Chapter Eleven - Ceremony of Light
160 Years Ago, Malinor
Arwe rushed through the streets of Maldes, dodging passerby and deftly weaving around carts. The empty garment bag clutched in her arms flapped with her hurried steps.
She'd been sitting in the salon earlier that day, engrossed in a fascinating sheet of music (written by a human composer named Paganini) when her mother looked up from her book to smile at her.
"I'm looking forward to seeing you in your new Ceremony of Light gown, daughter. I know Lady Tura worked for weeks on the embroidery. You have done your final fitting, I assume?"
Arwe's head had snapped up at her mother's words, a carefully blank expression on her face.
"Of course, Mother. The ceremony is tomorrow, after all," she said lightly and smiled until her mother returned to her reading.
After a moment, Arwe made a sound as if just remembering something.
"I need to… speak with Era. She mentioned something about getting more hair oil before the ceremony."
Aine nodded absently while she turned a page, waving a hand at her daughter.
"If you do go out, please buy some roasted sweet potatoes. Your father has a hankering," she said. Arwe nodded and walked unhurriedly out the salon.
The moment the door shut behind her, she Blinked directly into Era's room. Her sudden appearance startled a scream out of her sister. She'd been writing busily in her journal and had spattered ink all over it in her surprise.
"Arwe! How many times— don't Blink in here!" she cried, fanning her journal so ink blots would dry faster.
Arwe was too distracted to apologize and ran a hand through her hair, eyes wild.
"Era… I need you to cover for me. I forgot about the final fitting."
The tall Madar gave her an exasperated look, snapping her journal shut. Arwe caught a glimpse of a hand-drawn portrait on the page that looked suspiciously like Arne of Clan Gries. Despite the stress of the situation, she felt her lips quirk.
Era was glaring at her stonily and sighed.
"What do you need?" she asked.
"I told Mother you ran out of hair oil and that I can fetch it, but the fitting will take longer than that - I might not make it back before dinner. Can you come up with some kind of urgent errand a bit more pressing than hair oil?"
Era pursed her lips, not looking happy about the predicament her older sister was putting her in. Arwe knew her sibling hated lying to their parents and she felt a twinge of guilt.
On the other hand, short of committing a serious crime, there wasn't much she wouldn't do to avoid a High Counsellor Aine lecture at the dinner table.
"Please," she begged, pouting ridiculously until she saw a reluctant smile bloom on her sister's face.
"Fine. You can say that I unexpectedly ran out of foxweed extract and need it for tomorrow. Only one apothecary sells it in Maldes and it's across town."
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a fresh bottle, handing it to her.
Arwe leaned down and smacked a kiss onto her sister's cheek, beaming.
Now armed with a solid excuse, Arwe rushed out to meet the dress maker, sweating as she ran and wishing she could simply Blink over.
It was considered reckless and extremely poor manners to Blink in the city - too many unpredictable, moving elements one might topple into, though at the moment Arwe was considering throwing etiquette and caution to the wind and doing it anyway. In the end she decided against it, what with the last-minute shopping rush the day before the Ceremony of Light.
She finally spotted the painted lilac door of her destination and quickened her pace.
Lady Tura's was a boutique specialized in traditional Madar garments. Arwe knew the business had been steadily declining in the last few decades, with modern Madar woman opting for the novelty and excitement of Earthling fashions - she'd passed countless women outfitted in voluminous, pleated gowns cinched at the waist, as opposed to the traditionally looser, high-necked Madar dresses.
It'd never been a question what kind of dress Arwe would be wearing for the ceremony.
She arrived panting and clutching her side, leaning against the doorframe. Lady Tura, who was in the middle of a consultation, took one look at her and sighed, shooing her customer to the waiting area. Being the High Counsellor's daughter came with the privilege of not waiting in line, and Arwe felt hot with embarrassment as the customer stomped away, shooting her a dark look.
"I was wondering when you'd show up, Lady Ohra," she said, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.
She grinned sheepishly at the seamstress and thanked her profusely.
After two hours of being prodded and measured, she was finally finished. She stood in front of the boutique with the dress in her arms, realizing she would actually make it back before dinner.
A smell wafted into her nose and she remembered the sweet potatoes. She was relieved to see the source of the smell was indeed a vendor just down the street, and she walked over to order a portion for her father.
The seller was a Madar about her own age and she noted the conspicuous pin on her collar. Clasped hands surrounded by light.
"One portion, please," she said, smiling politely. She was met with a cold stare.
"I don't serve Council swine," the woman sneered, looking Arwe up and down with open disdain.
She felt her stomach drop, though wasn't entirely surprised. Such incidents of open hostility towards the Council clans had been occurring more and more in the last decade.
She was about to retreat when suddenly a male Madar stepped to her side, thrusting a finger in the seller's face.
"How dare you speak to her like that, peefer," he growled, using the derogatory term for supporter's of Mel's party: Progress and Freedom. PF. Peefer.
The political divide within Malinor had only grown in the last few decades, with Mel's movement gaining more momentum and support from the working class. Inventors, intellectuals and artists were also drawn to the PF's hard stance on freedom of movement, abolishing protectionist policies for the Guilds and embracing outsiders.
Mel had also taken to dazzling the realm with human technology he utilized to make himself a household name and familiar face throughout their world. One such example was his canny use of photography.
The first time Arwe had seen the picture she couldn't help but feel impressed with its ingenuity. It had shown Mel clasping hands with a miner, his posture proud and his expression full of righteous challenge.
After that, there was hardly a pair of eyes in Malinor that hadn't seen a photograph of the diminutive counselor: holding a scythe with his arm around a farmer, kissing babies, handing out bowls to the poor.
This was in stark contrast to Aine, who resided in the capital, rarely traveled and deemed using such "human gimmicks" as below her dignity. She largely existed as a mysterious figure in power seated far away from the realities of most Madar, known primarily through her reputation as a hardline conservative.
Arwe had seen the photographs of their villa circulating the city, with a new text printed on the bottom: High Counsellor Lives in Extravagant Palace While Madar Struggle.
It was ingenious in its simplicity, and Arwe had seen similar tactics employed in Earthly countries. Propaganda, it was called. Arwe had seen its power and impact on frustrated nations looking for an answer, for someone to blame or save them - and it was working in Malinor.
There was also a large part of Arwe, one she was careful to keep hidden from her family, that felt compelled by the images, had cringed with shame at the ostentatious villa juxtaposed with the modest huts of Madar living in the countryside.
Now, as she looked into the vendor's angry eyes, she only felt deeply tired.
She held up a hand to halt the man's heated speech and saw his eyes widen in recognition when he finally turned to look at her.
"I respect your decision, madame. Happy Light Festival."
She then Blinked away.
... ... ...
Arwe was sitting at the vanity in her room, eyes closed as the young Madar girl twisted her hair into an elaborate crown of braids around her head.
The villa was a hub of activity, with servants bustling from room to room with armloads of garments and grooming supplies. Echoing throughout the house were the shouts of various family members searching for a missing slipper or hair clip.
Clan Ohra was preparing for the opening ceremony of the yearly Light Festival, a weeklong celebration of Orsa's gifts.
Clans across Malinor would feast, dance and pray in sacred ceremonies in Orsa's name. The entire realm had been preparing for the auspicious event, cooking traditional dishes and traveling to celebrate with relatives.
Every year the leaders of the realm opened the festival with speeches in the Ceremony of Light, led by the High Counsellor herself.
Arwe had always found the festival a bore, with seemingly endless fittings, lectures on proper conduct and a strict curfew. As a youngling, she'd watch other clans stroll through the square eating festival donuts and drinking wine, whereas her family attended stuffy events and profoundly boring Council galas.
This year there was the additional worry of the strange political deafness her mother seemed determined to maintain. Mel and his party seldom came up in the weeks leading up to the festival, and Arwe found her mother's willful avoidance of the topic disquieting.
The girl fitted a final pin into her hair and stepped back with clasped hands.
"All finished, my lady," she murmured. Arwe turned her head in the mirror, admiring the maid's handiwork.
"It's beautiful. Thank you, Lia," she said sincerely.
As Lia left the room, Arwe smoothed her new gown, fingers lingering on the painstakingly embroidered details. Despite having worn a similar dress for the last several centuries, she had to admit this year Lady Tura had outdone herself. The dress was long and loose, with a scooped neck and long bell sleeves decorated in an intricate green vine motif. A purple petunia was embroidered on the midsection, spreading its petals against her ribs.
With a final glance at her reflection, she left her room to make her way to the salon.
Entering, she spotted Era sitting in one of the armchairs, engrossed in a book. She was wearing a similar traditional gown in a dusty pink and Arwe noted the fussy high collar and sensible shoes. She looked lovely regardless and Arwe told her so as she dropped onto the loveseat.
Era sniffed, suspicious of the compliment.
After a few minutes of sitting in silence, the door opened and their father ambled in, looking handsome in a dark green tunic. Their mother followed him, radiant in a cream colored gown and her cornsilk blond hair piled artfully on top of her head. Her golden circlet glinted on her crown.
"I haven't seen hide nor hair of Sen," Aine said with exasperation, settling into the chair next to Arwe.
"I'm sure he'll turn up," Arwe reassured, though if she were honest only Orsa knew where her little brother was and if he'd deem to show up on time.
Ele strode in, dressed in a navy tunic and long dark hair pulled back in a severe braid. There was a stressed furrow to his brow that Arwe didn't like, and she wondered if he'd taken on the burden of worrying about the worsening political situation their clan was entangled in.
She zapped him playfully with her magic as he passed her, making his hair stand up with static.
Arwe and Era giggled as he smoothed his hair down, looking at the ceiling as if it could explain to him why his sister insisted on such foolishness, though Arwe was gratified to see a small, reluctant smile on his face.
Finally, just as they were getting ready to leave, Sen Blinked into the room. His braid was uneven and there was a lipstick stain on the side of his mouth.
"Sorry I'm late," he grinned, not sounding the least bit apologetic. Aine shook her head and wiped at his mouth with a lacy handkerchief, though she couldn't quite suppress the fond twist of her lips.
"Sen, you will be the death of me. Come, my children, it's time," she said, holding out her hands. The clan came together to stand in a circle, arms around each other and heads bowed.
"We pray to Orsa for her protection and ask that her light guide us," Arwe said solemnly.
The gravitas was somewhat lessened by the jittery Madar all surreptitiously fixing their hair and readjusting their outfits before the ceremony.
Aine sighed, pretending not to notice and saying another prayer under her breath.
"Is everyone ready?" asked Tun, giving his children a once over. "Sen, for the love of Orsa, please straighten your tunic, you look like you just stumbled out of a tavern."
After some more last minute fussing, the family disappeared together and materialized on the grand stone balcony of the Council Hall.
Before them stretched the main square, filled with thousands of Madar gathered to witness the ceremony, dressed in their finest and merry with anticipation. There was a roar of hundreds of voices and lively trumpets and drumming, and the blue sky was punctuated with colorful kites and balloons.
On the other end of the balcony stood Clan Duma. Next to the diminutive Mel was his son Teo, a tall and handsome Madar with the same auburn hair, cut short. The Clans nodded at each other staidly, a stiff politeness in their postures.
Arwe waved at Teo, having known him since they were younglings. She remembered playing Blink the Ball with him and their school friends, back when politics was something vague only adults worried about.
He waved back with a small smile, stiffening slightly when his father gave him a look.
She was just about to wander over to her siblings when she felt a hand on her elbow, stilling her gently.
"Arwe," she heard her mother say into her ear. Turning towards her, she saw her golden eyes were brimming with emotion she couldn't identify.
"I know we've had our disagreements in the last few decades…" she started, voice heavy. Arwe took her hand, not liking the somber look coming over her mother's face.
"But I want you to know I am proud of you for standing up for your beliefs. You've always had a passionate heart and I fear I have not appreciated just how deeply you care for your fellow Madar. Please forgive me."
Arwe was struck and taken aback by her mother's unexpected words. She blinked back tears and squeezed her hand, sending her a wave of warmth.
"Thank you, Mother," she said softly, and the two women stood together hand-in-hand, a peaceful moment above the noise and commotion in the square below.
Aine straightened and with a final squeeze of her hand, walked over to the edge of the balcony. The crowd took a few moments to notice their High Counsellor and the roar of voices fell into a hush.
Arwe joined her siblings and father to stand behind her mother, clasping her hands awkwardly in front of her. She felt seen, thousands of eyes taking her and her family in, thinking their thoughts about her.
"Beloved Madar! Welcome to the Ceremony of Light!" called Aine with arms raised. The square responded with a swell of cheers and applause and trumpets rang out grandly over the square.
Smiling, Aine placed her hands on the stone balustrade and continued, "In the coming days we will celebrate Orsa's light and the many gifts she bestows upon us. It is a time for family, for connecting with each other, for finding the joy and peace in each wondrous day in our beloved Malinor. Today we are one People, united in Orsa's sacred light."
Arwe smiled stiffly, trying to not shift too much. Next to her, Era and Ele stood regally, dignified smiles on their faces. Sen looked uncomfortable and she caught him subtly trying to adjust his breeches. She bit back a snicker.
"Over three thousand years ago, we fought for freedom in Malinor. Some of you still carry the scars of that struggle and your sacrifice for our beloved land will never be forgotten," Aine boomed, a reverent look on her eternally youthful face.
The crowd was silent, remembering the Great War that had raged on for nearly two centuries. There was an air of somberness as she allowed her words to linger over the gathered Madar and she gazed into the distance, looking pensive and regal.
"The peace we enjoy is one which must never be taken for granted. Our ancient traditions honor Orsa and our divine inner light. There are those who would seek to disrupt our way of life, but we must be strong and persevere. Peace is not something once fought and won, but something to continually fight for."
She bowed her head, seemingly overcome with emotion. The crowd gazed up at them and the silence stretched for long moments. Arwe took an unconscious step towards her mother, words of comfort bubbling up her throat.
"Mel of Clan Duma, the head of the Progress and Freedom party, will now say a few words," Aine announced finally and stepped back from the railing.
Arwe's mouth snapped shut and she felt herself flush, hastily stepping back. Thank Orsa she hadn't said anything. But her mother had looked so small in that moment, and she hadn't thought beyond the instinctual need to soothe her.
As Mel strode over to the railing of the balcony, the crowd erupted in a strange mixture of wild applause and booing. It was jarring, hearing the divide so clearly within the gathered people below.
Mel seemed unbothered by the mixed reaction and raised a hand, waiting for the crowd to hush. Though there was an easy smile on his face, his eyes had a hard gleam.
"Dear people of Malinor!" he began, his voice surprisingly strong despite his small stature. Arwe could sense the rapt attention of the gathered Madar and she braced herself for the speech.
"I stand before you as a humble servant to our kind. In the past decades, I have devoted every waking minute of my life to fighting for progress, for freedom and liberty in Malinor. I have come to see that every single Madar, regardless of station, is imbued with a noble dignity and power beyond what any other Being within the collective realms can ever hope to embody."
Arwe shared a startled look with Era, whose face fell into a frown. This rhetoric was new to them and Arwe felt the stirrings of disquiet at Mel's superior undertone.
He continued, his voice rising with fervor, "I have seen the struggles faced by ordinary Madar and tell you now this is not the acceptable state of being for our kind. No Madar should ever feel their light shadowed by oppression, to be forced into secrecy beyond our borders. Our light is meant to shine brightly not just in our world, but in all worlds!"
As the crowd erupted in applause, Arwe tried to catch her mother's gaze. Though she was frowning, there was almost something like resignation in the lines of her face.
"We must not hide in shadow. We must not stifle our brilliance and our power. We are the divine creations of Orsa and it is our natural right to stand proudly above all others. We must fight for our rightful place in the world beyond Malinor and let all the beings of the world beyond know that it is us who they should glorify!"
Though the crowd swelled again in a cacophonous wave of both outraged and appreciative shouting, a shocked silence had descended on the balcony.
Aine's face was dark and before she could open her mouth to say anything, Ele suddenly stepped forward with a snarl.
"Mel, are you mad? You are advocating for Madar supremacy, this is… it's…"
The diminutive counsellor extended a hand towards him, turning to the crowd.
"Do you see how they question the innate preeminence of our kind? They would have you slaving away to protect their unnatural status in Malinor, they would—"
Mel was cut off as Tun suddenly charged forward and Arwe gasped at her normally mild-mannered father's aggression. He'd grabbed the front of Mel's tunic and glared at him, enraged.
"What in Orsa's name do you think you're doing? You're inciting a war! Are you insane?"
From up close, Mel looked perversely satisfied by the turn of events and he flailed his arms wildly and shouted.
"They are attacking me!" he screamed and the balcony descended into chaos.
Ele tried to jump between the struggling men while Sen pulled at their father, Aine was shouting for order and Era looked stricken and on the verge of tears.
Arwe stood back indecisively, not knowing what to do.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over the group and Arwe looked up to see a male Madar standing on the edge of the balcony. He must have Blinked onto it and she vaguely registered his short blond hair and emerald green eyes.
"Kelle?" Sen asked with disbelief.
The Madar was silent, his posture rigid. He looked up and Arwe felt a shiver run down her spine at the righteous fire burning in his eyes.
"This is for Malinor!" he roared and shot a sharp beam of light into them. Arwe stumbled back, shielding her eyes. She heard Era scream and the men tore away from each other to surround the intruder.
"Oh," came a breathless voice. Slowly, Arwe turned to look at her mother.
She was hunched over, her hands covering her middle. There was blood spilling out from between her fingers and her face was deathly pale.
She looked up at her children, an almost banal surprise on her face. Arwe felt the world slow to a crawl, horror and disbelief freezing her limbs.
As she saw her mother stumble against the railing, she finally felt her legs start to move. She took a step towards her and reached out, her fingers grazing the silky material of her dress. She watched numbly as the light faded from her mother's golden eyes and in an almost graceful arch, she tumbled over the railing and fell.
Distantly, she could heard the screams of the crowd, the gut-wrenching wails of grief and rage of her family behind her. She stood, her hand still outstretched before her, not breathing.
A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back from the railing with almost bruising force. Ele's face loomed over her, grey with anguish.
She was numb, cold. Her brother had grasped the sides of her face and was speaking something to her, but she couldn't hear.
Behind him she could see her sister crumpled on the ground, sobbing in Sen's arms. The intruder - the murderer - was a heap on the floor. Perhaps he was dead. Mel and Teo were gone.
"Arwe," she heard a voice snap and dazedly looked into her brother's face. She could see the rage under the despair and it stirred something in her. She felt a flicker of her power respond to the darkness in her brother's eyes.
It was war.