Just Like Daybreak

(Glossary included at the end)

Sable trudged down the hall. Is this what being a grown-up feels like? she wondered. She felt as though gravity was working about twice as much as usual, pulling down on her ears, her whiskers, her tail. She could feel the cool sandstone under the open soles of her sandals, taste the dust in the air–more from construction than age, considering this citadel had been built on top of the one that had been crushed by the Sciftan’s spaceship four cycles prior.

She couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed, but when she looked up to her parents, she saw beaming smiles. They were proud of her. But why? Everyone had expected her to be a Rauchiæ. Her black coat seemed to denote it. After her hero, the half-Ortuxan Daybreak, had rescued her from the collapsing citadel, she was excited to be a Rauchiæ, like him. 

But it seemed Wau had other plans.

Today was her birthday. Nine cycles old. She’d expected to be kept waiting. Her older friends always had to wait a few days, sometimes months, sometimes even years to develop their chi. Daybreak himself, one of the times they’d asked him to watch her with his own kits, had said he’d had to wait four more cycles for his. But here she was.

“I suppose it’s kind of on-brand for a Kufuchiæ to gain her powers on time,” her merr had said when she’d come crying to her.

Sable hated it.

No one knew a Kufuchiæ. All the chi were the four elements, then light and shadow. Why couldn’t she have a normal one? Even being a Rrechiæ would be better than this.

She felt a hand on her head as they walked, and looked up to see her father smiling encouragingly down at her.

“Nervous?” he asked. “Don’t be. They’re just gonna talk and then give you tools for using your chi, if you even need one.”

“I know, I know,” she said, frowning at the red sandstone over the annoying ruffles of her skirt.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“The last time you glowered this much, it was when I broke your favorite teacup.”

She scowled. Like she wanted another reason to be upset.

There was a soft rustling behind her, then the hand lifted gently from her head, and her mother stepped forward, halting their procession through the halls.

“I know you wanted to be just like Daybreak,” she said, placing a hand over hers. “But you don’t have to be just like someone to be just as cool as they are.”

Sable perked up, though she kept the scowl. “How does that work?”

“Well,” Merr said, thinking a moment. “You didn’t find out he was a Rauchiæ until much, much later, did you?”

Sable’s whiskers twitched.

“He didn’t save you with his powers. Remember? He ran into the room and pulled you out in his arms. It’s not how he saved you, but why.”

Sable thought about that. She looked up at Merr, and then over at Perr, her tailtip twitching. “Because he’s a good person?” she asked.

“No matter what he used to save you, it was the fact he did that makes you like him, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

*

The dais was still the most beautiful part of the citadel, Sable thought, even if it wasn’t quite the same dais. Before the Falling, the podium at the center of the amphitheater was surrounded by artistically crafted flames, cut in curved tongues out of battered rose gold. Now it was a raised mound in the center of the stage, inlaid with the pattern of the sun with the sliver of a pupil scoring through it–still rose gold, but with an outline of a strangely purple metal. Around the mound were a series of colored gemstones, embedded in the red sandstone in a spiral pattern flaring out from the sun. Each one represented a life lost in the Falling.

But between each stone there was a hollow space, where another might fit. Those, Sable was told, represented a life spared from the destruction. There were more hollow spaces than embedded ones. She wondered which one was her.

The Rudhkulæm looked down at her appraisingly. Sable couldn’t help but stare; the only hairless Ortuxan she’d ever seen was Daybreak, and that was because he was half-human, and his face was more human-shaped. The archbishop, on the other hand, was simply Ortuxan, but wrinkled and hairless. She still had spots, dark grey over her face like a mask, and her whiskers were long and silky as any Ortuxan’s, but it just looked like she’d forgotten to grow any fur. 

Still, she didn’t seem like an unpleasant person. She had her hands folded into her long traditional sleeves, a tiara with the Eye of Wau adorning her head and delicate rose-gold chains dangling from her large ears. Her eyes were blue as crystals, and her smile was as warm as the morning desert sands.

“So you’re the little one with the unusual chi,” she said as she knelt, meeting Sable’s eyes. For which Sable was grateful; her neck was starting to hurt, looking up at her.

“I, uh…” She glanced back at her parents, who nodded encouragingly from the pews. She met the archbishop’s eyes again, frowning. The last time she’d been here, the Rudhkulæm was even taller, white and long-furred, with big ears that stuck out from his head and odd-colored eyes. He had unsettled her. But he was also one of the gemstones embedded in the floor, so obviously they’d had to find someone to take up his responsibilities.

“Don’t be shy,” the archbishop said, straightening. Her naked, whiplike tail coiled lightly around her bare ankle, and she took a step back. “I’d like you to show me.”

Sable’s ears twitched back. “Show you what?”

“Your chi. Everyone who comes for the christening shows an example. It doesn’t have to be big or particularly flashy, but I do have to have an idea of what I need to christen.”

Sable frowned. She looked back at her parents again, then up at the repaired stained-glass window casting a rainbow light down on the dais.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “It only happened once.”

“Try to recreate what you did to make it happen,” the archbishop said. “How you felt, what you were thinking. Now that you’ve done it once, it will come easier. No rush; we have all day.”

She took a deep breath. How she felt…

She looked down at the gemstones again, focusing on one of the empty spots. She could almost imagine a tiny black stone in its depths, a stone that would be there if not for Daybreak. The moment before he’d pulled her out from under the pew was a moment that stood out. It was a moment with so many possible outcomes. Daybreak could have left her there. He could have come, but the broken window could have come down just quick enough to kill both of them. Her parents could have come back instead. The Sciftan ship could have crashed somewhere else. She could have lived, but struggled in the rubble until someone came to rescue her.

That moment bubbled around her, and she splayed out her fingers, claws extending. Around her a thin sphere formed, wavering and rippling. Outside its trembling membrane, time slowed; she watched as the archbishop’s eyes widened in slow motion, her mouth dropping open at the same rate.

Sable looked back at her parents again. Perr looked surprised, too, but mid-blink he looked almost comical. Merr beamed proudly.

Time slowed into a stop. Only Sable was still moving. She walked around the archbishop; each step was leaden, and it took all her focus to move–not because of the time halt, she thought, but how much effort it took to both hold the moment where it was and move through the frozen space. In a moment that lasted forever, she made her way through the chapel room, toward the back where fluted columns held up the vaulted ceilings. She could climb those, she thought, though she didn’t really want to break anything. The stone was so intricately carved with the flames of the sun, and she thought Wau might get mad at her if she did.

So she stood between them, directly under the pupil of Wau’s Eye in the stained glass, and let the iridescent bubble of time around her pop as if made of soap.

Gasps of astonishment echoed in the vaulted room, and she had a moment to giggle as the grown-ups’ heads wagged around trying to look for her. Merr was the first to catch sight of her, and she put her hands on her hips, though the proud smile on her face undercut any sternness she was trying to convey.

The Rudhkulæm clapped her hands delightedly. “Such a talent already! How did that work? I saw the bubble, but–”

She collected herself, straightening her back properly and folding her hands into her sleeves. “Ahem. Sable, you are a gifted chiæ, but do not let it get to your head. You still need to practice your chi, and since Kufuchiæ are so rare I don’t know of anyone who can train you. But it’s a muscle that needs exercising just as much as your legs and arms. Overusing it can hurt you if you don’t train enough, and underusing wastes your potential.”

Sable got up, walking up to her again. “How am I supposed to practice if I’m the only one?” she asked, her ears twitching back in worry.

“Ah. See, this is why young chiæ are sent to the Rudhkulæm.” She nodded sagely, then trod back to the podium on the dais. It had something on it, Sable realized, as the archbishop collected the objects. She followed quickly and was rewarded with something heavy being pressed into her arms.

“Oof,” she said, sagging under the weight. She peered down to realize it was a…book. The pages seemed like they’d just been dusted, some particles still stuck to the thin stone leaves.

“‘Kufu and You’,” she read, puzzled. “What is this?”

“An exercise book. With pictures,” the Rudhkulæm said. “Read it all before you start doing the exercises. And here.”

A small metal object was dropped onto the cover. Sable cocked her head, examining the rose gold…twig?

“Is this a clock hand?” she asked.

“What better conduit for temporal power?” the archbishop chuckled. “That belonged to the Sovereign. He entrusted it to me when he received the royal conduit. So I trust you will take care of it.”

Sable nodded. “I will,” she said, but she frowned. “Is there a way to change your chi?”

The archbishop blinked, surprised. “No…But why would you want to? Yours is special.”

“So’s Daybreak’s.”

Merr and Perr sighed. The archbishop’s brow whiskers twitched.

“Sable, you’re one of very few people with this chi,” she said. “Daybreak, too, is one of very few people with his. You don’t have to have his same power to be just as special as him.”

Sable’s ears pricked up. Just as special…

The archbishop’s naked face wrinkled further in a smile. “And think how special he’ll think you are when you tell him.”

She straightened, tail vibrating in excitement. That’s right! She hadn’t told Daybreak! “Merr, can we go to Daybreak’s house and tell him about my chi?” she asked.

Merr chuckled. “Of course, sweetie. But let’s drop your new book off at home first. I don’t want you carrying that everywhere, it looks heavy.”

As they left the citadel, despite the weight in her arms–which she had insisted on carrying herself–Sable found herself bouncing on her toepads. Maybe having a chi that no one else had would be amazing, after all.

*

Glossary:

Sciftan: An alien species hailing from the planet of Sciftania. They visibly resemble wild dogs.

Rauchiæ: A magic user that can manipulate shadows and the space within them.

Ortuxan: An alien species hailing from the planet of Ortuxia, where the story takes place. They visibly resemble cats.

Wau: The Ortuxan goddess of the Sun.

Chi: Magic.

Kufuchiæ: A magic user that can manipulate time as it is relative to them. They cannot stop all the time in the universe, only that within their “bubble”.

Merr: Mother.

Perr: Father.

Rrechiæ: A magic user that can manipulate ice and water particles.

Rudhkulæm: Archbishop.

Eye of Wau (Waumærr): A holy symbol in the shape of a stylized sun with a slitted pupil.

Chiæ: A magic user.

Kufu: The deity associated with time.