1 — THE UNWILLING SEER'S DISCIPLE

ONE

Verēna glared intensely at the petite hellion incarnate lounging in her bedchamber's veranda while sipping on a cup of tea, and was occasionally looking over the blanket of lush greeneries that ended by the cliff where the gentle crash of waves could be heard somewhere below. With a practice feigned composure, she closed the door behind and sauntered towards the seemingly oblivious redhead girl who had her back on her. Before she could even make her presence known, the girl looked over her narrow shoulders and flashed a small smile. Her brow arched.

"You're here," the redhead chirped. Her small sweet voice as warm and mellow of dawn's first light.

"No, I'm not. You're freakin' dreaming," she snapped in fake annoyance. "The last time I checked, this is still my space, so why, pray tell, wouldn't I be here, Andromeda?" Taking the other seat across the intruder, she crossed her arms to her chest.

The redhead only giggled at her as she resumed to her cup of tea.

"Must I wait till you've emptied your tea," she waved a hand to the tray of tea set on the round table between them, "or you'll start stating your business of breaking into my room yet again?"

The smile on Andromeda's round face never waned as she set down her cup, diverting her full attention to her. "Hestia said that your time has come to leave the island."

Verēna's eyebrow twitched. The information didn't sit well with her as she looked dead at redhead's knowing, round jade eyes. Wisps of stray locks framed her plump cheeks. The tip of her small nose sported a tint of red as always which seemed to be highlighted by her snow-white complexion. Her peach robe with large, wide sleeves secured by a silk ivory ribbon beneath the chest area, flowed freely down to her flat shoe clad feet. Andromeda might have the frame of a ten-year-old child, but the vibrancy of air she exuded beg to differ.

All three of them were. And the fact that they were the disciples of the last living descendant of Proemith Clan, where great seers were born, wouldn't suffice.

Verēna mentally snorted at the thought. An unwilling disciple, I am.

Five and a half years ago, she only laughed at the thought when a cryptic seer, known throughout the country of Grevus, sought and found her wandering over the Teeroah Clan's territory, waiting till the ship she board departed into the sea towards the neighboring country, Merrill. Then, when Hestia foretold her destined fate, a burst of sardonic laughter was all she answered followed by litanies of hate-filled profanities that noble blood shouldn't have spoken out of her mind.

Five and a half years ago, she should have been in Merrill, seeking her father's closest friend and her godfather for aid, but here she was, bound by damn divinities will.

Five and a half years ago, she should have been plotting the most excruciating deaths of Grevus country's ruling family, yet here she was, relenting her vengeance to be one of the divine extensions for the Seer.

She reverted her attention to her fellow disciple with a frown. "It doesn't explain why you're here."

Andromeda's smile widened, her jade orbs glinting with mischief. It was one of the moments where Verēna could take a glimpse of her usual ten-year-old side. "Why not, if I can? The door isn't locked so I take it as an invitation to enter."

Verēna couldn't resist massaging her temple. After living with the youngest disciple for over four years, she had seen it coming. "Haven't it cross your mind that closed doors mean no entry? Especially if it isn't your chamber?"

Andromeda shot her a thoughtful look, then pouted. "But I love it here! The view is to die for!" She gestured to the view outside her bedchamber's veranda. Sun started to set on the horizon, basking the land and the ocean beyond with its warm, scarlet rays.

She need not take a look at the sight Andromeda's marveling at. The entire panorama horrendously reminded her of the day burned at the back of her mind.

Sparing not an iota of interest anymore, Verēna huffed and took the empty cup from the younger disciple, then placed it among the tray of tea set before she got up to her feet and walked back inside. Andromeda trailed behind as they trudged out of her bedchamber down to the hallway where the wooden staircase led to an open area.

"Nee, Verēna." Andromeda tugged the hem of her oversized t-shirt as they descended the stairs.

She only answered with a hum, eyes sweeping over the open space where a few clumps of grayish─almost transparent─figures hovered around, doing household chores.

Aros, they called it. A supposedly unseen supernatural entity that first inhabited the mystic island of Zathras where the Seer lived and took refuge ever since Proemith Clan was wiped out in the face of Grevus centuries ago.

"Do you think Hestia would let me take your chamber while you're away?"

Verēna stopped dead on her track. Her left foot still on the last step, when she looked down at Andromeda who was looking up innocently at her after jumping the last two steps. Frowning at the little one, she said, "And why would you ask for Hestia's permission if it's mine to begin with?"

Andromeda fluttered her long black lashes, rimming her jade orbs. "Because you'd obviously say no, silly."

A sardonic laughter erupted from Verēna that instantly ceased as she glared down at Andromeda who simply flashed her a grin, and twirled the rest of the way out of the house, giggling.

An Aros emerged to her side. An apron hung around the supposed waist area with comical designs of a yellow square figure. A wide smile tearing all the way to its cheek, revealing a pair of teeth.

Verēna choked a laughter, masking it by clearing her throat.

Apparently, the Astreon of Ferguan Clan, a dear friend to their Seer, insisted the Aros to put on each apron with a variety of what she learned 'cartoon character' designs after it gave her a massive fright the first time she came across one.

No matter what, it was one of the trivial things around Zathras she took delight in secrecy.

Brushing the thought away, she handed over the silver tray to the hovering being. With a grace imbibed since her late noble days, her feet softly glided on the shiny wooden flooring across the wide-open front door. She caught Andromeda's heartfelt giggles somewhere off the well-tended lawn. Her eyes briefly flickered around the sunny courtyard ringed with low hanging branches of trees, then under its canopy.

There, straight from the stone path leading through the front door was a round glass tabletop with four steel cushioned chairs around. Two of which already occupied by Andromeda and another raven-haired woman who had her back on her.

With a sigh, Verēna lodged herself down the unclaimed seat to the right side of the woman. Her usual seat.

Briefly fixing her hip-length black hair set in a high messy bun, she cleared her throat and straightened her back.

Let the verdict be cast upon me! She mentally shouted out in mock delight. Yet connecting her amber eyes with the raven-haired woman's dull grey eyes, she could more or less tell by the slight twitching of her disconcerting orbs that the latter knew what was she thinking.

"I need not be a mind reader to tell your line of thoughts, Verēna," Hestia said, eyeing her the same way a mother scolding a child.

Across Verēna, Andromeda giggled at the Seer's blatant display of concern at her choice of clothing.

"Miran handed you another supply of," the Seer gestured a hand all over her with a grimace, "that."

This time, Verēna didn't make an effort to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Hestia might have an eternal appearance of a lady in her late twenties, but her nagging nature sure did show her century-old propriety.

"They're decent clothes, nonetheless," she nonchalantly referred to the washed-out denim overalls over an oversized white t-shirt she wore.

Not out of ordinary . . . well, for someone who had been well-acquainted with The Other Side, where the Astreon, guardians of their country's clans, sprung from, of course.

The Astreon of Ferguan Clan and their Seer's closest friend, Miran, introduced her to The Other Side's apparels and instantly took a liking of the convenient varieties of the style of clothing ever since, to the extent where she favored it more than the usual robes, long dresses, and tunics the women all over Grevus wore, just like Andromeda and Hestia.

What's wrong with shirts and trousers, anyway?

Her old seventeen-year-old self would eventually argue that it wasn't conforming to their culture's moral standard, but her present twenty-two-year-old self screamed: the hell with it! An expression she got from Miran, of course. Not that she was blatantly proud of, but the carefree Astreon taught her that self-love was the highest form of self-respect, so screw the haters, anyway.

She risked a glance at Hestia, hoping she wasn't burning her under her unnerving dull stares. But the odds weren't always in her favor when it came to the Seer.

The Seer pursed her lips, forehead furrowing. Her piercing narrow eyes squinting as she shot her a once over. "Mind that such clothing isn't widely accepted in Nēmiah. You'll be the center of tattletales, especially of your standing."

Verēna's eyes narrowed.

A loud growl sounded somewhere, followed by soft padding against the grassy yard.

Andromeda's eyes lit up as she gasped and suddenly ran off towards the source of the noise, leaving the two of 'em behind. In some cases, she would have instantly followed after the youngest disciple, but a certain word the Seer uttered had her entire body dead rooted on the spot.

"You're sending me back." A statement rather than a question she ought it to be. Her voice was so small the words almost came out as a whisper, but she knew better that Hestia heard her loud and clear along with the tone of accusation it carried. She held her breath, waiting for the Seer to right out reject the notion.

It didn't come.

Hestia's cryptic, dull grey eyes that already lived over a century only stared back at her, deadpanned . . . and downright detached─as always.

Verēna's peach lips pressed together as she heavy-heartedly nodded. Her jaw painfully clenched; teeth gritting at the silent affirmation. If only her other fellow disciple was here with her, Kira would surely voice out the strong protest she harbored inside her chest. But she wasn't.

For that, she almost wished Kira never had to leave a year ago to Merrill where Hestia sent her.

For what reason? She didn't know.

Hestia never disclosed the purpose. Only teaching them what a disciple of a Seer must do and know.

"May I, at least, know the purpose of this . . ." the word suspended at the tip of her tongue, "unpleasant visit."

Hestia seemed to catch the lingering bitterness in her tone yet made no further comment about it. She knew more than anyone else the reason behind it. The word unpleasant wasn't enough to surmise it. Instead, she produced a parchment with maroon ribbon, wax sealed by a simple laurel crest from her lap, and placed it atop the table. She pushed it over her.

"You are to deliver this directly to the Minister, himself, only."

A cord within tingled. Verēna could practically hear the lingering sound of her trained composure threatening to snap at the next word she loathe with all her heart.

First, Nēmiah.

Second, Minister.

What a revolting combination.

She wanted to laugh derisively as the five-year-old resentment she buried deep behind her mind resurfaced in a fraction of a few minutes. Along with it, clawing her way out, was her old vengeful seventeen-year-old self whom she locked up at the dark crevices of her subconscious.

Abandoned.

Forgotten.

Not until Hestia uttered the magic words.

The freaking loathsome, magic words.

"And why, pray tell, would it had to be me rather than Kise?" she managed to ask without snapping, pertaining to the Seer's Panther-shifter familiar slash errand man.

When Andromeda told her that it was her time to leave Zathras, she should have taken note of the warning bells tolling in her head. Now, she couldn't help but wonder how it went for Kira a year ago. The eldest disciple already left the island before she knew it. Not a single word or a letter even. She'd just left. Poof!

"Because it's urgent, and you have an oath to uphold, Verēna. Time has come to fulfill it."

Words came off cold and detached.

The way her name rolled out from the Seer's tongue gave off a silent reminder that the past she had once lived years ago no longer attached to what and who she was right now. It was long gone stripped from her.

It was supposed to be the moment she accepted Hestia's hand five years ago at Teeroah's port.

It was supposed to be the moment she accepted her fate to be an extension of Grevus country's Seer.

It was supposed to be.

She just had to hand the letter directly to the Minister, himself, wasn't it? Thinking about it, the task wasn't particularly hard aside from the idea of breathing the same air and walking on the same ground with the people she nonsecretly abhorred to the core.

Eyeing the parchment for one last time, Verēna picked it up─its surface seemingly scorching her at the contact─and dipped her head slightly before the respected Seer.

"Of course. It'll be an honor."

Only a fool would buy it.

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