Enter Boreas Poitraz

~°°~

When he was young, Boreas Poitraz deemed himself clever. When he grew older, he concluded that his younger self was absolutely correct.

He sighed as he buttoned up the ceremonial tunic. He peered at the mirror, having a glaring competition against his own reflection. The bleak dark cyan cloth with yellow hems did not suit him, although he doubted heavily it suited anyone. Terrible color combination. Its choppy fringes hung oddly on his frail frame no matter how much he tried to fix it.

It was too big. Too vast. And wrong. Always looked wrong.

"Terrible color combination," he said out loud, despite knowing they were very much complimentary colors. He heaved out a breath, fixed up his rigid necktie and his boutonniere—plastic, yellow roses; Boreas always liked those.

Today was the Ownership Ceremonial.

He didn't know when he started to despise the event. Heck, why would one detest it? They would get a Peculiar, granting you magical abilities without the usage and limitations of glyphs. Why did Boreas hate it?

Maybe it began when it loomed like a shadow, ticking like an unstable bomb. Maybe it began when it became a wedge, a sword that slowly split everything apart. It's selfish, yes, Boreas knew. Despite every books memorized, Boreas Poitraz only wanted one thing.

Or maybe, it's the dreams. The dreams that he kept having. The hand stretched forth. The chance to get out—

He shook his head.

There were only two Elderstire positions. Only two.

Not three.

So much for cleverness.

~°°~

"You look like hell," Lethe bluntly announced, although her eyes were still nailed on the book she was reading. The trio settled on their usual seats in the Dining Hall. The ceremony would begin before eating.

Eris rubbed their sunken eyes. "I know."

"Why did you think it was a good idea to not sleep the entire night?" chastised Boreas as he fussed over them. "Sleep deprivation is unhealthy for your body."

"I know. Sorry." Eris nodded their head, looking like they would drop to the floor just by a poke. Sluggishly, they stood up. "I-I kinda need to go."

Boreas clasped their wrists, eyebrows raised. "Go? Go where? The ceremony is about to start and you need to rest," he said, quite bossily. "Sit down and lay on Lethe's shoulder or something while—"

"No." Eris escaped his grip and shook their head. "I need to go. To the Healing Lodge. I.. Forgot something and, um—do you guys know the name of the nurse from yesterday?" Their blue-tinted fingers nervously played with the braided portion of their hair.

Boreas did not live and tolerate these simpletons for years only to believe in such white lies. He opened his mouth to speak only to be interjected.

"His name is Korin, I think? Want me to come with you?" Lethe asked. Her tone was cool and seemingly nonchalant, worry veiled. Eris violently shook their head once again.

"Thanks, but no need," they beamed, highlighting the large eye bags around their eyes. "It's just gonna be a short visit. I'll be right back, like super duper quick." They waved their goodbyes and then, they were gone. Short, curly hair with braids trailed behind dark-skinned frame as it disappeared, eaten by the tremendous doors of a sculpted triangle with scribbled flowers.

Boreas blinked, expression blank.

"Don't worry about it too much. They've been through worse. A mild headache won't kill them," the brunette on his side said. Lethe contemplated for a bit before she added, "Probably. I hope. They're quite a mess."

"They aren't the only one." Boreas massaged the bridge of his nose as he gaped at Lethe's chaotic attire.

The brunette tilted her head, confused. "What?"

"That is not how you do your necktie. You don't literally tie it around your bare neck and.." The boy snatched the small flower crown on her bushy hair. "The flowers are supposed to be a boutonniere not—oh my gods." He rubbed his forehead as he contemplated his existence and the choices of his associates. "You're wearing your pants inside out."

"Oh?" Lethe's jaw twitched. She peeked down her clothes. "Oh right. Cool," she said, unfazed. Then, she succumbed back to her book. Truly, if it weren't for such indecent actions, Boreas would have found her unconcern with people's opinions admirable.

Boreas sensed a migraine creep up to his head. "Go to the restroom," he ordered, expression stern and firm. "Put your pants in the right way and then, I—for the umpteenth time—would tell you how to properly tie your necktie."

"It's not like anyone noticed." The brunette shrugged. She flipped the pages to the next page, uncaring.

A false statement. Boreas felt the astonished stares thrown at them. Had he been given a coin every time someone looked at the girl, he would be a millionaire. "Just go or I will personally strangle you with that necktie."

The speakers above suddenly boomed alive. It trembled the chandeliers, startled the large clock, and frazzled the lively paintings in the walls and the ceiling.

"Good morning, students of the Dome," Professor Helica stood tall in front, appearing out of nowhere. "I apologize for such an... underwhelming Ownership Ceremony."

Boreas hissed on Lethe's ear. "You, go to the restroom and fix your whole getup, and—" His head jerked around, "And where the heck is the other susceptible land mine?"

His voice was overruled by the loud speakers.

The professor clasped her hands together, a gentle smile resting on her ancient face. "It was honestly quite sudden, but due to some circumstances, we had no choice but to hold it in advance, but do not worry." Her silver eyes twinkled as she spoke. "All is well, now. The situation was perfectly handled."

She held out a hand, ring-filled, her jewel pink nails bitten bare. A parchment zoomed to it. "Let us now begin the Ceremony by, of course, announcing the top sixty that passed. If called, please go in front and line up—"

"—where is Eris?"

"And I would like it if no one interrupts. Please." She smiled once again. It didn't reach her eyes. The chatter of students silenced. Boreas covered his mouth. The professor cleared her throat. "The first spot goes to Rycella Gullerva, ID 0.107—ah wait, currently resting."

A student near Boreas snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Second place, Thalia Kruger, ID 67.130."

The student who snorted stood up. Her stature was small yet her shadow towered. She strode confidently, head high as sandy hair flowed behind.

The professor continued. "Third place, Krowan Huine, ID 86.903."

A lean lad with scarred skin took a step forward, a cane in his hand and a smirk on his face. Buzzed hair covered his head, his ear seemingly coveted by earrings. His eyes were deathly white.

"Fourth place, Helen Sevhe, ID 2.98."

A tawny girl of green locks stood up, red eyes beaming as she toothily grinned at Kruger. Lanky and tall, she towered above everyone in the front.

"Fifth, Boreas Poitraz, ID 14.547."

Boreas felt his heart sink. He stood up, eyes glued to the ground. He felt his boots rise and fall against the floor, feeling the eyes of many watched. Do not trip, Boreas Poitraz, he repeated like a mantra. He stared down at his polished shoes, making sure every step was perfect and aligned with the weird patterns of the tiles. Whoever positioned these tiles should be fired. They weren't properly arranged at all.

Many names were uttered; it was like a haze on his mind, blurred and forgotten. His heart was still beating, and he feared that it would catapult out of his ribcage, killing and embarrassing him at the same time.

"Twentieth place," announced Professor Helica. "Lethe Walth, ID 93.452."

Boreas perked up only to slunk his head back in shame. The girl had boldly done nothing on her hellish outfit. The blue necktie still coiled her bare neck like a snake, the inner stitches of her pants showing. And of course, her rusty nail necklace was worn with pride. At least she had the decency to comb her hair. The flower clown still laid in her head. She took out a pie and ate it. Professor Helica crumpled the pie before it even reached her lips.

He heard chortles in the crowd. The pale youth bit his lip, cheeks inflamed and cold fury boiled his blood.

Lethe didn't care about it as usual, attention focused on the plump woman who paid her none. "It's just a celebratory pie," she grumbled. "I passed, didn't I?"

Boreas nodded absentmindedly, nostrils still flaring and blue eyes glaring holes at those who were still pointing at Lethe.

"I wonder what Peculiar I'd get. I wish I was a Creation. I wanted cloning."

Boreas blinked at the sudden subject and then, shuddered, feeling his will to live cease at the thought of two Lethes wreaking havoc. He thanked the gods and the lords above that she was a Burst.

Time dragged on, the croaky voice of the Professor continued and the clock above ticked. The mild ache of cramps impaled his legs and foot. Dutifully, he stood as twenty became thirty—forty—fifty. Eris was still not called.

And finally. Sixty.

"Sixty, Gil Lorenzo, ID 45.83 ."

The world stilled. Eris didn't pass. Boreas looked around, heart sinking even deeper when he met Eris' eyes, almost drowned in the crowds.

Eris just blankly stared at him and for a second, he was sure that their eyes were of dreamy gold instead of their normal black. Then, they blinked and it was gone. They grinned weakly.

Professor Helica sighed and obliterated the parchment into smithereens. "That's all who passed. For those who were not called, please just sit patiently—food will be served for you. As for you all." She turned to the chosen, as she fixed up the wild strands of her gray hair. "Brace yourself."

Before Boreas could speak, the enormous clock above, which floated stagnantly, hovered to them. It curved, turning into a jaw. The clock's hands merged, and turned pink and slimy—the numbers inscribed to it became teeth. It ate them whole.

~°°~

He wasn't dead yet. Instead, the fragrance of ancient books and parchment met his nostrils. Massive bookshelves loomed and surrounded their world, naked eyes unable to see its end. From behind, he heard gasps of amazement. Books zoomed around, smacked a few students in the head. Their covers glowed, hinted red and their papers filled with unreadable scripts. The chosen scurried on, eager to meet their Peculiars.

Peculiar owners were divided or at least, a part of five different categories, depending on a person's soul energy; Burst, Creation, Metamorph, Borrow and finally Special.

Boreas was a Burst-Borrow, Eris a Metamorph-Creation, and Lethe a Burst. The intermingling of categories was not rare by any sort. People's soul energies were intricate and complex, and most couldn't just be put into one box.

On the corner of his eyes, Boreas spotted Lethe wading through the grimoires as well. Her inside out pants made her stand out from the crowd. The lad hurried to her.

"Eris—" he started. Hapless. Running a hand over his hair. He had never been this anxious.

"I know."

Eris wasn't chosen, Eris didn't pass. "They can't leave," he muttered, desperately. "There must be another way.."

"Boreas." Lethe's eyes flitted to his. "Calm down."

"I'm trying!"

A shadow neared them. He felt silver eyes of archaic wisdom flicker to them at his sudden outburst. He turned his head to ask for help but the plump woman was already there, too close for his comfort, eyes staring at the depths of his soul. He felt himself shrink.

"Is everything alright?" she asked with a gentle smile. It was strangely ominous—eyes too void and vacant as if the lower part of the face was twisted into a smile by an invisible hand.

"Yes, Ma'am," Boreas said, polite. "Just had a bit of trouble. I'm sorry." He nudged Lethe.

"I'm sorry as well," the brunette said insincerely, probably still mad about the pie incident. "We'll just find our Peculiars first." Lethe dragged Boreas away.

Boreas glumly looked at the ground, as they walked. "I'm sorry. For the outburst."

Lethe sighed. "No, I get it." Floating candles passed by, flickering bright and orange. "We've never been separated. It's the three of us against the world since the beginning."

"I.. Yeah."

"But," Lethe continued. "At the end of the day, we can't exactly do much if they decide to. Y'know." She gulped. "Kick them out. Plus, they could write letters from the Stronghold."

Boreas wrung his hands. "I know. It's just... They studied so much. They tried. And they wanted to be an Elderstire." And it was supposed to be the three of us.

"I know," Lethe repeated. "We'll talk to Eris. Plan some things and shit."

Boreas bit his lip, then hummed, "Okay."

Boreas slumped down on a bookshelf as Lethe left, looking for her Peculiar. Here he was again, useless. Unreasonably clingy. Lethe always oddly wise; sharp on areas where Boreas was round, able on things he couldn't, somehow able to say all the right words.

Eris read about heroes and amassed tenacity and bravery to the fullest. Lethe was wild and free. Weird, perhaps, but would pique anyone's interests. But Boreas desired family, normalcy; boring, spineless wishes fueled by cowardice. He never wanted to be chosen; he wanted to stay in the walls where it was safe. But the other two would be away. He didn't want that either.

He was supposed to be the smart one, the mature. Was it so bad to want to be a kid forever?

Footsteps. "Knew it. You'd still be here." The brush of muddy brown hair as Lethe slumped down next to him. "Don't worry about it too much. We can think of something. Okay?"

"Okay."

Boreas twitched his jaw. He leaned on the brunette, brown curly hair strands tickling his skin.

"Boreas is not being annoying. What the hell?" Lethe gaped.

A scowl tugged the boy's lips, moving away. "Sod off, idiot." His blue eyes drifted to the small glowing book nestled on Lethe's arm. "You found your Peculiar."

Lethe nodded, grinning. "Yep. Have you found yours?"

"Not yet."

"Yeah, you were too busy moping." The brunette smirked, as she stood up and offered Boreas a hand.

Boreas glanced at her, a sigh on his lips. "You will tease me about that forever, won't you."

"Yep."

Boreas rolled his eyes as he clasped her hand, knees cracking as he stood up. There was warmth in the pit of his chest that he ignored. "Come on. Let's go find my peculiar, then talk to Eris later. And please fix up your clothes."

~°°~

Curious, were you not? Of where Eris Heindell had been? Mortals are always so predictable.

An hour ago, Eris Heindell fidgeted with a Recorder Glyph as they stared at the wooden door of the Healing Lodge. Shaky fingers pressed the crinkled paper and watched as the words glowed. It activated. They pocketed it in their back pocket.

Their knuckles hesitantly knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Eris' sauntered in, adrenaline pumping on their veins. Stinging whiff of mixed condiments, brews and herbs, they inhaled them all. The Healing Lodge was empty. The door slammed shut. Eris turned around and he was behind—steel eyes darkened as they soullessly stared at their small, rigid frame. He smiled.

"Hello, sir." Eris tried to smile back as a shudder caressed their spine and goosebumps decorated their skin. Breaths and pounding heart were all they heard.

"Hello there, ID 13.190." The nurse took a step forward, the smile still etched on his face. He crouched down till they were eye to eye. He stared, unblinking. His hands snatched the Recorder Glyph from their pocket.

He chuckled mild-humoredly, as if telling himself an inside joke, "I still haven't figured it out at all. If you're lucky or not." He gazed at Eris' face, shoulders stiff. "But to be fair, thirteen is an unlucky number."

"What?"

He didn't reply but instead, focused on the glyph on his hand. The nurse crumpled it and burned it into ashes. "They always had these every time."

~°°~