Flames of Destiny Chapter 3

Lumera, noun,  an immortal possessing no qualities of Kaos. Shunned by Kaosu-Shin. Destined by Sutāraito to be dim, incomplete, or abnormal. 

 

Compendium of the Croan

Scholars of the Coven

Chapter 3

Amaya

The cobblestone path of Embera’s Pyro Market stretched ahead, each step echoed like a stroll down a quiet hall, turning up hollow memories I still hadn’t shed from my youth. The better version of me I play in my head knows to let go. But I cannot. I clutched at my neck, the pendant that had once hung was no longer there.

Folk cluttered the market, their faces etched by the wear of daily life. Too tired to keep going, too hungry to quit, too hopeful to allow a festival pass without celebration. This is what the Kamanari resurgence did to us. But today, the Kamanari were not their enemy. Their eyes followed me, sharp and expectant as if they had long awaited my arrival. 

No one had to say anything. I already knew what they were thinking. Lumera. The slur still scraped across my spine like a santoku blade. I didn’t bother staring them down or paying their whispers any mind. I didn’t need to prove myself anymore. I was Kenshi, and have been for a while now. I am the Sorceress Supreme, but that meant nothing. Nothing to the folk that had known me as a youth, to those that knew my family, knew the fate that tarnished my name before my Kaos came to be. I try to touch my temple but my arm feels heavy and slow, but walking ahead feels light—easy. 

With a burning ache in my chest, I shook off the glares and, instead of being in mind, I turned my attention back to the vibrant energy the market always had. Allowing the awnings to draw me in, pulling me fully into the moment. It really was beautiful, wasn't it? The sun kissed my cheeks without ever warming my face. 

Tsuki decorations adorned quaint cottages, ivy curled along walls bathed in high noon’s golden glow. The charm was timeless, a stark contrast to the rage, disappointment, and disapproval gripping my every movement and choice. 

Banners bearing the Sunlord’s crest fluttered in the breeze, a reminder of the duty that bound me to this nation and the comrades I’d come to hold dear. Or at least, somewhat. Keva, Dara, Akuma-Sama, my fellow survivors of the Legions Exam, which felt more like a series of trials, and now partners in arms, providing service sword and tongue to the Honorable Sunlord Yoshitsune. Well, at least until Akuma-Sama takes his place as the crowned Lord. 

That idea resonated differently when one of the banners fluttered just above a new flower cart I hadn't seen in the market before. I never pass without getting out my coin purse and grabbing a stem or two. I cheerfully came to a halt before a cart, the scent of blossoms mingling with the warm embrace of freshly baked bread from a nearby vendor. I ignored my stomach's silent plea to stuff handfuls of artisan rolls into my mouth and took a deep breath, closing my eyes, dropping my shoulders and lifting my chin to the suns. Mmmmmhmmm. I let loose a deep sigh of pleasure, Cherry Blossom, Blush Breath, all my favorite scents. 

Younglings darted past, their laughter adding to the mayhem of the coming harvest celebration. Despite the lively atmosphere, my breath vibrated in my chest and ricocheted between my carefully parted lips. Body language was important, and mine had to send a message. Calm, capable, poised. So my face never showed what trembled within. The expectations of me now are not the same as they were before. Before fire licked from my palms and incantations could spill from my lips.  

A wailing screech had me bracing for the unexpected, history teaching me all too well that everything could go up in flame and smoke at any moment. Their joy could so easily turn to fear. My jaw tightened, but on instinct, I loosened, ready to let centuries of training awake. Knowing the deadliest weapons are not just those concealed, but at the end of your arms. I did not feign a response. And it was good. It was just the younglings at play, though my heart raced all the same. 

Amidst the uncertainty I constantly battled, the delicate fragrance of the flowers in full bloom filled the air, their sweet aroma offering very little respite now. I glanced at the various stems that were plucked from across the Realm. 

The large and lush, deeply layered petals of the Pink Sandpipers from Terrastone were intoxicatingly sweet. Snake Grass from Aquaterra was tall and slender, with shoots reaching nearly six feet, and was known for stabilizing their wetlands. Here, they just looked massive with their long, flat emerald leaves. There was Milkwog from Pandamora, and Night’s Breath from Aircs Temple, both beautiful to look at but deadly to the touch. How the vendor procured them, I did not dare ask.

Lingering before the Pink Sandpipers, I examined their delicate shades. Each exciting and much more vibrant under the glow of the suns than the auburns, maroons, and yellows native to Embera. As I picked through my favorite blooms, my fingertips slipped around all of the soft silk petals. 

The weary vendor, likely a twilight elf judging by her tall, lithe frame, onyx locks and deep olive complexion, spoke tersely, her cold tone barely audible over the din of the crowd.

“Pick one, and get on with it,” she was curt, skipping formalities. It could have been the heat, or the fact that her cart was now in peak busy season. I tried to pay her attitude no mind. Her hands moved with the rigid grace of someone long resigned to tending bouquets and fresh cuts, keeping a tightened eye on me.

I bowed low, just as Ryuji Sensei had taught me to do before the Ojis and Obas, my right fist tightly wrapped in my left palm.

“This appreciative one thanks you for your services. Apologies for the dawdling, Oba.” 

I waited through the long pause, feeling the steel in her eyes and the subtle daggers of her impatience slicing through the air between us with the hiss of her sigh. Shrugging off the awkwardness, I turned on my heel, leaving the tension lingering in the air. 

Above, the sky became a vast canvas of shifting colors, where the Suns began to set, and Moons rose in a mesmerizing display. The light and shadows cast over the realm perpetually painted Embera’s landscape in hues of gold and russet.  

A lively tune from a busker’s violin filled the air, the crescendo swelling above the rooftops, lifting the tiny hairs on my arms; each note became a memory. I approached, recognizing the roaming troubadour, sawing at his violin with a practiced fervor. The melody wrapped around me and lifted my spirits higher. My Kaos licked beneath my skin, begging to be unleashed with the rhythm, swelling with each humming draw of his bow. My heart raced and raged with the tempo, excitement roaring deep in my core.

As he played, I swayed among the congregation around him. Each note of music carried my worries away. I could immediately tell his obsidian skin from the olive tone of the Emberites, which placed him as a male from Aquaterra. His long, tousled black hair could disappear in the bottomless waters of the Nimada Sea. The deep shade of ebony contrasted against his sparkling white fangs. His smile beamed more brilliantly than the brightest stars at night, performing hard for the growing crowd.

"Oh, Gods and cursed ones? The fire will rage, and the wind will sing. Pour the Kaos from everyone. Now just look at what you started!" His voice carried above the swell of music. “Oh, Gods and cursed ones. What do you want? This land bows down to the Celestial Stars. You slayed the weak and burned the dead. Now just look at what you started!”

The pain in his voice shook, transforming my grief, the nation’s grief into protest. This is what the Kamanari had done to Embera. To the bordering Nations. I tossed a coin and continued on my way, humming his chorus as his violin slowly drifted along with me, goosebumps still rising on my skin. I wanted to find another flower cart before it got too late, and I still needed to grab some gifts for the Tsuki Festival exchange. 

The Ojis and Obas remarked on me, I could tell, as I went about my own business. I continued to act as if I didn't notice, but all I could think about was silencing them. If only I possessed the gift of mindspeak, I’d flood their thoughts with silence, command them to look away. The least they could do is divert their attention to real entertainment. 

But alas, such abilities were not granted to me or rarely to any folk of Fumetsu no. Only one came to mind that bore such a fate. Every thought I had hoped he could hear. I hoped he could feel me all those many miles away. It was a hope I wanted to give up on long ago, but kept returning to time and time again. Something pulling me as constant as the suns rise and the moons fall. 

Regrettably, I am as alone in my thoughts as I am in life. But I will not let that become my dishonor or the Sunlord’s. It is hard enough feeling as if the realm is against you, as if even the ones you care for most can see the flaws in you. Flaws that they want to erase, pieces of you they want changed. And knowing which pieces of you are good enough to remain. I feel like nothing about me is good enough to remain most days. Most nights. 

The only thing keeping me sane is knowing that there are Gods and Goddesses above that redeem. That the trials of today are not permanent, and joy will fill my mouth tomorrow. Tomorrow, when all eyes would be turning to Akuma-Sama, our Heir Rising. My Kenshi, my General and the only one who accepted me as me. 

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~ Catch Ch. 4 Next time, be on the lookout for additional stories and poems in my Worlds & Works.

© 2026 M.W. Sturdivant. No part of this work may be reproduced without written permission.