled and a deep frown on his face Spyro stared at his flickering flame. When the sky had darkened into a gloom of greyish blue, Spyro, too, let out a cry of delight. A dozen or so little orange orbs drifted in front of his eyes, their heat blurring the air surrounding them. As I watched him go, leaving me alone with the echoes of silence, my buddy Shadowface appeared. Its eyes and grin shrunk and stretched in its silent laughter as it bounced around the room.

I turned my back to it.

Water, an ally I had always cherished, had now turned a foe inside a jar. It was supposed to answer to me, as Niobe had said, and in my studies I'd been taught that even the greatest of oceans were to submit to the wishes of their guardian, my wishes, but there it was; a little bit of water in a jar refusing to listen. If I couldn't manage the ways of a guardian, then I was nothing. This was my only identity, it was the only reason I had been put into this world. In my mind, I started to beg the water in the jar, begging it to give me a response as the other elements had done with their guardians.

"It won't work if you do it like that."

With a gasp, I turned to the voice coming from behind me. There, by the door, stood a girl with side-swept brown hair, some of it crossing her forehead like my own, her catlike eyes were hazel with eyelids painted black and her cheeks rosy. Though she did not carry a smile she watched me with much delight, the way people watch toddlers and pets doing something silly. This girl I'd never seen before seemed, and felt, oddly familiar. She walked to my table and grabbed the chair next to me, turning it to the wrong side and leaning her chin on its back while her legs stuck out from its sides.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"Close your mouth," said the girl, "you look horribly clueless."

I pressed my lips tight and glanced around the corners of the room without knowing why, then swallowed. "Do you need the room? I'll leave."

"No, stay."

After a moment of silence, I nodded, and turned to look at my jar. There was no way I could focus with this girl staring at me. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Nobody ever stared at me. I was that freak in the back of the room nobody ever came close to, something I had always been comfortable with.

"I just told you, it won't work. You're doing it wrong."

I looked at her. "You don't even know what I'm doing. You just walked in."

"Did you hear or see me walk in?"

"No."

"Then how do you know I just walked in? For all you know, I've been standing there for hours."

My mouth formed soundless words that did not exist as I tried to come up with something to say. Eventually I gave up and turned back to my jar.

The girl laughed, a brief laugh which held more sarcasm than joy. "Hey, if you want to survive in this town then I've got some advice for you." She leaned the chair a little closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Grow a damn spine."

"Who are you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm an old friend of yours. You don't remember? We've met before, a long time ago, you were much younger back then."

"How much younger?"

"A whole lot younger."

"I don't remember much from my childhood. The first ten years of my memory are lost."

She nodded. "That explains it, then. Make sure you get your memory back before you're awakened. That's crucial."

"Why?"

"Stop asking these damn questions." With a trembling lip I looked down. Once more, she leaned forward. "What did I just tell you? Grow a spine. Say something back."

The more aggressive she grew, the more I withered. I didn't understand what she wanted from me, or why she bothered with me. "Like what?"

"Like, whatever you're thinking." Her hands made a loud clap in front of my eyes. "Talk. What's going through that head of yours? Come on, speak up." She tilted her head and laughed. "Hello? Anyone in there?" The girl shook her head. "You are so weak, it's unbelievable. You weren't like this when I last saw you. You were always a bit whiny, granted, but not like this. You're a disgrace to your heritage. No wonder your mother left you. You're.."

And then I said it. "Screw you." A hiccup escaped my throat, tears rolling down my cheeks. Screw you. Words that had often crossed my mind and never left my lips. My eyes spread wide immediately as those words had left my mouth. Her face turned icy, her lips tightened. Terrified, I observed the girl, waiting for something. For what, I did not know. A punch, maybe. "I'm sorry."

Her mouth parted and she stared at me for a while before she screamed out of frustration. "Oh, my god. Seriously, Wren?" She laughed and shook her head. "You're fucking sorry? Just when I'm proud of you for speaking up, you go ahead and be pathetic again." She raised her hands and shrugged. "I give up. You're a lost cause."

I watched her rise up and shove the chair back. Before she disappeared through the doorway, I asked once more, "Who are you?"

She threw me a brief, playful smirk. "I'm the only true friend you'll ever have."

A friend. I didn't have many friends, only the other Watchers and Frank and Farren, so I was eager to embrace any new friend. "What's your name?"

"What name do you think fits me?"

I frowned. "What?" The girl made a move to leave, and I quickly added, "No, wait. How about, eh..." I shrugged. "Valen?"

For the first time, her face turned soft. The girl threw me a sweet smile. "Nice to meet you again, Wren, I'm Valen. Look, if you want water to answer to you, you'll have to open up to it, communicate with it. Water has a spirit, just like you and me, and its spirit can only be reached by its guardian. That's you. If you want to gain water's respect as its guardian, you'll have to earn it by trusting it. Nothing is ever just handed to you, Wren, never forget that. You have to work for everything." She paused, and looked me over. "Something you're clearly not used to."

I ignored her last comment, knowing there was a little truth to it. "But how do I open up to water? Do I have to talk to it? The others didn't speak to their element and they still..."

"I didn't say you have to talk to it," Valen said with a grunt. "Just unlock your mind and remove that wall of silence you've built all around you. If you let water in, it will let you in as well."

"But..."

"Look, I have to go now, but you'll see me again very soon." She paused, and looked at me for a few more seconds. "I meant what I said. I'm the only true friend you'll ever have."

Looking at the water in the jar, I began to remove the layers of pretense within me. Gone was the false happiness, a squeezing sorrow fell in its place. Gone was the nonexistent energy, a heaviness pulling me down replacing it. As I allowed myself to be miserable, I began to cry. I wanted to go back to tricking myself, yet at the same time I wanted to prove Valen that I could give effort if I wanted to, so I continued. Gone was the illusion of self-esteem, the insecure little girl popped up. Gone was the brightness of the world, a dark pit surrounded me. Clutching to my stomach, I hunched over and let all of it come out in sobs. My heart broke. And yet, the water remained still. Just as I lifted my hand to smack the jar off the table, I felt the tears upon my cheeks and neck crawl upwards. I froze and held my breath. My cheeks dried. The tears from my cheek appeared at my eyelevel. I laughed, and my laugh sounded like a sob. In front of me floated dozens of little droplets, glistening in the colors of the elixirs above, white and purple and orange and blue.