Alana
“Why am I here?”
Not the first time she wondered that as she stepped into the hallway, but maybe the last. Her throat burned with the tell-tale sign of fresh tears. She bit down hard, tasting metal when teeth broke through her cheek. The sting was welcome.
No. She was not done. Fuck being done. If Agartha wanted her gone, they’d have to work a lot harder and do a lot worse than just show her the door.
Legends were forged within these walls, shaped beneath the gaze of Jiras and gods alike. For nearly a century Alana had belonged here just as much as its famous alumni. The builders, scholars, and archivists reshaping the very history of Avaleen. For half that time she’d walked in the footsteps of every Guardian and realmwalker who protected not just their imperial borders, but the Veil and the Weave too.
This was her legacy. Not the one she’d worked a lifetime to erase the burden of. Fuck that girl.
Alana stopped and took a slow breath, pushing that thought out of her mind. That was unfair to her younger self. She’d done nothing wrong and somehow ended up as the scapegoat. But she was more than that day. Had to be.
For Jira Atal and those most loyal to her, which included most of the administration these days, it didn’t matter how well she excelled in her classes or how many achievements she’d earned. To them she was the urchin that broke the Portal. The girl without a tribe.
But she wasn’t no one. She was her mothers’ daughter. Lady Silas Rysorai had made the Accords possible. Akilo Valen was the Head Warden of the Healing Crucible and the very reason Alana had joined the Medica in the first place. Wanting to give back just like her. Wanted to honor their lives and their legacies in the only way she knew how.
Becoming an Aspirant had not been her plan, but when Elmira’s letter had arrived, things had just gotten a mind of its own. One day she’d worn green robes, the next day white. Within the first week she realized that this had been the plan all along.
Before her guardian mother had left for her undercover supersecret mission and disappeared, she’d stood on the skyport, the freight ship waiting for her to board and said she wanted to give Alana a name.
“A name?” Alana had been incredulous. Tribeless did not get names. “Who? What?”
“Me and a friend of ours.” With a wink Elmira had taken her hands and squeezed. “When you enter the Academy, you will walk in with your head held high and say that your name is Alana Kalar. That your guardian is Elmira, Elder of Agartha and Voice of Ayursha. You are strong and fierce and brave and so utterly singular they will not know what hit them.”
Alana returned the smile blandly. “All that in a name?”
“Names have power.”
“What is the power of Kalar?”
Then she’d learned everything they knew about Feya Kalar, the first Guardian of Fate. A tribeless like herself and a legend in her own right and Alana had reeled for a whole new reason.
Not just because of the surprising amount of animosity it attracted from some of the other aspirants, not to mention Jira Atal herself. It did not help that there were rumors that Elmira herself had been one of the Guardians, despite there being no proof of her name anywhere in the records. Conspiracy clung to her name like spiderwebs, and Alana was unfortunately the only one around to take the heat.
A lot of those pricks had flushed out of the program within the first two decades, but some still remained to make her life miserable.
Unbending pride. That was the legacy of the A’triyes Academy that stood ancient and stately on the outskirts of the village, Alana thought, being the highest seat of arcane learning in all of Avaleen. Students flocked from all corners of the realms, chosen not for blood or wealth, but for their skills and sensitivity to the hidden magics of the world.
At least that had been the idea before the elitist crew led by Jira Atal moved into power and made the tuition fees impossible for lower classes to afford. Failing grades meant higher fees come the following year, success meant nothing. It lent itself to a cutthroat environment where everyone were stressed out of their minds during this time of the year.
And still they held a summit. The flags weren’t even gone yet, nor the podium in the courtyard where Jira Gham and the rest of them had stood droning on and on.
With three shining domes and arched windows stretching high, it rose like a glorious monument to academia. Silver filigree meandered around the windows like living roots, sealing the whole building in a timeless floral grace that stood at odds with its harsh surroundings.
How could she have screwed up this badly? Alana braced herself against the wall of an alcove and took a deep breath, stomping down her feelings until they were barely a nuisance in the back of her mind.
Under her fingers was smooth marble with gold flecks. Even in this corner there were murals and reliefs etched into the wall. This particular section told the legend of the Riftfall Cataclysm millenia ago and the heroic deeds of Calador Nythris that kept Oliria safe from the incursion from the strange realm of Nyxora.
To be honest, Alana was a little fuzzy on the details and didn’t care to find out more. The Academy was filled with these murals. Every corridor led to the main foyer, which opened up to spiralling staircases and balconies wrapped on three sides, with clear glass windows covering the fourth. And therefore every corridor also contained golden etchings of branches and leaves, which all led to the great mural of Ayursha in the main atrium. They were veins that, like the Weave, told the history of Avaleen, its people, and the Akati since the age of the primordial titans.
As a youngling Alana had been so obsessed with each of them that she’d committed them to memory. Her favorite was the unification of the six akatian tribes with the blessings of Ignis and Ayursha. It took up most of the massive cafeteria on the second floor. Her second favorite was on the third floor and depicted the launch of Agartha into the skies of Faerie.
Perhaps she should have realized that the Medica Division had not been her path back then, but then again, only the elite few were even considered for the aspirant program.
With clenched fists, she hurled herself down the corridor with her eyes downcast. Most ignored her until she reached the top-floor landing of one of the massive twin staircases. The academy fell away fifteen floors in front of her, and she knew the stairs continued downward into a network of laboratories and catacombs she knew very well.
The stairs teamed with students and Jiras going about their frantic business. The air abuzz with the tension and excitement of Interviews for newcomers and Finals for the rest.
A female voice caught her ear. “By Ignis, I hope mother gets us a great view of the Awakening. I cannot believe we get a day off to witness it!”
“Seriously? Why would they not? It is only the most important event, like, ever.” The boy sounded less intrigued than his words.
“And we will be there.”
“Hey, there is one of them there. Gods, I do not envy them at all.”
Whatever the response was, Alana lost it in the sea of whispers as her white robes caught more eyes. They didn’t know. Of course, they didn’t know. How could they? Yet, she still felt glared at.
Alana had fought and worked hard for the Awakening. Sleepless nights and being not just a good student, but the best, had consumed her every waking moment. A part of her could not help but feel it all crumbling around her. Tears broke her carefully placed walls and rolled down her cheeks unbidden. Out of anger, fear, or bitter resentment mattered little.
Someone in a blue robe pushed past, purposefully knocking her off balance. She grabbed the railing to keep herself from falling down the stairs.
“Ooh—someone is having a bad day.”
The dramatic stage whisper sent a wave of sniggers through the student body. Alana ignored them and hurried down the stairs. What did they know, anyway? Not that anything ever remained a secret for long in the Academy. In the morning it would be headline news: Aspirant called to the Tribunal. Get your tickets now.
It’d make a great pairing with the Awakening and the reactivation of the Farhaven Portal of Agartha Nova. The one she’d lost her parents to.
Regret filled her mouth with bile when she realized she’d yearned for her name to be spoken of with praise and admiration rather than scandal.
Sure, that was a part of it, but even larger than that was the loss of meaning. What would she do with her life if she were not a Guardian or a realmwalker? Go back to the Medica? It felt so futile. And it was uncertain she’d even survive to make that choice. What did severance from the Weave even mean?
Death?
Which god would take her soul then? More tears. She was unraveling.
“Get a hold of yourself, Lani,” she scolded herself, digging her nails deep into her palms to distract. Five more floors to go.
Above rose the golden mural of Ayursha, whose branches reach every corner and moment in the known realms. The painting capturing the sunlight, coming alive like a living being. Alana could not bear to look at her; it felt like she had let her down. She was not just an aspirant to the guardianship, but as an aspirant she was to be welcomed into her fold, her tribe, in lieu of Alana’s lack of one. And now she had ruined her chance to serve. To belong.
When she walked out of the Academy to find her best friend Veth, it was with her chin up as if it was just the end of an ordinary day.
“Let them whisper,” Alana thought. “It will all be over soon.”
