June – Chapter Nine

The strangest feelings came from the strangest revelations. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that this specific scenario was strange, but I had the very correct feeling this was one of a few strange things to come today. The woman certainly looked like me, but she was far too young to be a grandmother. That, and her immediate reflex about my hair which only myself and those who lived with me knew about, were enough to make me believe we were related, but it was the specific connection I questioned.

“G-grandmother?” I asked, barely able to quantify the words. 

“Yes, that’s right.” she returned, releasing my hand finally. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for so long! This is great.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. I immediately felt venom seep into my veins from the glare I was shot, and tried to repair the conversation. “I-i mean, I believe you that we’re related but you look so young!”

This seemed to work, as she beamed a bit more with that same joyful energy as before. I could tell her temperament was fickle just from this two minute interaction. As if to prove her point further, she presented me her passport, and I felt myself incapable of comprehending it.

Jamie Faye-Kohma. Occupation; Professor.

I couldn’t stomach reading further, as my head began to spin and I felt my legs failing me. Was I fainting? How dramatic of me, I thought before I felt a forced sleep come over me. Strangely, almost as if nothing had actually happened at all, I woke up in a new place. I noted the darker wood of the ceiling as well as the ornate chandelier above my head, crystalline candles with deep red flames inside them held up by thin silver chains connecting to a central base which reminded me of the geodes I’d find in shattered rocks back home. 

Following the chains to the beam they hanged from, I also saw a ceiling window beaming down, telling me it was still daytime. Relieved, I sat up quickly, only to be greeted by the looming, tiny presence of the woman I’d just learned was both my grandmother and literal divinity. Somehow I knew I wouldn’t be able to move from this spot for a while, whether due to shock after shock or simply because she was going to want to talk to me, likely causing more of said shocks.

“Good, you’re okay.” I heard her say, trying to avert my gaze in both embarrassment and fear. 

“Where am I?” I asked directly, trying to keep superficial conversation. 

“My house.” she replied, which I sort of saw coming and didn’t ease my nerves any further. 

“Thank you for tending to me. And, sorry about, well-” she cut me off.

“Don’t worry about it, admittedly that was a bit strong wasn’t it? I was just so excited! You’re the only member of the family left alive biologically related to me, everyone else married in. I couldn’t help being excited.”

“So, I guess that means Dad was the divine.” I said out loud. “And Mom and Nectar are in laws for you, and – Wait no, Allie was adopted. Jeez, this is… A lot.” I put a hand to my head and pushed my hair back, feeling part of it  drop out of my grip and seeing a white strand dangling in front of me. Before I even had a chance to panic, Professor Faye spoke up.

“It’s just a small bit, don’t worry. And it isn’t stress or old age, that’s probably my fault.”

“What does it mean?” I asked, followed by, “Can I hide this?”

“Nobody told you about hair color designation?” she asked me in return, ignoring my other question. “Alright, I’ll break it down for you.”

“Wait, but, hiding it-” she cut me off again.

“From birth, everyone has a specific affinity for Flux control in their blood. While there are tests and stuff for babies to determine if they have one and what it is, the older a person gets, the more their hair color will reflect their affinity.”

“So, white is my affinity. I’m following so far.” I said, defeated and listening.

“Right. White is the collection of all colors in the visible spectrum, meaning you technically don’t have an affinity, rather you’re more like an overflowing pool. Doesn’t mean you can just snap your fingers and make death rays or anything, but it does mean you could learn any affinity a little easier than others without this.”

“That seems unfair.” I shrugged. 

“Not really, because ordinarily white affinity is weaker in every individual affinity than a primary color. You can do it all, but you can’t do it as well. Just like your dad.”

At this, I grew interested.

“Tell me about dad, please. This magic talk is nice but I really want to know what my dad was like.”

“Soon enough. First, let’s get you fitted for your uniform.”

“Wait weren’t we on magic-” I didn’t get a chance to finish my thought process before I noticed she came prepared with a roll of measuring tape. Considering this conversation had been less terrifying than I thought it would be, I sighed and allowed her to take my measurements, which I will not be sharing because come on, why do you need that? I stood from the couch I realized I was on, which had a strangely fuzzy finish to the backing and the seats that I chose not to question. The room itself was wide enough for me to wobble to a stand a few feet from the couch before bumping into anything, and while I could only make out this one room, I could tell it was of a finer finish than the office or my dorm, with much more precisely cut wood and some stone detailing in the walls.

 The process of measuring took about five minutes, during which she started to ask me about how I grew up, and I told her about my mother and uncle, and the village and everyone in it. She wasn’t exactly able to stay on topic very well, but she was genuinely interested in my life. I asked her about masking my hair color change again, and she changed the subject to something else entirely about what she had eaten the other night and listing how she prepared it. I had a feeling this was a permanent change, and did my best to accept that. Of all the sacrifices I thought I’d be making for the good of others, I never factored in my hair color. It seemed such a nonissue until it was altered.

“All set.” she said, rolling the tape back up. “I’d be damned if some random person was measuring my granddaughter.”

“I’ll admit, I am glad I didn’t have to deal with someone without any connection.” I confessed. “Even if I’m still processing what exactly ours is and what that means.”

“I could’ve done a better job explaining it. I’m sorry.” she said. “I saw my class roster, and I saw your name, and I just got so excited that I marched right on down to the office.”

“Well, this is definitely a strange family we have.” I nervously chuckled. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t even know yet.” she seemed eager to tell me, despite dismissing it so sarcastically. “For starters let’s get the big one out of the bag. Yes, you’re blood related to divinity. Yes, that means you’re technically divine. No, that doesn’t give you any special powers or titles or privileges.”

I nodded, and said “Good, I don’t want any.” which I saw gave her a smile.

“Stay humble. It’s a good fit for you.” she said before sitting down on the couch, urging me to do so. I did, and she continued. “Drey told me he was impressed with you during the short trip. I’m proud of you for becoming so capable despite being so separated from your family.”

“I wasn’t, though.” I contested. “I have mom and Nectar and Allie back home.”

“About Nectar.” she continued. “He’s… Not related to you. Or anyone, actually.” she put her hand on mine as if trying to preemptively comfort me from the shock of her next words. “He’s a Golem.”

“Neat!” I said, completely unaffected. “I mean, that’s kind of surprising, but it doesn’t bother me. He’s still my Uncle.”

She gave me a confused look, but shrugged it off and laughed a little.

“You’re just like your grandfather, it’s almost uncanny.”

“My grandfather? not my father?” this one surprised me.

“Yes. My late husband Dayton. Has nobody told you about him either?” I saw her feign shock, seeming to be more comfortable with my condition and reception to her.

“All I know about my family is that my dad died before I met him, and my mom and Uncle have been raising me since.” I gave her an admittedly nervous response. She seemed so passionate about the family that I barely knew and was starting to get the impression probably wasn’t supposed to yet. Then, it hit me. All at once I blurted out “Saiorses’ Kiss!”

“That’s the guy!” she shared in my excitement, though for her it was a bit more silly. “Your grandfather was the original bearer of the sword. He was supposed to give it to your father when he came of age, and your father was supposed to give it to you. Both cases, they were killed. Both times, it was in their sleep, the night before a major event for them. For your grandfather, he was supposed to be meeting with Drey and Zephyrus to discuss the threat that had killed his sister Kendall, and how dangerous he thought the man was. For your father, it was the night before the official Treaty of Unification was signed.”

And just like that, I suddenly began to realize my small world was infinitely larger than I ever thought possible.

“My dad was Saint Foxtail?” I shook my head. “Now I’ve been very patient with all these revelations and such, but that’s… A bit much to believe.”

“Are you sure?” she stood once more, reminding me wholly of her tiny frame and how much that betrayed the terror this woman had caused, and made her way to a small wardrobe in the corner of the room. It seemed to be well kept, and there were pictures atop it that were separate from the usual paintings or family portraits one would see on walls. These were more subtle, and of an inferior built frame. It was a small enough room that I wasn’t left guessing for long, as my grandmother presented me a family portrait of herself, and a young boy with silver hair and green eyes. Their resemblance was uncanny, but no more so than the image of Sir Mirroheart alongside them, clearly taking some sort of fatherly role in the boys’ life.

“He was so small back then, like me. Nobody expected him to become the juggernaut of the world that he became.” she said, a new tone I’d not experienced from her creeping in. “Flip it over, though.”

I did so, and I saw an unfamiliar man alongside Sir Mirroheart and my grandmother. She was in a white gown of sorts, brilliant looking irises embroidered into the bottom part of the gown with a closed front that had an amulet where one would expect it to be. I felt silly even making that phrase in my head.

The standout that was new to this was the man holding her up, in a princess style, both of them plastered with huge smiles. His eyes were obscured by his hair, brown like mine and longer than mothers’, with some sort of white emblem painted on the back of his hand that matched the amulet grandmother was wearing. He was in a fairly well put together suit, black for the most part with linings of gold undershirt and a gold sash.

“This is grandpa, isn’t it?” I asked an obvious question. She nodded.

“Our wedding day. Feels like so long ago now.”

“So…” I felt myself shrink back on my protest, which was as unusual as the protest itself to me. “…What exactly does this make me then? I mean, I have no reason to doubt you, but I’m not a princess or a Divine or anything and I doubt I’d ever want to be. All these titles the family has, they don’t extend to me, right?”

“Sort of yes, sort of no.” she sat next to me again, probably noticing the uncertainty I was starting to have in myself. “You’re not a Divine, no. And you’re not a princess either. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t inheriting some baggage from your dad.”

“This is why Sir Mirroheart didn’t want me to know about the sword, isn’t it?” I asked another obvious question.

“Probably, but I feel like this is important and he knows better than to butt in on what I think.” she smiled the same kind of mischievous smile I’d see Allie do when she was pranking me, which was equal parts concerning and comforting. “You’re going to live a normal life regardless, since only the family knows about you. Just don’t make yourself obvious and you won’t get dragged into political nonsense, sound good?”

“Sounds lovely, actually.” I relaxed again, feeling at once a sense of relief that whatever my ancestry contained wouldn’t spill into my own goals. At the same time, this did give me a rare opportunity. Some questions I’d get to ask her that I could never ask my mother or Sir Mirroheart. I know I was supposed to wait until I was ready to hear all this, but I couldn’t resist.

“Could you tell me about dad? I know nothing about him – well, apparently I do, but that’s what the history books say. What about the man himself? Surely his mother knows him better than anyone.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She turned in her seat to face me, and I folded one leg onto the seat and I the same. “Alright, let me tell you the reality of the man behind Saint Foxtail. Heath Faye-Kohma.”