Iris

Chapter 1

There was a snow-storm on one of the highest mounts of Irsaac, the land of cold air and crashing waves of water. The wind was howling on top of Mountain Blue.

A high tower, remnant of an old fortress, was lit by a single candle. A woman stood there. But she was not human.

She was what some might've called a « watcher of the night ». « Wayala », as they are called in the ancient tongue.

These creatures were said to be made of pure wind, ice, wood and night itself.

A lot of legends surround them, but no representatives of their species have actually been seen for over a millennia. Or maybe, it is that nobody have stayed alive to tell the story.

Rumors fly that they are constantly moving; following the wind of the north, also known as the « Nuala ».

When the cold wind arrives, people claim they've seen the shadows of Wayala but no one really believe them.

Still, as the Nuala approaches, people barricade their doors and windows before nightfall. These times are called periods of « Heiji », and can last two days at least and two months for the longest.

It all really depends on the wind. Some believe it is a living creature, or at least an entity that can change its mind and evaluate a situation.

According to more legends, Wayala could only be killed by amber or leyon wood. An Opaline stone helps them get stronger and fire makes them weak.

Of course, these tales have never been verified.

Some say that the Wayala seek vengeance, for the humans used to live in harmony with them before they stole their lands and kill their children. Chasing them away in cold mountains and dark forests. « Where they belonged ».

So what was that Wayala woman doing on top of the tower, lighting that candle ? She was waiting.

She waited, her long black hair swirling and knotting. Her eyes full of pools of more black. Her skin achingly white, turning blue and purple with ice. Outside, snow raged, but her face was much colder then any snow-storm.

Suddenly, she spiraled into darkness, and vanished completely. A few seconds later, the candle went off.

***

A hundred kilometers further, a little girl woke up in a start. Her heart thundering quickly as she re-lived her dream. It was— different, from the other dreams she'd had. This one felt real; true. And she knew that her imagination; a poor homeless' girl imagination; couldn't create something as detailed and terrifying dream.

Besides, she didn't believe in gods.

But even so, she knew it wasn't the first similar dream she'd had.

The girl couldn't quite recall what happened in them but she knew she would coincidentally see those dreams during the four great celebrations. Those that marked the ending of a season and the beginning of a new one.

The celebration of the dead in autumn;

The celebration of love in spring;

The winter solstice in winter;

And the summer solstice in summer.

So she beared it, closing her achingly plain grey eyes and went back to sleep. Not bothering to worry about it.

How could a homeless girl do any difference in any way ?

See, this is where she was wrong.

***

Heila woke up in the early morning. Her back was hurting her because of the hard stone street she'd slept on. The cold winter air lashed her skin and made her eyes fill with tears.

She vaguely remembered having a strange dream that night, but it didn't bother her.

She slowly stood up, her body adgusting: she'd been sitting for too long and all of her muscles ached.

She took her little pouch full of useless junk, her walking stick that she actually used to fight, and picked up in her arms the little puppy she'd found in the streets before.

His mother had probably been killed; he stood near to his already dead brothers and sisters.

Heila decided to help him. It meant a lot to her, to help other lost puppies that had nothing to do in a big, dangerous city.

The pup reminded her strongly of herself. She had a fair amount of self-pity. Enough to help the little beast.

So she took the little one, he had golden brown and red fur with golden eyes.

At least one of us has special eyes. She had thought bitterly.

She looked up at that wealthy castle in front of her.

The Calixcarne castle. The one where lived the blue lords and ladies. Where they had those ridiculous blue eyes.

What made them so special then the rest of them ? How could their eye color give them the right to rule ?!

The city was bordered by sea on one side and by mountains on the other, so that enemies would have the hardest time trying to enter the citadelle. The place was also built in a spiral, so that the fortress was in the center of everything. It ruled, dominated over the people.

The Clearharther family have been the lords of the lands for a very long time. So long it felt like an eternity...

She didn't loathe the rulers of her city. She had never met any of them or heard that much about them. It's just that it is very hard to appreciate those who seem responsible of your misery. Even if they hadn't directly did anything to her, the girl didn't know better.

She was only twelve after all, and didn't access a proper education, nor did she travel around the world.

She new nothing of what was out there, she'd never known anything more than her cold, miserable life in the streets.

So she sighed a long sigh, thinking about it would've been amazing to be blessed with colored eyes. She'd probably do anything to be born in the right family.

Instead, she still had those sad grey eyes that would lead her nowhere.

But, lacking of any way to look at her own reflection, not carrying any mirror with her, Heila didn't realize the golden tint that had started to take over her iris overnight.