The day Sila left home was one of nerves, embarrassment, and absolute chaos in preparing to depart. The few weeks prior to leaving, she had finished the last of the paperwork needed to be assigned to her school, chosen her residence, and toured her new community with the Korviant that managed her apartment's building. All of her childhood toys, clothes, and supplies she still had were painfully given to her younger siblings or donated for others. The few items she kept for herself were boxed into a Nalsanuv¹, a box carefully arranged with personal objects her family would hold until she had her first true home.

On the front steps of her home, the family gathered on both sides of their small front lawn to watch Sila, small suitcase in hand, step to the street. The small branch of road that her family lived on was filled as the neighbors gathered. It was a small, somewhat silly tradition that Inma and Korviant celebrated when a child leaves home. The community gathers to wave goodbye to the child so they may one day welcome the adult that returns.

Sila's face flushed on seeing every sereta down the road gathered. As the cab arrived, the heat in her cheeks blazed. A banner above read "Sila kari'Shantus", the kari a signifier that she was of and is no longer part of the Shantus sereta. She was not a member of her family's sereta any longer, she was unbound². Tears streamed down her cheek as soon as she saw the cab, the emotional display bursting into full sobs as her crying family gathered and hugged her. They were her family, but they were no longer a sereta. What felt like both hours and minutes at the same time, she left them, sitting in the back of the cab, riding past the waving sereta's she knew by sight and sound to her future.

Her arrival to her new home had no fanfare at all. The communal home was a small apartment building five floors tall and sharing a green space with five other buildings of similar size. It was a short walk from her school and mostly occupied with students, both being major reasons she picked it. Like most, she had to be vetted by each potential apartment, and chose based on those that accepted her. No formal interviews meant selection relied entirely on what she had on her application.

The homemates, who she met briefly during orientation after she was accepted, were all very kind and pragmatic. Most of them seemed creative, and more talented than she was, which made her feel comfortable in the shared space. They were older than her, however, which left her self-conscious of looking childish. Only a few of her homemates were still in school, and those that were had only a few years left. The gap in life experience made any deeper connections with them harder. She often felt like the little sister of the group.

The apartment was built similar to Sila's family's home; the communal area contained everything they would need in a wide open concept. Three bathrooms to share between the dozen rooms on the floor were even more generous than the two bathrooms she grew up sharing with her family. Her room, in contrast, was much smaller than her room in her family's home had been, but the close walls helped fill the emptiness of her social life with a certain cradled comfort like her own cacoon. Whenever she needed more noise, she could sit in any one of the dozen creatively placed chairs the apartment had and basked in the hum of her homemates moving through their own lives.

Attending school was always either the best or worst part of her week. Her cooking classes were always the highlights of her week; the discoveries and process of cooking were something she connected with deeply. The joy of the art was kept in check by the classes she was required to complete and struggled to do so. Rehabilitory math was the worst of them.

She loved her university, especially the open lectures. Guests were often visiting to give free speeches on a huge array of topics. Students could take finished products from the many renowned classes based on a lottery system. What was given away in-house was donated around the city. The staff were genuinely welcoming and had helped Sila find her place and purpose within the school. On top of all of this, the architecture was stunning in her eyes, with ample sunlight and cozy halls that made it feel like a true second home.

Within a couple of months, she began feeling like a true adult. She had registered with the government as unbound, receiving her new ID, enrolled in the compulsory National Defense League, and was even accepted in a labor-exchange position a year earlier than many of her peers. A few wardrobe updates, recreational driving license classes, a state-sanctioned protest march, and she felt like she was shedding her childhood shell and stepping into the rest of her life.

Invitation by Fire

Snapshot: Age 19

Sila watched the pair of students loading scrap wood into a large pit. Once a month, at least since she started here, the Outdoor Artisan Cooking Club took leftover wood scraps they had collected, and used it for their own bonfire. It was a small party for the students and their friends, none Sila knew, but she enjoyed watching from a distance. Last month they managed to grow the flames big enough for her to feel the heat even from her bench seat sitting a hundred feet away.

One of the girls she'd seen at the bonfires before approached, a bundle of ink-printed crate pieces under one arm.

Panic started to set in Sila. She looked down at her book, closed and tucked between her knees, considering picking it up to read to avoid any interaction. The girl's eyes were locked on Sila's, the side of her smile curling into a smirk.

"At this point, you are basically a part of the festivities. We've taken bets on whether you'd ever join. Eighty Veets on you joining by the end of the semester, and my money is on tonight. I might be cheating now."

The panic spread across Sila's face in a burning flood that felt hotter than last month's inferno. Words tumbled in a pitiful mumble as she struggled to find her words. "S-sorry, I just...I wasn't trying..."

"Come on." The girl reached down with her free, leathered hand, and pulled Sila up with surprising strength. "You're joining. Only one condition."

"What's that?" Sila let the girl pull her a few steps before they stopped. In response, the girl pulled her gloves off and grinned. With an audible slap against Sila's chest, she handed them to Sila flicked her head towards the bonfire pile.

"You have to haul at least one load. Newbies get to pour the fuel too. We like the big woosh. You give us a little one, and you'll be heckled."

"Oh..." the girl turned and walked toward the fire pit, prompting Sila to jog up to her. "I'm Sila by the way."

"Vahnae ad'Valku. Yes, that Valku. Prince Slayer and all. I'm related and no I'm not ashamed. It's been over a hundred years. He's dead."

"I wasn't-"

"Don't worry, everyone asks, and if they don't, they're curious anyway. I wasn't trying to snip or anything," Vahnae tossed her the wood into the bonpile as they approached.

She bent down and readjusted a few long pieces of scrap. Her hair fell down, prompting her to pull it back, tying it into a quick ponytail, exposing her ears, a unique and rare triple point, giving her a sudden rebellious look.

"So grab a stack. Any particular ones or just anything?"

"Nope. Grab whatever. It might be the last batch, too. We got a good pile going here."

"Oh, and obviously, don't breathe the smoke." Vahnae casually waved her hand to ink-coated pieces piled on the fire pit. "We aren't legally allowed to burn this, but the Dean Aksrav is really cool and lets us take the extras from different classes. It's the dumpster or our party."

"Got it."

"New girl!" one of the other students walked over with a small handmade torch of cloth and scrap parts, burning fierce, hungry to light the wooden pile next to them. His other hand offered a modern canister of fuel, the warning labels and sleek design contrasting against the makeshift torch he held back from it. "Honor the future with the fuel, then honor our ancestors with the fire."

Sila took the fuel from him, turning towards the fire, suddenly aware of the dozen other students that had appeared in the short time. Her heart started thrumming hard against her chest, and she became painfully aware that she was hesitating before the crowd. The boy that gave her the torch cleared his throat, making her turn to him.

"Oh, and don't get any fuel on yourself. Last year, one of the transfers set themselves on fire."

Vahnae smirked. "Just his leg. He was fine."

Sila smiled, a little nervous still but ready. Vahnae gave another casual nod towards the wood, and Sila responded by pointing the bottle toward the fire pit and squeezing. Fuel jetted out, soaking over the wood. She continued until the bottle sputtered for a break, gasping as she let the pressure off.

"A little more. Big woosh," Vahnae whispered to her.

Sila squeezed again, a smile on her face as a few of the students gave their own hesitant chuckles. The scent of the fuel tickling her nose as she doused the wood.

"Now take the flame." the guy offered her the torch. In a lower voice, he whispered to her, "And don't catch on fire."

Sila nodded, a buzz of excitement in her head putting her senses on sharp alert.

Vahnae seemed unworried, giving Sila a rush of confidence in the face of the crowd. She leaned forward, aiming to touch one of the closest wood glistening with fuel.

As the torch made contact, the fire leapt up, quickly covering the branch. She pulled the torch back, smiling at the brilliant flames.

Then it erupted.

Flames shot skyward. A large fireball formed deep inside, rushing up and bursting from the bonfire to char the heavens.

A woosh, as promised, echoed out.

The heat was intense. Sila flinched from it, turning away from the flames. She stumbled awkwardly on her own foot and fell backward, the torch landing near her.

Her mind spun in confusion, her eyes showing only after burns of the large flames. A flushing heat pulsed on her chest, and the intense warmth of the fire radiated on her back as she lifted herself slightly. For a moment, she considered just staying on the ground, embarrassed of being knocked down during her chance to impress the crowd.

Fingers stabbed at her as they gripped her arm, yanking Sila to her knees. She saw the flash of boots that Vahnae wore, but turned her head away in disgrace as she brushed grass from her hair.

Somewhere in the crowd, Sila swore she heard someone yell, "Again?".

Vahnae reached down to grab the torch, stamping out the smoldering on the ground before helping to lift Sila up.

"Congrats on setting a huge fire and burning yourself in the process."

Vahnae gave Sila a once over, gently brushing dirt and grass from her shoulders. Sila made a few half mutters, feeling like she should say something, but not exactly sure what.

"Well, you look fine, but that was some kind of grand stupid."

A laugh escaped Sila as she pressed her hand against the heat on her chest. She looked out at the students who cheered at the flames as the fire began to settle down. Everyone seemed satisfied and started mingling with one another.

"Come on. I have some drinks. Nothing hard." Vahnae stood, helping Sila up. "We've got all night with this fire."

fin

By the end of the year, Sila had found her place in her community and was enjoying life in ways her younger self would never have envisioned. Vahnae, a new friend from her university, was refreshingly exhilarating, and often exactly what Sila needed to break herself from getting too absorbed in her studies. They would take day-trips to the parks simply to enjoy nature instead of sitting in the plazas, squares, and cafés that her peers preferred. She even convinced Sila to take up running, though she still avoided public runs, despite Vahnae's urging. They weren't legally allowed to vote yet, but they began engaging civically, with Vahnae teaching Sila about parts of her country and international events she never noticed before.

On the weekends, there were art shows of wild varieties, open-air dance clubs, and musical concerts. They even snuck into a few Humar concerts, where Sila got drunk for the first time, losing her jacket, a shoe, and discovering that she could jump hurdles surprisingly well for an unathletic girl. It spurred her to request a slot on the Track Team.

In her second year, Sila was comfortable and happy with life. Most of her homemates were enjoyable, though they rarely interacted with her. Her classes were great, she was involved in track, debate, began volunteering with an animal shelter, and had a small circle of friends, of whom Vahnae was the most prominent. Life was far from routine, but she was happy. As the fall scholastic slumber came up, she planned a trip to visit her family. Agnit was taking her first visit home, and Sila didn't want to miss it.

As her vacation began, she found it to be surreal to be in her childhood home. It was a strange mixture of familiar and alien. She found herself bouncing between behaving like the teenager she once was and awkwardly acting as a guest in her parent's home. In less than a year and a half, her younger siblings all grew so much that it was jarring. The oldest of them, her brother Meelka, who was already entering journeyschool, had taken her old room. Despite the fullness of the house, six parents with seven children, it was less busy than Sila's own apartment.

When Agnit arrived on the third day of Sila's vacation, Sila was overwhelmed with joy. She expected her sister to arrive in uniform, but as she emerged from her ride, she wore normal clothes. They were all new, though of her familiar style, and the first sign of the changes she'd undergone while away.

Sila rushed up to her sister, almost throwing herself into an embrace. Her arms wrapped around Agnit and immediately pressed against the hard muscles in her sister's shoulders and back. As she released the hug and looked Agnit over, she saw the changes the short time apart had caused. Her sister was fit, and looked every part the soldier. Her hair was freshly trimmed on the sides and swept back off her neck. Not only that, but her face had thinned and hardened, almost weathered in a youthful way. Even in her smile, there was a tiredness that spoke of the stresses her training had put her through.

Despite all the differences Sila could see in her sister, it was still her sister. In the hardness of her body, her posture held the same casual coolness she always had, and after their embrace, they fell right into their old ways. On that first day together, the rest of the family barely existed as they got caught up on the last few years of their lives. Despite all they had experienced apart, they remained closer than ever.

Sila spent most of her time at home, trying to maximize what few days she had with her family. The sisters wanted to see Leeva, but their schedules didn't match up the entire visit. They were cleared for a single night visit with Shantavika, finding her friend exhausted from the demands of her caste. Though she was immaculate in appearance, she couldn't cover the redness in her tired eyes. She told them that she was being coupled³ with a rising star in politics, slated to be an ambassador, which sounded exciting, but their friend's tone just seemed tired. Her own industry, public engineering, was draining her rapidly, as she was dealing with Drubik⁴ community issues, and admitted she felt emotionally numb by the end of her nights.

Leaving their friend, they couldn't help but feel more appreciative and secure in their caste. While they would likely never live in manors, fly across the country every month, or dine with celebrities, the demands on them would never be so high as to tear them apart emotionally.

By pure chance, on an after-dinner walk, Sila and Agnit found themselves passing the Humar park they would escape to and play in as children. A family was having a picnic as they passed, though with the Humar, it always looked like a party to Sila. To her surprise, Buvik was there. He recognized them, and they ended up sharing a small but precious moment. Without visitation, they would be asked to separate soon, but they held the moment as long as they could.

They found he had been assigned as a deconstruction specialist, working mostly in the city's outskirts. His job had grown his chest and arms, making him massive compared to what Sila remembered from when they last played together. He had the makings of a beard growing, and skin deepened from the summer in the sun. He was bound, or married, to a sereta with seven others, the family even planning to merge with another sereta that was diminished to four. All together, they had fourteen children, but he was expecting his first blood-child in a couple of months. Music was still vital to him, and he had picked up two more instruments.

A peacekeeper approached, as expected, checking their sirivaklouins to confirm their caste. Once he saw they were overcaste, Inma in a Humar-designated Park, he asked them to respect the caste-rights and move on. They always had the option to apply for visitation, he informed them, though they knew the chances of seeing him again with their busy lives were small. They said their goodbyes, the physical gulf feeling like a magnetic fire as they yearned to hug him, before turning and continuing their walk. Sadness and nostalgia followed them as they continued their walk that evening.

Their vacations ended too soon, and Sila was back at school. She returned to her new normal, the rest of the year to blazing by. The third year remained much the same, but she was earning additional money from her job at school-sponsored restaurant. She began exploring more interests in her life, and started looking at travelling the world. Exposure to new spices and flavors in her classes made her curious, and soon she began to seek out a means to travel beyond her national borders.

The World So Wide

Snapshot: Age 23

Small drops of water rolled down the mirror, tracing thin lines through the steam. Sila stepped from the shower mat to push open the top of the window, revealing scattered clouds in an otherwise blue sky. A quick chill ran across her skin, causing goose bumps to cover her. The foggy steam stuck on the ceiling rushed out to the sky, eager to drift the blue with the other clouds.

If it weren't for the chilly mornings, stone floors, and her lack of warm pajamas, she wouldn't have spent so long in such a warm shower. She was warned that heating was reserved for the coldest months in Noraza, but she didn't realize just how much the chill could get to ones bones.

With clear mirrors, Sila turned back to see a properly boiled young woman. Her skin was so red that her ruby patterns were washed out, only visible by the slightest shimmer. The water droplets running from her hair had more of a sparkle than her patterns. She yanked one of the towels from the rack and wrapped her hair up before grabbing another to dry the rest of herself.

Casually flipping her watch over, she saw that she was down to twenty minutes left before the guide arrived. If she didn't hurry, she wasn't just going to miss some historic points and interesting scenes, she was going to miss experiencing the largest festival of the entire peninsula!

"Shit and double shit." Sila's swears came out stuttered as she hopped into her clothes, verging on losing her balance on the wet floor. In all of her life, she had always been punctual, and on an important day like this, she was about to make a fool of herself by running out half ready. She blamed the way the food soured her stomach, the weird taste of the water, and poor sleep in the cold, but she knew those were just excuses. She'd been slow and timid this entire trip.

A light tapping at the door interrupted Sila's flow for a moment. The soft voice of Rinyia, one of the Cultural Experience Program students with Sila's group, came through. "Sila, do you have clean shorts? What size are you?"

Sila opened the door, toothbrush in mouth, and shook her head, trying to gesture that she was wearing her last pair. The mornings might be cold, but by the early afternoon, the late spring days grow hot.

"Well great. Can I use the sink too?" she asked, but was already at the sink rubbing at a green stain from her shorts. "I didn't realize that it got so hot here. I have only two pairs of shorts. These are cleaner, I guess."

"Tick-Tock, ten minutes." Another alnisian in their group, Sezeur, walked past, slowing just to taunt the girls before he passed them. His little casual teases had been charming so far, but right now, she was rushing too much to take note.

Spitting her toothpaste into the sink, Sila gathered the rest of her belongings and rushed out. She heard Rinyia holler behind her. "There are still pastries downstairs. Hurry before that vigrish boy gets down there. You know how they eat!"

From pocket to drawer to bag, Sila stashed her toiletries and grabbed her makeup kit. Flicking it open, she began to decorate her face in a subtle alnisian style, eye to temple to brow, while glancing down to ensure she had her documents.  The motions were automatic these days, and as she went through them, her eyes kept returning to her passport. When she got a free hand, she flipped it open, scanning the pages.

On the left page, the usual listing of personal details all passports seemed to have filled it. Her picture, taken only weeks ago, filled most of it and made it look properly official. On the right, however, were the details for the carrier: a shorthand list of caste rules that alnisians were exempt from while travelling. Even on the first night, there was something giddy about knowing she was sharing a room with two korviant girls, something absolutely unheard of in Alnisia under nomral circumstances.

She heard a commotion out the window and peeked her head out. The source of the cheering wasn't visible, but she spotted a human approaching their dorm with a backpack and an arm full of pamphlets - the guide.

"Triple shit." Sila looked back at her mirror, making sure she was passable, then slammed it shut to rush down the stairs.

* * * * *

"Are those kites?" Sila shielded her eyes against the early afternoon sun as she looked up at the buildings Rinyia pointed at. The squat condos they passed were similar to her own Inma options back home, though they all seemed to have at least small patios unlike her native ones. She had asked earlier and learned that the roofs of Norazee buildings were places of machinery, not tranquility, and had none of the greenery that she had come to expect from cities like she had in her own country.

"Yes! Part of the Hunt of the White Drake." Their guide's voice echoed against the walls in his jubilance. His passion for his city flared as he started pointing out each kite. "Officially, citizen kites are not allowed in the city limits today. It's not really enforced, though, if they keep them low. After the drakes are released, people take turns throwing the paintballs we passed earlier at the kites, trying to hit them. It is a reflection of the hunted drake the festival honors. The Drake led our nation to victory, and now it symbolizes our good fortunes!"

Sezeur started winding his arm in a mock warm up, challenging another of the exchange students with them. His shoulders were broad, but tastefully so. His bare neck showed his Korviant Sirivaklouin mark. She studied it for any markings on it to indicate he was bound or intended, but saw none. A hastened thump in her chest, prompted her to turn her gaze to the streetlights to avoid what she knew stirred inside. Her focus fell on the posts, every other one displaying a white drake sign, some sporting colorful splatters.

A large crowd rushed out in front of them as they reached an intersection. The deep bass of the festival music picked up. The mass of people grew into the beat and began yelling and screaming battle cries as people of all ages ran forward and started beating at each other with large, colorful, mock weapons coated in paint.

"This is intense! What is it?" One of the exchange students asked. Colorful balls flew overhead from the street edges, several of which began falling on the tour group. Dashing to the side, the group pushed past some of the crowd to get under the cover of a café's awning.

"Mock battles. A lot of streets organize them. They represent our—" their guide cut off as a paintball smashed against his head, knocking him forward and into Sezeur's chest. A jealous rush flooded Sila, and she turned away quickly, her face burning. Rinyia looked at her with a sly grin, making Sila turn again, this time in shame. She felt self-conscious and looked for something to preoccupy herself. She opted to step into the calmer part of the crowd that watched the battle, hoping to disappear for a moment.

As soon as she slipped into the crowd a couple bodies deep, a woman appeared directly before her with a box of paintballs and held them out to Sila. With a gentle shake and raising her arms, Sila tried to politely decline, but only got out a meek 'no', blanking on how to say 'thank you'. The woman scowled and went off sharply at Sila with what sounded to her only as harsh words.

A firm hand grabbed one of Sila's hands and filled it with paintballs. The Norazah girl who held Sila's hand smiled gently down to Sila, disarming her. She spoke in the trade language at first, but Sila didn't know it and only shook her head. The girl pulled in and bit both of her lips in thought a second, switching to a broken Vigrish.

"She made many to stop bad life. It be of good fortune to give away. Say to her no is be like say to her 'have bad life'." As the girl explained, Sila took a few more balls with a heartful apology to the woman. The girl smiled and translated for Sila, then turned back and yelled over the growing clamor of the crowd. "When say 'Katta', you throw all bad life!"

With a loud scream, the girl and a hundred people around Sila bellowed 'Katta' and threw their paintballs. Sila hesitated, flinching at the intensity of the crowds energy and squeezing the paintballs in her hands, the colorful liquid seeping between her fingers.

A moment later, hundreds of balls rained down and struck everyone, splattering a shower of paint across the crowd. Cheers and laughter erupted with the splash of paint into the sky. Sila wiped her face and looked around her. Old men, young girls, elegant women in ruined dresses and rowdy street kids with stained clothes, all cheered and yelled toward one another as they began to count.

The energy was infectious. Like the paint in her clothes, the intensity seeped into Sila. She felt drawn to join, eagerly doing so after only a moment to catch her breath.  As the crowd finished their countdown, they yelled 'Katta' once more. Sila led this time, the first to throw among those around her.

As the first couple of paintballs flew overhead, weaving between the kites and lanterns, she began to break from the crowd. She pushed back toward the awning, emergin before her group. The cheers swelled again as Sila stepped back to them, she smiled at the group, catching Rinyia's eyes starring wide with awe. Shifting over, Sila saw Sezeur's own face watching with curious interest. It ignited urges in Sila, and she turned to avoid them.

Spreading her arms, she surrendered to the moment, to the festival, and to the falling paintballs. Her eyes squeezed, and a dozen balls fell around her, striking her all over, covering her in a cascading array of hues as she gave into the raw delight.

* * * * *

With a shriek, Sila jumped back as Sezeur threw one of the paint sponges at her. The ball struck her in the sleeve, soaking it blue to cover the orange. The absurd act prompted a fit of laughs from her as she kicked it back at him. He kept his gaze at her, his large jade eyes smiling as he took a bite from the meat he held the local with: with wooden tongs. With a wave of her hand, she turned and continued to dance to the music.

The moon was up but completely hidden by the vast swarm of lanterns lighting the sky. Kites in the shape of drakes still flew, and people threw paintballs at any that dared expose white on their surface. Surrounding Sila was a mass of people in a chaotic assembly of dance, play, and conversation. The energy was so intense it electrified her. The thrum of music was so deep and powerful she felt like two hearts beat in her chest.

A voice yelled at Sila, and she turned to see Rinyia motioning at her. With a purposefully chaotic motion that kept to the beat of the music, Sila moved to her. She sat with several norazah men. They were handsome young men. Humans, but handsome. They weren't tall for their people, but they towered over Sila, like all humans. One had an arm he kept trying to wrap around Riniyia's waist while his other held a bundled kite with several tubes bundled together.

"Want to shoot a drake?" Rinyia's question drew only confusion on Sila's face until the man trying to hang onto Rinyia held up the kite. She clarified, "It's a rocket kite. They shoot it down with paintball guns."

Sila contemplated it. The two men had invited them to celebrate the local customs after their tour ended. They had been honest about it. They watched the white drake get released from a tall shop, joined a small mock battle in one of the smaller residental streets, and had ripped meat from a boar in a local feast tradition.  There was no doubt in Sila's mind the rocket kite would be fun too. Her hesitation was with the music. It pulsed inside her, unending, and and spurred her to whirl like a storm to its beat.

"The music though!" Sila shot back, then got hit in the back by another ball. She turned over her shoulder and grinned at Sezeur, who was now motioning to her to go to the dance square, hands free of food finally.

Rinyia laughed, the loudest sound Sila had heard from her yet. "You're right. Go! You're Inma, yeah? Go have fun, who knows if you'll ever get a chance to inter-mingle like this again."

An illusionary drake flew over from the stage, a resonating roar from the speakers reverberating so deep it stole Sila's breath a moment. She grabbed her chest and laughed. With an enthusiastic nod, she walked backwards from Rinyia, dancing to the music once more.

The music softened as someone began talking, the crowd settling but not stopping. Sila couldn't understand the words, so she did a few spins to the music. As vertigo built, she stopped, facing Sezeur who caught her by the hip.  She motioned for him to lean in, ensuring her words weren't lost in the music.

"Are you unbound?" she asked. She was willing to break the laws of the peacekeepers back home, but not the heart of some korviant partners he may have.  Sezeur whispered in her ear to look, causing the hairs on her neck to rise. He turned his head to reveal his neck and his Sirviaklouin.

With a gentle brush, her fingers pulsed with a small release of arcana into his Sirviaklouin. It illuminated, revealing the elegant caste symbol that all korviants were marked with, but no bound or intent marks glowed around it. He was fully unbound.

A torrent of feelings swirled in her. Excitement. Fear. Hesitance. A deep, primal urge. She pulled back and looked at him, holding her smile back to not look too eager. His hazy dark eyes spoke of his own swirling thoughts. He leaned in, his face close enough for her to feel the warmth through the cooling air. His lips parted, reaching for a kiss.  The tension between them smoldered, on the edge of igniting.

Then the world erupted around them.

With a scream, Sila flung herself into Sezeur's arms as festival cannons exploded, the music shifting seemlessly into a pounding cadence of their national anthem. A second later, as she took a sharp breath of the humid festival air, a stream of paintballs crashed down on them. The cold paint, sprayed drinks, and chill breeze flashed her back to her morning shower, huddled in its narrow stream of warmth. Like the shower, she curled into Sezeur for warmth.

Looking up at him, his goofy grin showing, she realized that this moment was more than just its own pleasure.  This entire trip was unlike anything she'd ever done, unlike who she normally was, and it was because she chose to step away from herself. Her stars guided her, but she was the one that took the leap.

Glancing beyond Sezeur to see the night sky, muted by the city lights and littered by sporadic kites, balloons, and lanterns, but she spotted the constellation of Nineevalx, the Flame Guide, and her thoughts fell back to her starmarking. Her eyes returned to his, expectation in them as his warm breath brushed her cheek. Grasping the moment, like she would with her life from now on, she rose up and kissed him.

fin

Returning from her exchange program left Sila invigorated and refreshed. The idea of leaving her country had never been anything she thought much about when she was younger, but having seen the world beyond its borders, she felt a new sense of national pride. She loved her country for what it was, and hoped she could help make it even better with her own unique visions.

She focused on school, fully immersing herself in cooking. Her natural talents melded with her diligent studies and she quickly rose to the top of her culinary class. She had three professors recommend her for the Artisanal Crafting Program, a program that, once completed, would have actually raised Sila in caste. Putting everything she had, her sweat, soul, and more, into her craft, she masterfully recreated internationally recognized dishes. She followed this by creating unique twists to them, she was sure had never been seen before.

Despite it all, she was passed over. Her non-culinary academics lagged behind the top applicants, the program demanding a fully-rounded student. She was initially stunned when she received the letter, a sense of disbelief washed over her, but this quickly turned into anger. She couldn't quite articulate what she was angry with, she just was. It wasn't the school, they were right in rejecting her. It wasn't herself, though she was irritated with her own failures. She just was.

Vahnae helped her feel the anger. A woman of many musical talents, she took Sila to a few concerts in the city's heart that helped her draw out her own rage. It was in the midst of a bleak-electric concert, dark-themed techno music with stunning visuals, where Sila channeled it. An attuned DJ knew the crowd and built them up to release a terrifying yell, and at that moment, all of Sila's fury burst from her into the chaotic air of lights, sweat, and youthful vigor. It was gone. The moment left her clear and calm, even in the drum of the music. Inside, there was peace.

With her renewed vigor for school, Sila pulled back from her social life except for Vahnae. They continued exploring the social greens beyond campus and travelling to see concerts in Sila's free time. Sila enjoyed the distractions, only ever parting on the nights Vahnae was looking for more adventurous activities with other unbound. She felt envious at times, she had her own collection of crushes, but she was too timid to ever approach men for anything more than a few dances.

Any romantic inclinations she held were put to the side for her studies. Ultimately, it paid off. Her graduation ceremony, held in a large amphitheater in the heart of the school, was attended by her whole family. The feeling of pride, exhilaration, and a touch of embarrassment at her elevated place amongst her peers, all radiated from her as she smiled at her family. Agnit, on leisure-orders, cheered so loud on seeing Agnit that it was only overpowered by the collective roar of the crowd as the Dean wrapped his speech.

Sila, graduating in the top 10 percent of her class, received honors alongside the top students of her class. While most students walked in a line to receive their diplomas, the honors stood in a row. In order, each stepped forward to receive their diploma from someone close to them, as the dean read a brief summary of their achievements. Sila had a moment of hesitation trying to choose who she woud have, afraid to offend friends and family who were not picked, but ultimately, Agnit came up and stood before her.

Sila beamed at her sister, who held a goofy grin, softening the serious moment with pulled faces. As the dean read Sila's achievements, she began to tear up. Even Agnit, as strong as she was, teared up listening to all that Sila had accomplished, shortened to just a few impactful paragraphs:

Next, we are honored by Sila kari'Shantus no'Fla, who stands before you now as a Culinary Tradeswoman of mastery.

Beyond achieving high marks in her choosen trade, Sila expanded her skillset by attending every single expeditiary course, after-hours class, and Legends class available in her field during her time with us.

She was a founding member of the cleverly named Baking my Back Club, providing nutritious and delicous treats for our Humar brethren in construction, and on the Dining Design's student board in her final two years.

Sila has had recipes published in eight culinary magazines, and three of her dishes will be featured in the upcoming edition of our school's renowned recipe book.

When not focused on her craft, she has presented artwork at local galleries, volunteered in international relief efforts, participated in early civic participation, and brought glory to our school on the track field.

We stand proud to present Sila to the world, an exemplary member of the Inma and a true boon to the Culinary Arts.

Footnotes

1. Nalsanuv. A display box that teenagers make to hold their sentimental items when they leave home for their career training. They act as a reminder for the parents of the good child they raised, and as storage for the few sentimental items the child will take when they move to their first true home.
   
   
2. Unbound. Any alnisian that is not part of a formal sereta are considered unbound. Roughly the equivalent of being "single", but some unbound do form bonds with others, they are simply not formally recognized.
   
   
3. Coupled. Luvis alnisians do not choose their partners. They are matched with one single partner through a formal process of sponsoring from Luvis peers and then an all-caste, regional, democratic vote. The ceremonies were often public affairs, sometimes celebrated, and are often under scrutiny by the community.
4. Drubik. A temporary caste of short and moderate-term criminals that are undergoing active rehabilitation. Most members return to their previous caste after they have served their term, but live highly structured and restricted lives that are reminiscent to prison life in other nations, though with higher life quality.