Year 421 since Upheaval, first month - Garn, day - 39th

  The room offers generous space and, like many others at the Academy, it features a dome-shaped ceiling. Located within the eastern cliff of the canyon, this chamber is made for banquets and carousals. Long tables are aligned around the ends of the spherical room, outlining a spacious floor for dancing. A good-sized podium for musicians is in the middle, and the entire space is well-lit by crystal light.

  The chamber also has a hydraulis but it is rarely used as it can overpower the space with its sound. The musical instrument is perhaps more suited for bigger crowds.

  Each student chooses if they want a celebration to be made for their turning of majority. Hebe had hers st year. Considering we are not allowed to get drunk it can hardly be called a proper bacchanal. But we are at least allowed to dance.

  I have spoken with Gabriel on occasion, but rarely are we alone. He grew tall. Seven feet of muscle crowned with two dark azure gems. Despite him being a year older, my height is almost a match to his.

  When opportunity allows his ink-bck hair—the bck of the night sky furthest from Sol's comforting light—ends up being twirled by my fingers. Despite chastisements from our teachers, and unlike most of our cssmates, he grew it almost shoulder long. His prowess at wrestling and swordpy put an end to any more serious protests.

  Most of my cssmates are here. Some are also dancing. The Academy provided us with decent food. And drinks of a more pcid variety. This pce wishes to portray this type of gathering as an act of kindness but like with everything, there is a hidden purpose. They know that in the future some of us will go Harvesting together; therefore, the Academy wishes to foster deep friendly bonds between the students. Also, I assume these gatherings are designed to pcate our minds and ease our nerves at the, well, retive nearing of the Final Test. That's just a dramatic name for when a student performs its first Genesis. If you fail, you wasted seven years of your life and you go home in shame. Well, maybe not too dramatic of a name, I guess.

  Over the past year or so, a lot of Gabriel's and my conversations were about home and our families. He is from the eastern part of the city. Gabriel comes from a family of rich merchants. They were less than thrilled at learning that their only heir was blessed with Genesis, and will never father sons. As it turned out they almost shunned him, rarely sending letters and treating him like a deceased person. And what I believe hurts him the most: his own mother stopped speaking to him. Only rarely does he visit home.

  I did want to comfort him though we couldn't do much. Sometimes a hand would go where it shouldn't or lips would go a little too neckward, but that's about it.

  At this moment cithara dominates. Notes made by the eborate lyra shimmer through the air. The eight-stringed instrument gives a tranquil melody most suitable for slow swaying. The girl that pys it can't be much older than me yet her mastery is that of a performer several times her age. Her mahogany skin is immacute. If my mother were here she would no doubt inquire about her skin routine in order to chastise me with more skill for the supposed ck of mine.

  White chiton of fine wool with a purple outline falls over her graceful features. She sits and moves her hands with poise often seen in people of prominence. Her right one is striking the strings while the other muffles unwanted sounds, her delicate fingers fondle across the taught ordered lines. The girl must belong to some wealthy mercantile family or is perhaps even reted to a senator.

  The song is a sweet and mellow, but ultimately a tragic melody. No one sings now, but the well-known honeyed harmony speaks for itself about unreturned love:

  I cast my heart at thee, and thou dost not even see;

  No bde of the enemy could take what thou did from me.

  May eternity consume the pain;

  For it is verity, thy love I will never gain.

  My darling, my darling, mine only light,

  Adored sparkling taken by the night.

  Ages short and endless may flow,

  Natheless, our divine sparks shall glow.

  And after the sun turns to dust,

  We will find one another in the dark.

  A man from an almost forgotten age gives his heart to a woman who doesn't share his affections. For decades he fruitlessly waits for her and seeks glorious death on many battlefields of old. Where foes' bdes and arrows failed, his own does not.

  Only after he is gone does his never-to-be-sweetheart realize, far too te, that she loved him. Predictably, she ends up following him to the Void.

  Perfect tune for celebrating one's date of birth.

  Despite the music I can hear Gabriel's heartbeat(if I focus hard enough). I like how it speeds up whenever I touch him. On the outside he seems cold and calm and in total control, but I hear the firestorm coming, and yearn for the day it will engulf us both.

  Now, a public show of affection is not tolerated among the students, however, we obviously have to hold each other to dance properly.

  Like two leaves, bound tightly with spider's web, we let the winds take us; it doesn't matter where.

  ''Age of majority. You know what that means?'' Gabriel whispers while holding me gently. The music shrouds his soft-sounding words.

  I raise my eyebrows then narrow my eyes a little. ''No. What does it mean?''

  ''It means you're old now. Grandmother, really.''

  ''Fuck you. You're a year older than me.''

  ''Well, I'm still young at heart.'' We sway together, his lead poised.

  We get real quiet for a short while, him looking at me as though he wants to kiss me for days. Or maybe that's just me?

  I kill the quiet. ''Speaking of fucking---''

  ''Yes. The word you're so fond of.''

  ''Speaking of fucking I think I'm ready,'' my voice a shadow.

  ''Sure you don't want to wait until after we graduate. Even if caught, they probably won't punish us then.''

  ''What if I don't graduate?''

  ''You will,'' his eyes confident, his voice certainty.

  ''Do you want to wait?''

  ''No, Ann. Not for a heartbeat more. We will talk ter about it. Even the walls of this pce have ears.''

  I nod, quietly drowning in his gut-churning blue eyes.

  I hear my name mentioned and my ears focus toward the source instinctively.

  ''...Her eyes are weird, her hair is weird. Even the way she moves is weird. What does he see in her?'' Lana seethes.

  Her best friend Ariana snickers. ''Maybe that is the answer. He sees a lot in her. My mother told me all men are the same. Spread your legs often enough and a man will follow you like a pup.''

  ''And she has no shame, she looks at him like a cat looks at a baby chick.''

  I look toward Lana—pretty face framed by long, bright-yellow locks—and give her a I-heard-that-you-bitch look.

  Holding the smile her reaction gave me, I look around the room.

  Even here the Crimson Guard is present, no doubt ready to report or intervene in case of any transgression. About three months prior, an age of majority celebration was disbanded after Tomoe and Michael were caught using their lips for more than just talking. He took the bme and was held in a pitch-bck cell for three days with no food or water. This fucking pce.

  This abstinence expected of us is as archaic as it is hypocritical. During the sixth month of Lapul, when celebrating the Second Daughter, there are sections of Lodestar where Seventhday, Eighthday, and Ninthday of Lapul's third week descend into drinking, dancing, and eating festivities that erupt into orgies. Some ft roofs and street corners become scenes of debauchery. And even this pales to the stories about what happens in many senatorial vils during carousals.

  Obviously we were never allowed to go to the city during such times because we are holy and pure, touched by Allmother herself. Of course it's all bullshit fed to hoi polloi. In reality, Breakers drink and fuck and do whatever they want. And Bck Breakers practically run this pce.

  Upon the song's ending, I move away from Gabriel and toward the cithara-girl.

  Soon I'm back.

  ''Why are you smiling like that?'' Gabriel asks. Himself also smiling.

  ''Apparently, she can py the drums too.'' I nod toward the girl preparing to do just that.

  The song I told her to py is pure rhythm. Provoking, demanding cpping from its listeners.

  I bring attention to myself by cpping the known rhythm just before the song truly starts.

  I dance and cp. Little girl loose free across the dance floor. I'm soon joined by a few others, and it is not long until almost the entire css is cpping, and dancing mostly with their feet.

  I spin effortlessly around Gabriel who ughs and cps with me. Red spills around me.

  I ugh when Tomoe hooks my arm, and we spin away.

  Hebe jumps onto one of the tables, her legs are things possessed. She is all smiling green eyes; long hair of gold jumping about her.

  Janna, Katerina, and Melina all jump harmonically, as though of one mind.

  I notice Peter is moving fluidly—surprisingly agile, for a boy of his size.

  Michael steals Tomoe away from me.

  Gabriel takes my hand.

  We dance until dawn.