Rewrite History [REWRITTEN]

Day 20: November 1 - Two-sided Choice

Saturday

Since I'm part of the handful of Orephius descendants left in this world, going to Conah's place of refuge for lessons is now mandatory.

After much questioning, we accepted Conah's food, and he told me that if I was so eager to suspect him, I could cook everything myself, which made me grimace. Luke tested the dish out for me so I followed to eat as soon as I found he didn't choke to death from poison. Fair points were made about trust. Therefore, the disciplinary action I ended up doing was washing up when we finished lunch.

----

Side by side, Luke and I sit next to each other in the study room, eyes fastened onto the whiteboard as Conah Haylon lectures us about Phendonian origins. He writes a series of numbers: forty, to represent the percentage of Phendonians that are born naturally good at everything like me and Luke; ten, to represent the percentage of natural-born survivors, meaning those who can take care of themselves at an abnormally young age; and fifty, the percentage for those who are born like the rest.

Out of everyone in the nation, some people are born with an extra rare ability - the capability of identifying a Phendonian and which tribe they come from with just one look. These only affect a slim one out of a million people who are more likely to become a 'Riche', or leader of a tribe, and are titled 'Phendonian Supremes'. The nation's people heavily relied on chance.

"Having told you this," Conah Haylon begins, "why do you think that the Orephius and the Cystinites were the two most powerful tribes in Phendonia?"

Immediately, the walls brutally pull apart and the skies display a miserable gloom. The neighborhood that was once buried in quietness now cry stridently.

Faceless people wriggle and squirm their way out of shattered windows, fleeing for their lives. Some carry cargo with them, the smart ones sprint away from a typhoon of spikes with no inventory. A savage fire is set to the streets, its flames like Goliath, dashing its bright blades against buildings and trees, leaving a trail of horrendous burns in its wake.

Apart from the fire, it's difficult to tell what exactly the innocents are running from. With a spinning mind and body now coated with sweat, it seems as if the storm is being brought to me like a subject under my trance, though I feel like desperately running from it instead.

Run. There's nothing you can do.

Effervescent voices crescendo. My name is being called on repeat. I can sense those in hot pursuit of me. Cassia Valors, Cassia Valors. If there was a point in life where I'd choose to be deaf momentarily, now would be the best time. They are on my trail. Cassia Valors, Cassia Valors...

"Cassia?" The alert of my name is followed by jarring noises of finger snapping. Luke's hand appears in front of my face with no warning, clicking before my eyes like his life depends on it.

"What the-"

Conah partitions off the rest of my expression. "You're losing focus. Luke answered correctly. You heard what he said, right?" Despite Conah's devotion to earning my time and trust, I believe I was always in his bad books and still am.

A final visceral scream slams into my skull, ending the intrusive hallucination.

With a shake of my head, I prepare my mental shields from Conah's incoming insults. "I'm sorry. Please repeat, Luke."

"The Orephius and Cystinites had the most prodigies and survivors. Chance was in their favor," he says, his tone gradually becoming shyer. The boy looks at me with a blameworthy face, then his eyes dart to the floor, and then back at me again. "That's why they were the most powerful," he murmurs.