The Ashes of Araiel || Self || Flashback
It had been exactly one hundred years since she had watched everything in her world burn. For one hundred years she had lived in the City of Fern, and though she loved her new home, nothing could replace Araiel. Nothing could replace her favourite place to write, her house, her room, her family ... A hundred years since she had held them, but never again.
Now she stood on the edge of the city once more, it taking everything she had not to hallucinate again. Except this time, she wasn't alone. This time she had her friends with her, people she had grown to call sister. Although just like the City of Fern, Thelixnoe, Melete, Aoede, and all the rest could never replace her family. And similar to that her male servant could never replace what Elwynn had been to her. He was a timid, easily frightened man who despite being twice her age, was a child in comparison. He had barely experienced life, never having left the City of Fern until now, whereas one could easily say she had experience lifetimes more than she had lived.
Calliope placed one foot inside the city's borders. The layer of untouched ash that still covered the city crunched like a fresh layer of snow underneath the pressure of her boot. The noise was slightly different though, with a sharper edge than the crunch of crisp snow provided. In a flash the feeling of pressure that her shoulders felt when the man had pinned her down came flooding back. After that it was an open doorway, images of death and fire flickering before her eyes.
Taking a deep breath in and exhaling with flared nostrils as a sign of control, Calliope took anther step and pushed everything out of her mind. She was stronger than she was before. She wasn't going to let her emotions get the better of her. She had changed. In more ways than she knew she was different. Not only physically older, as she was now fully grown, but mentally and emotionally she was older too. She had worked hard over the past one hundred years to become completely independent of anyone else, completely able to defend herself against even a large group of enemies, and only getting close to those she knew she wouldn't easily lose.
Her want to fight, to do better, had driven her into the army, and into the spotlight. Admired by her peers, the social exposure she received in Fern greatly contrasted the person she was before. In Araiel, though she wasn't an outcast, she would usually be found by herself writing or with Elwynn. In Fern she was constantly surrounded by people, her roommate when she woke up and went to sleep, and during the day people would swarm to her to ask her questions if she could practice with them or to ask her how she had done in her most recent fight. Calliope had never intended on knowing the amount of people that she did, it just kind of happened, and as the numbers grew, Calliope became more and more social, slowly starting to enjoy the attention.
Aside from the social aspect - it being both minor and more of a by-product of rather than a reason for - there were two main things that drove her to join the guard. The first was her innate and now relevant drive to be able to protect herself with ease. If she could manage herself and not have to worry about her own life being in danger, then she would be able to focus on protecting those around her, something she had failed to do the last time.
Calliope bent down and let her finger tips brush by the charred edge of the plot of land that she had turned into a fiery white inferno a hundred years ago. After the correspondents of Fern had safely brought any survivors back to their city, they returned to cast an enchantment on the city, forever memorializing it. No rain, wind, human, elf, or any other external features would ever touch the City of Araiel again unless they were one of the survivors or were given permission by one.
The second reason that drove her to join the guard was a new type of elation that she had felt that night - unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Before the deep depression of loss had set in - before she anyone she cared about had been killed - Calliope had felt a strange new type of joy that evening. It was when she had watched life's bright glimmer leave the eyes of the man she had run both of her blades through. Like a fire's light fading as it died, she could see and feel all the energy and warmth leave the man's body as his blood trickled onto her hands and down her wrists and arms. It was her first kill, and it gave her a thrill that she had never felt before.
She had tasted it for the first time that night, and she absolutely loved it. Though she hadn't gotten many chances to murder in Fern, the city not exactly being abundant of human populous, she knew that by training there she was bettering her skills so that when the opportunity arose once more she would be ready to take advantage of the moment.
Her walk through the time was slow, remembering memories everywhere she could, but not in the way she had before. It was the first time in one hundred years that she had returned, and despite not letting it get to her the way it did the last time, when she had reached her old home, she still sunk down to her knees and cried. No one heard her this time, so when she was done in her own time she returned back to her friends, appearing as if nothing was wrong. After her visit she didn't quite feel right calling them sisters, and wouldn't for some time. Calliope wouldn't return to the city for a while more. Though she was stronger now, she still felt the greatest pain in the ashes of Araiel.
