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Chapter Text

Can you hear it?

The drums of war masquerading as the traffic of footsteps? The guillotine swing of fanfare and excitement? The quiet suffocation from the hallway outside made of steady pacing and curses of comfort, the heavy embrace of anticipation threatening to drown them all?

Elizabeth could.

It's all she could hear despite the concrete walls and distance between her and the crowds. She was in her own locker room, a simple generic set up made for umas and their trainers. She was sitting on a bench, her head between her hands, hunched over, staring down at the ground and the scuff marks of her cleats.

"Elizabeth?" She heard someone say, but the sound was murky and watered, it rippled amongst the distinct cheers she heard in the far distance.

"Elizabeth!" Another repeat of her name, yelled this time. It was echoed in the chambers of her mind, like a broken record from a past long gone.

"ELIZABETH!"

Elizabeth jerked her head up, her heavy breathing steadying in gulps. There was a comforting touch on her shoulder, small squeezes to guide and help. She shut her eyes, breathed in, and let go.

Her trainer looked at her, a relatively small woman in a decal-ed biker helmet, visor tinted black so that her appearance was completely masked. Outside of the helmet, her outfit was normal, collared yellow shirt with a lanyard, a pair of grey slacks with black combat boots.

"Rosa," Elizabeth breathed, looking away in shame, her long ears shifted in guilt. "I can't do it. I know; I know this is what we've been working towards, but I can't—I can't do it."

This was the moment of a lifetime. A decision that would change her life the second she raced on the turf. Rosa, her trainer, held her face with both hands. She lifted the uma's head, and their eyes locked into each other's regardless of the helmet.

"Hey," she whispered as warm as a flame. "Talk to me Liz. We have 15 minutes, we can take our time."

"I can't—"

"You can," Rosa assured. "You're just scared. So tell me Liz, what are you scared about?"

Elizabeth's bottom lip quivered. By her lap, her fist shook in the same cowardice that haunted her for years. Then, in remarkable bravery, she shuddered out an exhale, and let go.

6 MONTHS AGO

Racing, as far as Elizabeth knew, was in her blood.

She was an Uma, just like her mother before her, and her mother before her. Maybe in another life, she would be considered the greatest in her generation. Born and raised in Great Exardia, belonging to a pedigree and dynasty that can shake the racing world with nothing but a command.

For Elizabeth was a Bloodflame. It was a bloodline made of Champions. The Epsom Derby, the Ascolt Gold, The Grand National, Cheltenham Gold Cup. They said whenever a Bloodflame was on the turf, first place was almost inevitable.

But here in the Far East that lineage was nothing but a last name on the register.

And Elizabeth preferred it that way—even when the fame haunted her in the backwaters of the Far East. It happened every now and again, a prospective trainer would see her name and believe they struck gold. But they were only the fool in the long line of jesters, like moths to a dimly-lit flame.

Elizabeth held the name Bloodflame, but she was not one of them.

Now her latest trainer was going to learn the lesson just like everyone else who gave up on her. She was more of an oddity compared to the others. Unlike most, she choose her after seeing her race, and unlike everyone else, she wore a helmet to hide her face.

It was a biker's helmet, hard and round with a black-tinted visor so no one could see past the gleam and sunlight's reflection. The helmet was heavily decal-ed around the visor. Outside of the white base, it had a stain-glass design of roses and blue flames that fractured and broke up as it spread to the back of the helmet.

The helmet clashed with the rest of her business-casual attire, a yellow button up shirt with long sleeves. Leather brown gloves, a navy blue vest-jacket that paired with dark grey slacks. The only thing that matched that punk-rock helmet was the black combat boots. It was obvious that she dressed like every part of her needed to be hidden, and Elizabeth chalked it up to one of her obvious oddities.

"So, let's get introductions out of the way," her trainer said, opening up their office. Though office was a kind term for it. Stepping inside, the room was closer to a refurbished walk-in shed than anything else. Barely enough space for her trainer, no matter how short she was, and herself the Uma, dressed in her running outfit.

The running uniform was a simple red tracksuit, a zipped up track jacket with a white shirt underneath. Dirt stains clung around the ankles of her pants, and the white cleats were scuffed with marks. Around her neck, hidden underneath the garments was a glimpse of a silver chain.

Elizabeth stood there by the edge of the door, her long ears already hitting the smaller angular slope of the ceiling. She watched as her trainer moved through the tight space with ease and lifted up a chalkboard and leaned it against the back wall.

"You can call me Trainer, but I prefer if we call each other by our first names."

"Are you not going to remove your helmet?" Elizabeth interrupted, surprising even herself in the moment. The first words she's spoken to a trainer in a long time, and it was about a helmet.

Her trainer paused, almost stunned at the idea. For a moment, Elizabeth thought she was going to remove it now that they were alone and out of the sun. Then her trainer laughed, looked down and scratched the small gap of skin between her helmet and collarbone with her leather-gloved hands.

"Well, I'm glad you found your voice, Liz but no. I'm not going to remove my helmet." She raised her head, and though Elizabeth couldn't see any facial feature, she knew from the weight on her shoulders her trainer was staring at her. "Will this be an issue?"

Elizabeth let out a long exhale. "No." This oddity wasn't going to last long anyways, not when Elizabeth won't be able to give them the victory they want.

"Good!" Her trainer walked over, her voice chipper than before. She stood in front of Liz, a hand outstretched. Elizabeth stared at it blatantly like it was roadkill, her trainer was seemingly unperturbed by this reaction.

"My name is Rosa, I hope we become good friends, Liz."

Elizabeth, out of the politeness her mother raised her to be, grabbed the hand by the fingers. She shook it once. "It's Elizabeth," she corrected.

"I know." Rosa shrugged before she gently moved past Elizabeth to open the door again. The rumble of the sliding door entered the air, and Rosa looked over her shoulder, helmet brushing by Elizabeth's elbow. "But you look like someone who prefers Liz."

She walked into the sunlight, leaving Elizabeth staring at her, stunned by the simple phrase. Elizabeth watched her, a small trainer with oddities like using a biker's helmet as a mask, admire the environment around her—even when it was just a run-of-the-mill racing track. She saw Rosa turn back to her, and heard the smile in her voice.

"Come on, Liz! We're burning daylight over here!"

Elizabeth, in her kind obedience, followed her after shutting the office door. She walked a step behind, listening as Rosa hummed a song instead of rambling off about their next plans like other trainers before her.

It's a terrible thing to wish, but Elizabeth hoped in her rotten selfishness, this trainer could last just for a bit longer.

The plan turned out to be Elizabeth racing on the dirt track again. A fool's errand even when she's the only one there. Rosa was oblivious to this fact, even when Elizabeth did her earnest attempt protesting on being her uma once she realised that oh, Rosa was serious in training her. There were other umas, better umas, who deserved to have a trainer—she'll just replicate the same results as she did before in the mock race.

But Rosa wasn't listening, humming instead to a melody Elizabeth couldn't figure out. So Elizabeth was on the dirt track once again, stretching her limbs as Rosa leaned over the railing. She had a stop watch in her hands and a clipboard. It was 1200 metres long, similar to her debut race that was right around the corner.

"So what I want you to do, Liz, is to race. Just like you normally would."

Elizabeth paused her stretching. She stared at Rosa, brows knitted and her jaw clenched. Did she mishear her? Usually, trainers ask her for the fastest time, or something else entirely. Rosa already seen her race, she'll know what she'll do if she ran like normal.

"Like I was in a race…" Elizabeth repeated slowly. "With multiple umas, and a pack right in front of me…"

"Like it's your debut race!" Rosa cheered. "So take it seriously okay?"

This oddity was making a fool out of her. Take it seriously? Her?

Elizabeth opened her mouth to question the command only to find that Rosa walked away. Her left hand extended towards the sky whilst the right arm pressed the clipboard to her chest, fingers ready with the stop watch.

Resigned, Elizabeth made her way to the start of the track. Then, as soon as Rosa dropped her hand, Elizabeth saw the ghosts of umas before her—and raced.

This was her being serious:

A slow start on the dirt, her heart beating to a steady rhythm. Her legs ran at an even pace, her face making the biggest effort to look like she was rushing. She followed the theory, kept to the inside lane to reduce time.

Except she slowed down at the turn.

Instead of the rush and speeding up, Elizabeth slowed further by keeping at her even pace. In her illusions, the pack was ahead of her, rushing and sprinting, pushing themselves to be even just a neck ahead.

And here was Elizabeth, taking it seriously at the very back.

Last place, several lengths behind the uma in front of her.

This was the reason why Elizabeth, who had the name Bloodflame, wasn't part of that lineage.

This was the reason why previous trainers after seeing her name gave up on her after seeing her race.

Elizabeth Bloodflame wasn't an uma who had the luxury to chase dreams and win. No, she was the broken reality that crushed them if they believed in her.

"Woooo," Rosa cheered as Elizabeth finished the track. "That's some excellent timings." Elizabeth didn't answer her, panting slightly with a brow raised. Rosa hummed to herself, cheerful as ever as she jotted down something in her clipboard. "I think you should race again."

Elizabeth blinked. "What?"

Rosa raised her head, and Elizabeth lost the opportune moment to read the timings from the reflections of her visor. Behind the mask, Elizabeth knew Rosa was looking at her right in her eyes. "Race again, same as before, just as seriously."

Same as before… knowing she would be dead last.

"Do you…" Elizabeth began, not trusting the words coming out of the mouth even if it was the most logical thing that came to mind. Why else would Rosa ask her to run again after seeing her abysmal performance. "…Not want to win?"

Even with the mask, Elizabeth knew Rosa was smiling at her. "Race again, Liz. I like to average my times in threes."

An explanation. Not the full picture, but it was enough for Liz to back off and head to the starting line. In the distance, Rosa raised her hand—and it fell. Elizabeth raced forward again, keeping her pace, seeing the ghosts of a pack in front of her.

Except.

Every time she looked to the right, watching Rosa's figure around the bend, her legs pushed that bit more. Elizabeth didn't notice it, too busy lost in her own limitations and self-restrictions against the metaphorical pack ahead of her.

Before she knew it, Elizabeth was facing Rosa again with a railing between them.

"You did great, Liz," Rosa cheered, jotting down something on her clipboard. "Now do it again."

Elizabeth nodded but she lingered by the railing. She glanced once at the clipboard, then the visor for any hint by the reflection. Nothing that she could spot with the clipboard hugged closed to her chest. "Was I faster or slower?"

"I told you, I average in threes."

"I—" Elizabeth bit her tongue, and huffed. She walked to the starting line. For the first time, in a long time, anger towards her unfortunate trainer was found boiling in her stomach. "Fine."

The third lap came, fast and quick. Elizabeth still saw the pack in front of her; her legs still kept to a even pace. Yet, around the bends of the track, she sped up in the tiniest of increments, and on the straights her stride was just a centimetre longer.

"Was I faster or slower?" Elizabeth asked the second she finished the lap, almost sprinting towards the railing for the results. To her confusion, Rosa laughed as she approached and then did the unthinkable by hiding the clipboard behind her back.

"I was right about you," Rosa said after her giggles were spent. She looked up at Elizabeth who staring down at her with a withering expression. In the reflection of her visor, Elizabeth saw herself with a guarded look in her eyes, and her ears folded in disgrace.

Where did this come from? And what did she see? Was Rosa commenting on how Elizabeth was a failure, or how she was always last place? Did she notice how she always avoided the pack? Or how she's a coward?

She looked properly at the person in her shadows, searching for answers. For a moment, she swore she saw the visor give way to reveal the smallest hint of a smirk. "You love to run, don't you?"

Elizabeth staggered back like she was shot. "Excuse me?" She said. The shock thundered her voice in anger, but deep in her chest, her heart raced like it was trying to escape. "I—" she swallowed. Her body tensed up. She didn't need to see herself in the reflection of Rosa's visor to know how she looked but the venom in her voice exposed her anyways. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The longest time it takes to finish a 1200 metre dirt track race is 1 minute and 15 seconds," Rosa explained, unfazed by the strong aggression. "Your time was 1 minute and 30 seconds."

"So I'm slower," Elizabeth spat. "How does that correlate to—"

"That's your time in your mock race," Rosa corrected. "Where you were racing against your other classmates." She waited, almost respectful for Elizabeth to lash out at her. She didn't. "Do you want to know the average of your laps?"

Elizabeth turned away. She didn't need to see the end to this ridiculous game. "No."

"I minute and 10 seconds."

Elizabeth continued walking. Yet it said everything that Rosa, a human strolling, caught up to her. She only stopped when Rosa stood in front of her, close enough to hide in Elizabeth's shadow. Elizabeth stared down at her trainer, hoping to see the glimpse of the person behind the mask like she did before.

But she only saw herself: pitying red eyes, a haggered slump of the shoulders, an ache so painfully obvious in the way her mouth remained open—shock lingering in the quivers of her bottom lip. She watched herself speak, mouth barely moving, lacking any energy. In the stories she used to read and believed in, this would've been a huge moment of growth—and yet she felt stunted.

"That's still pretty slow."

But it was her fastest time since…

"It's maybe 15th or 14th place," Rosa said, unknowingly interrupting the past forming in Elizabeth's mind. Elizabeth felt the weight of Rosa's hidden eyes against her own, serious but sincere. She looked away first, shaken by the fluttering embers of hope being pulled out of her. "Instead of 16th."

"That doesn't mean anything," Elizabeth spat, lying through her teeth. By her hips, her clenched hands started to shake. "I'm…" She shook her head. Some words, even in thoughts, were too hard to say. Her throat and the way it closed up around a lump, threatened to suffocate her. "I'll still be the uma at very back."

For a moment, the world forgot to acknowledge them. They stood there, a trainer and an uma, suspended in a moment made to be a memory. The sun was still high in the sky, the wind was a subtle breeze. Elizabeth could smell the freshly turned earth, and she could hear her own heartbeat—racing like she was a child.

"Elizabeth."

Elizabeth jolted back to reality at the full name, her head snapping to the trainer still under her cool shade. Rosa stared at her, expectant.

"I don't care about winning."

Elizabeth exhaled, looking away with a dry laugh. Of course, out of all the trainers she has met because of her name or some other nebulous reason, the one she had the most synergy with was the one using her for something else. How deserved.

"So what?" She asked in a sudden, sharp bitterness. Her tongue turned acidic, crushed under the weight of small hopes she forgot she had. "Did you choose me for some assignment, research? Some stupid experiment on what it's like to bet on losing umas?"

"Let me finish, Elizabeth." It was the calmness that shut Elizabeth up. Snapping, maybe anger or a blunt firmness was something along the lines of what she expected. Yet her trainer, mysterious in that biker's helmet, met her with a patience and kindness she didn't deserve.

"I don't care about winning because I love the race." There was a genuine light in her voice, a subtlety that only belonged to those impassioned. Without trying, Elizabeth latched to her voice, and she stood frozen, the wind in her hair as her trainer continued. " Umas trying their best, achieving their goals, but importantly watching them love what they're born to be."

"Yet," Rosa sighed, already fond like it was a cherished memory. "On that mock race, in front of everyone, everybody saw an uma so terrible at racing they were consistently last." She let out a quiet laugh again, yet Elizabeth couldn't hear anything malicious from it. "Heck, for a moment, you fooled me."

"I wasn't fooling anyone," Elizabeth corrected, her voice firm. She's been accused this before, of faking her skills because her last name. But no, to the distress of the trainers who gave up on her, Elizabeth was never going to force herself into the pack. "I'm still last."

Rosa shook her head, Elizabeth could hear the smile in her voice. "You almost fooled me into believing you hated running."

A familiar ache twisted itself around Elizabeth's heart. She exhaled once more and looked away. Her tether to reality were the words of her trainer, stating the obvious that she didn't want to acknowledge. "And yet, you're here at a racing school in the middle of nowhere, Far East."

"Because I live nearby."

"Because you love to run—" Rosa clarified, pausing for the words to settle and for Elizabeth to let out another weighted sigh. Elizabeth turned away fully staring onto the track and the ghosts that lingered there. She moved her hands to the railing, the dents her nails made on her palms were getting to her.

"And you hate racing…" Rosa finished. Her words were softer, serious and similar to the way medicine for children tasted sweet. "Yet you're here, trying to be a racing uma, and you were good enough to secure a spot in a racing school."

Elizabeth tried hard not to think about it. Among the many people she fooled, the school registry was one of them. It's horrifying, how much the fame of the Bloodflame name haunted her.

She swallowed hard, spat the words out through sheer force, coated in guilt and shame. "I cheated my way in."

If everything else failed, this was the final straw to the trainers who gave up on her. They took it as an admission of guilt instead of self-hate, and demanded to know why she was still here then despite it all. The answer was simple, the school didn't want to retract their fantasy and admit that they enrolled a fraud.

"So did I."

Again, it was the nonchalant calmness that hooked Elizabeth in. Elizabeth jerked her head up, eyes wide and honest in disbelief. Rosa was waiting for her, mask still covering her face, but the smile was present in her voice, and her sincerity was present in everything else.

"I chose you," she began, taking a small step forward, emboldened by her own passion. " Because I want to see you run." Elizabeth stood taller, breath held in her lungs as Rosa grabbed her full attention. "I don't care if you win or not, but I care that each day you run on that track it'll be better than the last. Not in timings, not in positioning."

She poked a finger against Elizabeth's heart, and despite being taller and stronger than her, Elizabeth took a step back. "Just. You." A beat passed. The two words settled into Elizabeth's skin. "That whatever you feel on that track, it's better than the day before."

Elizabeth's closet hand gripped onto the railing. Her face was wet, and when she looked down at her feet, she tasted the saltiness of tears by her upper lip. Her heart mangled itself together, like she grabbed it with her own fists and squeezed. Her eyes shut as Rosa continued to speak, but her ears were perked up—alert for her attention.

For how could she hide… when someone, a stranger, believed in her so strongly like that.

"And maybe, just maybe," Rosa chuckled, "If you believe in me as much as I believe in you, you'll be running at the back of that pack—smiling; and you'll continue to smile when you win."

Elizabeth swallowed. She stood up properly. For the first time in a long time, she had the courage to dream. "You're asking for a miracle," she confessed.

Rosa tapped her on the arm with her knuckles, smiling through her words like nothing life-changing happened. "Good thing they're easy to believe in when they happen." She gave her arm a quick hug, gently pulling her away like a puppy on a leash. "Come on, Liz. I want to create a schedule for you and I need to know your timetable."

Chapter Text

5 MONTHS AGO

"Ladies, and Gentlemen, welcome to the Junior Maiden Race! Today's maiden race will be a 1200 metre dirt track. Today's conditions are the following: Sunny weather, and a firm dirt. Today seems to be a good day for racing!"

Clank.

Elizabeth was in her gate, 9th lane. She was in her usual tracksuit get up, jacket and necklace removed. On her white shirt was her racing number; number 55, a lucky number—because she was allowed to choose it herself. Around her were her other classmates in a similar get up with different numbers on their chest.

Elizabeth shut her eyes. She breathed in, held it for seven seconds and then exhaled. Badump. Badump. Badump. For once on the racetrack, there was kindness instead of cruel taunts.

"You're going to do be fine, Liz. Just stick to the plan."

Rosa's plan was wild. She insisted still that being last was fine, that all Elizabeth needed to do was beat her mock race timings. It was madness to assume this small change was a victory. Yet that was part of the parcel with Rosa wasn't it? The masked trainer with hidden oddities.

She had a bottle mislabelled as tequila that wasn't actually tequila. She treated Elizabeth to food and called it taxes. She joked and laughed at stupid puns, and always sent Elizabeth a heart with her text messages. Overtime, Elizabeth noticed a horrifying comfort unlike any other.

Elizabeth trusted Rosa. A genuine raw faith.

It was why she was here, opening her eyes to an steadying breath, waiting as the middling crowds of a maiden race hushed themselves in anticipation. The klaxon came again, sounding less of a warning, and more of a call of a storm.

DUH

DUH

DEENNNN

The metal gates opened all at once. Elizabeth, like always, shot off only to linger at the back until she was dead last in the inside lane. In her normal position, Rosa's voice grew louder.

"Save your strength, focus on only being five lengths behind the last horse."

The demand was manageable. She kept at that length until the first corner. Sometimes, when bravery or foolishness struck in her chest, she surged forward to be 4 lengths away. At least until the cowardice returned and she stalled, returning to the 5 lengths distance.

By the time Elizabeth grew tired playing tug of war of her with her anxieties, they reached the the corner of the race. Elizabeth fought the urge to keep in line with her habits and slow down, stay further away. It was with great struggle she maintained the 5 length distance. Rosa's plan echoed in her head.

"Remember, it's okay if you're still last, all I want you to do is beat 1 minute 30 seconds. 1 minute 29 seconds is still a win."

What a stupid, insane plan to be content with losing, to be dead-last, to be the runt of the roster. Where the only criteria for a victory was being one second faster than a mock race a full month ago. Her trainer was insane.

Naturally, Elizabeth had to be crazier.

She wasn't an idiot. To train Elizabeth Bloodflame was a social and career blunder. You were destined to be ridiculed, and mocked for chasing the fool's gold of the school. Yet Rosa ignored the looks people gave her, or the quiet snickers when they walked around the school. Elizabeth deserved those reactions—not Rosa.

Not when she nurtured Elizabeth's dream again from the ground up. Gentle encouragement, constant laughs and smile. She harnessed Elizabeth's love for running to push her forward. She challenged the bad habits Elizabeth held onto. Outside of her oddities, that was the sort of trainer Rosa was—a spark needed to light a dying fire surrounded by nothing but ghosts and shadows.

Elizabeth couldn't do her the dishonour of finishing last, a few seconds earlier than her previous attempt. No, the goal—the ultimate plan despite every fear in her body, was to be in 15th place. Maybe 14th.

"I minute 10 seconds… it's maybe 15th or 14th place."

The turn gave away to the final part of the race, a long straight to the finish line. The racers in the front were already battling it out for the podium, boxing each other in. A brutal fight made for everyone else but Elizabeth.

"If you don't want to fight the pack, then don't. Just run—away from others."

Run. Not race. Run.

Because Rosa understood that Elizabeth didn't want to race others, she just wanted to run to her heart's content. So Elizabeth ran.

Elizabeth broke off from the trailing ends of the 15th uma in the race. She shot off, climbing the ranks along the outside lane. There was no fanfare for someone like her, battling her own demons that dragged her down to dead last. There wasn't any cheering or groans. There was just one voice who noticed what she was doing. One voice above the crowds, screaming her heart out.

"RUN LIZ! RUN!"

And like a good uma, Elizabeth listened to her trainer, sprinting hard and fast until she crossed the finish line.

1 minute and 7 seconds.

14th place.

It wasn't first. It wasn't even her best time when trainers forced her to run fast without caring about her limitations with being in the middle of the pack. Yet Elizabeth couldn't stop the warmth in her chest when she stared at her time or her position in the race.

"Finally hanging onto the rear, Elizabeth Bloodflame ends at the 14th."

Elizabeth's face dropped; the warmth extinguished. A dam broke within her soul, spewing out a wreckage from a past that couldn't leave her alone as her body trembled in place.

Bloodflame.

Bloodflame. Bloodflame. Bloodflame.

"LIZ!" Rosa screamed, shattering the moment entirely. Elizabeth jolted, jumping back as arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug. "LIZ YOU DID IT! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU! 14TH PLACE!"

Elizabeth, Liz, laughed. She pushed Rosa away, a quick pat on the motorcycle helmet as she did so. It took all of her to act so natural and composed. "I somehow heard you scream despite your helmet, does it not get so loud in there?"

Her voice sounded calm despite the near-moment of calamity. Was it because Rosa was here? She always had a way with soothing problems she wasn't aware about. This time however, Rosa was a band-aid. It failed to ease the discomfort disintegrating the insides of Elizabeth's stomach.

"Well of course it got loud!" Rosa laughed, already taking her arm and leading her away. "What sorta of cheerleader I would be if I was quiet?"

Elizabeth didn't answer her, content to just exist as another person in the sea of winners and losers.

"I don't want to do this anymore," Elizabeth admitted in the dusk of a coming night, sitting in the middle of fields of grass, a checkered red and white blanket beneath their feet. The setting sun bathed the long grass into a painting of oranges and dark red, bringing fantasy to life.

Behind her, Rosa almost dropped the wicker basket she was packing away. "Racing?"

Elizabeth looked at the view in front of her, the flower meadow by the the end of the town's river. A piece of land that escaped the necessity of agriculture or real estate development. The smell wildflowers shifted through the air, but the punch of hot chocolate lingered instead.

Rosa took her here to celebrate, almost reading her mind on how she wanted to be alone. Except who was she kidding, Rosa didn't need to read her mind—not when they spent a month learning about each other. Rosa likely figured it out when she hugged her. She was always smart and observant like that.

Elizabeth finished the last of her hot chocolate, placing the mug down and listened to how the summer cicadas and crickets sang. Every now and again however, she heard a child giggle amongst the brush whenever the wind wafted over them and sent ripples against the dusk-kissed grass.

"Running."

She was an idiot for thinking she got over it. Mistaking the lack of cruelty whispered in her ears before a race as the sign of healed scars over a wound. Instead it was just a simple bandage ripped apart as blood gushed from the carcass of her youth over a speaker.

Bloodflame.

Just hearing it spoken out loud in an official race was enough to bring her back to the starting line. Slow-footed and walking around like she finished a race in 1 minute and 30 seconds. If she was like this at the end of her maiden race, how can she even cross the finish line without freezing in place?

Rosa lowered the basket. She moved in silence, sitting next to Elizabeth. Yet Elizabeth couldn't turn to face her. Facing Rosa meant she would face the setting sun, facing Rosa meant exposing her dead dream all over her face, facing Rosa meant she had to brave—and all Elizabeth wanted to be was a coward.

Rosa spoke, the words hesitated on her lips, and her voice carried heavy hesistation. "But you love to run?"

But Elizabeth hated her name, or at least what it meant to the rest of the world.

"I can't bear it anymore."

All of this in the end, was just a dream. A small dream already fulfilled and shattered when she crossed the finish line. She didn't need to dream bigger than this, better to end it on a high note. Finishing 14th instead of dead-last.

"That's not true, Liz." Rosa moved over, crouching down by her feet, directly in front of Elizabeth. Her voice was gentle, scared and so full of worried hope. Elizabeth couldn't be a coward, not in front of Rosa. So she stared right back at her, hoping this death can be stop being so slow. "You know that's not true. Now what's the real reason?"

Elizabeth squeezed her right hand shut and pressed against her legs, almost hidden away. It trembled much like her voice. "I can't say—"

Rosa scoffed. "Yet you can pretend that you don't love running?"

Elizabeth looked away. The silence said everything she couldn't.

"Elizabeth…" Rosa whispered, begging. "Please…."

A beat passed. From the corner of her eye, Rosa's helmet held a glare from the setting sun. The cold chill of a summer breeze was a reminder that the world was turning. It would become night, and the day would be over. Another gush of wind lifted up the back of Elizabeth's hair, and the sensation brought her back to a month ago: On an empty race track with the sun above them where small miracles were born.

She could be brave, for one more time. For the last time.

"I hate the sound of my own name," Elizabeth murmured, eyes glossy as she looked over the long grass, the hills, the flowers. She moved the words around the lump in her throat, but the unshed tears turned them watery. "Whenever the announcer says it out loud. I just…"

Return to Great Exardia, back to the reason why she left.

"To me…" Elizabeth's sigh shuddered, bottom lip quivering. It was a struggle getting through the growing wall of tears. "It's just a name—but I hate." She shut her eyes, twisted her head downwards, a futile attempt to hide. It wasn't the anger that slipped out, but the fear in warbled words. "I hate that to everyone else, it's more than that. I can't stand it anymore."

This wasn't her right to bear. She wasn't the Bloodflame the crowd should be cheering for, and if Elizabeth ever became popular… then the cheers would switch into hate, into a mob. One she couldn't control, one that she deserved.

"I'm not…"

A Bloodflame.

"I'm not their Bloodflame."

"Okay."

Elizabeth snapped her head up, her heart shot at the acceptance. She expected a fight; she wanted a fight. But Rosa wasn't that sort of person, if she was Elizabeth wouldn't find the courage to be 14th in a race. She was too kind. It's why Elizabeth gave up now, because she knew Rosa wouldn't, and Elizabeth doesn't deserve her kindness.

"I'm going to make a few calls." Rosa's voice came out warbled, and muffled behind her helmet. She rose to her feet, patting Elizabeth by the shoulder as she passed her. Elizabeth stilled at the touch. She listened for the switch between soft footsteps of fabric to the crunch of flattened tall grass, to the rustle of wildflowers brushing against her pants, further in the distance.

Until there was silence.

Until there was the sniffle of a shaky exhale.

Until there was the soft sound of hair falling over her shoulder as Elizabeth bowled over in quiet, raw tears.

It's over now. Her dream. The dream her mother tried so hard to save. It's over because she couldn't get over her name, of her mother's name, of the famed lineage that was so strong it silenced her from across the world.

Because Elizabeth couldn't escape being what the world saw, a Bloodflame of Great Exardia. No matter how hard she tried.

Then a rush of damaged flora, grass snapping under the weight of a run crackled in her ears.

"Hey Liz," Rosa gasped, out of breath. "I know this is sudden but what do you want your new name to be?"

Startled, Elizabeth looked up, her long hair hid most of the tears and the snot running down her nose. But it didn't hide the frightened and confused look in her eye. "Wha—"

"Your new name," Rosa repeated, gasping as she pointed to her, but not fully at her. She was looking directly at the sun, and in the small gap before she realised that was a bad idea, Elizabeth watched how the light exposed a smile on cracked lips. It vanished before Elizabeth could cement it to memory as Rosa turned around, cursing the sun in her eyes.

Despite everything, a frail laugh escaped Elizabeth's throat.

"Yeah, yeah laugh it up," Rosa grumbled until she looked up at Elizabeth. She went still, and Elizabeth remembered how seconds ago she was crying her heart out.

Rosa knelt down, rummaging through the wicker basket and pulled out a napkin. She tossed it to Elizabeth without looking at her, a small token of privacy. Elizabeth cleaned herself up, waiting for the explaination. Rosa delivered it after clearing her throat, her voice remarkably steady.

"I found a way to change your name when you win a race, or even enter a race." Elizabeth's heart stopped. She raised her head, mouth open, eyes wide. Rosa glanced away, leather gloves scratching away at her decal helmet. "Obviously, you didn't choose to be born and named Elizabeth Bloodflame… so let's give you a name that's really you when you're racing."

Another wave of tears threatened to sting her eyes,. The heaviness of what it all meant settled in her stomach, anchoring her to the moment, shifting her axis of gravity. But if this was the price to hold a miracle in the palm of her hands, it was worth it.

The words came quiet, like a child wishing on a star. "You can change it?"

"I found a loop hole," Rosa continued, matching the weight of this space, keeping to the hushed volumes. "But I don't think you're going to like it. We might even need to redo your maiden race. Maybe, I don't know."

"I…" Elizabeth hesitated, looking at her lap to ground herself. She could only assume the obvious with that phrasing, but Rosa knowing what her last name meant after living in the luxury of anonymity was a bitter taste in her tongue. "I don't understand."

"Article 22 of the FERA, the Far East Racing Association, states the following. A horse name falling under any one of the following Items shall not be registered.

(1）A name which is the same, or, may be confused with the designation, or, name of a famous horse.

(2）A name which is the same, or, may be confused with the designation, or, name of the sire, or, dam."

There was a familiar heavy weight on her shoulders, the kind that always appeared whenever Rosa really looked at her behind her mask. Fearing the obvious, Elizabeth braced herself. "I reckon, the last name Bloodflame counts as a confusion for a famous horse pedigree."

Yet Elizabeth's eyes widened with every word spoke. Fear grew over her like a plant in a time lapse. It's roots came through the eyes; the stem stretched across the hollowness of her cheeks, the leaves lowered her jaw in shock—petals bloomed in the delicate tremble of her lips and the parchness of her tongue.

Here lied the terrible truth, the ugly horror of being known.

Elizabeth found herself possessed, speaking like a ghost. "How long have you known?"

"Ever since I met you," Rosa confessed.

Elizabeth sucked in a sharp inhale; the world spun around her. It was too good to be true, to be anonymous in the world where the fame was everywhere, even in a rural town of the Far East. She was so stupid for thinking this was something genuine, a happenstance, instead of her last name once again pulling the strings of her life.

Then Rosa grabbed her trembling hand and unfurled the fingers, holding it firm. Elizabeth couldn't look her in the eye, focusing instead of the texture of leather against her skin.

"I only know of that name through you," Rosa began slowly, with a slow gentleness still foreign to Elizabeth's ears outside of her family. "And to you, its a name that is yours but you never want to use." She squeezed the hand, and Elizabeth exhaled. "That's enough for me."

Elizabeth shuddered, tears again pricked the corner of her eye. With her already ruined sleeve, she brushed it away. Rosa met her as Bloodflame, but not one of Great Exardia. Or she figured it out, took the lineage out of the question, and only saw Elizabeth for who she was. Someone who just had the unfortunate coincidence of sharing a name the Bloodflame.

It gave Elizabeth the peace she needed. But the comforting, yet unbearable ache in her chest showed her how much longed for such a reaction to her name—and she wanted it so badly she couldn't breath.

But Elizabeth breathed. She brushed her hair out of her face, faced Rosa against the backdrop of the sun. Her helmet acted as an eclipse—another man-made miracle. In the shadows of her black-tinted visor, Elizabeth stared into her own reflection and declared the truth she never thought she could be.

"E.R.B"

Every letter was delivered slow, spoken with weighted reverence, removing the heavy chains that shackled Elizabeth to the past. She was still a Bloodflame, she was still Elizabeth—but now she was never going to be the Bloodflame the world wanted her to be.

Underneath her white, grass-stained shirt, her pendant hanging from the silver chain necklace became just a tad lighter.

Rosa giggled, and Elizabeth spotted her reflection mirroring the smile hidden away in the helmet. "That was quick."

"I've had a lot of time to think about it," Elizabeth said softly, already looking away as a wave of emotion hit her like a brick. She looked up at the sky, watching as the sky continued to darken, and how away from the street lights, stars bloomed to life like the unfurling of a rose. "I just didn't think it was possible."

"So Elizabeth Rosa Bloodflame eh?" Rosa joked, nudging Elizabeth with her elbow. She adjusted her sitting position, leaning on her palms as she copied Elizabeth and looked up at the stars as the final strands of light dipped under the horizon. Maybe in a few minutes they would be left to light of the moon. "I didn't realise you liked me that much."

"Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame," Elizabeth corrected. She paused then, hearing her full name repeated again in an old nostalgic voice, corrupted with an ill-fated fondness in the back of her head. How long has it been since she called herself that? She clenched her fist, but it didn't tremble. "Middle names aren't common in the Far East."

"No," Rosa mused as the final light of the sunset vanished, leaving them to the moon and stars. "No they're not, Erb."

Then, in fashion with Rosa's oddities, she pulled out her phone, switched on the flashlight then faced it face down so they could get some little light. Which wasn't a lot. To make matters funnier, she proceeded to lay back down on the blanket like what she did was normal.

"Erb?" Elizabeth asked, a brow raised as she looked down at her peculiar trainer.

"Oh I'm sorry," Rosa said, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. She raised herself with one hand and performed hand gestures with the other. "Do you want me to say E R B every time then L I Z?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and snorted. She laid down next to her trainer, careful not to accidentally knock over anything else nearby. "Stop being ridiculous."

"Says you!" Rosa scoffed, flicking Elizabeth in the arm before she laid down again. "Thinking about giving up running because of a name." Elizabeth turned to the left of hers, and Rosa turned her right where their eyes would meet.

"Never let anyone hold you down, Liz," Rosa whispered, her voice thick with a surprising amount of emotion. "Especially if that person is yourself."

Once again, the sincerity of Rosa's belief in her struck Elizabeth down like a comet. In the backdrop of the stars, Elizabeth cemented this view of Rosa's tinted visor, the ghost of her reflection and how she imagined the human underneath to look, into her memories.

She nodded her head, hoping that her face was enough to return all the gratitude built up inside her. "Thank you…"

"Oh don't thank me yet," Rosa chuckled turning around to face the stars above them. Elizabeth did the same, just catching the tail-end of a shooting star. Not that she needed it since one of her wishes just came true. "Now that you're committed to racing, I'm putting you and your training through the wringer."

"And what does that mean?"

There was a long pause, then a dazed word left the muffled audio of Rosa's lips. "End-closer… I want you to be an End-closer."

Chapter Text

4 MONTHS AGO

"Ladies, and Gentlemen! Welcome to the Junior Maiden Race! Today's maiden race will be a 1200 metre dirt track. Unfortunately yesterdays rain made the terrain wet with grey clouds overhead. Regardless, we're hoping for a good race today!"

It was as Rosa predicated: To fully establish that Elizabeth was no longer Elizabeth Bloodflame but E.R.B, they needed to redo her entire maiden race. Not that Elizabeth minded, she preferred it deep down; a full separation between who she was before and after Rosa.

Elizabeth Bloodflame was an uma with no clear direction, shackled by the fame of her last name, lingering at the very back with no ambition of winning in fear of her past. She had no plan, no grand future. She was just a corpse chasing a dead childhood dream.

E.R.B or Erb as Rosa called when the trained after that fateful night, was an End-closer uma. Their play on the racetrack was lingering at the back only to shoot forward near the end of the race. E.R.B was a Bloodflame through genetics—she had capability to pull out such labour intensive stunt. To get past Elizabeth's issues with racing within a pack, they would use her outrageous stamina to run to the outskirts.

Simple easy to understand changes. Yet it was something Elizabeth wouldn't be able to figure out by herself. It was only through Rosa. Within a month, Elizabeth became E.R.B, an uma whose name can be safely chanted by the crowd without causing a panic attack. E.R.B was an uma who wanted to win.

For Rosa.

The Trainer always in her decal-ed biker helmet. The Trainer who made a joke book to cheer Elizabeth up, who treated Elizabeth to Karaoke when they reached a small milestone after training. The Trainer who always respected Elizabeth's boundaries, who never questioned her secrecy. Someone who figured out, without Elizabeth sharing her trauma, that she didn't want to engage with a pack during a race.

For Rosa who reminded Elizabeth each day how much she believed in her. She spoke of the future like it was already set in stone, waiting for the day it becomes the present, and all Elizabeth had to do on the day was polish the carvings. Everyday, Elizabeth basked in all of that unconditional warmth and support—and everyday she became a better person to herself.

For the spark of joy who helped Elizabeth find herself again. The spark of joy who reignited the light in her life that was buried in her youth, who made her fall back in love with running and racing. Elizabeth will do her justice. It's the least she could do after everything they've been through.

Then the klaxon sounded the beginning, and the gates flung itself open. Half startled, Elizabeth trailed out of the gate a few seconds before everyone else, landing herself easily at the very back.

"And it's a late start for E.R.B—"

But the late start was only a set back, if anything it was the push Elizabeth needed to be bolder. She needed to hear that name again. Her name.

E.R.B

"Stick to the plan, Liz. Surprise is your biggest weapon."

Like always, Rosa's voice in the back of her head put her on the right track. She shouldn't get excited just because of the name, they'll be chanting it soon enough. Elizabeth steadied herself, calming her heart as she watched the back of the uma in front of her.

"The 1200 meter race can be split up into three places. First the straight track right after the gates open. Stay at the very back, but not anything bigger than five—no four, lengths of distance from the other horse."

Four lengths. A singular length was an approximate 8 feet of distance, from one uma lying down of ear to tail. Five lengths was the size of an Freesian school bus. Four lengths, outside of a race track, was the height of a three story building. Elizabeth, daring to be brave was only two lengths away. The length of a school's whiteboard.

It didn't matter that her heart was pushing itself, being so close to the tail of the uma in front of her—she had to try this. At least once. Just to know it was possible, just to see if it can be done. In the background, the announcers rattled off the positions. The people at the front were already starting to reach the turning point, but the fight for first place was a war.

Everyone here was new, eager to win. They all surged together as a can of sardines, all jumbled together, constantly swapping positions, getting trapped when they focused on the inside lane. It's just as Rosa predicted.

"Second is the turn. Everyone will try and make it to the inside lane, maybe a few will try and be on the outside but only because they had to be. That's when you make your move. Get to the furthest part you can go, away from everyone and scare them moving up the ranks."

The second they reached the turn, Elizabeth surged forward from her feet. The uma in front of her, fearing a gap in the inside lane hugged the railing, an excellent protective effort and if she was anyone else, the path would've been blocked.

But she was E.R.B—and she wouldn't dare touch another uma on the track.

To the horror, the amazement and the shock of everyone watching her. Elizabeth moved to the outside lane, then beyond to the furthest part of the outside—and yet the numbers kept on climbing as she made the most idiotic move in the books.

15th

14th

12th

9th

She could hear the shock in the crowd, how the collective gasps woke everyone else up. E.R.B was breaking every expectation placed on her. E.R.B was succeeding despite breaking every common advantage to racing. The announcer no longer cared about the battle of first place, all she could hear—frantic in fervent passion over the speakers was her name.

E.R.B

Like the announcer was witnessing a miracle Elizabeth was carving straight from the wet dirt.

"Third part, the straight to the finish line. The only thing I have to tell you is the obvious."

The people ahead of her made their moves as the turn gave way to the straight. They gave space, spreading their position across the track. A clear unorganised attempt to block her out—

—Except by the time 8th place to 4th moved, Elizabeth already passed them.

"Run."

"E.R.B IS COMING FROM THE OUTSIDE. FOURTH PLACE, THIRD—SECOND! THERE'S ONLY 400 METRES LEFT AND NOW SHE'S IN FIRST PLACE! CAN ANYONE CATCH UP TO HER?"

No. No one can reach her.

Not when she Rosa found her, chose her and made the efforts to unearth her from the dirt. Not when being an End-closer tasted like freedom. Not when being with Rosa, training with Rosa made her reach heights she couldn't reach on her own. Her mother saw the light reappear in her eyes. Racing became a dream she could grab instead of a nightmare hunting her down.

Elizabeth Bloodflame walked, so E.R.B could run.

And she's never going to stop running.

"E.R.B WINS BY SEVEN LENGTHS. SHE SHOT TO THE FRONT LIKE A COMET, AND SHOWED DOMINANCE IN THE TRACK TODAY!"

Elizabeth slowed herself down as she moved away from the centre of the track, allowing space for the other racers. She walked towards the rest of the stands where the applause reached her. It wasn't a lot. Maiden races rarely had a huge crowd of people watching, but the pattering of applause reminded Elizabeth of rain, so she closed her eyes and let it all in.

Elizabeth won.

Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame—E.R.B won.

Elizabeth met Rosa not by the track where she expected, but in the middle of the tunnel leading the umas to their respective changing room. She understood why Rosa wasn't there celebrating with her, she saw the explaination in the panic of Rosa's hand gestures. The frantic wave, the grab of Elizabeth's arms, the rushed stumble into their changing room. What sealed the deal was the hushed yell, like Rosa was confessing a crime as a cry for help. "Liz, I messed up."

"That's a weird way to say congratulations," Elizabeth chuckled. She pulled Rosa off her arm with ease and walked around her, grabbing the water bottle Rosa always kept in the changing room in case she needed it. She used the bottle to hide her grin, drinking her water to keep her mind occupied. Rosa was panicking for one specific reason, a problem that Elizabeth already solved. But it was rare for her to see her trainer so worked up, she can afford a small prank.

"Congrats, I'm so proud of you." Rosa said instantly albeit a bit rushed. Elizabeth turned to face her, already mid-chug of her water bottle. There, Rosa took a deep breath. She spoke with a smile in her voice, and her posture warm. "Really, I always knew you could do it… which is why any fault that happens next is on me." Rosa laughed nervously, swaying by the edge of her heels.

It was the genuineness in her voice that almost broke Elizabeth. It was hard to continue the harmless prank after hearing that. She preserved anyways, wiping the excess water dripping from her lips with her arm as she put down her bottle. Still, a part of her did feel bad seeing Rosa approach her with an awkward wring of her hands.

"Which is?"

"I was so focused on training you, I didn't even consider your concert after you win…" Rosa groaned, covering her helmet with her hands before she sunk her head low. "Which is bad because I don't want anyone to try and knock you down when you just started to stand up!"

Elizabeth turned to her trainer, prank already gone from her mind. It shouldn't surprise her so much every time Rosa said those types of words. Rosa was a secretive person, but she was never a liar. And yet, a lump was already forming at the back of her mouth. Was it too late to blame allergies?

"I thought you were going to say something like knock me down when I'm at my highest," Elizabeth murmured as it slowly hit her again what she just accomplished. An actual win, one made in the miracle of never touching the pack in the middle. Her first win—maybe her only win.

"What do you mean your highest," Rosa scoffed, worry gone in an instant as she flicked Elizabeth on her arm. There was her distinct smile in her voice, and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile back. "Didn't I always say I you could do it?" Rosa said, her earnest nature shining through and through. "This is just the start."

Elizabeth, unable to control her emotions, pushed Rosa away with a smile. She blinked and quickly rubbed the watery lining of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You're giving me allergies," she mumbled. She pulled Rosa into a side hug, squeezing her tight just to release some of the pressure consuming her heart. She wondered if Rosa could hear it, the heavy thumps against her chest. The lingering adrenaline created at the idea of the future.

This was just the start…

"Oh no, no no," Rosa begged, her voice already getting muffled. It didn't matter that Rosa had her helmet, she still attempted to bury her head by the side of Elizabeth's stomach. "Don't you dare start crying because if you cry, I'll cry, and we literally have a concert performance in 15 minutes. We do not have time to cry."

Behind them, the door to their locker room opened and the person emerged was an uma of burgundy hair, curled and styled into a short bob with voluminous curls and rolling patterns. She wore a beautiful silver dress, hidden by a dark navy trench coat. By her ears, she had a flame of burgundy dangling by her ears. Despite being an Uma, her face was weathered with age. Stress lines on the forehead, crinkles around the eyes.

But those who were fans of the uma racing world would've recognised her the second she entered the room. For there's only a few umas across the world, that was named and looked like a royal.

"Rosa, love," Elizabeth's mother said, chuckling politely similarity to Elizabeth's quiet laughs. "I think you're worrying too much."

Elizabeth smiled wide, half ignoring the shocked stillness of Rosa by her side to run towards the door. She pulled her mother in and wrapped her arms around her back and held her close. Together, they swayed side to side. "Hi mum."

"You did amazing sweetheart," Her mother said before she leaned up and kissed her child on the cheek. She pulled away from the hug, and handed Elizabeth her performance outfit in a bag. The sparkling look in her eyes was something Elizabeth wanted to photograph and frame on the wall. "I'm so proud of you."

Warmth bloomed from her chest to her cheeks, and Elizabeth's excitement spilled over as her lips stretched from cheek to cheek. With a hasty hand, Elizabeth hurriedly brought her mother to her trainer, still standing in shock at sudden entrance.

"Rosa," Elizabeth giggled, gesturing to the old-generation uma next to her. "This is my mother. The Queen Mother."

Queen Mother of the Bloodflame Pedigree, an world renowned legacy Uma back in Great Exardia. Winner of Champion Hurdle, the Cheltenham Gold Cup and the Ascot Hurdle. One of the few umas that was able to win not only the Great Exardian Champion Hurdle, but the French and Irish Champion Hurdles too. One of the first to ever achieve such a combination.

But now, she was just Elizabeth's mother, disowned too by the Bloodflame name and living out her life in the rural lands of the Far East.

"Friends can call me Queenie," Queen Mother said, extending her hand as greeting. "I hope you'll be one of them since my dear Elizabeth speaks of you so fondly."

It's in this moment, Elizabeth wished desperately to pull of Rosa's helmet to see the reaction on her face. She won't do it of course, but her imagination could only do so much to capture the pure shock that Rosa's stunned silence gave. Instead, Elizabeth looked at the clock and nudged Rosa with an elbow before heading around the corner to change.

"I'm going to go get changed, we have 10 minutes."

"Yeah, of course." Rosa said, quickly shaking the hand offered to her. She cleared her throat, and around the bend, Elizabeth could hear just how nervous Rosa sounded. It was nice that despite her mother going into the shadows for her sake, she was till rightfully awed and admired. "Queenie. I'm Rosa, Elizabeth's trainer. Sorry I uh…"

"Oh don't worry about the concert," Queen Mother chuckled, "I already have something in mind ever since she told me you're training her to be an End-closer."

"Thank you," Rosa sighed like a balloon deflating, the relief everywhere in her voice. "Really it's still my fault; I should've added that into our schedule. I just didn't want her to think I was pushing her past her comfort zone."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, sweetheart. I think you've done an amazing job."

Elizabeth looked over herself in front of a standing mirror and let out a shallow exhale of trepidation and nervous butterflies in her stomach. This idol outfit was something her mother helped design, a simple fit that would match any song Elizabeth did for her post-win performance.

It was started with a zipped up red crop top with black and white accents. Her right arm was long sleeved, and the left was left sleeveless for the asymmetry. She had a black pleated skirt with similar red accents and ribbons, complete with a sheer material underneath to hide her stomach. On her head, Elizabeth fixed a crooked red ribbon by her right ear.

In small sign of courage, Elizabeth pulled the silver chain around her neck and exposed the only reminder of her life in Great Exardia. A small flame pendant, coated with cobalt blue paint. She let it gently rest on her against the fabric of her chest and breathed in… watching the way it looked in the mirror.

Except Elizabeth couldn't stare at herself anymore longer. She was going to be sick.

"You should invite her round for tea, mum," Elizabeth said as she hurriedly passed them around the corner. She could get through this, all she had to do was avoid all the mirrors. Behind her, she could hear the final conversation between her trainer and her mother.

"I'm sorry what—"

"Oh excellent idea. But let's talk about that after the concert, we don't want to miss our girl's performance now do we?"

"I guess not! Also Liz, wait up!"

But Elizabeth would not wait. Or at least she didn't think she would wait. One moment she was walking down the grey walls and then the next she was standing on a wooden platform. The sun was hidden away by clouds, showing a light overcast. To some this was perhaps, a terrible condition to dance.

To Liz however, it was the perfect stage. With the occasional breeze of the cool morning air, matching the dreary grey skies, with the blue fire pendant on her chest… Elizabeth could just about hear the faint whispers of a long forgotten voice.

Then the backing track began, and Elizabeth sang a song she was meaning to sing for a long time. In the back of the crowd, she can see her mother laughing and Rosa with matching hand bells.

When I feel your gentle touch
And things are going our way
I wanna spill my love on you all day, all day

Jaja ding dong (Ding dong)
My love for you is growing wide and long
Jaja ding dong (Ding dong)
I swell and burst when I see what we've become
Jaja ding dong (Ding dong)
Come, come my baby, we can get love on
Jaja ding dong (Ding dong)
When I see you I feel a ding-ding dong….