Voices of the Defeated, Whispers of the Strong

Ayana followed her glowing apparition, the only light in the solid world of dark. The figure was just a red silhouette, but she still walked after it, plodding forward with no real reason other than it was something to do and someone to see.
A little farther, it disappeared. Ayana still continued, noticing the blackness she tread through now gave off a soft, red-orange glow. She stopped when she realized that it was: flames. Ayana turned to look for the fire alarm, then realized there wasn’t one. She was dreaming, after all. So the fire was harmless.
Ayana, gingerly, put her hand over the flames. No heat. Feeling more confident, Ayana lowered it closer to the core of the fire. Intense pain shot through her hand and she drew it out, clutching it to her chest and trying not to cry.
“Just dreaming, eh?”
The voice was Ayana’s, but different- it crackled and hissed. Immediately, Ayana thought of hot coals, and then the Hating Fire, and she was frightened. She had no clue where the speaker was- the voice seemed to echo all around, as if it came from the sky.
“What…?” was Ayana’s eloquent reply.
“You thought you could get rid of me that easily? With a mere memory of happiness? You’re so pathetic and close-minded it’s almost funny,” the twisted version of her voice said. It was mocking, but changed on a dime. “You’re hurt.”
“Um, yeah.” Ayana bit her lip. Words were not coming easily.
“I can make it better,” the voice whispered, and immediately, the pain lessened and Ayana’s hand was healed.
“Why did you…?”
“I’m your friend, Ayana,” the voice whispered. “Don’t forget that.”
“But you-“
“Never to you, Ayana. Never to you.”
“But-“
“We are too much alike, you and me. You just don’t realize it. I could never do to you what I did to Linius. Inside, we are the same.”
“That’s not true!” Ayana shouted. “I’m nothing like you! I would never kill someone for the spite of it. I don’t even hate anyone.”
“I didn’t say our common ground was hate,” the voice purred. “You burn too- for power. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Power. You crave it. It belongs to you. You think so. If you were born during the time of the Victura- a sniveling lot, but smart all the same- they would have viewed you as an embodiment of it, and rightly so… because that is what you are.”
Ayana didn’t say anything. As much as she hated to admit it, the appeal was definitely there.
“I see the spark is still there. No amount of water will put it out, little girl. Try all you want, it’ll only burn brighter. It’s an instinct that belongs to every fallen creature, and you can try to hide from it, or hide it, but it won’t go away.”
“Wha-“
“I don’t need to do to you what I did to Linius. He… was not compatible. But you are. You’ll join me yourself, when you’re ready. You’ll embrace me.”
“I won’t! I hate everything you do!” It was really a stupid act of defiance, since Ayana realized that the Fire was controlling the dream, but she didn’t care. If there was anything she hated, it was the Fire.
“Then I suppose you don’t want your hand all dandy…”

Ayana jerked up, screaming and clutching her burnt hand. Esilanna woke with a start and ran to her, talking quickly. Ayana didn’t catch her words, but someone grabbed a vase, yanked the flowers out, and poured cool water all over her hand. Suddenly she was aware of Esi barking orders. “Bella, grab the gauze. Requiem, keep an eye on Linius. Linius, don’t you dare move-“
Then she lost track of what happened, because the pain returned, flaring up. …No amount of water will put it out… The next thing she knew, Esi had wrapped her hand and Requiem was singing softly. The song made Ayana feel almost drowsy and took her mind off the pain- probably what the minstrel was going for. Bella checked Linius’s bindings, and Ayana’s pain faded away.
“What happened?” Esi asked. “Did you cast a spell in your sleep?”
Did I? It was just a nightmare, really. Maybe that’s all it was. Should I tell her? I can tell her. She’d believe me, and she’d explain. ‘You’re not power-hungry,’ she’d say. Just tell her.
Ayana nodded. “Clumsy of me. I haven’t cast a spell in my sleep since I was seven years old.”
Esi smiled warmly. “Then go back to sleep.”
“Can’t you heal it, though?” Ayana asked, holding her injured hand up.
Esi’s grin fell. “No, Ayana. I can’t. I’m sorry. I ‘ve been unable to cast spells since the dome collapsed.” Esi stood, walked to a candle on her coffee table, and pointed to it. “Watch closely: incedium!” Nothing happened.
“Incedium,” muttered Ayana, and all the candles in the room burst into flame.
“Let me try,” Requiem said. “Elves have magic, right? In the books, it says so. We did. We were very powerful.”
“When I was your age, definitely,” Esi agreed, “but things have changed. … Being locked up in an antimagic barrier can’t have been too healthy for your people. If there’s any magic left in you, it’s probably very dormant.” Still, she licked her fingers, extinguished a candle, and handed it to Requiem. “The word is ‘incedium.’ It’s a bit general, but the gist of it means ‘fire.’”
“Incedium!” Requiem whispered. Nothing happened to the candle- instead an orb of fire hovered perfectly in front of her, casting shadows on her face, before it burned and disappeared.
Esi pressed her lips together. “You need to concentrate so that it gets on the candle.”
“Oh.” Noticing her look, Requiem asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, it’s just… most people don’t use magic on their first attempt. Actually, nobody has. Ever. At all. Interesting, though, that your spell was ‘fire’…”
Linius cackled. “Interesting? I’d call it downright ironic!”
“Why?” Requiem asked, turning to him. He just laughed again. “WHY?”
“Right!” Esi clapped her hands loudly, ignoring his giddy laughter. “It’s one in the morning! Back to bed, folks.” As she walked past Linius, he grinned. “What?”
“How does it feel?”
“How does what feel?”
“You’ve got no magic!” he giggled ecstatically. “The mighty Victuran of noble blood has no magic! She’s like a mortal now! How does it feel?”
Esi scowled and walked past, giving no reply. Ayana thought she saw her give the candle one last look, and maybe she imagined Esi’s lips forming ‘incedium.’ Maybe that happened.
But it probably didn’t.

Memories

The next morning, Requiem awoke before Arya or Bella. Linius’s bounds had been reinforced, so that it looked like he was wearing a full-body straitjacket. Requiem watched him apprehensively; there was no gag to prevent him from speaking, so who knew what was barring him from using magic?
She sat up and swung her legs out from under the blanket over the edge of the couch, surveying the room. Linius slept on the floor, Bella in the bed, and Ayana on the other couch. Esi was nowhere to be seen. Despite knowing better, Requiem couldn’t help but have a memory flash through her mind, and feel the familiar pangs of abandonment yet again. She thought back to the first time she felt it, and each time after that. She’d run away, once, because she couldn’t handle it. She’d tried out for the empty minstrel position in Arya’s court. The queen had liked her playing. She’d let Requiem have a house near the other musicians.
It hadn’t eased the loneliness. It only alienated her more, as none of her neighbors wanted anything to do with her. The only friend Requiem had ever really made was Vesper.
The creak of the door brought Requiem out of her thoughts. Esi walked in, carrying a tray heaped with biscuits and fruits. “Breakfast,” she whispered, and set it down on the coffee table, then offered Requiem a biscuit. The minstrel accepted, noticing Esi’s eyes were red, as if she’d been crying.
“Something wrong?” Requiem asked.
“I hate that lock,” Esi replied, and gave no more information. Requiem didn’t mind. Esi sighed. “Wow, you look like her.”
“Who?” Requiem said, but she felt certain she already knew the answer.
“A childhood friend… her name was Ariana. I don’t know what name she goes by now.”
“Arya,” Requiem replied, and pointed to Linius, now awake and watching them.
Esi paid him no mind, instead continuing, “You probably get it a lot, then, if she’s that queen of yours.”
“No, actually. Most people don’t pay much attention to me. I only heard it once.” Requiem shrugged. “Actually, I only realized it… well, it feels like yesterday, but it was probably much longer.”
“That’s the Azia,” Esi said. “My friend ate some once when she was little. She was out for a couple of days; it scared me sick! But I never touched it. My mother wouldn’t let me anywhere near the stuff.”
“What was she like?” Requiem asked. “Your mother, I mean.”
“Strict. Very strict,” Esi recalled. “She always called me by my full name- Esilanna Penna Aquila Magica, a mouthful, really- and she wasn’t very… close, I guess. She was always a little bit apart from the rest of the family. But she loved me, and that’s more than enough.”
Requiem nodded, and she felt her heart beat a little faster as she smelled the earth dampened by fresh rain, and felt the warmth of the last campfire she’d had with her family on her cheeks. She heard the last strains of a lullaby echoing in her head, making her almost dizzy, and she shook her head to clear it. The sensations of the memory faded, and she said, “I have no memories of my mother.” Then she bit her lip, and found herself confiding in Esi, continuing, “Actually, that’s not true. I have just one memory…”
And the crisp scent of pine leaves came with the returning smell of the earth, and Requiem closed her eyes, almost as if enjoying the heat of a fire in front of her. “I don’t know where we were. Outside near the fire pit, I guess, and my mother and father were both there. I don’t remember what they looked like, though. She sang me a song, a lullaby about… well, I don’t remember that either, but it made me feel good.” The strains of an old, half-remembered melody swirled around her as she said, “Mother was singing me to sleep, and Father was showing me the stars, I think. Then Daddy said he had to go inside, and he left me with Mother, and she stroked my hair and finished the song. I fell asleep.
“The next day, when I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the trees, and I was cold, really cold. Mother was gone. I waited. She didn’t come. I went inside, and neither she nor Daddy were there. I sat down and thought they’d come get me… but they never did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault.”
“I’m still sorry.” And Requiem, with surprise, saw tears roll down Esi’s cheeks.  “I really am sorry, Requiem.” Requiem didn’t understand why Esi would cry for her, but then she thought that what she was seeing wasn’t what she was looking at. She saw a young woman pitying a little girl, but what she was looking at was a creature with many years and weighed down with sorrow, weeping for someone who had lost their parents early on just like her.
Requiem opened her mouth to tell Esi not to cry when giggles interrupted her sobs. Esi turned and glared at Linius. “What?” she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Nothing. It’s just amazing how both generations can cry together for losing the same thing.”
“Both generations?” Requiem repeated, and her stomach sank. “Generations of what?”
“Yes, indeed,” Esilanna said, standing. “Two generations of what?” Requiem didn’t like the stare Esi gave him. It was a sort of ‘I have a suspicion and you’re about to prove me right,’ look, rather than ‘What are you talking about, you crazy, possessed idiot,’ look.
“Victura. Isn’t it obvious?” Linius sat up, after a struggle (it isn’t easy sitting up with a straitjacket on; try it yourself), and grinned. “I thought you two were smarter than this.”
“My mother was… a Victura?” Requiem said slowly.
“Of course.” Linius looked her in the eye. “Take a guess at who it is.”
Requiem’s eyes widened, and she was back in front of the fire, looking into her mother’s face, which she saw clearly now. “Arya…” she whispered. “My goodness… it’s Arya.”
Linius laughed.
“Shut up!” Esilanna shouted. “Who gives you the right to gloat?”
Ayana and Bella, woken by the shout, said nothing, only watching.
Linius was silent, his eyes dancing in madness.
Requiem’s lip trembled. “But… I was in her court… how could she not…?” She turned to Esi, pleading in her voice. “Please… Ayana said she was at Carmen’s house. Can you take me. please?”
Esi sighed. “I did say last night… All right.”
Requiem smiled.
“Just promise me this,” Esilanna continued, “that no matter what Arya says and does, you won’t do anything… rash. This may be one of the hardest things you’ll ever do.”
“I promise.”
“Good. I’ll hold you to that.”