Sylvia

The forest was calm.

The sun had already passed its highest point, but the Indian summer heat refused to give truce. Even with a riverside view, the wind denied me refreshment while shaking the treetops. The weather made me pranks of a devilish child. The sweet fragrance of the flowers mingled with the citrus odour of the dead leaves. Lying in the shadows of the forest I appreciated the passing of time and with it the end of my debauchery.

"Get up, take up your fruits and walk!" Lisandra said.

"Lie down and share this tangerine with me," I replied.

Lisandra Ankara was the star of the orphanage. She was the same age as me, 12 years old. There were no other girls of similar age at the institute, that made her the protégé of the teachers. Jasmine was devastated by an unimaginably stormy night when she came to the care of the teachers. With no more than three months of life, two silver coins and a note that flashed curses over her innocent life, she began her story. Years of living together with boys taught her how to earn her space: by force. She was the moodiest and faithful children. If it were not for her short temper, I would easily give her the title of Miss Yamada.

Lisandra's face and arms were pale, almost translucent. It had sharp features, drawn steely under a deep black hair that shone like the reflection of moonlight in a lake. From my earliest memory, she is present. My best friend. I've always felt sorry for that.

Her body rested on the trunk of the fig tree. She took possession of the half of my goods and began to eat. I watched her bring the little buds to her rosy lips. She had a silly grin on her face.

"Do you know who will choose you?" Asked Lisandra.

"Not yet. I hope it's Roland, after all, he's getting old and since he never had an Apprentice, expectations are on the rise!"

"No wonder they call you The Biggest Dreamer!"

"Speak the girl who has the worst grades and wants to be a teacher, wait, giving it a second thought, you would be a great teacher. In addition to graduating, your students would gain experience by teaching the subjects to you."

"Shut up," Lisandra jumped on top of me. With the closed hand, she began to punch me. Her smile barely fit on her face. I raised my guard. "In a few years, we'll see who will do better when I got summoned by the King and you not."

"Is that all you have? So I will not have to wait three years to know who will be called," I put my best invincible macho smile. Her features hardened. Now I had a lioness in the form of a child on top of me.

"Are the lovebirds going to stay up until tomorrow? Or can we go home soon?" Said Batuhan approaching the fruit basket.

"Once I teach him what hierarchy means, I can go anywhere," Lisandra snorted. Rolling over the roots of the fig tree, we exchanged punches and kicks as laughter formed the evening musically. Batuhan watched us patiently. He bit a pear.

"Do not you have better ways to have fun? Hide-and-seek, maybe?"

There was no one with a so natural vocation for a monk as Batuhan Kyrat. He was so calm that fighting with him was the most efficient method of getting frustrated. Serene, optimistic and always with a hopeful smile on his face he was certainly a point off the curve in the grey Jasmine. He had quick thinking, but he was not prone to thievery like me.

Batuhan arrived at the orphanage at the age of five. His father was a blacksmith, but was sent to war and never returned, soon after, his mother died of an outbreak of cholera that punished Jasmine as strong as the crack of the whip of the executioners of Mont Blanc. His skin was lightly tanned, with aquiline features and naturally rebellious hair.

"It's not my fault if in this hierarchy the top is so above the aspiring teachers," I replied.

"Okay, okay. Have you had enough fun for today? Let's go back we have a future waiting for us tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Lisandra and I separated. Youth rivalry knows no bounds. We got up and started heading towards the city of Jasmine. Walking between the landscape of green and red we talked frivolously until we saw Jasmine. Its imposing walls could be seen from a distance projecting its magnitude on the inhabitants of the outer area, eight towers followed the curve of the wall. Broken bombs were perceptible in the distance, a recent scar of the last war that haunted the Kingdom of Yamada.

"Tell the teachers that I'm going to pay my respects first, and then I'll come back for dinner," I said.

"You know they will not like it, right? Well, it's not like you or me care to begin with. I'll see you later then."

"Hey, she would be proud of you, do not forget that," sadness was strong in Batuhan's voice. "And about tomorrow, I'm sure you'll be one of the first to be chosen."

"I know, who would not want an Apprentice like me ?!" I made a face of disbelief. A born actor. "As soon as I settle my things I'll meet you." I turned my back on them and continued toward the West Square.

Like a considerable number of children my age, I was an orphan. But I made a feat worthy of a few, was orphaned twice. I was found by the orphanage when I was a few months old. Rather, delivered. In the morning, the teachers give classes and, in the afternoon, are responsible for carrying out the administrative tasks with the children. Nathalia, the youngest of the three teachers, came down to fetch material for the others. She turned to leave the storeroom and found me in a delicate basket made of calendulas and a black box with silver decorations flirting with the contrast that had created. Needless to say, she scared, almost killed me with the heavy materials, at least for a being that the only aptitude is to cry, falling close enough to my head to make an audience hold the breath of anxiety and caught the attention of the others teachers. Well, I don't blame her, I did not like it when I opened the door of my house and I saw a young woman with a child in her arms claiming that it was my duty to assume paternity.

Nathalia was responsible for creating me in an engaging way. In her early days as a freshman at Minerva University, she fell in love with her classmate. The passion was intense and in two years they married, a year and a half later she became pregnant. Both formed with praises and went out with friends to celebrate graduation, and finally, the couple would have their long-awaited honeymoon. Not long after they left the party they were ambushed. The thieves were trembling, their eyes bulging and red, their teeth black, or what was left of them, and the stench of rotting escaped through the gaps. It was a trio of addicts and in abstinence.

The assault was fierce. Her husband though had resisted bravely for a civilian, in fewer numbers he was only able to avoid the worst-case scenario. With his sacrifice, there was an opportunity for his beloved to flee. But even so, they caught her, assaulted her, and when they decided to take her life the cops arrived and dispatched the trio on the spot.

She lost her husband, her son and fertility, but not the desire to relish life. As part of the recovery, she was sent to Jasmine. Two weeks after her arrival she found me. She loved me more than a mother would love her son. She loved me as intensely as it is possible for a heart to endure or a mind to understand. And for nine years I had a mother. Surely I was not the best child anyone would want, perhaps the most cunning, but I had the best mother fate would offer me.

Due to the incident at the academy, she developed complications. Already weak in her bed she gave me back the black box and words that intrigued me to this day. I remember holding her flaccid hand, feeling the bones beneath her skin and looking into her coffee-coloured eyes and searching in them the answer to a question I did not have. Her curling, wavy hair caressed her cheek. It was a sad painting of black and white.

"Do not cry my little one. Look at me." The tenderness in her voice was the same as always. "Do not let the trees keep you from seeing the forest. Do not be afraid of dreams, they are yours, control them. And remember, I will always love you."

"That sounds like the end."

"It's your beginning, that out of my selfishness was delayed," between taunts and cross-responses we stayed like this until the laughter grew more remote, muffled as if from an enclosed room. Silence. I cast upon her a dull look. I was attentive. She would not hear any calls now. I wiped away my tears and left the room. Children in the distance were playing hopscotch.