Helios

 

I’d been staring at my reflection for several minutes now. Every few moments I’d adjust my pose, turning this way and that as I tried on a beautiful, flowing emerald-green gown. The bodice was tight at the waist, with a plunging neckline lined in frills and lace while the hem fell to just below my knee, flaring out over layers of underskirts. There were no sleeves to speak of, the straps ending just above my shoulder.

Overall, it was a reasonable fit, although I noticed that it didn’t fit my shoulders as well as it used to. There was also the issue of the emptiness where my chest felt like it should have been.

Ever since I’d been little, I had been sneaking into my twin sister’s room to try on the things that my parents had ordered made for her in her absence. She’d gone missing when we were just babies so we’d never had the chance to meet.

My parents had never been able to let her go – they would constantly lament her absence and wonder at what things would be like if only Selene were here. Every year they ordered that her room was updated with more modern furnishings and age-appropriate clothing.

Mother was hopeful that her only female heir would be found one day, ready to take on the crown once it was her time. There was a sizeable reward for her safe return and despite several young women claiming to be the long lost Princess, it remained uncollected.

I took the time to marvel at the splendour of a room that had never – at least in my lifetime – been used. There were rich tapestries woven from colourful threads hanging alongside ornately framed paintings of bright meadows and vibrant flowers. Whoever had devised the colour scheme had gone with the more feminine shades of deep purple and sky blue.

The grandeur was overwhelming, even for me, and this was without even mentioning the vast array of dresses, skirts and tunics hanging in the masterfully crafted wardrobes. She’d never get the chance to wear most of the things that she’d had bought for her, and they had all cost a small fortune to have made, so why let them go to waste – especially if I could enjoy them in her place?

With my gaze returning to the mirror in front of me, I noted with grim displeasure that it was getting more and more difficult to pretend that the face staring back at me belonged to the young woman that slept in this bedroom.

Sighing, and inwardly cursing my maturing body, I waved my fingers dramatically across my face. I tugged at the threads of illusion coloured magic that streamed in the air around me causing the reflection in the mirror to alter subtly, my face becoming softer and more feminine.

I’d been taught a few things in my Facet training, but the ability to craft Illusions was by far my favourite.

Once my reflection had finished morphing, I took a couple of steps towards the mirror and gave myself a critical once over from head to toe. Another flick of my wrist and my hair lengthened until wavy tresses rolled off dainty shoulders.

I’d made sure to keep the colour the same as my natural copper, boldly accenting the viridian fabric of the dress.

The unfortunate thing about illusions is that they didn’t alter reality or the sense of touch. My shoulders still felt far too broad, and there wasn’t actually any hair to tickle my back.

I squeezed my eyes shut as my internal sense of contentment shattered to pieces, and I allowed the illusion to fall away.

Outside, I could hear someone knocking on my bedroom door.

“Your highness? Prince Helios?” a feminine voice called. I recognised it as one of the maids that brought me my meals.

My room was just across the corridor, so it would be impossible for me to sneak across without her seeing me. I’d just have to wait for her to go away.

Flushed with embarrassment, I hastily removed the dress and changed back into my own clothes. The servant had knocked a second time but then departed, uttering a few choice curses under her breath.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I carefully placed the gown back where I’d found it, and slipped out of the room. The servant had left my breakfast tray on the ground, to one side of my door. I was thankful that Mother ordered them to do this whenever we didn’t make it down in time to eat with the rest of the family.

I picked the tray up and shuffled inside. It was time for me to get ready for the day. As usual, I’d be beginning the week with combat training.

Yay.

 

~*~*~

 

I eyed my opponent – they were a six-foot-tall post of hardwood covered in padding. I’d taken the time to decorate it in an attempt to liven up my sword fighting lessons. There were little sticks to represent arms and someone had found it amusing to give it a smiling face, painting it on with all the artistic skill of a child.

My equipment was an expertly crafted wooden arming sword, and a baggy shirt of chainmail. It had been made too big for me with the intention that I would grow into it as I developed. I’d already been sized for the suit of platemail that would be my protection in actual combat. No one had ever asked me what I wanted, though. When you’re someone like me you didn’t get to make your own decisions.

Normally, I would try to alternate my training sessions between hitting wooden poles with other wooden weapons or sparring with people using more realistic metal implements. They wanted to ensure that I benefited from the advantages of training with both.

It was dangerous for others to spar with me, so I had to be extra careful on those days.

My instructor stood to one side, watching me with arms folded. We’d been working together long enough for his awe at my position and power to wear off.

“Go on lad, you know the drill,” he encouraged.

I sighed. The monotony was getting to me more than usual today. I raised my sword above my head, preparing for a downward cut but the moment I started to move, the instructor tried to motivate me the only way he knew how: telling me how bad I was.

“Remember to move your feet!”

“Don’t lift so much! You’re exposing yourself to the enemy.”

We’d been through this routine for years and I was getting fed up. Summoning all of that pent up anger, I aligned the wooden edge perfectly with the hardwood training pell and struck at it with all my strength. There was a resounding crack as the two met.

My training sword was the first thing to give, a huge fissure splitting the mock blade in two.

The instructor tutted, placing his hands on his hips, “That’s what, the third one this month? You need to learn to control your anger, my Prince.”

That barb just stoked my anger into a burning fury. It was all I could do not to lash out at him. Thankfully I’d spent some time learning techniques for dealing with my rage – ones that didn’t involve me breaking kneecaps.

I closed my eyes, taking long, drawn-out breaths to calm my nerves.

My temper had only started to get the better of me in the last year or so, and if I were being honest, it was causing me some distress. I absolutely hated it when I got angry, and the fury would threaten to rob me of all reason – it was unnatural; like I was being controlled by someone else.

Whenever I’d try to talk to anyone else in my family about it, they’d just laughed and said that it was all just a sign of me growing into a man. The thought of that left my stomach feeling ice cold, but I wasn’t certain why.

“Let’s go again!” the instructor barked, pulling out a spare waster from a rack and tossing it to me. I slowed it while it was spinning through the air towards me, using my physical manipulation abilities to give me time to catch it.

He grumbled something about me being a show-off but stepped aside to allow me more space.

My eyes lingered on the man’s face for a few seconds – just long enough for me to express my disapproval – and then I returned to my ready position, sword held high and angled down.

And so we repeated for the entire morning and by the end, I was feeling utterly exhausted, dejected and famished.

 

I had the opportunity to wash and have a bite to eat for lunch before my afternoon training session. Today I’d have the chance to work on my Destruction abilities and use up some of these emotions I’d been carrying around all morning.

The sun was high and I desperately needed to clean. The mixture of dust and sweat was making my skin crawl.

On the trek back to the palace, I caught my older brother, Gaius, pretending to accidentally wander across my path. He was doing his best to suppress a smug grin, but failing miserably.

“So, how’s your morning been, Eli?” he asked me once I was within earshot.

The grin on his face told me that this wasn’t just some innocent chance encounter – he’d been waiting for me.

I sighed loudly, which made him smirk. His eyes were still full of expectation, awaiting my reply.

“Oh, you know. I’ve spent most of it whacking a log with a glorified stick.”

“That’s good. The better you get with that stick of yours, the less chance our enemies will have in battle,” he nodded, but his innocent smile was overplayed. “I’d heard you’d been spending a lot of time… reflecting… again.”

My stomach felt like it was scrunching itself up into a tight ball, and Gaius’s smile broke into a smirk.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Everyone knows you sneak into our dearest sister’s room. Well, everyone except grandpapa,” he reassured me. “Heavens, you’re twins. It’s only natural for you to want to feel closer to her, wherever she is.”

My cheeks were burning at the embarrassment of having been caught – I thought I’d been careful enough to ensure that no one had seen me, too.

He squinted at me as I tried to return a forced smile, but he decided to change the subject. We were side-by-side as we walked back indoors, and he launched into flowery and inappropriate descriptions of the various ‘beauties’ he’d seen about the palace grounds. If there was one thing my brother had skill in it was poetry, and he described his infatuations in colourful detail.

I managed to escape from the awkward conversation once we were inside. Sometimes I couldn’t express enough how thankful I was that his room wasn’t close to mine. We had to split ways just as he was about to elaborate on his favourite parts of a lady’s anatomy.

Some servants had left me a bowl of warm water, and a tray laden with food. It was resting on my desk when I returned to my room. There was also a note, written in a delicately flowing script tucked beneath one of the plates. I could tell that it was from my mother without even reading it.

With a bread roll stuffed into my mouth, I sat down on my chair with the note spread out so that it could be read properly.

My nose scrunched up as I read it over. It seems that my mother thought it necessary to formally invite me to a meal with our family this evening. This meant that they’d be entertaining an important guest and would expect me to dress the part of Prince of Aeidia.

In other words, it would be an evening of torture.

I finished as much of my lunch as I could – there was always far too much food for me to eat it all. Trying to ignore the stab of guilt that I felt for all of those starving on the streets outside, I cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable for the afternoon.

Mother always complained that I had my clothes tailored too loosely, but I preferred them this way. Anything that hugged my body made me feel awkward and uncomfortable.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about accidentally staring into a mirror on the way out. I’d trained myself over years of emotional pain to instinctively cover them in illusions whenever I was near.

 

~*~*~

 

The Destructive Facet is, as its name implies, a dangerous thing to use. This is doubly true when you’re a child that’s still learning how to control themselves, their emotions and their abilities. So, ever since I was eleven years old, all of my training had taken place in a secluded spot out in the palace grounds. That was how old I had been when it became obvious that I could be a danger to those around me.

People tend to get a little nervous when you’re able to send molten steel slicing through stone like it was made of paper.

Thankfully, I was in much better control of myself these days. It had been at least two years since I last lost my temper in any meaningful way. This morning didn’t count.

After that, Mother had ordered a pavilion be constructed for this very purpose. It was to be considered my personal space where I could practise without interference or distraction from any other person.

Word had spread quickly that this was not a safe place for anyone else to be around whenever I was here. In all honesty, I appreciated the solitude that brought me, though it still stung me deeply to think that people were afraid of me.

I let out a tired sigh as I descended a set of wooden steps that led from the beautiful flower gardens to a lower tier of the grounds. My eyes alighted on the low structure with its tapered roof and pale pearlescent wooden walls. It was quite spacious once you were inside, but the grounds staff had been ordered to ensure that it was kept hidden from guests and visitors.

It had been surrounded by bushes and trees with the intention of obscuring it from view – and it worked for the most part. Unless you knew that this structure was here, you’d be unlikely to stumble over it by accident.

As I approached, I spotted several servants skittering away with their heads bowed and it took me a moment to push my rising despair deep down inside. I gripped at the collar of my jacket and forced my eyes closed, refusing to allow myself to be overwhelmed by all the emotion I’d been feeling today.

Once the wave had passed me by, I clenched my fist and ascended the few steps leading into the open-plan room within.

The floor inside was carpeted throughout in a dark red, except for a few feet around the edges which kept the polished wood aesthetic from the exterior. I found my way back to the familiar spot in the centre, lowering myself down and crossing my legs beneath me.

My initial training regimen had included similar exercises as my sword practices. Large boulders and thick tree trunks were set up and I would cause as much damage as possible. I’d quickly rebelled against that. No matter what my grandfather wanted, I refused to allow myself to be seen as just another weapon to be used, abused and discarded.

My ability to use the Facets – whichever ones they were – was mine alone, and he would have to treat me with respect if he ever wanted me to do what he asked.

 

Magical energies suffuse the world around us, bringing to the life possibility for wondrous phenomena. These energies come in a full rainbow of colour, and each individual hue is referred to as a Facet. The number of Facets is nearly endless, but only a strict subset has been seen in humans.

New colours of magic were constantly being discovered, and so no one really knew how many Facets there were, nor what they could do. All we knew is that you were either born with an ability to use them, or you were blind to them for your entire life.

To any person that can perceive these colours, the world appears more vivid and bursting with potential. However, very few people had the ability to see them at all, and even then only a tiny fraction. These people are referred to as mages, and they are the ones that are capable of harnessing magic to their own ends.

I was born with a magical symbol that glows faintly on my arm, something like a tattoo. That identifies me as a ‘Marked mage’. The Mark reveals my heightened sensitivity to the Facets. We are exceptionally rare; so rare that there might be a handful of us in the entire world.

Everyone knows that as a Marked mage I should be able to manipulate the four most basic Facets. Our lore is brimming with tales of legendary individuals that could heal the sick, protect the weak, destroy the wicked and bend the physics of our world to their will. It is what sets them apart from the Unmarked.

Unmarked mages are only able to discern a single Facet and are not born with a mark – hence their name.

They’re more common, but still quite rare in the grand scheme of things. There are likely only a dozen in every town, for example. We even employ several in the palace for their medical expertise and as bodyguards to the King.

Being Faceted also comes with passive benefits, too. My connection with the Destructive Facet gives me enhanced strength, while someone with an affinity for Healing would have a better understanding of medicine and anatomy.

There was just one problem – despite being one of the Marked, I didn’t have access to all of the Facets that I should. No matter how hard I tried, I had never been able to feel out the Healing and Protection energies that I knew should be there. My skill with first aid was also abysmal.

What I did have, though, was the ability to create vivid visual illusions. The Illusion Facet was outside of the four that were expected of me, and thus I could keep it a secret.

Bringing my mind back to the present, I found the energies with ease. I moulded them into their natural forms – being especially careful with fire – and began my training. Air vortices, ice shards, fireballs and stone chunks were all created and destroyed within the walls of my private pavilion.

The floor became littered with patches of water and molten rock that had since solidified. I knew it was time for dinner when my stomach let out a loud gurgling rumble. As usual, I’d lost track of time and would have to hurry back to the palace. A servant would clean up for me before my next scheduled training session.

Dinner this evening would be thoroughly uninteresting, I was sure. Whoever was coming to share a meal with us would no doubt be a politician of some kind, more interested in themselves than the well-being of our citizens.

As I passed through the grounds, I took note of the different flowers and ornamental bushes and I couldn’t help but wonder what my sister was doing now.