Chapter Text
Wherever it was Luka went, the bees followed.
Since her earliest childhood, her life was its constant humming in her ears, when she did magic, when she sang, when, like in that moment, she tossed and turned in bed trying to fall asleep.
Rain pounded on windows and roofs, which would at least keep the bugs at bay for a couple of hours. At the moment, there were only a few wandering around on her skin.
Luka raised her hand to watch the bee crawling around her fingers, flapping antennae and wings as if seeking nectar from a flower.
Luka tilted her head, hesitant. She could feel in her chest that unnatural agitation that kept her from closing her eyes for long, as if she had drunk too many cups of coffee.
In spite of her better judgement, she decided to indulge it.
Naturally, she did not produce pollen, but she could do something similar. Luka took a deep breath and allowed herself to give in a little to the tension that had been building up in her body through the day, the whole week, the last months, an entire lifetime.
A ribbon of golden light bloomed from Luka’s palm, dimly lighting up the angles of her face and dark room. The bee took off from her skin to fly around until its body was covered in a shimmering golden dust. Once satisfied, it landed on her collarbone, and Luka forced herself to extinguish the magic with a flick of her wrist.
Whatever it was about her magic that attracted the bees so much, Luka didn’t know, but as was often the case with her powers, it couldn’t be anything good.
But the bee was satisfied, and Luka’s eyelids were, for once, heavy.
She turned in bed again, careful not to squash any insect, and closed her eyes.
She didn’t care, not in the middle of the night, not when she would kill to be able to sleep for a couple of hours. She would deal with the consequences of her actions in the morning, that was what she told herself each time she saw the setting sun through her window, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
That was how she coped with her daily life, when each day was but another link in the heavy chain she dragged behind her and the future was a blurry and uncertain horizon that offered her nothing more than the same old routine until she couldn’t bear it anymore and…
Until she couldn’t bear it anymore and…
In spite of everything, she took a sort of comfort among the darkness, especially in her room, when all that surrounded her were the familiar shadows of the furniture she had known all her life and a break from the blinding sunlight that always shone down in her small town. Her only solace at the end of each day.
Luka shook her head, sad thoughts were usually the only thing occupying her mind, so she focused on the rhythmical tap of the water droplets on her window pane to keep them at bay.
It didn’t take her long to fall asleep.
The first thing that Luka noticed were the sun rays on her eyes that had woken her up, she groaned and covered her face with the pillow she had been hugging against her chest. The second thing she noticed was the absence of the familiar tingling in her skin.
Luka forced herself to sit up and to open her eyes, the curtains were drawn and the window firmly closed.
Her mother must have gotten rid of the bees, again. She sometimes did that when she wanted something to occupy her mind with, no matter how many times Luka insisted it was pointless. She still would make the effort to untangle them from her hair, reach under her clothes and pockets to catch the most elusive ones, trap them inside glasses, and, in a particularly traumatizing occasion, wrap them in handkerchiefs and squash them.
She always looked at them with disgust, and Luka doubted it really had anything to do with the insects themselves.
Still, the change wasn’t unpleasant, at least she would be able to move around for a while without worrying about ending up with a stinger buried in her skin.
Luka reached down to pick up a white shirt lying on the ground, dressed up lazily and put on her worn leather boots. She felt a little more awake when she washed her face, but had to take a deep breath as she took her brush.
The girl combing her hair in the mirror had a heart-shaped face, skin so smooth that she looked more like a porcelain doll than a person made of flesh and blood. She had too-pink and too-long bright hair that already reached down to her waist even though she had it cut just a few weeks before, her nails were starting to get in the way, too.
Luka tried to smile, her reflection only gave her back an awkward, half-hearted gesture. She sighed and set the brush aside.
She walked out of her room, and though her stomach growled, she forced herself to stop when she was in front of her mother's room. She knocked on the door and opened it when she heard a soft hum from inside.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, Luka,” said Chika automatically.
She was sitting on her bed, as if she hadn’t gotten up yet. Her pink and lusterless hair, a few shades duller than Luka’s, fell down her shoulders, instead of the buns she usually tied it up in.
“Are you having breakfast?”
“Maybe later,” she said after a moment of silence, like pondering her answer.
Chika did not move. Sometimes she did that, sitting still for hours on end looking at something in particular. Most of the time it was one of Luka’s belongings, an old dress or her closet, sometimes she would look at one of the Kiyoteru’s portraits hanging around the house; all while stroking her wedding band with her fingertips, the gesture had become so ingrained that Luka thought she didn’t even notice it when she did it.
“I see. See you later, Mom.”
“Is everything alright?”
The question took Luka by surprise, she bit her lip.
“Uh, yes, as well as I can be, I guess.”
A few seconds passed before Chika nodded, almost satisfied, but Luka caught the glimpse of that sorrowful expression on her face she had every time she really looked at her and not glanced over her.
But she said nothing. So neither did Luka.
She turned around, turned the doorknob and left. When she was out of the room, she leaned against the door and sighed. She hated to admit it, but it felt like taking a weight off her shoulders. She continued downstairs.
Luka stopped halfway across the living room to look up at the enormous portrait in front of her. The man in the painting had chestnut-colored hair and warm eyes of the same color behind square glasses; coincidentally, he was Luka's father.
The rest of her family had loved him dearly, for them, he was a hero and martyr who was unjustly taken away from them. He was rarely spoken of, always in melancholic and distant tones, but also so full of love.
He died before Luka was born, and had it not been for the fact that her brother had been named after him, she doubted she would even remember it at all.
For her, the gentle soul who had rescued her mother when she was at her lowest was nothing more than a stranger on the wall, judging her with clever eyes. His story no more than a legend created by mourners who perhaps remembered him as more admirable than he actually was.
She was snapped out of her trance by the voices of the only ounce of normalcy in her life. Kyo and Kokone were already up. She hurried across the room and into the kitchen.
Her sister was watering the numerous flower pots hanging on the walls and window sills. With graceful hand movements, she directed the water as if it was an extension of her own body, not even having to look at Luka to dodge it when she got in the way of the water and her treasured camellias.
Kyo didn't really need to use his magic on a daily basis except for lighting stoves or heating things up, but he never missed an opportunity to show off, occupying two dining room chairs, he summoned flames that licked his fingers while he popped toast into his mouth with his other hand. Luka feared he would set the tablecloth on fire or, worse, the rest of the breakfast.
“Good morning, morons.”
“Morning? The sun’s about to set,” her sister was still too busy with her task to even look at her.
“Well-mannered as always, aren’t you?” said Kyo.
“I learned it from you”
“No, no, you misunderstood,” said Kokone. “Kyo was supposed to be the bad example, you weren’t supposed to imitate him.”
“Oh, and I guess you are the good example.”
Kokone tossed her hair over her shoulder. Kyo threw a napkin at her.
Luka suppressed her laughter into a small smile. Her gaze returned to the table, on which sat a plate of scrambled eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice, bread and butter, her stomach growled.
She walked to a chair, but before she could approach it, Kokone stepped across her path to open a cupboard. Their shoulders brushed.
In the ample kitchen, where sunlight filtered through pale curtains and breakfast sizzled on an old pan, nothing happened. Kyo bit his thumbnail and Kokone decided she was done watering the plants, and let the remaining water fall inside a nearby pitcher as she hummed a popular song.
But Luka was frozen in place. She had felt it, the magic that coursed through her sister’s veins like the rapids of a river, it lingered in the jar, in the wet earth, even inside the very petals and leaves.
The water called to her, awakened a never quite dormant power that pulsed through her body, urged her to stop resisting and unleash a storm, a flood, an entire hurricane.
“Luka?”
The faucet dripped.
“Luka,” repeated Kyo, louder this time.
Her breathing heavier, Luka spun on her heel to walk to another cabinet at the end of the corridor. This one was made of ebony wood, and instead of fine porcelain, it displayed various vials. The shapes, as well as the sizes and contents, varied; one contained vibrant orange dried flowers, but most were liquids and powders.
Luka opened it to reach for a vial half-filled with a pale blue fluid, the scent was strong. The label read in neat calligraphy “ Navoran ”.
She knew that feeling inside her chest, the moment just before a million fireworks went off.
“Luka, stop.”
“You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore.”
In any other circumstance, Kokone’s words may have hurt, but not this time.
She threw her head back and drank the entire bottle, ignoring the bitter taste and burning sensation it left in her throat. In theory, she should have diluted a much more meager amount in a cup of hot water with honey, but small doses had long since ceased to have any effect.
It was no secret why no more than a couple of spoonfuls were administered at a time, the effects nearly knocked her down, but she managed to rest her forehead and hands against the cool glass.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… Ten.
Seven seconds used to be enough for the drug to work, a few years ago it was only five. Luka dared open her eyes, hands shaking, and even though her breath had fogged the glass, she could still see the disappointed and concerned faces of her siblings in it. But the call of the water had decreased to the soft murmur she was accustomed to, so it was alright. She wasn’t hungry anymore.
She took a deep breath to regain her composure and turned around to confront her family, lifting her chin up.
“Well, there go three weeks, four days, and approximately ten hours clean,” said Kyo without a hint of humor in his voice.
“Next time I’ll make sure to pierce your stupid stomach with a stalactite,” Luka struggled to spit out the words through gritted teeth.
She couldn’t focus her gaze. While Kokone looked horrified, Kyo didn’t even flinch.
“Keep going like this and you’ll die of an overdose before you can pierce anyone’s stomach.”
“And what do you suggest I do?!”
“Goddess, I don’t know, but not this !” Kyo burst out, extending his arms towards her.
“There must be another way,” said Kokone in a low voice, probably to keep them from murdering each other.
“There’s no other way,” said Luka, still infuriated, but her voice gave away more sadness than what she would have wanted.
She started walking.
“Luka, wait.”
She made her way between them, before they could reach her and stop her, she extended her arms to summon a gust of wind. Her intention had been just to knock them off their balance, but the blow pushed them backwards and, like several vases and portraits hanging on the walls, they fell to the floor.
She grabbed a cloak from the coat rack and left the house, ignoring the voices shouting out her name, at least they were sensible enough not to chase after her. She didn't cry, it would only make things worse.
The garden was big, almost completely covered by flowers, bushes, and vines, everything Luka’s doing. It was a more or less harmless way to unleash her magic, besides, they were never short of seasonal fruit, and the leafy trees served to hide from the sight of intruding eyes.
She didn’t bother to look towards the main gate, where she knew she would find a crowd of people kneeling, tying gold ribbons and flowers to the steel bars that surrounded her house. Prayers in both murmurs and shouts found their way to her room, praising the Goddess, praising her.
She gave silent thanks to the stoic guards her mother had hired. Had it not been for them, she had no doubt that people would have long since climbed the gate to get into her room and…
She didn’t want to imagine it, so she pulled her hood up. From the scent of vanilla perfume, she knew it was Kokone's. She raised her fingers to her chest where, held by a pin, was a golden sun, Lily's emblem and, therefore, hers. Thanks to it, they could pass unnoticed in crowds.
But she was no chosen saint of the Goddess, she hated to be considered as such, disgusted by the mere thought of it. If Lily truly was the cause of her magic, then she had certainly meant to curse her. They were no gift, much less a prophecy or the proof she was her true daughter, or whatever people imagined it to be.
She slipped through statues and fountains until she reached a small secret exit she had created herself when she was about thirteen years old. It had taken her ages to melt the bars without the grass around her catching fire. It overlooked a grove of trees, perfect for getting in and out unnoticed.
Whether her siblings knew about it, Luka wasn't sure, but since she rarely used it, no one had reason to suspect anything, besides, she took pride on how well it was camouflaged among bushes and rocks.
She knelt down to crawl through the narrow hole, though it wasn't as easy as when she was a child. Once on the other side, she got up and shook the dirt and leaves off her clothes. Then she faced the guards who were always guarding that part of the fence.
By Chika's orders, they weren't even allowed to speak to Luka, but she noticed the gleam in their eyes whenever they saw flowers sprouting under her bare feet, or the way her skin glowed in the sunlight. Some hid it better than others.
In theory, Luka shouldn't talk to them either, but she had asked them not to tell her family about her leaving the house. She couldn't know for sure if the sweet smiles were unnecessary, but judging by the lack of comment from her mother, they had kept their part of their silent promise to her, which was far more than Luka could ask for, it made her feel guilty for not even knowing their names.
She ignored them as she passed them by, they too pretended she wasn't there.
She made sure her hair and face were well hidden and continued on her way, making sure to step on the rocks so as not to dirty her shoes. She gave her house one last glance before moving on, she shouldn't be outside, but she couldn’t bear the thought of returning, either. For once in her life, she would like to get a couple of miles away, pretend she had nothing to leave behind or nothing ahead of her to be afraid of.
She'd love to go to the city of a faraway kingdom, where no one knew about her and she didn't have to sneak around in the shadows. Make friends to get drunk with, lift her skirts and get into strangers' carriages, enter to a luxurious store and try on dresses she'd never get the chance to wear even if she could buy them, haggle over the price of spiced wine or whatever else was done in markets. She had gone a couple of times when she was little, the rest she had learned from books and what Kyo and Kokone told her about them.
The memory of her siblings made reality hit her like a ton of bricks. Of course she had to go back, no matter how much she dreaded it, and when she did, she wouldn't be surprised to find the medicine cabinet empty, or at least locked with the biggest padlock in the house.
Deep down, Luka understood their good intentions, and even worse, that they were right: she was dizzy, her lips and throat still burned. She knew well that the day would come when she would pass out from drinking so many bottles of Navoran before suppressing her ever-growing magic, but until then she wasn't willing to burst into deadly sunlight. Not again.
She didn't notice that her hands were still balled into fists until she felt a sharp pain in her palm, she opened it and saw that she was still clutching tightly to the empty vial, which was sticky with honey. She sighed and put it in her pocket after rubbing her hand against her pants. At this rate the bees would soon notice her presence and start stirring up, and the last thing she was looking for was to draw attention.
She’d taken her eyes off the road for too long. Luka grimaced as her foot sank into a mud puddle.
“This can’t be happening.”
She lifted her leg to analyze the mess, it was full of mud up to her ankle. Then she watched as the drops of water, almost as if of their own will, slid down her boot until they fell back to the ground, leaving behind only a thin layer of dirt on the worn leather.
She hadn't even lifted a finger.
Luka was no longer surprised that her powers would manifest no matter how hard she tried to suppress them, but that, what had happened with Kokone, was new. She had always been able to notice the magic around her―the skill of her sister controlling water, the vivacity of fire crackling at her brother's hands―but getting close to her had never made her so aware of every molecule of water around her, even those suspended in the air or running through pipes.
It was getting worse, and Luka knew it would kill her. That is, if an overdose or a mad devotee or the army of an enemy nation that saw her as a threat didn’t kill her first.
But if she had made one good decision all day, it had been to have left the house just when she did. She ducked behind a tree as she saw a heavily guarded white carriage drive just past her. She did not need to recognize the bright emblem engraved on its doors to know that it was a nobleman.
She waited for it to go away, as she expected, it was headed for her house. Unfortunately, her magic was no secret in her village or far away kingdoms, Lily's devotees were not the only ones with their eyes fixed on her.
Once she was out of their sight, she dared to step away from her hiding place, she moved deeper into the trees before warily continuing on her way. She was not in the mood to deal with aristocrats or merchants or anyone who thought they had riches alluring enough to win her hand.
She would disappear into the soothing darkness of a hollow tree for a couple of hours to rue her existence and wait for the drug to wear off and, hopefully, whoever had planned on visiting her would be gone by then.
Or, at least, that was her intention.
She felt the ripple of magic around her before she heard the faint rustle of leaves on the trees and ground, the disturbance in the air that seemed to form a bubble around her.
No, not just around her.
She wanted to run, but before she could, she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.
“Good morning, Miss,” said a whispering voice that sent shivers down her spine, “I take it you are Luka Megurine?”