The day had arrived, and the family set off for the capital. The journey by horse drawn carriage took a little over an hour. Living in the rural countryside was peaceful, but it was also isolating. Ester rarely saw kids her own age. She barely had friends, except for one boy her mother had forbidden her from seeing.
Staring out the carriage window as her father controlled the reins, she watched fields of green pasture and grazing wild animals slide by. When was the last time she'd been this far from home? The wind felt refreshing on her face, her hair whipping in the breeze and the sun beating down. She wished this moment would last, a fleeting peace before she had to leave the carriage and face her uncle again.
She should have been completely afraid, but a new feeling surged within her, a desire to confront him. She was with her dad. She wanted him to see her; to see he hadn't won.
Her ears began buzzing again. The ringing had never truly left since that night, often growing louder with her emotions. Usually a quiet hum, it now sharpened into high pitched whispers. She couldn't help but stick a finger in her ear. Immediately, her mother yanked her hand away.
"Act dignified." she hissed. "Don't disgrace our family."
Rolling her eyes, Ester decided to pass the time with a book from her father's study- The Church of the Arc by a non-Synch man named Siris. It theorised about the Arc's origin, the purpose of Synchrites, and whether they were threats. Though advanced for her age, Ester was an intelligent, inquisitive girl, fascinated by Synchrites. She read: "The spread of the Church's agenda has sparked a chain reaction with the speed of a wildfire, raising the question, what is its true mission? To spread the word of a higher power, or something else?"
Her father, seeing her from the corner of his eye, quickly took the book.
"Ester.."he tried. "You shouldn't be reading this."
"Why?"
"Because" he tried again, a failed attempt, "you are still a child." His words only made her more sceptical of everything she had been taught.
"Never mind that, "he said, "we're almost there."
Peering into the distance, she saw it, the capital of Geneeva.
Arriving at the city's outskirts, Ester saw farmers, shepherds, and peddlers being stopped by officials. She saw beggars being harassed. Something inside her said it was wrong, but her father told her not to get involved. Stopping before the guards, her father waved a sigil proving they were summoned. The Gate immediately opened.
Bustling sounds filled the air, bickering, clattering hooves, music. But past the gate, the sounds seemed farther away. Directly in front of her were the impoverished. One man stood out, old and frail with the frame of skin and bones. Her heart faltered. She wanted to look away, but his eyes met hers as the carriage trotted past. Sunken and hollow, they held no malice, no anger, no emotion. Just emptiness.
"They are the Sick, Ester," her dad said, almost reading her thoughts. "People the Church deemed non-contributing."
She thought it inhumane.
"What about the heretics?" her mother grumbled. "Serves the rejectors right."
Her father said nothing.
They followed the city's sounds until they arrived at the marketplace.
The heart of the capital buzzed with a life Ester had never seen. Banners floated above the stalls, the air was rich with roasted food, spices and sweet candied fruits. Musicians played as dancers marvelled the crowd. Merchants held infant Flo beasts in cages, and children watched in awe. A little wyvern occasionally sneezed fire, making the crowd laugh. The beast would be sold to the highest bidders. Ester's eyes darted everywhere, she saw a man in shiny red armour and a white cloak brush past the less fortunate, oblivious. She was in awe of the commotion, yet something was off. Within all this, why were some excluded?
She wanted to stop for some candied food, but her father insisted they continue to her uncle's estate.
They arrived in the afternoon. His estate dwarfed her family's home. It was too big for one person. A servant took their horses; another escorted them inside to await him.
Then he appeared, strutting into the room shirtless with his fake smile. Her mother embraced him first, oozing reverence. He let her linger longer than usual, making her father break the tension with a cough.
"Little brother," her father said, reaching for an embrace. A twitch of annoyance flashed in her uncle's eye, but he maintained his persona and accepted it.
"Surely you must show more respect to an Arcon in training, brother?" Her uncle retorted.
"Do you even respect yourself?" Pointing at his potbelly. "Did they also teach you how to let yourself go?"
Ester let out a quiet snicker, and he turned to her, immediately she wiped it off her face.
Her father let out a cough, "My apologies. The trip left me ...more exhausted than I thought."
"Ah, well, why don't you all join me for a feast this evening?" He turned back to Ester.
"I'm sure you're all hungry."
Ester stared, then forced a smile. "I am, Uncle."
This threw him off. He guided them to the guest rooms, each larger than their living quarters back home. This was the Church's influence. Sitting on the bed, the necklace felt heavier, colder. She wore it as a reminder, twisting the cold steel, pondering how to expose him. It wasn't until later a dark-skinned servant escorted her to dinner. As she was following her, Ester's eyes caught the faint, yellowing shadow of a bruise peeking out from the maid's high collar. Another, fresher one was visible on her wrists.
" Does he hurt you?" Ester asked quietly, her steps slowing.
The woman flinched; she pursued her lips before bowing her head. "I just happen to fall my lady."
It was a lie and Ester knew it. "Does he treat all his servants this way?"
The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to her. Almost crying, she let out painful smile. "We are not servants. We are slaves."
She held Ester's gaze for a second longer before turning away. "The dining quarter is just ahead," she said, "You should not keep him waiting."
The feast, to Ester's distaste, was delicious. She stuffed her face, her decorum vanishing as the adults talked and sipped wine as they laughed.
"So, are you excited?" her father said. "Being seen as an Arcon Candidate?"
Her Uncle snorted, ripping a chicken leg apart. "I have been working for this for twenty years. How could i not be?"
"Well, I hope you do become the Arcon," her mother chimed in. He choked on his chicken. Ester saw her father's exasperated look.
"What about you, Ester?" her uncle said. "Are you happy for me?"
She wanted to tell him to drop dead and die. Instead, she gave him the answer he wanted. "If uncle becomes Arcon, will he give me more gifts?"
His laugh boomed, promising he would.
When the feast ended, Ester retired to her room. She had seen her parents drink more, but still be fine, but this time, it was as if they couldn't keep their eyes open. She watched them silently stumbled to their room as a maid escorted them. It wasn't long until Ester was in her bed. But she couldn't sleep, not with him nearby.
Sure enough, the door crept open and he was there, still smiling and panting.
"Ester, Uncle needs you to do something for him."
As he stepped closer, she was ready for this time. She slashed out with a small knife she had stolen from the kitchen, catching his forearm. It was a wild, panicked attempt only drew out a thin line of blood. His smile vanished, replaced with cold anger. He gritted his teeth as a mad expression appeared on his face. "You bitch," he snarled, and then he lunged at her, grabbing her wrist and crushing it until the knife clattered to the floor. His other hand finding her throat. Her kicks did not damage, only exciting him more. Slipping in and out of consciousness, she could hear his laughter. Was this it? Was she always destined to be weak? How could this monster go unpunished?
She rejected it. She rejected everything.
Her ears began to blare and a pain in her ears forced her eyes open. She saw the look of confusion take over her uncle's face. Summoning every ounce of strength she had, she delivered a kick to his side, launching him across the room. She felt a crack as she had connected with him, and he struggled to get up. Clutching his side, he was wheezing, seemingly unable to breathe. He tried to leave, to call for help, but Ester wasn't done. Moving faster than he could open the door, she tackled him to the ground. He tried to block his face, but it didn't matter. Ester's first blew past his hands, striking his face. Then the next strike on the other side of his face, the again, and again, and again until she was in a pool of blood, is face unrecognizable.
Servants slammed the door open, and their screams filled the entire estate.
Her parents appeared stumbling, she thought they were drunk but they showed a side she had never seen before. Pure fear. Her father said nothing as officials took her away, her mother's last words echoing in her mind. Monster. She saw the look of the maid who she had talked with, not a look of fear, but worry.
She was declared a Synch before being thrown into a dungeon.
She was later informed her father was executed for speaking up for her, for trying to expose the Church. And her mother... Her mother committed suicide to escape the shame.