Page 9

Divine Balance

The Superiors

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T he air is crisp and clear in the tower, yet screams curdle through white halls, passing a sealed room where glass breaks and is born anew.

“How many dragons have died so far?” Earth Superior Evelyn asks. She materializes a stone in her hand only to crush it, so it crumbles through her fingers and disintegrates on the polished ivory floor.

“Sadly, I’ve...lost count.” Fire Superior Frank’s wispy white brows glow against his umber skin, drawing together with concern. “Have you sensed anything?”

The sunrays beam through the stained windows, illuminating the four ethereal beings in the Circle. The name has always been ironic as the room is square, and they sit in a half-circle.

Evelyn lazily gazes at the giant floating sphere before them. She sits in her own floating white chair next to Frank.

“Of course,” she whispers. “People aren’t paying attention, but I can feel and see it.”

Frank frowns. “You don’t mean—”

“Yes. Flowers that should be in season never bloom. Farmers curse bad luck for crops not growing. Forests are so clustered together they can’t tell when one of their own trees doesn’t make it the next day. It’s subtle, but I can see it. Can you not?”

Frank looks at the other two Superiors who remain silent and still. Their eyes are on the sphere, watching everyone on Zeala.

“Perhaps I’ve noticed some teens trying to start a bonfire that was never successful. They did everything they were supposed to do,” he murmurs. Air Superior Amelia and Water Superior Wyatt sit on the other side of Evelyn. They finally meet Frank’s gaze. “So, my fires will start to die out.”

“Water levels have dropped by one inch,” Amelia notes. She sits charmingly in her seat with her hands folded neatly on her lap. “Air quality has fallen to eighty-eight percent.”

Prayers and laughter of millions of Zealans pervade the Circle as the four Superiors stare at each other.

“How long will we sit here before we intervene?” Wyatt asks. “We sit and watch Zeala. Surely, we won’t watch it die right before our eyes?”

Evelyn crosses her arms. “The Code of the Superiors is to not—”

“Interfere in the lives of others,” Wyatt finishes, clenching his fist. “But there won’t be a Zeala—or us, for that matter—unless we do something. We don’t eat. We don’t sleep. We don’t shower. We have nothing left of our original selves, all for the purpose of focusing on Zeala, and you dare bring up the Code of the Superiors again?”

Evelyn’s smooth face tightens with sharply defined cheekbones that could belong to a statue. Her voluminous dark curls scatter like vines down her figure. She absently cracks her knuckles.

“We need to step in,” Frank urges. Wyatt nods fervently in agreement.

Evelyn’s poised, dark eyebrow shoots up. “Oh, and risk eternal damnation by the very entity that rules over us? Marvelous idea.”

“We shall wait,” Amelia counters. The Superiors turn their attention to the sphere and focus on Alice Reid and her friends. “There’s hope. She may be one of the few people on Zeala with the potential to fix this.”

Evelyn rolls her eyes. “Yes, thank goodness for Master Azul, right?”

Amelia grimaces.

“You want to wait for a nineteen-year-old to save us?” Frank’s taut voice penetrates the space between them. Amelia takes a deep breath and looks at a foot-tapping Wyatt.

“I believe it’s a good idea. Too many dragons are dying and not enough are being born.” Wyatt scratches his stubbled cheek. “Amelia, are you sure?”

“It’s better than the consequences of the alternative...” Amelia shudders.

A shiver of fear brushes through each Superior. All the memories they’ve obtained from their predecessors didn’t reveal enough information on the omnipresent being. This is the same entity that tortured Azul out of her role as Air Superior before choosing Amelia to replace her.

“And the homicides?” Evelyn asks. “Who shall address that without our help?”

A unanimous groan. Amelia throws her head back and stares at the ceiling. Wyatt rubs his face roughly and maintains an agitated, tapping foot. Their work is as simple as observing Zealan’s daily lives and potential successors but worrying about when and when not to intervene is not as simple as they imagined.

A child appears on display in the floating sphere, screaming joyfully from meeting his baby sister.

“It doesn’t affect the world the way dragons do,” Frank replies. “Let that run its course.”

Evelyn nods and crosses her arms. Wyatt finally stops tapping his foot.

Amelia smiles. “Thank you for believing in my disciple, Evelyn.”

It’s far too common for the Earth Superior to lash her tongue in a series of disapproving comments and glares toward Amelia, especially when air Spirit Users are the topic.

Evelyn knits her brows. “Well, I don’t believe in Alice Reid. It’s either her or you violate the Code of Superiors yourself and see what happens. Wouldn’t be your first time, right? Our little friend may finally get agitated with you and then...you know.”

A humid curtain of silence hangs heavily over their heads in the Circle. The floating sphere shifts like a TV, scrolling through various moments of happenings on Zeala. None of them pay attention.

“It won’t be my last violation, either,” Amelia snaps. “You think after replacing one Air Superior that people wouldn’t get suspicious of another one leaving?” She shakes her head with a derisive smile. “No, darling. I’ll drag you all to the cosmic depths with me if it means saving Zeala, so do reconsider your foul lack of faith in Alice Reid; impulsivity is a scary thing.”

Evelyn’s face sours. “At what point would your foolish wits have us condemned?”

“Five more dragon deaths.” Amelia’s heart pounds heavily in her chest. Each thump drips into her stomach until it cramps from nervousness. Sacrificing all her humanity except emotion is one of the most dangerous things she’s learned since replacing Azul as Air Superior. This job isn’t what it’s dreamed to be.

Wyatt shakes his head in disbelief. It’s evident between the four of them that five more deaths will make a difference in the flow of energy on Zeala.

“We shall believe in Alice Reid then,” Frank sighs, rubbing his frost-white beard. The anxiety zaps through his steadied hands. For the first time in hundreds of years, Zeala faces a dragon crisis. But for the first time in a while, the Superiors are smiling as a team.

Everyone turns their attention to the floating globe as it cycles through random Zealans. Wyatt leans forward and frowns. “Make that four.”

“What?” Amelia gasps.

The sphere saturates with an orange hue as clouds shroud the clear skies of Garnet Island. A dragon with rustic green metallic scales and gold horns floats above where it was slain.

“Four,” Evelyn says quietly. “Four dragons left before we . . . intervene.”