The Fan and the Flame I
"I'm walking through a field. Not a meadow or anything, not... Not that alive. Everything's dead. It goes on forever and ever. And it's empty, but I have to be careful not to step on anything important somehow. It's almost like dancing. And then someone says my name and I wake up."
"What does the voice sound like?" Taziel asked.
"It's... Deep. And hard, but soft. It wants me to find it."
"It's just a dream, San. There's nothing to find."
* * * * *
It wasn't hard to tell that Taziel and I were supposed to be identical twins. Our cheekbones, the shape of our eyes, even the curl of our hair was the same. She, however, did not have the horns and tail, and her skin was a light tan. Nothing like the purple of my own.
It had been centuries since the Veretta family bore a blessed child. My parents told me that frequently, in tones that revealed that my birth made them more proud than anything Taziel could do. Somehow, Taziel never resented me for that. She was good like that.
The first name I ever had was Sanctity. Long ago, when many Veretta children were blessed, all those children shared my name. Thank goodness the blessing faded, because that sounds way too confusing.
My sister was named Taziel after our grandmother, so I suppose in some ways, we were both named after our ancestors.
Taziel and I loved doing things together, but we didn't get to often. What I needed to learn as a blessed child was far different from what Taziel learned and did as... Well, normal. I learned the history of our family, where my power came from, why it had faded. I learned to praise the name Alphosces and curse the name Love.
Alphosces, my mother told me, was the source of my power, the being who had blessed our ancestors.
Love, my father told me, was the ancestor who lost us Alphosces' favor when he married an outsider.
If this is starting to sound like a cult, well, congratulations on your functioning brain.
The prospect of my marriage was actually quite contentious. See, it had been so long since a child had been blessed that the family no longer knew who the insiders were, so some argued that I "needed to be kept pure." Others, however, were insistent that the blessing was strong in me, and I "needed to breed." Which, of all the ways for parents to say they want grandchildren, I think we can agree is the worst.
The latter argument eventually won out, and when I was seven, I met the boy who was supposed to become my husband. He was six. I don't think either of us really understood what everything meant. Without that burden, we managed to become friends. That burden would not stay away forever.
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