Any weapon seemed to come alive in Safya's hands as if they were an extension of her limbs; the sword followed her movements in an agile choreography, while the dagger defended her from anyone who even attempted to stop her from dancing.

    At the sword coming towards her neck, Safya swiftly ducked her head as a slice of deep blue cloth fell to the floor. She narrowed her eyes upon seeing the gold embroidery getting dirty on the academy's floor.

    "You'll buy me a new uniform, Arvin," she snarled with a mischievous smile. The fabric that covered her face had started to loosen up.

    She got up and swung her sword to the right. The retorting sound of metal when the blades collided was the music she needed to keep fighting, the vibration reaching her tattooed wrists and the bombing of her blood throughout her body filled her with adrenaline.

    "Dream on," replied her classmate.

    She could see his eyes, but a smile peeked from beneath the uniform's fabric.

    In response to his twitching, upturn lips, Safya swung her sword non-stop in a succession of precise, lethal movements. She inched closer to him. With her every advancing step, she attacked at him with such ferocity that her classmate had little choice but to move out of her way

    No mercy, no second chances, her father had always said to her. Safya didn't leave a second for him to attack. The cloth wrapped on her head untied completely, remaining like a scarf around her neck. Her hair became visible; three dark braids woven at the side of her scalp kept the curls out of her sight.

    Arvin only dodged and shielded himself with the sword, making no use of the dagger in his other hand. Safya directed her view to the useless dagger, her classmate did the same. He understood the message.

    He raised both weapons forming a cross above his head in an attempt to stop her sword. She giggled. With another movement she clashed both blades. His sword fell. No mercy. Arvin was bewildered. She took advantage to kick the dagger out of his reach. No second chances. Safya pointed her sword right between his eyes. If it wasn't because of the small leather sheath on its sharp end, Arvin would have blood tainting his azure uniform.

    Arvin raised both hands in defeat.

    "Safya Darzi!" exclaimed the professor, "Winner of today's final duel."

    The group of classmates cheered when she raised her sword and made little jumps of joy. Arvin got up and patted her back, "Yeah, winner of today's, tomorrow's, and probably all the duels to come. I suspect she comes here only to kick our asses."

    "She wouldn't kick your ass if you paid attention, Arvin!" yelled someone at the back of the room, causing all the students burst into a laughing fit.

    Arvin scratched his back. He looked at Safya, "So... uh... how much does that uniform cost?"

    "Don't worry, Vin. It's alright."

    Arvin tilted his head and crossed his arms, "Sure?"

    She had a tendency of being too aggressive in the sword duels with her classmates, so whatever she said during those was just a side effect of the competitiveness taking over her thoughts. She smiled and replied in the sweetest voice she could, "Sure."

    "Don't forget to bring the wooden sword next class, people!" the professor said. He nodded at her, a little sign to tell her she did well.

    Safya carefully placed the sword back into its case. She studied the blade; it's metal glinting with the light that trickled through the patterned window, it called her to use it again, this time using her gift.

    She imagined herself making the sword levitate without touching it, or using one hand to control five daggers. She shook her head, using the sword like that wasn't allowed at the academy because it was a disadvantage to those whose gift weren't as powerful. Maybe someday though, she thought with a small smile.

    Her blade wouldn't do a lot of damage to anyone who lived in Dawarsah or any Ilumdya in the world. On the other hand...a cut with a light blade to a Dartenik could be as lethal as a bite of a poisonous snake.

    Safya pursed her lips at that thought; how come light, something vital to them, could be so deadly to Darteniks? But just like light was her source of energy, darkness and shadows were the Darteniks'.

    She wiped the sweat from her forehead with what was left from the scarf, then tied it around her waist. Collateral damage.

    Everybody had left the training rooms. She peered her head over the sea of red, white and blue uniforms, standing on the balls of her feet, until she spotted a boy with their mothers dark, curly hair. Her brother, Faris, did not flinch as she waved at him, letting his friends move past him and out of the door

    She remembered what he had said in the morning while they walked together towards the academy.

    "Please Safya, don't hug me like mom does. It's embarrassing."

    "No public displays of affection, noted."

    Safya dropped her hand immediately and shrugged, pacing towards Faris hanging her sword sheath on her back. The victory of that day's duel left a cheerful mark on her face, however that feeling faded when she heard her little brother's voice.

    "Hey," he mumbled looking down.

    "Hey... so how was your day?"

    They started walking towards the door slowly. She had the urge to take his hand so she just held tight the sheath shoulder strap. He stared at her with a bitter glare.

    "Was it that bad?" She asked.

    "I don't know why dad insists that I keep coming here," he made a pause, and then added in a lower voice, he glanced at his wooden sword, maybe a bit too long for him, "I'll never be like you or him."

    Her first years in the Academy hadn't been easy. The pressure to be equally talented as their father Rohan, the most skilled swordsman in Dawarsah, almost consumed her whole. She didn't want Faris to be compared to their father, she knew how it felt: miserable.

    "Hey don't say that, did somebody make fun of you? You know I'll come for whoever said something—"

    "No, Saf, nobody said anything... it's just... I just know it. There is something wrong with me."

    Faris' voice broke, Safya stood still and bent down until they were equal height. Faris was shorter than most eleven year olds, but he was a lot smarter than her sister at that age.

    "There is nothing wrong with you, Ris. There is always room for improvement."

    "You know I'm not only talking about the sword kills, right?"

    Safya looked at the ground. She knew exactly what he was talking about. His black eyes sparkled with unease. She felt her throat start to burn.

    "There won't be room for improvement if I get sick after the Sarahim," he said.

    "There won't be room for improvement if you keep that pessimistic attitude," Safya made an attempt to smile. "Did I ever tell you I had a friend who developed the gift a day before the Sarahim? He never got sick after getting the first tattoo."

    "What a lucky guy..." He said incredulous. Safya narrowed her eyes to his sarcastic tone.

    "Ris. I'm serious. Listen to me...you are an Ilumdya, like me, like mom and dad... there is no way you haven't got the light somewhere hidden within you... It's in your blood--it's just... sleeping."

    "Well it's time for it to wake up."

"Trust me, it will. Everything will be just fine."

    She touched the pendant hung between her collarbones, the red jewel had a hole on its center, from which a black thread passed and knotted on her back. Her crystal wasn't big or decorated with gold like the ones higher classes had, it surely wasn't special either. Most of people of Dawarsah get one after the tattoo ceremony, the Sarahim, but there was something about the curve of the gem made her feel safe.

    She tried to remain positive, but the friend she described to Faris just seconds before never existed. Everyone knew that if someone doesn't develop the gift by the age of ten, they never will.

    Faris was about to turn twelve and the moment of truth would come in his Sarahim, if he got sick when the tattoo's ink entered his body ... she would never see him again, he would be considered an Eclipsed. An Ilumdya without the gift of light. A nobody.

    She couldn't let that happen.

    Safya's eyes started watering, but there were no tears coming from them. She wouldn't cry, at least not yet. Not until the last drop of hope was gone.

    "Everything will be fine," she repeated, more for herself, and bit her lip. Faris looked at both sides of the hallway making sure nobody was there, indeed, they were the only ones left at the academy. He hugged her tight. "We should go back home, mom is going to kill us if we come late."

    "She is not going to kill me, I'm the favorite child," his giggle was tinged with sadness.

    Safya smiled, Faris seemed to be better now but the feeling of unease never left her body—even when they got out of the academy and started walking towards their house.

    The sun reflecting over the golden domes of the buildings, blanketed their surroundings in an afterglow of yellow and orange. Dawarsah was often called the 'golden city'. Nobody needed a lot of brains to understand why.

    The honey-colored streets were slightly overshadowed by the vibrant, colorful vests. The people also had tattoos like Safya's, white swirly shapes that followed the movement of their bodies. She had six of those, each one representing a year of her life after the tattoo ceremony.

    The incandescent tattoos of a street artist showed he was using his gift. With a colorless flame that rose up from his hands, he formed the silhouette of a small animal. The inkless kids were enjoying the show, their sparkly eyes opened in wonder at the man's play of lights. He looked up and saw the Darzi siblings, he nodded at them. Faris waved enthusiastically and Safya smiled acknowledging the respect their last name had given them.

    Some street sellers moved from their way and avoided looking at them. She was used to that even though Rohan Darzi didn't have the reputation of being a bad man, he was... intimidating. Lately, she noticed people doing it more often; maybe she had won her own reputation for being two years advanced in her training. She was eighteen years old, she would be the youngest graduate in years, and she would make her parents proud.

    The sun was drawn to the fearless night, peeking over the horizon to look one last time at the golden city before the moon's reign took over for the next hours to come. By the time they got home, the sky would have darkened enough to make their bodies shiver at shadows of suspicious people wandering with darkness as their disguise.

    They climbed to one of the elevated streets like bridges between the shops. Ris loved walking there, he always said that the golden city looked better from above, but while her brother looked down Safya looked up. The Dawarsah palace rose majestically from between the sandy mountains at the distance, with domes similar to the city's but four times bigger, and a staircase of seven stories that stopped at the great white door.

    Safya looked at each one of the big windows of the palace, lit up with a light that made them look like tiny diamonds. The Reijisa sometimes got out making an announcement from the balcony of the palace's highest level. Whenever she came out, it seemed like dawn in the middle of the day. Her presence illuminated the city. She was a living representation of faith. How would it feel to be loved by every citizen?

    The Darzi siblings came down from the elevated street. They were almost home. The palace couldn't be seen from below, the buildings covered its striking view. Peasants weren't worthy of such beauty, according to society.

    Safya looked at her brother, who began to walk ahead of her. He stopped at the end of the street and turned to her. Safya frowned, she got closer. Their house was around that corner. She didn't have time to think about what was happening when she walked quickly to Ris, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

    "Safya...I think someone's home," he whispered while Safya got beside him.

    Their little white house stood out from the others from the neighborhood, it was surrounded by big buildings, her parents never wanted to add more levels or bridges to it.

    The doorway was decorated with plants, but they weren't the only thing at the entrance that night. A man was blocking the door. Broad shouldered and long legged, he had a big circle tattoo on his head instead of hair. That meant he was an officer, but the vibrant red uniform with sparkly golden buttons indicated to her that he wasn't an ordinary police officer. He was a palace guard.

    Safya straightened her back while she approached him. She placed her hand on Ris' chest, protecting him. They walked past a carriage that had a gold plaque with Dawarsah's symbol, a sun divided by a long sword.

    The man had a low honeyed voice, "The swordsman's daughter?" he asked.

    "Yes," she replied firmly a second after. She glanced at the house's windows but the curtains were drawn. She didn't care about Ris' wishes and held his hand tightly.

    The palace guard smiled, "The Reijisa is looking for you."

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Thank you so much SamanthaGrayce for editing this chapter! Drawing of Safya Darzi (without her tattoos) by Crow-caller, amazing!!