Chapter Text
It was cold… bitterly cold. There was a bed, a dresser, a mirror, and a girl. A girl lay out on the cold, hard marble flooring. Magazines, newspapers, and notes were sprawled out around her. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, face vacant of any emotion.
Three knocks.
Her eyes widened. “Yes?”
“Jaia? Can I come in?” the voice requested.
She slowly rose, fingers combing through her long brown locks. “Yes, father.”
The maroon-tinted door opened slowly, and an older gentleman stood in the doorframe. As the man scanned the sight before him, a crease made itself at home between his brows as his mouth parted open and then closed.
Her eyes followed his. Her fingers began to move over the tiles in a hurry, collecting the media, “Oh- Father, I-I was just-”
“Jaia, your mother called for you.”
“I… I know. I was coming. I was just finishing up,” she mentioned quietly.
“I’m sure it won't be too long,” he said as he entered the room and began helping her pick up her belongings. “It’s probably just some critiques on your form or something,” he added with hope.
Her gaze slid to the side, face full of defeat. The critiques always took the longest, in her opinion.
Her father stood, brushing off his pants, and spoke, “Don’t let whatever it is get to you, honey. Just hang on for two more days.”
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The room was grand and dimly lit only by a fireplace. Heavy red and gold-lined curtains spilled down from their rods, barely grazing the floor. A pale woman with blunt blonde strands stood before the light, arms crossed. Jaia hesitated, then took her first step.
“You know I hate waiting.” The woman said sharply.
Almost robotically, Jaia glided towards her mother, Decalus. Their eyes met.
In a swift motion, Decalus’ hands clamped around her daughter’s jaw, making it clear who was in charge. Jaia’s breath hitched, and her eyes blurred.
Her mother’s eyes were devoid of love. Cold, detached, unblinking. Decalus squeezed her poor daughter’s face, “Joulin always smiled.”
Joulin…
Her hand retracted, and she sat, facing the fireplace once again—a short brown mug lay on the side table next to the chair. Her hands unhurriedly wrapped around the mug, and she brought it to her red-tinted lips, taking two long sips. Jaia stood, jaw clamped, shoulders dipped, and body still as if the slightest movement would induce her mother’s wrath.
Decalus concentratedly placed the mug on the side table once more. “In a year… everything will be different for us. It all depends on you.”
Jaias' gaze stayed fixed on the floor beneath her. In a year, she wouldn't even be here.
That's if everything goes to plan, that is.
Interrupting her thoughts, Decalus began, “What have you done today?”
Jaia’s mouth parted to respond, but she didn't allow herself to speak. She hasn't trained today; she was too busy. Her hand lifted in a pleading manner to stop as she knew what’d come next from her lack of a response. Declaus’ palm flashed through the air, making contact with her daughter’s pale, freckled cheek.. It was quick… but it hurt, an all-too-common occurrence.
Decalus stood, towering over her quivering daughter. “When I ask you something, you answer. Do you hear me?”
With no hesitation, just pure evil intention, Decalus swiftly drove her foot towards her daughter’s crouched and aching body. No warning was necessary for Jaia; her mother always kicked her when she was down.
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The turbulent branches lashed out, their gnarled fingers scratching against the glass panes of the majestic doors, creating a haunting symphony of sound that echoed through the night. Jaia sat cross-legged in the center of her room, surrounded by the familiar clutter of her life once again. An open black backpack lay in front of her, ready to be filled. The dim light from a bedside lamp cast a warm glow, illuminating her determined expression. Tonight was the night she had been preparing for. Carefully, she gathered her belongings and thoughtfully arranged them in the small bag, ensuring that each item had its place. With each piece she packed, a mixture of excitement and nervousness fluttered in her stomach as she envisioned the adventure that lay ahead.
As she got to the end of her pile of objects, a face– her brother’s–looked back at her. It was an old newspaper, dating back about 14 years.
Is This Nyxalis’ Newest Hero?
Joulin Vaelix Speaks Out!
A single tear slips from her eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek as she whispers, “Joulin…”
There was no time to waste, though. She had to leave now; if not now, then never. She stuffed the paper recklessly into her bag. Her hands grasped the torn straps of her black backpack, and she clumsily swung both over her shoulders.
One… two… three… just a couple of steps more and she'd be free. Free from the stress that left constant boulders on her shoulders. Free from the beatings that’d leave a multitude of bruises on her pale skin for days on end. Free from the unrealistic expectations that constantly made her feel like she wasn’t worthy… like she’ll never be good enough. Free from her mother, the woman who was supposed to love her unconditionally but failed to do so. Her feet stilled. She took one last glance around her room, the room she spent hours crying in. The room she’d retreat to to hide from her mother. The room she found safety within. A short exhale left her parted lips, and she turned once again towards the doors. She lifted her hand, and it hovered over the handle for a moment that felt like forever.
Her palm fell on the handle and pushed it down. It was locked.
As her hand rested on the handle, the air around it began to shimmer. Purple, blue, and yellow specs of celestial light decorated the surrounding atmosphere. Her eyes narrowed, and her breathing stilled. A pulse of pure energy departed from her hand into the handle, breaking the lock into pieces.
Her balance was challenged as the distorted winds blew open the doors without mercy, subjecting her to the harsh environment just outside of her quiet place. Her hands found their way to the straps of her backpack again, as she pulled it tight, securing it on her bare shoulders.
It was time. It was finally time. With a rush of adrenaline, she made her break towards the balcony, a smile, like puppet strings, tugged at the sides of her mouth, and she jumped. She jumped, and just as she did, she threw her hands before her, cosmic light radiating from her fingertips. Shimmering like a thousand stars, an enchanting translucent slide was woven out of thin air, connecting her to the grassy green field below. Her twinkling eyes looked up to the stars above, and she twirled. She danced with the raging winds as her magic faded away, leaving only minuscule specs of purples and yellows. This… was freedom.
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Jaia ran. She ran through the underbush, ignoring the twisting branches that grabbed and snagged at her skin and clothes, leaving tiny tears that stung when the harsh air hit them. She ran, ignoring the way the wind whipped her hair wildly without remorse. She ran, ignoring the hurling debris colliding with her face and body and the damp earth filling her lungs. She ran, ignoring the thoughts in her head telling her she couldn't do it, telling her that she should just go back. Jaia ran.
With every determined stride down the jagged hillside, her shoes crushed against the fallen leaves and twigs, echoing through the fierce forest, as she made it closer to the imminent, thick, and barred fence that kept her from the outside world. The intimidating fence that contained her in this prison, which was supposed to be a home. With a deep breath, her hands came together, clasped tightly, and that all-familiar energy pulsed through her veins. The glistening magic danced in between her hands like a ballet, and as she pulled her fingers apart, a blade, translucent with a hint of sparkling purple, began to take shape. Glowing magnificently in the dim gray light, the blade’s edge connected with the fence in a swift motion, and it sliced through effortlessly. Without a moment's hesitation, Jaia ran through the narrow opening, her heart pounding with excitement and thoughts of what would come next.
Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts. Beads of sweat trickled from her forehead down to her chin before splattering on the muddy ground below her. Her body rested against the weathered pell stop sign as she crouched, hands on her knees, fingernails digging into the fabric of her jeans, and she attempted to catch her breath. Her body ached, and her legs quivered with fatigue.
She wasn’t aware of the pells’ schedule or if it’d even arrive tonight, but she felt safe as she stood beneath the dim, flickering lightbulb. It’s light casting uneven shadows onto the overgrown sidewalk on the secluded and unseen outskirts of Arcanelle, her city.
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The pellvar arrived just as the first light crept over the horizon. Soft blues and pinks pranced around in the sky as birds chirped and critters hummed. Shadows clung to the edges of buildings, reluctant to depart as the morning sun rose. Jaia lay sprawled out on the bench, one arm draped over her stomach, another lazily hanging off the edge, grazing the grass below. Her legs were stretched out, as if to keep the bench all to herself. With disheveled hair and groggy eyes, she watched intently as the hefty glass doors of the pell creaked open.
Every step onto and through the pell was intentional as she appreciated the new surroundings that enveloped her. Her fingers brushed against the worn, but smooth, fabric of each seat and every hovering metal handle bar. She decided on a seat near the back and, in a quick motion, placed her backpack, mangled and tattered from the previous night's fury, on the seat beside her. As the pell drifted forward down the winding road, its gentle sway rocked her as she gazed out of the glossy window.
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“Miss?” a voice called out.
Her eyes flew open, a sudden wave of realization washing over her. Somehow, she had dozed off once more. With a weary smile tugging at her lips, she exclaimed, “Yes!”
It was the pell driver. An older heavy set man with gray strands poking out from under his stiff-brimmed cap walked over to her seat. He smiled at her and opened his hand, revealing a small, white, rectangular slip of paper, and spoke, “I was ordered to give this to you.”
Mouth agape and eyes wide, she went for the paper, fingers hovering over it before ultimately grabbing it from him. She inspected it, “404…?”
He waved both hands in front of him, palms out, shaking them side to side in a quick motion. “I have no idea, miss, I was simply ordered to drop you off at the farthest stop north and hand you this paper.”
Her head snapped towards the polished window, analyzing her surroundings. “Um, sir, where am I?” All that lay before her eyes was pale sand stretching for what seemed like forever. This couldn’t be it.
He chuckled and began, “You’re in Madrenna!”
With her eyes wide open, she looked at him in disbelief, as if he had three heads. She didn’t speak. Just let her index finger settle at her lip, eyes distant, like she was processing the last few minutes.
Finally, she spoke, “Madrenna? Is that-”
“It’s a wave, miss, you’re still in Nyxalis if that’s what you were wondering.”
She exhaled in relief. She was still in Nyxalis, her home realm.
“Okay, so… what happens next?” she inquired honestly.
He turned towards the window, taking in everything she’d been looking at for the past couple of minutes. “Well… I’d assume you’re supposed to cross that, miss,” he answered, nodding towards the dry sandy desert that unfolded in front of the unfinished pavement.
With a sudden flash of realization, she recoiled and looked at the man, then turned towards the view that lay just outside the pell. “Cross!” Her hands cupped her mouth in disbelief, “Cross a desert? Sir, this must be a mistake, you see I’m supposed to be going somewhere…” She hesitated, deciding to choose her words carefully, “more extravagant. Not a desert.”
He shrugged, his face laced with a hint of sympathy, “This was where I was ordered to drop you off at.”
Her countenance fell, “but there’s nothing here. I don’t get it.”
The pell driver turned and walked towards the front of the old, weary pell. It shaking underneath his heavy footsteps. When he returned to Jaia, he held out a water bottle and offered it to her. It was dented, dusty, and well-used, but still a kind gesture that Jaia accepted.
“This is honestly all I can do for you, but can I give you some elderly advice?” The man asked with a giggle.
Jaia nodded, eyes tired.
“The fancy places don’t always hold the important things, miss. Some answers only show up in the places no one looks twice at. Now go ahead. The light is on your side for now,” he stated, pointing up at the sky.
When he spoke, his voice was calm and reassuring, maybe even a little amused, like he’d said this sort of thing before or like he had experience in this area. She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes dropped to the floor, then out the window again. The desert still looked endless, but something about it felt less unwelcoming now. Like it wasn’t there to stop her anymore. Jaia nodded once.
“Okay,” she said quietly, uncertain for sure, but willing to cross this obstacle.
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The twin suns sat high in the sky, beaming down onto the desolate desert, leaving Jaia’s skin slightly tanned and warmed. Her strides were heavy, and with every step she sank into the sandy ground. Sand clung to her shoes as if it were trying to pull her down, and the intense heat wrapped her like a thermal blanket in the winter as she continued.
As the suns dipped below the horizon one after another, her pace fastened. The air became cooler, crisp, and almost refreshing compared to the relentless heat from that morning, but with the chilling breeze came intruding darkness that cast a veil over her surroundings, limiting her vision.
“What…?”
Her gaze sharpened like a blade, and her jaw clenched. Jaia paused, her chest rising and falling with each deep, labored breath. Her legs ached from the long trek, and her lips cracked from the blazing hot suns of the early morning. The fabric of her clothing chaffed against her skin, leaving her a constant reminder of the absolute discomfort she was in. She wanted to give in. She wanted to fall to the cool sand below her and let it embrace her as she slept, but she couldn't as a solitary figure stood ahead.
The figure remained motionless, cloaked in the dim starlight, as if waiting for her.
Jaia's steps slowed, but she kept walking, her feet dragging through the sand, shoes half-buried with every step. The air around the figure shimmered faintly, distorting the edges of its form as if it were woven from something less than real. When she was close enough to see its face, her stomach turned.
It was her.
This version of her looked rested, untouched by travel, her skin unmarked, her clothes flawless. Her expression was calm, condescending even, like she knew something Jaia didn’t.
"You’ve come far," the mirage said, voice eerily smooth. "But far doesn’t mean ready."
Jaia stopped a few feet away. Her hands twitched at her sides.
The mirage tilted its head. “Why continue? Valor isn’t for people like you. You don’t even know what you’re walking into.”
There was a pause, followed by deafening silence.
“I don’t have to know,” Jaia muttered, forcing her voice steady. “I just have to keep going.”
The mirage smiled softly, with a look of pity. “You don’t belong there.”
Jaia's lips pressed into a line. Her heart pounded. She lifted her hand, and the air around her responded, warping slightly, as if gravity itself bowed in her direction. Her magic stirred, quiet but present, running like a current through her veins.
“I’m not here to ask if I belong,” she said. “I’m here because I know I’m worthy.”
With a flick of her wrist, cosmic energy gathered in her palm, coalescing into a thin crescent blade, glowing faintly with starlight.
The mirage didn’t move.
Jaia stepped forward and slashed downward, aiming not at the figure but at the space between them. The air cracked. The illusion fractured like glass, splitting into spirals of stardust that scattered into the wind.
Silence followed. Then, the ground shifted. The sand around her feet solidified into pale stone. Thin glowing lines raced outward in a circle, connecting to half-buried slabs and broken columns that hadn’t been there seconds ago. Ahead of her, a staircase emerged, wide, ancient, and glowing faintly with embedded runes.
Jaia’s breath slowed. Her blade faded from her hand, dissolving into light. She didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, onto the first stone step, leaving the sand and her shadow behind.
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Each step felt lighter than the last. Her muscles still ached, and sweat clung to her skin, but the air itself had changed. It no longer resisted her, but instead it welcomed her with open arms.
As she climbed, the winds settled. The stars above moved with intention, like they were adjusting themselves to light her path. Runes carved into the stone began to glow, one by one with each of her footfalls. Purple, blue, and pale gold light pulsed beneath her as if the staircase were recognizing her energy. At the top, a towering gate: dark, polished obsidian in color, with a silver etching of the Valor emblem carved deep into its surface.
In her hand, the paper still rested. 404…
The moment her fingers brushed the center of the gate, it began to open.
Warm light spilled through the widening gap like sunrise filtered through clouds. It poured over her skin, casting her in that same faint golden hue that only appeared in dreams. Her breath caught, and she stepped through.
The magic peeled away the desert dust from her boots, calmed her windswept hair, and restored something in her chest she didn’t know she’d lost. She was inside Valor.
The atrium was massive, alive with motion and light. Students moved through the open floor, some walking with confident strides, while others gathered in clusters around red circles that pulsed with a magical energy. The floors gleamed with silver tile, the ceiling stretched impossibly high, and banners from all twenty-two realms hung in perfect symmetry along the walls.
“Students,” the speaker boomed from above, “you have ten minutes left to find your team. Make haste.”
The light inside Valor was bright, almost pure. Clean in a way Jaia wasn’t used to. It reflected off the silver tile beneath her boots and bounced off the smooth walls, as if the place had never known anything broken.
She stood just inside the atrium, the slip of paper still clutched tightly in her hand.
All around her, students were gathering, some already laughing, others dead silent. Most moved like they’d been preparing for this their whole lives.
Her throat tightened, and she glanced at the nearest group, each of them standing in a red circle that pulsed gently beneath their feet. She took a step forward, then another, weaving between clusters of half-formed teams. No one looked her way. She didn’t recognize anyone. Of course, she didn’t.
The voice returned over the speaker, crisp and calm, “Students, remember, you can always look up if you need assistance.”
Jaia lifted her gaze.
High above, floating near the ceiling, rows of glowing numbers drifted slowly through the air. Her eyes scanned them.
212… 305… 408… 404…
It hovered above a red circle tucked in the far corner of the room.
Each step felt heavier than it should’ve, of course it did. She clenched the paper tightly and moved forward with determination.
She reached the circle. Three people were already inside. Her heart pounded, but she didn’t stop. And for the first time in a long time, she spoke without flinching.
“Hello,” she said, her voice quiet yet steady, with a brief wave. “I’m Jaia.”