Her eyes began to well up, the first traces of realization. They blurred her vision, and yet she did not blink them away, instead letting the droplets build and flood out what she thought was an impossible thing. Though the rest of her remained in a subtle state of shock. As if time had slowed the moment they arrived. She was still there, standing among the curious crowd, waiting to see why they had arrived here of all places. And yet, here she sat, staring down at a sealed scroll that had been thrust into her hands. She blinked finally, her lashes giving way as tears began to stream down her face. And still she was silent, mentally reliving moments not long ago passed. 

“It is our great honor to present this to you.” They had asked her her name. They hadn’t even known her name.

“Airella” She said, and it felt in that moment that she had sealed her fate.

The carriage jostled abruptly, having rolled over a deviation in the dirt road, and suddenly she moved, turning in her seat to see them all still gathered together at the village’s front gate. She had been among them just moments ago, in awe as the most pristine golden-white carriage arrived in Eversmith Village.

Airella choked out a cough, finding it increasingly hard to swallow—harder even to breathe. "Gods, it’s hot in here.” She fell back against the padded walls, fingering desperately at the buttons around her collar, pulling the fabric open and away from her chest. Breathing in short, sudden gasps, she lifted her long brown hair up and off her neck, doing everything she could to alleviate the building heat she felt inside. Her head lulls back, falling to a side as more tears roll down her cheek. The Eversmith fields gliding past. 

She remembered the crowd yelling in joy when she accepted the scroll from the guard, who remained atop his brilliantly white horse. “The gods have chosen!” they declared, and the crowed of her peers cheered with conviction. Why were they so happy? 

The sight of the scroll, with its cream colored papyrus paper and gold seal, angered her. Grabbing hold of it, feeling it crush in her fist, she hurled it across the coach floor. A quick glance backwards, she could just make out the vibrant persimmon-dyed skirts of two women. She didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

“They chose wrong!” She screamed, and the coachman’s whip cracked. “They’re wrong…”

||||

Standing on the dais of centuries-old architecture, Ariella’s hair is whipped over her shoulders. The high altitude wind howled in her ears. Her body, dull from weeks of travel and little nourishment, shook against the force of the wind. It's gusts threatening to send her to her knees with every wave. It seemed the fortress built suitable for gods achieved the added purpose of human intimidation.

“You have been brought here from all reaches of the realm.” A woman of around five and fifty stands on the lowest dais. Though it’s impossible to be sure of her true age if the rumors are to be true. Ariella marvelled at the confidence this woman had in her ability to resist the wind, fearing she might at any moment be swept backwards and over the edge. Though the woman was sturdy as stone. Odd, she realised, not even her elegantly draping clothes shuttered at the wind's force. 

“Each of you has been handpicked for the honor of a lifetime. I welcome you warmly, as I too have stood where you now stand and understand the excitement you must feel.” Suddenly the wind picked up, and Ariella could feel that chill against her neck, and with it a deep moan from the halls of the fortress behind them. A thin woman beside her stumbles forward and quickly repositions herself back in line with the group. Ariella turned to smile but quickly corrected her gesture. As she is met with a soul in turmoil, tears roll down the woman's cheeks. 

“You may refer to me as the Lady Prim from here on.” The lady continued. “I am the lady of the house of cloth. We know that our governance is not known to those who dwell below. Though, in time, you will learn. For now, know that each of the six of you is here to fill vacancies that have unexpectedly opened in houses of rose, script, cloth, nourishment, and contentment. Depending on your assignment, myself or another in my standing will be your guide here.” 

The six of them stand in silence on the dais of the second inner ring as the Lady Prim continues to speak about duty. A spin-off from the version Ariella was given upon choosing day weeks ago. The words rattled through her head, and she can hear the crowd of her peers cheering for her once more. She seldom left the confines of the carriage, only leaving to sleep and bathe in the most luxuriously constructed tents. In which those who waited on her spoke very few words toward her. The majority of her time she spent alone with her grief, all the while staring down at the scroll that remained rolling around the carriage floor, unopened. 

Ariella had pulled the curtains aside as they rolled into the Sky City, horns announcing their arrival. She had never seen the city before today. Though, as a child, she’s heard many stories. Ariella was immediately struck by the immense power of symbolism on display. She felt those hot tears well up again in her eyes at the sight of it. One who documented this day might say she had been struck by the beauty of it all, but it was the deep, unrelenting fear of this place that truly brought her to such emotion. There were thousands of them, people prostrating in prayer, their heads lining the road in such practiced perfection. Some with painted crimson-red palms held up high, reaching out towards the fortress that loomed over them all. Another horn sounded, and heads turned away from her. More carriages entered from behind, through the city gates. The impending arrival moved her into action. As she tore open the seal and unfurled the paper, she read the words she had been avoiding.

~

You journey now to the Sky Fortress.

A god has chosen you.

Humble yourself, for this is a great honor. 

- Lady Prim

~

“Look now and smile upon the realm, to all those who graciously thank you for your sacrifice.” Lady Prim closed her well-oiled speech with a deep bow before ascending the stairs, clearing the view of the valley, where the valley lay plentiful and lush in the mid-spring sun. Beyond that, the vast mountains stretch out all around, like a wall between them and the homes they were plucked from to fill the new openings. Even now, as Ariella stands wind-whipped and weary from travel, clutching her bag filled hastily with keepsakes, she couldn't help but wish anyone else had been chosen for this honor.

“Who will we be serving?” A man of around eight and twenty speaks up suddenly from the row behind, and the group turns to see him addressing the Lady Prim, who now stands above on the top dais. The young man wears tan, woollen pants, and a well-worn grey shirt. His shoes were weatherworn and dirty. Reminiscent of the men who work the Eversmith fields.

“To serve here is to serve the realm itself. Though you all will experience servitude in varying forms.“ She herself wears a cream robe with a gold and cotton bayadére around her neck. She’s adorned with iridescent pearls strung throughout the woven necklace. 

She gestures for them to turn their attention toward the grandeur that is the fortress' architecture. Their new home for the foreseeable future. She pauses a moment, standing there in astute silence, stripping them all of the little confidence they exude, her eyes piercing, all seeing and suddenly stripped of the welcoming nature she previously displayed. Feeling the nakedness of inexperience, Ariella clutches the strap of the bag carrying her things as Lady Prim’s eyes linger. 

“No matter your assignments, always remember how lucky you are to serve the realm in this way.” She takes an audibly tired breath from behind us, and the fortress howls a deep moan from within. “Assignments will be given by the head Mister at dusk. You will be fetched shortly before that.”

“Great. What do we do until then?” The farmer speaks up again. This time looking around for support. Though none dared return his gaze under Lady Prim’s watch. 

She simply smiles down at him, a thin-lipped smile. When she raises her arm, a line of people dripping of white and gold elegance emerges from an archway behind her. Their faces hidden behind gentle draping vails as they come to stand in a line at the far right edge along the stairs, each a step lower than the next, and holding stacks of folded white cloth. 

“I have welcomed you all on behalf of The Sky Fortress, and I leave you now, in the hands of those whom will guide you on this day.” She pauses, taking another moment, looking over each of them once more. “May you serve well.” Without another word, she strides along the edge of the dais and disappears down a passageway. 

Each of the six is approached by a servant and given a stack of cloth in exchange for their bags that are reluctantly handed over. Through an archway, a steep, spiraling staircase takes them deep into the belly of the fortress, and the darkness lingers in wait. 

“This is it, isn’t it?” A tall woman of around seven and thirty whispers as they ascend further down. Her words stammer out, shaky, quiet, and mournful of all that she’s lost. 

As the thought of home crosses Ariella's mind, another thought rushes in, overwhelming and terrifying. It sends chills up her spine, and her mind is suddenly alert, eyes focused. No one has ever left this place without completing their service in full. This truly is only the beginning. 

“We can do this.” Ariella whispers back, and the farmer scoffs from behind.