Death is immortality.
Death is your second chance.
Velian Terrashine belongs to a classless society of equality, art and democracy; a land full of creativity and mindfulness. It is in that perfect political system that one wrong movement, one carele...
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THE NIGHT SKY had made its way above us. Stars were dancing around the crescent moon as if the universe had decided to celebrate both the end of summer with the mortal world and cherish the beginning of the season that followed—the season everyone seemed to have a special place in their hearts for.
We were on the rooftop of the highest and oldest castle in Lantra, admiring the capital that lay in all its glory beneath us, like we were the creators of the cosmos, taking in the magnificence of our beloved masterpiece. A cool breeze kissed my bare neck as I took a step back from the murmuring crowd to breathe; the constant need to act like I'd never been here before had already drained most of my energy. The thought that the Summer Festival hadn't even commenced yet and I would have to pretend for the rest of the night that I was enchanted by everything that was going on around me made me rub my temples in a mindless effort to ease that crippling headache.
The sound of waves hitting the shore of the beach added a melancholic tone to the already gloomy atmosphere, and I wondered why everyone seemed to find comfort and inspiration in the dark, wavy ocean. The music coming from the pianist at the center of the rooftop only managed to bring forth a sensation of deadly calmness, a gift from Heaven I wasn't particularly happy to receive.
Everyone was here, dressed in their fancy, handmade outfits that looked ethereal and spoke of magic and art. The color that prevailed was white, while many had also opted for pastel pinks and blues. This was Lantra. A place of freedom and art, equality and creativity. A country where someone's daydreams could easily turn out to be their existing reality.
We were all equals, belonging to the same social class. No one had the right to have more than they actually needed and that was our way of ensuring prosperity and development. But that seemingly perfect political system went even deeper than that. Over the centuries and with the crucial help of the now banned magic, everyone's eye color had ended up being the same—blue. And that was considered the greatest form of equality that had ever existed.
There was also room for everyone to be their unique, authentic and artistic self. If someone took a long walk around Lantra's capital, the first thing they would notice about the people here would be their hair color. From red and green to purple and blue, I'd seen them all, but had never tried out one, sticking to my natural blonde.
Examining the place, my stare fell on a group of girls who were standing behind the railings, smiles on their sun-kissed faces, their glowing gowns making them look like they lived in some kind of fairytale. One of them reached for me, her auburn hair billowing on her shoulders, a kind grin lighting up her familiar face. I urged myself to remember her name since we'd taken an art class together several years ago. I miserably failed.
"You look so good tonight, Velian," she said, her stare caught up in my sparkly, dark green dress. The sound of my name on her lips should have made me feel even worse about the fact that I couldn't recall her own, but it was the least of my concerns at the moment.
