To See the Sky — Part 3

“Check this out, Senni! I learned this during my time on the frontier.” My father wildly spun his obsidian blade, chopping into the truffles with fierce fervor. Bits and pieces flew from the plate as I watched in pure awe. With a clean sweeping motion, he scooped up the truffles, placing them into the bowl in front of me. “Pretty impressive, right?” he asked, clearly looking for praise.

I nodded. His displays were always so fun to watch, though the floor often was caught in the crossfire. However, his smile quickly disappeared as the palm of my mother’s hand found its rightful place on the back of his head. A loud whack echoed across the room.

“Ay! Dorian, stop messing around before you end up cutting our daughter!” she scoffed, her eyes widening as she saw the mess on the floor. “Ayha — look at what you did to our floor! Meluika grant me strength in dealing with two children…”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll make sure to clean this up,” he chuckled.

“Oh, so you think you had a choice in the first place? Give me the flaming blade. I’ll handle the rest.” She slid

her fingers through my father’s hold, deftly taking the blade. “Let me show you how to do it properly.

With a quick flick of the wrist, she brought down the blade with impeccable speed, the cutting board vibrating with fierce intensity. Her cuts were measured, not a single piece escaping the board unlike Father. With every blink, I missed three pristine cuts; another blink, and I missed six more.

“See?” she said with a proud grin. “Now that’s how you cut like a real frontier woman.”

“Show-off,” he responded, rolling his eyes.

I couldn’t believe how elegant and graceful she looked, wielding that worn-out blade like both a weapon and a brush.

“That was amazing!” I exulted, barely able to stay in my seat. “When are you going to teach me something like that?”

Her eyes grew narrow, hovering over the instrument as she let out an awkward chuckle. “Well, hopefully never,” she stated, tucking her silky hair behind her pointy ear.

I cocked my head. She wanted me to learn how to cook on my own one day, so why was she being so hesitant? I shot my dad a glance, but he had already moved to grab the broom near the end of the hallway, almost tripping on the floor cracks as he did.

“Um? Why?” I asked hesitantly.

“Trust me, daughter, you don’t want a life where these skills are necessary.”

“But you always say I should know how to cook, no?”

She let out a sigh and put down the blade abruptly. “Yes, but that is different.” Her gaze lingered on the worn handle a moment longer than I expected. “I would much rather you learn just the basics and devote more of your time to learning how to immolate.”

My stomach twisted as she brought up that terrifying act — immolation, as the Ashilyr proclaimed it. The thought of letting my own flesh burn, letting those whispers of the heat invade my mind? The Ihpi boy upstairs had recently started experiencing involuntary bouts of immolation. It was a common experience for boys around that age, the heat desiring to escape. Sometimes I could hear him crying through the floorboards, his voice cracked and raw. If that was my future… I wasn’t sure I wanted it.

“You’ll need it one day,” she added softly, almost like she didn’t want me to hear.

“...But I don’t want to learn immolation.” The words barely escaped my lips.

She froze for just a moment. “This again?” she scoffed, her enunciation sharp. “Listen, Seneca, we’ve had this conversation before. I don’t like to repeat myself. Training to become an Ashilyr is only going to help you. Do you want to stay in the lower rings for the rest of your life or worse, get sent to the frontier?”

“I…” I should have expected this by now.

She wasn’t wrong, of course. I didn’t want to be in the lower rings, and the way my parents spoke about the frontier gave me even less hope on that front. But I didn’t necessarily want to live in the upper rings either, not after seeing the sky at least.

“...No,” I grumbled.

She smiled after I reluctantly gave in. “I’m glad you understand, Senni. I hope we won’t need to have this discussion again.”

We will.

“Oh — I have been speaking to Fir. Li about potential teachers, and I think he may have a good connection to—”

A loud, deliberate cough cut through her words. My father, broom still in hand, gave her a look.

“Maha, you’ve made your point. Maybe let her breathe for five minutes, eh Urii?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at this comment. “Urii” was a term of endearment, though the flattery fell short. Ignoring his comment, she turned her attention back to the bowl of truffles. The small cauldron on the far side of the rustic kitchen had finally started boiling.

“I suppose so. I do need to finish up a few things for dinner. We will talk about this later.” She shoved the blade into a drawer and started rummaging through the cabinets — no doubt looking for the last of our spices.

“Ah, right.” She stopped for a moment. “How was the art exhibit?”

“It was nice,” I said bluntly, still petulant.

“Really? That’s all? Dorian, how did you feel about it?” she called out after my dad, barely giving my attitude a second thought.

“Oh, brilliant doesn’t even begin to describe it, Maha!” my father beamed, a distinct sparkle in his amber eyes. “I had heard about humans and their paintings, but to see it in person? Meluika, it was a whole different story. Almost put the metallic arts to shame,” he chuckled slightly. “Almost.”

“...And they had the sky,” I cut in, the memory flaring bright within me. “An Incrux showed up,” my mother’s ears perked up, “though she kicked us out and stole the art —” I slapped my hand to my mouth in disbelief at the words I just uttered. “I mean — she rightfully reclaimed it for the Ashilyr.”

“I see…” Her voice was calm, decisive. “Then it’s a good thing you’re going to be one of them.”