1217-08-31
Mary Elephon:
I sit in the halls, thinking about the last few days. It feels small, like a passing chapter, yet it still weighs on me. I failed to pact with a dragon. Because of that, they move me from class to class. I still haven't heard from my sister. I'm sure she's disappointed, even if she wouldn't say it.
They shift me between scholar classes and combat classes. It feels like they don't know what to do with me.
On the bright side, I finally understand my Codex. I still haven't chosen a name for it. I slip my hand into my bag and call it forth. A brief flash of light, and the book rests in my hand. It feels bound to my soul, exactly like the dictator claimed.
Mine is different. The first few hundred pages hold my memories, written like a story. From the scrape on my knee when I ran home as a child, to the moment my father told me where he was from. I'd forgotten some of these things. It feels strange, and comforting, to remember small conversations and old stories again.
Once, my father told me he and my mother were assassins from a distant land. My mother laughed it off, but he looked worried. He said they might come after us. He never said who they were. I still don't know if they tried to scare me, or if it was true.
These stories always seem connected to something larger. To events I don't fully understand yet.
I've also used the book to watch others, even though I hate admitting it. I watched my sister during meetings. Wherever I look, the memories of the day appear. I don't need to search twice. The detail changes based on my focus. A whole day shows only what matters. Two hours shows everything.
The pages never end.
"Ms. Elephon," a voice calls.
I don't hear it.
The book shows the current date instead. That part feels useful.
Whenever I try to look at Jude, nothing shows. I always wonder why. Maybe it's because I don't know his true name, though it shouldn't matter.
I watch kings and queens from other nations and see many things I shouldn't. Heard true names I wasn't meant to hear. I also tri to research the Hundred Year War, but nothing comes of it.
From dates of important conflicts where nothing happened to dates of peace meetings which never occurred.
The Twelve Thrones, also called the Twelve Laws, are said to be the strongest figures from each kingdom and yet I can only find 10 seats.
Addo from Ghar.
Aldric Kundra from Ahk.
Amara Seti from Sha'tar.
Elyra Kobayashi Maris from Nor.
Flavius Aquavelle from UIK.
Laziel Maris from Maranona.
Rafael Montague from Rali.
Sakura Tsuri from Wara.
Tari Amun Murasaki from Tethambia.
Thorne Aido from Tobe.
A nameless king lost to history.
A nameless queen lost to history.
I've heard names for the forgotten but only through borrowed memories.
None disturb me as much as Aldric's. His life feels aware of my gaze. He knows which days I'd reach for. Because of this, I refuse to look again.
They were the last forces of the war.
I find it strange.
Every country tells a story about the Hundred Year War. Some lost. Some won. Yet the details stay consistent across all of them. Part of me believes everything we know about that war is a lie.
In everything I know about the world, no story should line up this cleanly between nations. With the Laws dead, the last important figures of the war are gone. We are left with no one to question the reality we live in.
"Ms. Elephon," a voice calls, louder this time.
I look up. A tall woman with white hair stares back at me. I've never seen white hair on someone who isn't old. The principal looks young, maybe thirty or forty. She always seems distant, like her thoughts drift somewhere else. Her eyes are yellow, a side effect of dragon pacts.
"I'm sorry, Principal," I say, trying to hide my book.
"What are we going to do with you," she sighs.
"What would you like to do today? Have you chosen a new major," she asks.
"No, Mrs. Whittaker. I'd like to go back to combat classes."
She sighs again. "You really want to take your notes with you, don't you."
I hold the book close to my chest. There's no reason to. "Fine," she says, then lowers her voice. "But I expect answers from you. You're the sister of the chosen one. It's time you put more effort in."
I nod, stand, and bow slightly.
I walk to the central grounds, where so much has happened. Students fight in pairs, each using different elemental powers. I wonder what separates the powers of Sha'tar from those of Maranona.
In Sha'tar, they believe dragons are equals. The Nezu, a secret government group no one is supposed to know about, use Ance and blood to give themselves wings.
It sounds unreal. I've never seen a Nezu. I once heard a general tell the queen the next batch of Neza wasn't up to standard. I still wonder why.
Ance comes from dragon blood. It crystallizes. Its color depends on the type of dragon. I know that much.
But their powers feel different from ours. Ours are purely elemental. Our dragons lose their elemental power and pass it to the host.
Their strength seems shared between the tattoos they bear and the wings they grow.
The element merges with the soul and forms a closed loop. Humans gain abilities, yet it does not alter the dragon, since it touches only a fragment of its essence.
1 dragon can make hundreds of tattoos for humans
The original dragon keeps its power. If the dragon dies, it does not lose those powers the way ours do.
The people of Wara differ completely. They worship dragons. They place them above all others.
The queen allows her dragon to sleep beside her. She bows to it each morning. Riding is sacred and only the dragon grants permission.
The dragon retains every elemental power. At higher levels, the bonded human becomes an extension of the dragon, or the dragon becomes an extension of the human. They see, hear, and feel through the dragon.
They gain immunity to the element the dragon controls.
The queen has one daughter. Her dragon carries an egg. The child and the egg will grow together.
I learn more about this world through these abilities than I ever did as a scholar. No one would believe me if I spoke of it. I named this power Elephant's Gaze.
This ability lets me look into other lives. I see plans before they unfold. The cost is severe. I feel every disease. I feel every wound. I feel emotional and physical pain. I still use it.
As I look into other countries, I understand Jude was right.
I look up from the notebook and smile. I watch people wield power through dragons. Fire. Earth. Light. Lightning. The scale is immense.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
I hear a scream. I hear pain. I look up.
I've seen dragonization before.
Heat ripples off the boy's skin. Dark welts rise along his neck and arms, swollen and raw. The flesh splits in thin lines. Scales push through, uneven and cracked, growing in patches instead of plates. Some glow faintly.
Others bleed where skin can't give fast enough.
His bones shift. I hear the grind before I see it. His back arches. His jaw locks as his teeth grind together. He claws at his chest while scales crawl over his ribs like something alive. The dragon's power inside him fights for control.
Dragons hate being treated as slaves. They resist. Power turns inward. The pact collapses.
The boy grips his head and drops to the floor. His screams tear apart as his throat tightens. His eyes glaze, pupils stretching too wide. Breath comes sharp and broken.
I sigh.
I look away.
A holy knight steps forward. One clean strike. The head falls. The scales dull at once. The body goes still.
I don't flinch.
I don't gag.
I've seen this before.
They call it corruption. A broken pact. I've seen a few cases, even with thousands of students. It stays rare. I've never seen it happen between Sha'tar and Wara.
I search my memory for known dragon attacks. Any recorded cases. Nothing fits.
Someone sits beside me.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," I replied.
"My name's Valen." He smiles and holds out his hand. "Valen Aspen."