Symmetry ~ A fic by Samchu and Eevee_Shayna
Well I know a few of you were waiting for it and with Kitt and Katt wrapped up we have at last turned our attention to another long-term project. Hopefully you'll enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed our last.
So without further adue, I present to you our tale of two very different yet very similar princesses...
Symmetry
A vicious storm had broken upon the silent Kingdom. Wrapped safe inside their blankets the villagers slept on as the heavens unleashed their fury on the feeble Earth. In the valleys the rivers rose and burst, spilling their contents on to the fields that sat beside their banks. Mud ran from the hills in angry floods, barricading doors and windows with their filth. Thunder tore across the grey and clouded sky, freezing the air in perpetual stillness. In the distance, lightning crashed. A lone tree lost its heart to the deathly strike and its body crumbled beneath fires that followed.
Yet the gardens of the palace remained untouched, as though a veil had been cast across it, protecting it from the onslaught. The fountains flowed bountifully onto the flowers, washing them with life and granting them the glimmering beauty that only nature’s hands could weave. A sea of grass rolled and crashed onto the patio, swaying to the beat of the foul wind that tore its way through the open land.
Well protected from the fierce storm, Surai sat cross-legged on the patio in peaceful meditation. The cruelties of the Gods were lost inside the serene calmness of her mind but in her thoughts she saw the beauty beyond her – the life that was throwing itself into her garden. Through her silence she saw the rivers that streamed throughout the grass, the crying statues, the dancing trees. The fantasy. For that’s all it was, a fairytale, the other side of reality – of the truth. It was nothing but wind and rain – she knew that – but she needed to believe there was something else. It was the only way to achieve calm. Believe in something that isn’t real, see a thing that isn’t there. Being one step ahead of fate; of your enemy. True focus. No distractions, only concentration. Remember the goal and never lose focus –
“Suri!”
With a sigh, Surai lifted her katana from her lap and headed inside, where her twin, Layla, was impatiently waiting for her. Layla was the only person who called her Suri, she’d always struggled with her sister’s name when she was younger and somehow the name had stuck. Layla had been calling her Suri ever since. Not that it bothered her, growing up they had always kept things between them. Usually it was only secrets about where the nanny’s glasses had been hidden whilst her back was turned but a name was no different. ‘Besides’, Surai had thought to herself, ‘it keeps Layla happy’.
“It’s time to go,” in a moment, Layla had thrown off the childlike visage and offered herself as the young woman she had slowly become. It was her way; to switch constantly between the mature and insightful leader that she was no doubt destined to be, and the child from her youth whom she was still desperately trying to hold on to. It was a feat Surai herself would have been happy to partake in but she had lost her innocence and youth a long time ago. She remembered the day well, as did Layla, and held for it a bitter loathing that had driven her to find a new persona. It was how she coped with the inevitable change that would shortly part them, by distancing herself from it, denying it would ever happen but knowing all the while that it would. She had tried to accept it, tried to prepare herself for the responsibilities that lay before her but she couldn’t bear to let herself imagine what sort of responsibilities they would be. All that mattered was that in the end, she would find herself separated from her sister, distanced from the one with whom she held the strongest of unspoken bonds.
She resented change for that and that alone and the past years had been spent denying change its chance to take her sister from her. She fought against every opportunity, withstood fate and tradition just to grasp a few more precious days but at every step there was always something trying to stop her. As she had been turning down suitors from every noble family in the Kingdom, Layla had found herself a suitor of her own, one with whom she had spent many blissful afternoons in the warm gardens of the palace. By the next sunset they would be betrothed. He and Layla would wed and that would be the end of it. She would live with him and Surai would be forced so stay behind, alone and trapped in frenzied anticipation for their next visit. She wouldn’t find herself companionless for long though. Law forbade the monarchy from falling into the hands of an unmarried leader and if she did not pick a husband on her own her parents would be forced to pick one for her. Her existence would crumble to a shell of its former glory. She would find herself a symbol of the people but not a leader of them. She would bear his children and raise them to serve the people of their land knowing full well that only one of them would be chosen for the task. Her years would wither into frailty and she would die, alone and empty on the inside, forever cursing the day her life was taken from her.
Yet, despite how bleak and dismal her life seemed destined to become, there was no running from it. Her Kingdom was her home and she would not abandon it, not even at the cost of her own happiness. Her people needed her to become their leader and with Layla’s path leading her elsewhere and her mother infertile with disease, there was no other option for her. As much as she hated it, as much as she resented the unfairness of it all, in the end she had no choice. There was only one path for her now and as one who had so willingly placed their heart in a warrior’s training, she knew that the easy road came with acceptance. All she wished was that Layla would find happiness in her new life and find herself free from fear or resentment. If Layla could find peace, then perhaps Surai too could find some closure in her destiny.
“I’m ready.”
* * *
They made their way east, towards the bustling fields that lined the edge of their Kingdom. A cave lay there, sealed for so long that the ancient scriptures that snaked across its entrance had lost all meaning. All they knew was that it housed a demon. It was with that knowledge that the two princesses made their way across the oozing land, huddled beneath the parasols that the servants had handed them to protect them from the storm’s rage. Over the past couple of days complaints had risen from the villagers. They told the most unsettling tales; fields turning to ash, crops going sour overnight. At first there was no explanation for it. Scholars and priests alike were sent to investigate but they could not explain it. An enigma that neither science nor religion could explain.
Then, a few nights past, a woman had come to the palace. She had told the guards that greeted her that she had come from the fields where her husband worked – she’d gone to collect the family’s scythe, which he’d carelessly forgotten – and she had seen a crack in the entrance of the cave. As the days drew, the troubles of the villagers increased and the cracks that webbed the cave’s entrance grew in depth and multitude until a tiny entrance had appeared. It was then they had decided to send Surai and Layla to investigate. It was their duty as future heirs to oversee the balance of the Kingdom and they were honoured to serve their people.
By the time they reached the cave, little of them remained that was neither soaked nor shivering. Surai was surprised to see how calm and collected her sister appeared beneath her watery veil yet she knew better than to judge Layla by her appearance. Her wings, the rare and precious shade of ebony, stood firm and raised against her shoulders. Normally she would carry them with a greater dignity – relaxed and folded against her back – but they had a habit of betraying her emotions too greatly. They huddled together beneath the flickering light of a burning torch, surrounded only by the heavy echoes of the storm outside and water dropping at their feet. Only silence passed their lips before they eventually dared to venture deeper into the chamber.
A row of burning torches lit their path. They held no fuel of which to feed yet their flames roared with ethereal intensity, shrouding the walls in fierce shadows bathed in orange hues. Deeper into the cave they walked; their footsteps a dull beat beneath the melody of the storm. With every passing second they could its violent onslaught fading from their ears until the air was filled with suffocating silence. Here they stopped again. Before them stretched an endless tunnel framed by firelight. They could walk forever it seemed and never reach the end.
“We won’t get very far like this.”
Layla took a step forward. Her wings rose with anticipation then fell with such unimaginable force that her body was thrust from the floor and left to hover graciously in the empty air. “I’ll fly on ahead and see if there’s anything. You’ll follow me?”
“Of course.”
They exchanged the briefest of smiles.
“Be careful,” Layla called to her sister, as with a beat of her seemingly frail wings she sped into the distance.
Surai stood for a moment, watching as her sister disappeared beneath the hazy horizon. “You be more careful,” she whispered.
Layla made her way down the ever-darkening mouth of the cave, her nimble form gracefully darting between the razor-sharp stalactites that hovered around her. Now and again the tunnel would grow smaller, forcing her to her feet from fear that her wings would be torn to shreds by the jagged walls of the cave. As time drew on she began to feel the anticipation growing within her. Layla hated to be separated from her sister; it made her anxious and uneasy. If something were to go wrong she would have no one to turn to for help. Surai had always been there when she’d needed her but the further apart they were the harder it was for them to retain their connection. Even now, Layla could feel the bonds that joined them beginning to tense and secretly she feared that after tomorrow she would be forced to feel it breaking forever. She took to the air once again, letting her wings fill the space between herself and ever-narrowing walls. Just as Surai had never made known her true feelings about their fates, Layla too had kept her views secret. Somehow she doubted that their parents would look kindly on the loyalties she had chosen.
Moments later, Layla came across the ancient tomb of the sleeping demon. Tucked against the deepest wall of the cave was a large stone coffin engraved with ancient text just as intricate and unreadable as those that decorated the cave’s entrance. She landed gracefully, angelic in the flickering light of the flames that surrounded the unholy sanctuary. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she approached the coffin. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel the blood pounding in her ears and the numbing aching of the chest. She peered across the lid of the coffin and with a heavy sigh of relief and fear she found that it had been torn apart, leaving only the tiniest remnants on the coffin’s boundaries. She peered inside and within an instant felt the sharp stab of air as her breaths caught in her throat. The stories were true, a demon had once been imprisoned here and in its rage it had left its claw-like imprints on the walls of its cell but this was not what paled her cheeks or froze her heart. It was the terrifying yet undeniable truth that was destined to change the course of her life, and her sister’s, forever.
“It’s gone.”
As time had ventured on, so too had Surai. Her wingless position had granted her the position of sweeper, for she was left to walk the dark and lonely passages on her own, a look-out for anything her sister might have missed. She had not gone far when she first felt it, that sudden rush of unease that comes only with the appearance of something that shouldn’t be. Her hand instinctively shot to the handle of her katana, yet it remained dormant inside her sheath. No sense in threatening an unknown enemy. Not yet at least.
She edged forward carefully, determined to keep her footsteps as silent as possible. Even with the fierce echoes of the cave there were those who could still use such sounds to find her. After a while she knew it no longer mattered. Whatever was following her already knew exactly where she was and she could feel its cold gaze upon her neck as she walked. Her grip tightened upon her blade and with a fluent motion of such speed and grace that many would have missed its delicacy; she pulled her blade from her belt and tore through the space behind her.
She frowned in aggravation. Her attempt had done little more than disturb the air and once again she felt the darkened stare behind her. She spun again but once more her blade met emptiness. She twisted the handed in her hands and thrust the blade backwards past her hip before crouching low and turning on her heels, slashing through the space around her shins. With this ritual complete she cast a quick gaze at the edges of her blade and was shocked to find them as clear and bloodless as they had ever been. To make matters worse, she could still feel the intense unease of eyes tearing into skin.
“No human could move so fast…”
A deep laughter filled the cave, though it seemed to haunt her mind more than the darkened space around her. Something began to torment her from the shadows, cursing her in ancient tongue but angering her nonetheless. She called out to it, demanding it to end its cowardice and confront her. Secretly, she never expected it to obey her.
The first footstep shook the very stones above them, the second was enough to lodge some loose and they fell, shattering on the uneven ground. In the dim light Surai could barely make it out but she had seen all that she needed. Taken up her blade once again, she charged into the unknown, a blurry warrior with a streak of purest silver. Planting her foot before her, she thrust her weight forward, sending her sword up and through the body of her enemy. Yet he felt nothing. The sword pierced the unseen flesh as easily as it pierced air and yet it returned to her without sign of injury. No blood, no cloth, not even a trace of skin. It was impossible. She had made contact, she knew she had. Perhaps the lighting had thrown off her senses. That had to be the answer.
The laughter came again, distracting her from the thoughts that clouded her mind. A fist flew out of nowhere, catching her sharply in the ribs and throwing her body back against the wall, where it bounced and tumbled gracelessly to the floor. Groaning, Surai slowly rose to her feet, leaning against her katana for support. How stupid of her. To be caught off guard so easily was an insult to everything she had learned about battle. She would have to redeem herself. Catching her breath she charged once more, her blade raised like a glimmering beacon above her. She made sure to get closer this time, so close that she could smell the stench of rot that hung around her enemy. She pulled down her weapon even faster than before but it was her arm, not her steel that met flesh. Its grip tightened against her wrist until she was forced to abandon her weapon from fear her bones with snap. Satisfied, her opponent pushed forward, driving her back in to a better-lit part of the cave where at last she was able to see the creature that had beaten her.
Her eyes widened with fear as she looked upon it, a monstrous entity bathed in scales so black the sun itself would fail to penetrate it. It had to be at least seven feet in height, with horns so tall and twisted they scratched at the roof of the cave, causing dust to fall into its tuff of blazing red hair. It stared down at her, panting slightly from its laughter, clouds of smoke billowing from the nostrils in its bull-like nose. She dared not move. The firey stare which it had set upon her held her firmly in place and one look at its rows of sharp and deadly teeth were enough to extinguish all thoughts of resistance that may – for the briefest of moments – have crossed her mind.
“Foolish child,” its voice rang deep inside her head, “you think your mortal weapons can hurt me?”
“What are you?” she asked. No doubt the thought alone would be enough to reach this monster but she was silently praying that Layla was on her way back and would come to her aid if she heard her voice. Perhaps together they could overpower it.
She heard it roar from deep within its throat. “Feuroc.”
The hairs on the back of her neck paled and saluted the sky. She had read about Fuerocs. They were fire demons, bringers of chaos and destruction, servants of the underworld – or so it was written. Their kind was supposed to have been wiped out during the Age of Rebirth, when the White Riders had driven such monsters from the land, granting freedom to civilisation. “What do you want?” It was hard to keep her voice from shaking.
It growled again. “To take back the Kingdom that was stolen from me.” His empty claw shot forward, easily penetrating the soft flesh surrounding Surai’s heart. She gasped as her body fell into stillness. She could feel its grip on her heart. “And you will help me do it.” Its flesh burned into a stream of fire that shot its way along the demon’s arm and into her unprotected chest. She tried to scream but the sound caught in her throat and she could manage the pathetic gagging of one choking on their own tongue. She could feel its darkened presence growing inside her, running through her veins until they cried out in pain. The intensity of its heat surrounded her until she lost all other feeling and collapsed to the floor, silent and breathless.
Minutes dragged past in eternity. Not even the air dared to move and torches which had always danced and flickered burnt with eternal numbness. Eventually, a finger twitched. Surai gradually dragged her body from the floor and knelt for a moment in the cool air as her mind tried to resettle. It couldn’t bear to believe the memories that it held, yet one look at the wrist with which the monster had so firmly held her was enough to shock her mind into acceptance. A black mark had appeared on her skin. She ran her finger across it. It was hard and bumpy, like scales but it was flexible. When she bent her wrist the scales would stretch as easily as human flesh. At the moment it was little more than a few centimetres long, stretching from the back of her wrist to within an inch of her knuckles, but she knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. She had read enough scriptures about demonic possession to know how it worked. This patch of skin would spread, slowly at first, then quickening as the demon began to strengthen its hold her mind. It wouldn’t take long; a month perhaps, two if she was unlucky. She would have to wait for her life to end, everyday feeling more of her existence being absorbed by the demon until one day there would be nothing left. She would simply be…gone.
“Suri!”
With a rush of panic, Surai slipped her katana into its sheath and tore a sleeve from her shirt to hide the demon’s mark. She had barely managed to tuck the final fold into place when Layla appeared from a bend in the cave.
“Did you find anything?” Surai asked, trying to steady her voice.
“There was a demon here but it’s gone. Did you find any sign of it?”
“No.”
Layla sighed and collapsed against the wall of the cave. “We were too late. Now our people are in danger.”
“There is nothing more we can do here. We should go home and report to Hayden. If there is a demon loose in our Kingdom then it is up to his priests to deal with it. That is what they have been trained for.”
“You’re right.” Layla sighed again. “I just wish that there was something we can do.”
“It is a hard truth but we must accept it. We are powerless.” She walked over to Layla and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Come, no good will come of this if we stay. We must get men after this demon before he can cause greater damage to our people.”
Layla nodded. Her sister was right of course, all that they could do was report to Hayden. With a final sigh, Layla pushed her body from the wall and with hastened steps they made their way back across the pelted fields towards the palace.
Hayden, or Hayden the voice-giver as he was known by the people, was the high priest of the Kingdom. When the princesses came to him with news of their discoveries he wasted no time in sending orders to his priests. It seemed a foolish errand to send priests after a demon, what can those who act as messengers to the Gods do against powerful monsters? The art of demon slaying was dead – lost in time along with the enemies it had been created to vanquish – but Hayden had been determined to rediscover the art and taught his priests the ways of both a fighter and a follower.
“Fear not my young ones, my priests will take care of this monster. You must concern yourselves only with tomorrow night’s ceremony.”
“Yes Father,” Layla bowed her head, a man of the Gods demanded such respect even from royalty. She moved to leave but paused when she notice Surai wasn’t following her. She cast a questioning glance at her, as did Hayden.
“What is it my child?”
“Father, may I ask you something?”
“Of course my child.”
“You have read the scriptures in the library have you not? The ones that speak of the time before the Age of Rebirth.” She paused for an answer. Hayden paused for a moment then nodded gently. “What does it say,” continued Surai, “about possession? If a demon is loose in our Kingdom is there not a risk that it could take over the body of one of our own? And if it does, is there anything we can do to help them? Can you get rid of demon once it has claimed another’s body as its own?”
“These are questions you need not concern yourself with.”
“I have to know!” She clenched her fist as she tried to steady her nerves. She needed to know, was there really no hope for her. “Please Father, these people are my own. I have to know.”
A frown appeared across the old man’s wrinkled brow and he stood in thought for a moment, his hand caressing the length of his greying beard. “I have read that the White Riders came across a weapon of sorts on their travels. There are countless references to its use and success in destroying the demon however…” his voice grew grim, “the host has never survived it. Only a stab through the heart can kill the demon but no human could withstand such an injury.”
“Where is the weapon now?”
“Lost. It disappeared along with the Riders.”
“I see…thank you Father.” She mimicked the early gesture of her sister and Hayden bowed to them both before they vanished from his sight. His hand found his beard once again as his fingers drummed along the top of his staff. “Troubling times lie ahead I fear.” He paced the floor in silence, his staff creating dull echoes in the empty room. “I must consult the Gods.”
* * *
The walk back to their rooms was a testing time for both women. Surai’s mind was busily fighting its way out of a tangled web and Layla, who sensed a growing anguish in her sister, was trying to figure out what to say. Surai had never been one to keep secrets from her. She would always tell her if anything was bothering her or if she was concerned about something but she couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t explain the troubling thoughts that was obviously occupying her mind. There was clearly much more to them than she had revealed during her talk with Hayden.
By the time they reached their room both had failed in their tasks. Surai was still grappling with the uncertainty of her future and Layla had been unable to muster the courage to speak with her. In the end, they merely parted with the simplest of goodbyes and retreated to their beds to rest up before the tiring day ahead. Despite her concerns, Layla soon found herself safely caught within the soothing retreat of sleep and spent the night content in her dreamless state. Surai on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. She spent the last of the moonlit hours sat on her bed, staring blankly at the dark mark on her skin. As dawn broke she saw her knuckles consumed by its plague and as daylight poured across the land her mind was finally set. Tomorrow night, once the party had ended and Layla was guaranteed the safety of her fiancée’s arms, she would make her way out of the castle. Somewhere on this Earth was a weapon powerful enough to destroy the demon inside of her and even though she knew it would cost her her life, she knew no other option. If the Fueroc consumed her then it would be free to roam destruction on her Kingdom. The people’s lives would be put in danger and that was something she could not allow to happen.
Rising from her bed, she greeted the rising sun with weary eyes. Her ivory wings – called forth by the breaking dawn – wrapped around her, protecting her from the bitter wind that the evening’s storm had left behind. This was it. By the next sunrise she would no longer be this Kingdom’s heir. Her life, no void and meaningless, would have been cast aside. There would be nothing for her save for the feat she had to accomplish. He only joy life could bring her now, was a quicker death than the one the fates had planned for her.
Gazing across the Kingdom she watched the morning spread. She saw the farmers tending to the fields and the women making their way to market. Just below her feet the servants would be preparing for that evening’s ball. No doubt the chef’s were already busy preparing the feast. In a few minutes one of the maid’s would come and the day-long ritual of preparation would begin. Hours of poking and prodding, of hair and make-up and dressing would finally result in the biggest ball the Kingdom had seen in decades. Every noble-blooded family on Earth would be there and all so she could find herself a husband. It was a privilege none of them would have, and if they knew the truth, a privilege none of them would want.
There was a knock at her door. “Lady Surai, they’re waiting for you downstairs.”
With a heavy sigh, she wrapped a fresh bandage around her arm and gazed once more at the empty sky. It was amazing to her, how such a wild and destructive night could leave such simple beauty in its wake. If only such a thing were true for everything.
There was another knock. “Lady Surai?”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” she called back. She crossed the room with all the grace and splendour a princess should possess and opened the door to reveal Layla’s young maid. She was a pretty woman yet one destined for a life of servitude. It was terrible shame but it was how society worked. A man was only as useful as the gold he kept. It was how the world had always been and how it was always destined to be.
“My Lady was worried about you. She sent me to make sure you were alright.”
“I felt like enjoying the morning. It is nice to have a bit of peace before they chaos begins.”
“A necessary chaos no doubt. You do not find a husband without a little mayhem beforehand.”
“So I have heard.”
The young maid smiled. “Well then, are you ready to begin Lady Surai?”
“Of course,” a thin smiled crossed Surai’s face and she added, with a tone that greatly mimicked that of her mother’s, “you know how much I absolutely adore the circus.”
The maid laughed. She had grown used to Surai’s humour through the time she had spent with Layla. “Then we’d best not keep them waiting.” She turned from Surai and together they made their way down to the dinning room where breakfast, and the day’s madness, was waiting to begin.
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Originally Posted by Mew Trainer Rose
I wonder if she will be making another appearance at some point after her imminent parting from Layla and Surai… I also wonder what will await the sisters in K’Tar, of course. Looks like there are some interesting things waiting on the horizon—I look forward to finding out what sort of things those might be. 