WHO: Cinna & Badr WHEN: The Recent Maybe Past WHERE: Cinna's Room SUMMARY: There are so many secrets between them... CW: N/A
As Zuya was wont to do, Badr used the door between their rooms. He knocked. He himself liked privacy, so he knocked first, but he only waited a moment for a response before coming inâthe door opening with a waft of incense and burnt herbs and perhaps, too, the scented vanities that he did like to anoint himself with each day. He swept into Cinnaâs room like an early spring gust of wind, sudden and unexpected, primed to brush every paper and trinket from their surfaces, send the whole room up into the air.
He was not often like this, though Badr was an excitable fellow. It was only in agitation that he ever came barreling anywhere, displaced anything, or demanded immediate attention. He was, of course, agitated in every cell of his body, because he had decided, at last, to speak to his sisters of everything he had learned. Zuya hadnât been in her room when he checked, and so it was Cinna that he stormed in on first, looking like he was being chased by bears.
Only, he stopped once past the threshold, his courage caught immediately in the back of his throat, so all that he could do was stand there in the doorway, staring with an alarmed expression as he took in her roomâa space that was familiar to him, but which felt very foreign now, like he was very much an intruder.
Well, he supposed, after all, that he was.
Finally, he managed, âCinnaâŚ?â
Cinnaâs papers fluttered irritatingly, and she used the flat of her hands to hold down the thin stack against the desk where she was seated. She looked up, startled, as that same irritation flashed quickly behind her eyesâdispelling any concern to replace it with annoyanceâbefore she blinked it all away into what was now a familiar frosty stoicism. It was an impulse, this biting irritation, and one she was not proud of. But Cinna didnât like to be interrupted.
âBadr?â she replied after a beat, pale eyebrows lifting. She tilted her chin as she took in the sight of him. It was unlike him in the first place to come rushing in anywhere like that, especially her rooms. He had knocked, yes, she had heard it; but he hadnât exactly waited for an invitation, and there seemed to be something rather hurried about him. It unsettled her instantly.
âIs something wrong?â Then she began to stand. âIs it the Prince?â
He had managed one word, but all the other ones had flown away rather suddenly, so he continued to stand there, sheepishly, without saying anythingâonly possessing the wherewithal to shake his head ânoâ that there was nothing wrong (to his knowledge) with Prince Titus
But there was something wrong.
Cinna had been born here in Serenitas, but she had been raised in Simurgh. She had always followed Simurghâs ways to a T and seemed to understand the relevance and reverence within even the everyday tasks of the village. So he could not believe that she would not be astonished and upset by the news, but he hoped that maybe she would intellectualize the situation, as he had slowly come to do, to deflect the greater brunt of shock and upset.
Her mind was a shield. He had to trust in that, becauseâŚhe had to tell her, just as he had to tell Zuya. He had a distinct idea that possibly their parents already knew, but if they did and they hadnât shared the secret, then he thought it was then his responsibility to reveal it, because it was something everyone deserved to know.
Maybe.
His mind warred, as it perpetually had come to do in his quieter momentsâwas this a secret that protected something? Was it a secret that had become skewed over time, warped in the way that perhaps Crystalliams had become? It felt wrong to keep it from his people, though he had not ruled out the idea that it might be a long-forgotten necessity. Still, if he must continue to lie to Simurgh, at least he did not want to lie to his family.
âYou should sit,â he finally said. He did not move to seat himself. He was not sure he would be welcome after he delivered the news.
She had only made it halfway to standing, so when he paused againâthe air feeling thick with tension in the space between themâââCinna lowered herself back into her plain, wooden chair. Her brows had not relaxed, and her eyes were sparking. Bright blue but hot with white at the edges. She felt her throat tightening, though she could not say why. If it was not the prince, it was something maybe worse. Something Badr seemed almost pained with the reluctance to say out loud.
He knows, a voice whispered softly in the back of her mind, and Cinnaâs mouth closed into a firm line. In her pocket, she felt the new stone as if alive against her hip. Her hand trailed to it now, though it lay only carefully over the top of her skirts.
She folded the opposite over it, looking prim.
âI am sitting,â she nodded. âDo you need to sit? You look ill, Badr.â
Badr shook his head. She would surely tell him she wanted her privacy once it was said. He would not trouble her with both the truth and hospitality under duress. He closed his eyes, breathing in and outâcertainly with a pained expression.
âYou areâŚperhaps not so familiar with the tablets kept in the Temple of Song,â he said at last. âSimurghâs teachings suggest that they are only ancient relicsâhistorical objects with the founderâs first teachings recorded upon them.â He lowered his eyes, though managed to keep his chin from falling too. âWe are supported and sheltered by the wings of the Holy Score, and guarded by the teeth and scales of the Sacred Dragonâour gods... But they are not gods.â He takes a sudden, deep breath, the air hitching in his chest. âThey are not gods at all. They are, have always only ever been, guardians of the true shape of Song and Dragon.â He did not look at her, did not search her face to see if she understood. He could not bear to see. Instead, he tumbled on, his words tripping over one another in the effort to be out. âThe tabletsâŚour sacred relicsâŚare not simply artifacts, and Song and Dragon are not gods. In truthâŚin truthâŚâ He closed his eyes, leaning against the door frame and disguising his shaking hands in the sleeves of his robes. âThe tablets are crystals. The bird and the dragon we have followed so devoutly, elevated as divineâŚare merely their guardians. Song and Dragon areâŚthey are only crystals, the same as Light and Fire andâŚâ
Cinna felt her jaw tighten. Twinge with pain behind her furthest molars. But her stare was unwavering, a cold, hard thing that hung almost like a stone in the air between them, icing the breath in her own lungs. Badr wasnât looking at her when he spoke. Instead, his pretty lashes were lowered, as if to catch the ugliness in his words like a sieve. To soften the meaning, maybe. But Cinnaâs stare bore right through them. She felt it like ice cutting dried leaves left swirling in the wind. And then stared harder, almost as if she could slice through him to see beyond his anxiety, to whatever truth he was trying to convey with these unsettling notions.
What was he saying?
The gods arenât real?
There are no gods?
Only rocks and lies?
So it was true, then. They had been in this city for too long. The rock-worshipers had warped him entirely. Their very own Chosen of Song, the spiritual leader of their homeland.
His homeland, she reminded herself.
Homeland Badr was throwing under the hooves of heresy.
How could he say this? Had he been brainwashed? Or, worse, was it even Badr standing before her, who had barged into her room unannounced? She had the unlikely but still visceral fear, suddenly, that he had become possessed, or that this wasnât him at all, but some imposter trying to trick her. It certainly looked like him. It sounded like him. Except the words would never be Badrâs. Not these words. This was blasphemy. It went against everything he stood for, everything that had mattered to him. His whole life. Zuyaâs. Their people.
âLook at me,â Cinna said, and her voice was soft, barely a whisper, but impenetrably cold. She sat up straight, but unmoving, her fingers twitching against her knee. âLook at me when you talk to me, Badr. If you really believe this, look me in the eye.â
All his life, he had wanted to be a dragon. Something with such magnitude, such strength and presence, that you could only comprehend it as a speck of shadow on the horizon. In reality, he had always been a lamb, and it had been hard enough for Titus to tell him he was wrong, that he was spouting heresies; he had foolishly thought Titus would listen to him. He had thought he was so special, so important, so differentâŚthat Titus would just take him at his word and forget all the years heâd lived before meeting Badr. But that had been foolish. It hadâŚnearly ended in Titus cutting off communication altogether. It had left him feeling skittish and scathed.
But this was so much worse somehow, because Cinna had grown up beside him, and for her to speak to him with such winter in her voice⌠Though she was not calling him a liar, not threatening him with silence, his skin cracked with her cold, and he was momentarily still, collapsing in on himself like a frightened lamb. She had said so little, but her tone spoke volumes. There was so much that could be said without words, so many things that could fill a silence, and the moments in which she listened to him, took in his confession, were overripe with emotion. He could not easily read it without the words, but he could feel it between them, palpable and dangerous.
He licked his lips, made himself stand straight. He swallowed, his throat tight, and he pried his eyes away from the sanctity of empty space, made them move to her face.
âI know it is true. I found writings from Chosen Kamaria that confirm it, andâŚIâŚwhile we were still in SimurghâŚI returned to the temple. I held the tablet in my hands. It wasâŚI felt Her there. I felt Her more closely than I ever had before.â He took another hitching breath. âSong isâŚa crystal, and Dragon, too.â
Badr had become a leaf. He had always been a leaf, in a wayâsmall, fragile, fluttering through the air of history, while the seasons spun him about. Cinna had always thought it was because Song was just like that. It didnât diminish its strength, to be moved by breath and mood the way all songs were. On the contrary, its power was there in its range, in its ability to carry to and through anyone, anywhere. But Badr looked torn up now. The leaf that he was not fallen and sodden with snow and decomposing easily into the dirt, but torn from a fresh green branch in summertime. There was pain in him. And anger, too.
And when he met Cinnaâs eyes, she believed him. She believed that he believed what he was saying, and she believed Badr was not stupid enough to believe it without some amount of reason. When he spoke those reasons out loud, Cinnaâs face hardened. Her mouth closed into a thin, pale line, and her hand tightened into a white-knuckled fist against her thigh.
âYou know Her better than anyone,â she said, very slowly, her voice still soft and hard in her throat. âIf you felt the Song in the stone, then there it must beâŚâ She dragged her eyes away, then back again, forcing the same vulnerability on herself that she had asked of Badr.
Because there was also something in Cinna that was not entirely shocked by what he was saying now, as much as she didnât want to hear it. It seemed as if some part of her had almost been expecting it. In fact, her resistance felt more like an unwillingness to hear it, not an unwillingness to believe it. There was a difference. But she had to listen. She had to, because it was Badr. And because here was, at last, the truth of this profane world. All this time, all these months in the city of stone, she had been spouting the superiority of the Song and Dragon over what she called rocks and false gods.
And all this time she had been nothing but another fool.
Cinna stood suddenly, her chair scraping the floor, and threw her arms around him there in the middle of her room. She didnât know what else to say.
He had thought she would tell him she needed to be alone. The coldness in her initial reaction had left him as spooked as, i'm done talking with you. It hadnât been true, because Titus had continued to talk to him, but it still had been said. In the winter unfolding around her, he had wondered if she, too, might say something so alarmingâtell him that his truths had no space in her world, that he would have no space either were he to persist in speaking them. But her arms were around him, and he felt as close to collapse as he had the night heâd translated the letter. Just as he had then, he managed to keep himself together, but he was grateful for the spring-small warmth she offered.
She was so small in his arms. He pressed his face to her and sighed, a long and shuddering sigh, because she understood the exact shape of his pain. He had managed to handle things well enough, but it was not without injury. He had not wanted to injure her, but the echo of her understanding did, selfishly, relieve some of his own loneliness and fear.
At least, that is what he thought of her embrace.
âThere is more, though I cannot tell you how I learned of it, so please, do not ask me.â He drew back. âIn that time, Erlantz, the Chosen of Light before he was called King Aulusâhe and Chosen Kamaria conspired to hide something. I believe it is still hidden in Simurgh to this day, though I cannot guess where, or what exactly it might be. But it is possible that Simurgh was founded in part to keep such a thing hidden. It seems the entire history of the Shadow Catastrophe was so much more complex than we could have realized, and there is still so much that remains unknownâŚâ
For those from Simurgh were taught that it was their voices that had turned the tideâthat for all the Chosen of Light had done in his battle against the Dark Knight, it was nonetheless the power of their nascent country that ended the Catastrophe. They had not even learned of a âCrystal Saintâ or a âCrystal Sage.â The story had always been that the Chosen of Light had done battle with the Dark Knight, and that the People of Song had averted the Calamity.
âIn that time, Simurgh did play a pivotal role, of course, but perhaps the one who truly saved our world was Ilunabarreanâs âevilâ twin. Ilunabarrean was the land that preceded Serenitas. I had not heard of it beforeâif it is mentioned in our histories, it was in such a passing fashion thatâŚI missed it. But it was the land later connected to the Light Crystal, and it had two princes, Erlantz, the Chosen of Light, and his twin brother, Itzal. In Crystalism, Itzal is stripped of his identity and framed as a villainâerased from history for reasons I do not claim to understand, but I am certain that he is the true face of the Crystal Saint.â
His brow furrowed. He still couldnât believe that Erlantz would betray his brother, who Kamaria, at least, regarded with affection and gratitude. There had to be an explanation as to why history had documented things so, but he had not been able to find anything to deepen his understanding. Not yet at least.
He shook his head. âBut I am certain that there was no additional party among the Chosen and their Ilunabarrean companionsâthat it was Itzal who sacrificed himself and who averted the Catastrophe. I will show you my translation of the letter, if you would like. It suggests that what followedâŚwas that all of Elysium became complicit in a strange and complex lie, for which there is no longer an explanation. I can only posit that it was intended to protect somethingâŚâ
Cinna, drawn back slightly from Badr now, was silent for a long time after he finished speaking. Her cold, blue eyes staring, brows tense. It was a lot to take in. Some of which was familiar to her from her studiesâstudies which Cinna, of all people, often took further and deeper than was required of herâbut much of it was new. Or different from what she had always understood. It unsettled her, but it also confused her. Maybe it confused her too much for a moment to truly upset her. She was as if wading through a thick swamp of murky notions.
But there was one thing in particular, in all that Badr had said, that drew her attention, and that she found her mind returning to like a guideline in the dark. Somethingâbut that word had been so curious to her, until nowâŚ
Here is a token of our friendship; the means to contact the Scions of Ilunabarrean be it through the maginetwork or otherwise.
The Ilunabarrean. The land that had preceded Serenitas? What did that mean? The land later connected to the Light Crystal? And it had two princes. The Chosen of Light and the Crystal Saint, scrubbed from historyâŚ.
Cinna drew back further, letting go of Badr and turning her shoulder to him, as she paced in consternation back toward her table. She knuckled the hard, wooden surface there until she felt her bones bruise. She was back to herself: she was thinking. Then she looked up, across the room. âThis is a lot to consider, Badr,â she said softly, still with her back to him. âIt is a lot to take in. The Chosen of Light fought the Dark Knight. Simurgh built to hide other peopleâs secrets. Does that mean itâs not evenâand the Ilunabarrean, yesâŚ.I have heard of its peopleâŚâ
She wanted to ask him how he had learned all this, but he had expressly told her not to ask. This, of course, only piqued her curiosity all the more. Though she found it was not hard to believe him, even without a source. It made sense, on some level, and she was not shocked to feel betrayed. Even if she did feel betrayed by the land that had taken her in and raised her. Some of this did ring true, other stories she had heard long before she was old enough to understand them, other myths sheâd thought only cradle songs, or beliefs sheâd told herself had been naive from the start.
Inhaling carefully, Cinna turned back again to face him. âYou say the Ilunabarrean were the ones who truly saved our world. Or,â she blinked, thinking a thousand thoughts all at once, all spinning around this one strange notion, ârather, the Ilunabarreanâs âevilâ twin did so?â Cinnaâs pale eyes shot up again. âWhat do you mean twin?â
âThe brothers, the Chosen of Light called Erlantz and the Crystal Saint once known as ItzalâŚwere twin brothers. Princes, possibly?â Had he remembered that correctly, or was he now projecting the present onto the past? âIâm not sure. But important figures, perhaps, to IllunabarreanâŚâ His head was so full of these things lately. And he had not had an easy time sleeping, becauseâas was such the case, of course there was moreâŚ
âBut the Chosen of Light and the Crystal SaintâŚthey were twin brothers. One would become the savior of the world, and the otherâthe one who perhaps saved the world in truthâwould be broken in two and distorted into both a monster and a saint.â He did not think he had to explain to Cinna why history had been written that way, though it bothered him still⌠He wanted to know why Erlantz had allowed it, because he truly couldnât believe that Erlantz would have changed so much, or that he had been just another cold, power-hungry man. He was the Chosen of Light, and Light would not choose someone like that. At the very least, he understood that much about the crystal.
âThere is one other thing. I have heard it said that many of the monsters that preceded the Catastrophe then may have been the Phasma that we see now. It is theorized,â by Gaius, though he did not say it, âthat the Phasma appear because of an imbalance in the magic of our world⌠An imbalance in the crystalsâŚâ He tugged at his hair. âWhat it could meanâŚis that something terrible is coming. That someone is working to cause an imbalance in the magic of this worldâŚan imbalance of catastrophic proportionâŚâ He looked up at her. âWhat it could mean is that, in our lifetimeâŚwe may face another calamity the likes of which has not been seen for thousands of years.â
Cinna took another long breath, holding his gaze for a moment, before looking away. Of course it made sense. It was often said that history had a way of repeating itself. Twins. Brothers. Light and Dark. Light and Shadow. Crystals and the imbalance of magic, and someoneâhe had said that, someone, but who?âsomeone was working to cause that imbalance. If the Phasma were what Badr suggested, if they had come before in the same way, just before the catastrophe, yes, it was possible they would face another shattering, and sooner than later.
But complete disaster had been averted before.
Itzal had prevented it. Though he had also been blamed for it in the very same breath.
Cinna thought of the Dark Knight, of the stone they had given her, âto contact the Scions of Ilunabarrea.â A token of âfriendship,â though what her friendship was worth to the Dark Knight, Cinna still did not understand.
My people were erased from history to build this. They were pushed to the very corners of the world and persecuted for a crime that they didnât commit.
She tilted her head considering.
âThe Phasma are the same, orâŚor they are impressions orâperhapsâshadows of the monsters that once were?â Shaking her head, mirroring Badr (for he did not know the answer either), Cinna slipped a hand into the pocket of her robe, feeling the smooth stone which she kept there. She should tell Badr about it, she thought. She should tell him that sheâd spoken with the Knight, and that she had a way to contact the Ilunabarrea, or what was left of them. But something in her stopped her, like an icing over of her every emotion. A cold resolve. Commitment to her promise to protect him. He had been betrayed by Simurgh. They both had. What would he do if he knew she had given away more of their secrets, and to the enemy?
But were they the enemy? Cinna was no longer certain. She wasnât certain about anything anymore, except that she would find one honest thing in this world and destroy everything to keep it true.
âIf someone is disrupting the balance of magic all over again,â she started, âI have reason to believe someone else is working to stop a second Calamity from coming.â Her eyes darted up again, serious and unflinching. âWe will not face it alone. No matter how much we have been lied to.â She made a fist at her side, the other hand clutching the stone in her pocket. âThere is always something greater at work than ourselves, greater even than we imagined.â
And maybe, she thought, averting her eyes for just a moment, maybe the old world needed to be brought down sometimes. Maybe Calamity was really just another way to start over: over the bones of hypocrisy and deceit.
Badr looked up, his head slightly tilted, brows furrowing. Not a strong expression, but a hint of surprise or confusion. âSomeone is working to stopââ
But he trailed off. His stomach twisted; his hands felt cold. Was it possibleâŚ? It wasâŚwasnât itâŚ? But what exactly did that meanâŚ? He looked away, and then, perhaps a little too casually, he stood and stretched.
âWhy do you have reason to believe that?â he asked, back to her.
His thoughts had grown disordered, scattering as they had the day heâd learned that Song was a crystal. He allowed it this time, though. The full shape of them was dangerousâtoo dangerous to expose Cinna to. But still, he wonderedâŚ
âHave youâŚalso been talking withâŚ?â He paused, pressing his lips together, before continuing, â...aâŚfriend from SerenitasâŚ?â
She hesitated, eyes not quite unfocused but mouth tightening to one side. A friend from Serenitas? What did he mean by that? For a moment, Cinnaâs pale eyes studied him, wondering what else Badr was holding inside of him. He shouldnât have to carry so much all the time, she thought. For a moment, she was suddenly very aware of how small he was, narrow and fine in a way only the creatures of the forest could be. It was too delicate a shape to contain everything he was trying to absorb. But Badr often decided it his responsibility, of course; he was so radically good to a point of extremes. But he was a leader in their community, and whatever Song really was, even if it was just a rock like everything else, it was still only him who could hear it, still only him who could carry what he needed to. In Cinnaâs eyes. Even if it was unfair, even if he was also still just a boy. Still just her littleâ
âWell,â Cinna started, thinking, âwell, it happened before, didnât it? You said so yourself. Itzal sacrificed himself for what needed to be done, and so perhapsâŚhe will come again. Erlantz and Kamaria stole away with what was left. No one works alone.â She searched his face for another brief moment, then turned away, still thumbing the stone in her pocket.
âYou are the most important person in the world to me, Badr,â she added quietly. âYou and Zuya. And, now that I know the truth, nothing elseâŚnothing else matters besides that. Not evenâwell, whatever we thought before, itâs thisâthis is what matters. Nothing else.â
He was a rabbit, a fawn, a pheasant. Spooked and stilled, but ready to burst into motion in a moment. Her answer was reasonable, and it also felt off to him, or was it simply that everything felt off to him lately? Every smile hid a secret. Every shrug concealed a lie. Every answer either raised more questions, or raised new suspicions. His head felt overheated, and he really just wanted to retreat to his room and lie down, but his work was not over yet. He had managed to bestow what knowledge he did have on Cinna, but that was only one sister. That was onlyâ
Badr turned in surprise at her last words. Cinna was not usually so sentimental, not even with family, and the confusion and anxiety in him slipped backwards, temporarily muffled by a warm sensation spreading through his chest. There was still a hint of that frightened prey animal in his expression, but it folded away into a smile, his brow relaxing, at her sudden show of expressiveness.
He was not all that mattered, but to hear that he held such a special place in her heart. He approached her once more, touching her elbow, his expression gentle again, like the young man who had not been able to sleep even a minute the night before they set off for Serenitas (even though he had been terrified the moment they passed into the city) for excitement. It bolstered him, made him think that maybe it would all be fine.
He thought, then, he should act while he still had this courage with him. âI need to find Zuya. She alsoâŚmust know. But may we return to this later? When we have settled some of our thoughts?â
âOf course,â Cinna said, and she wondered if she meant it. She wanted to. But there was an uncertainty growing in her now that she could not see beyond. Would they have their chance to return to these things? Or would things have changed too much by then? Would spring roll in the way it always did? With the scent of buds? Or dirt? Would Cinna, frosty and gold now, ever see the soft dim twilight of forest again?
Something in her doubted that too. Whispering, always whispering that fate had other plans now, that the path had diverted without her knowing it.
But she tried to look calm. It wasnât quite a smile, but it was an honest look she gave Badr. âShe will take it hard,â she added, thinking of Zuya. So brash and bold and full of passion, the way a Dragon should be, but Zuya had faith too, and love for her people beyond measure. It was, in some ways, a quieter and even more secret thing than Badrâs. Cinnaâs heart sank thinking of the way Zuyaâs good nature could be dashed on the rocks by news like this. They should run away, all three of them. But, then, who would do what needed to be done? And who had the means now?
Cinna let the rock fall loose from her fingers inside her pocket and drew her hand out to return the gesture at Badrâs opposite elbow. âI will look for her in the training grounds after. She will no doubt make her way there in due time.â Zuya would show more than she said about any of this; that had always been her way, as long as Cinna had known her. And she had known both of them for most of their lives. Probably almost as long as they could remember, though Cinna could remember a brief time before that. She gave his arm a little squeeze. âI will think. I will...think.â What else could she do, for now. âThank youâŚbrother.â