Children of Elisium
Chapter 1: The Flower and the Lion

Her earliest memory was from when she was six.

She was in a white-colored room that had a sickening alcohol-like scent. The tiled floor always felt cold to her bare feet. Beds of the same size were lined on both sides of the room. Even the covers and the pillows on the small mattresses were of the same color and were of the same material. Each child wore the same pale blue clothing, the same set of shoes, shirts and pants. A plain metallic rectangle was clipped to each bed’s foot board. On each rectangle was a number. Only the numbers were unique from each other, just like the children that occupied the beds.

She had earth-brown hair, pale skin and dark black eyes. Her number was 373. Her number was her name. Unlike the other children that lived in the place called Elisium, she didn’t have. No one bothered naming her. The adults said it was okay – that having a number was enough. It was proof that they were chosen to be part of paradise. It was proof that they were part of Elisium.

Elisium was home for all who were discarded. It was a place of white walls and smooth marble, a place where they could eat, drink, learn and be happy. The adults taught them about the world. Elisium had classrooms where they were taught about the rules of magic, spells and alchemy. The talented, the powerful, and those with boundless potential would be rewarded. All those who were branded as exceptional were brought to a higher level – to Elisium’s Sanctuary.

But Elisium had neither sun nor sky. The paradise they had known had endless white washed walls that gave off a distinctive smell. These walls were thick, strong, and allowed no sound to pass through them. It was almost as if they were built to make sure that people from the outside could not enter and people from the inside could never leave. But to them who had no families and no loved ones, Elisium was enough. To them, Elisium was home.

373 had always lived in Elisium with the rest of the children in peace. She was in the class of Aquarius – a class filled with unique children that were older then her. Although she kept to herself in silence and didn’t interact with the rest of the children, magic and alchemy never failed to grab her attention.

However, during one ordinary and uneventful night, her quiet life changed. At first, she heard screaming. Then, a mess of voices she recognized yet could not make out pounded against her skull. As she lied on her bed with her eyes tightly shut, the noises in her head assaulted her and forced her to stay awake. Sweat poured out of her small body and drenched her clothes. Her short brown hair was plastered to her forehead. 373 attempted to even out her breathing, to calm down and silence the chaos in her head.

Slowly, the screaming subsided and had turned into whispers. She recognized the voices. She knew which voice belonged to whom. As she continued to listen, the hairs of her neck stood on their ends. She trembled as an unexplainable chill spread through her entire being. What she was hearing weren’t voices – they were thoughts. And the adults were thinking about the children, about the children who stood out.

They were thinking about various ways to open them up, tear them limb from limb. And it was all to discover if the children had Talents – innate special abilities that were more powerful than magic.

Whenever a student in Elisium would awaken a Talent, it was treated as a momentous occasion. The adults would prepare a small celebration and all the children would attend and congratulate the Talent holder. But 373 kept her ability a secret. After what she discovered, it was probably best that she did. She didn’t want to stand out. She didn’t want people to know what she could do. Instead, she spent her time testing out her power. In class, she aimed to learn as much as she could from Elisium’s instructors while appearing to be inconspicuously average.

She moved to a seat that was located at the back. The farther she was from anyone, the less she could hear. The teachers and her classmates didn’t ask any questions. 373 had always been a loner who kept to herself. The six year old girl was definitely not someone who was eager to please. Everyone simply left her alone to her thoughts, not minding her one bit.

As the weeks passed by, no one knew that the girl who appeared average had long since stopped listening to the lessons. The simple spells and magical theories no longer mystified her. She no longer took note of the words their teacher said. Instead, she wrote ideas of complex spells and theories she wanted to try out. No one knew that she had started learning more advanced spells on her own, that she was deconstructing walls while other children were still learning how to conjure energy on their fingertips.

She always stayed in the classroom with a workbook on her hand, her face scrunched up in concentration. The teachers who saw her were moved as they thought the girl was doing her best to become better in class. Little did they know that behind the elementary workbook was a tome of advanced spells she had sneaked from the Elisium’s library. If they did, they would cough up in blood as the spells in the book was something they couldn’t even begin to understand.

373’s days passed by like this. After two years, her hair had grown past her shoulders. She had secretly learned enough spells, alchemy recipes, enchantments and theories that would put both her classmates and teachers to shame. She still stayed in the classroom to read books that she wasn’t supposed to read. Her rank had also remained the same. The best students had left their class seeking for a place in the Sanctuary. New children and new numbers replaced the seats and beds of those who left. But no one stayed close to her. Nobody cared if she was lonely. No one wanted to be associated to the loner who did her best yet still stayed at the same rank.

Their classroom had not changed except for an antique-looking object that sat on the corner of the room. The adults called it a phonograph. It had a shiny brass cone that curved upwards like a jumping fish and a metal needle that sat on top of a wooden box. A shiny black plate was on the wooden base right under the needle. And whenever someone turned the crank on its side, the black disk would turn and a song would begin to play.

373 would play the song when she was alone in the classroom. She would let her guard down and forget the secrets that hid behind Elisium’s walls. On the last day of April, she followed her usual routine. When all the students had left, she closed the door and headed straight for the metallic mechanism. Her small hands held the handle and she wound the crank until her arms felt sore. Once she released the handle, the music began to play. Every note that echoed in the room made her feel light. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a bird that had been released. It took her a while to notice that someone had joined her in the room. When she did, she was face to face with a young man who had the most vibrant eyes she had ever seen.

He was taller than her by at least a head and his orbs were painted with splashes of aqua, green and yellow. In the light of the room, his eyes seemed to glimmer in multiple shades. His thick amber hair was combed neatly. Freckles decorated a well-defined nose that sat on a soft yet handsome face.

“Do you like this song?” He asked, his voice gentle.

373 blinked twice as her mind slowly processed his question. Did she like the song? She nodded her head in reply.

The boy studied her and a small smile appeared on his lips. He stretched out his hand to her, and said, “My name is Michael Caelum. What’s yours?”

Her black eyes studied his hand and held it in hers, not sure what she was supposed to do with it. Her gaze shifted to meet his curious gaze and with all seriousness, she said, “Three-seven-three. I don’t have a name.”

For some reason, there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes as he spoke. “Then, shall I give you a name?”

“A name…,” She whispered. She thought of the children who had gone to the Sanctuary and had probably died. She released his hand, shook her head and mumbled, “- isn’t it just a burden to those who are left behind?”

The boy’s eyes widened and the next thing 373 knew the room was filled with his soft laughter. The sound seemed to travel through her body and brought with it a comfortable kind of warmth. She felt her heart jump. Her hand unconsciously touched her chest while her eyes remained fixed on his face.

She was drawn to the small dimples that accentuated his cheeks, and the way his eyes closed into arcs as his lips curved up. She also tried memorizing the way his chuckles rang in her ears. Somehow, his hand had found its way to the top of her head and the heat from his palm made her want to bury her face in his hand. His laughter died down and the boy named Michael combed her long hair with his fingers. Then, he took her in his arms and lifted her up to where the odd mechanism was, and sat her down beside it. He took the black metal disc and read the words that were engraved on the center.

“Aria Dalla Suite no.3 in Re Maggiore.”

“A..ree..yah?” 373 repeated. The syllables sounded foreign to her and rolled off her tongue in a weird way.

“Do you like how it sounds? It fits you.” Michael nodded his head and smiled. “A beautiful name for a beautiful flower.”

The little girl felt her cheeks grow hot. She pursed her lips and pouted as her eyebrows furrowed. She wanted to protest – to tell him she didn’t need a name. But he placed a finger on her lips, stopping her from uttering a sound. And with a low voice he said, “A name may hurt those who were left behind, but it can also be the sweetest thing when said by the person that you love.”

When he saw her serious but puzzled face, the amber haired boy couldn’t help but laugh and pinch her pink cheeks. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He placed her down on the floor and headed for the door. She called out to him, her voice slightly trembling and her tone unsure. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

His vibrant eyes glittered and his lips quirked up ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She sniffed and her nose crinkled as she did. He was a stranger she had just met. She had no reason to trust him. And yet, the thoughts he had – the thoughts she could hear with her Talent – told her that he had no intention to harm her. She couldn’t help but feel an odd connection to the male. He felt familiar to her even when 373 knew she had never met him before.

He seemed to sense her caution and waved for her to move closer to him. Her feet took a few timid steps towards him. Her eyes were still slightly narrowed in suspicion. His warm hand found its way to her head and ruffled her brown tresses.

“St..stop it!” she complained and swatted his hand away. The boy in front of her couldn’t help but chuckle as she huffed.

He stretched out his hand and stuck out his little finger while his eyes searched hers. She curiously mirrored him, unsure with what else she was supposed to do with her pinkie finger. As soon as she lifted her hand, Michael looped his finger around hers, stared deep into her eyes and said, “I, Michael Caelum, promise to see Aria in this same room at this same time tomorrow, the day after that, and all the days that follow.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You will?”

His gaze softened and her heart skipped a beat. He smiled at her, his dimples decorating his cheeks and with sincerity he replied, “I promise.”

She couldn’t sleep.

As she sat cross-legged on her bed with her covers wrapped around her shoulders, 373 could vaguely hear the even breathes of the girls sleeping in the beds around her. After her encounter with the amber haired male, she found herself restless and jittery. It had been two hours since the adults had turned off the lights. And yet here she was with eyes wide open, zero fatigue, insomnia and disheveled hair. Every time she remembered the boy who had multi-colored eyes, she felt warm and oddly jittery. 373 had heard the older children talk about something similar – about hearts beating faster and emotions getting wild. But the gossiping girls were thirteen years old or older and she was eight. The age gap was too big and she just couldn’t relate. Maybe this was one of the things she was supposed to understand once she got older?

She placed her hands on her face. Her cheeks felt hot. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in what their teachers called a ‘sigh’.

‘If I can’t sleep, I might as well make the most of it’, she thought. In a few seconds, she yanked the covers off her petite figure, placed them over her pillow, and muttered a spell under her breath.

‘Transfiguro.’

Her energy covered her bed and in a moment, the pillow and covers changed into an illusion of her sleeping quietly. Her movements were quiet, connected and graceful – proof that she had done this many times before. She ignored the shoes that were placed under her bed as they made too much noise. She pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from her bag and stuffed it in her pocket. She quietly slipped down her bed and left the room completely barefoot with nothing but a light blue nightdress covering her.

The corridors were faintly lit with small flat circular bulbs that glowed in a subtle orange color. The doors of the entire floor had been closed with a metal lock, except for the door to the children’s rooms and the door to the canteen. 373 closed here eyes and unleashed her Talent to cover the area around her. If someone was approaching her, she would hear their thoughts and immediately hide in the shadows using a concealing spell. She walked along the dark hallways while taking note of her surroundings. Her hands drew the pathways and rooms she had passed. In a few minutes, she had a makeshift map of the places she had visited. She studied her sketch and shook her head.

‘There are no exits. Or at least, I couldn’t see any’, she concluded. She had taken half an hour at most. And yet, she had managed to cover the entire floor. All the places she had visited were the places all the children were allowed to visit. There was nothing else except the thick white walls had caged the entire building. Or at least it seemed that way.

373 looked up from the piece of paper and stared at the wall that was in front of her. She was at a dead end. Her map told her there was nowhere else she could go and that the only thing she should do was head back and go to sleep. However, there was a nagging feeling in her head that was telling her to touch the white wall, to feel beyond the concrete, to see if something lied behind the thick walls of Elisium.

She hesitated, her hand stopping just a few millimeters away from the cold white surface of the wall. Did she really need to do this? As long as she stayed in the middle of the class – as long as she stayed uninteresting, the adults wouldn’t harm her.

She knew that Elisium’s paradise was nothing but a fake. But did an eight year old child really have to uncover the truth behind Elisium’s walls? Shouldn’t she at least follow the age-old adage ‘Ignorance is Bliss’ and stay away from complications?

‘Contentus es vere iustus est, pueri?’

373 turned around and scanned the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at the empty space in front of her. The voice that spoke was melodic yet mysterious and seemed to speak directly into her head. Although she knew the words were from the same language as the words that made up spells and chants, they were words she had never heard before this day. And yet, she understood what the words meant and what the voice was asking. The owner of the voice had completely seen through her and her personality.

‘Are you truly content with just that, child?’

Her back straightened.

She wasn’t.

It was the same with spells and alchemy: she never settled for what she knew. Her thirst to know more had always been insatiable. Her curiosity had always been unsatisfiable. She had barely scratched the surface of Elisium’s lie, had barely seen the truth. And her only reason for looking for the truth was simple: it was because the truth existed. So what if curiosity killed the cat? 373 wasn’t that easy to kill.

The little girl faced the wall in front of her and thought back to the voice. The speaker wasn’t near her and she couldn’t sense anyone approaching her or hiding behind the shadows. The speaker and the truth was in a place that was beyond the hallways where she was. If she wanted answers to her questions, if she wanted to know more, the only way to go was forward.

‘It’ll be fine as long as I’m careful,’ 373 thought. She closed her eyes and gathered her energy. As a precaution, she spread a film of energy around her body, and cast a single spell.

‘Celare.’

A thin glow enveloped her fingertips and slowly blanketed around the rest of her body. As the light faded, her body began to change. In the faint lighting, she could see the light passing through her hands until her hand turned completely transparent. Her entire body followed suit. As long as she could maintain the spell, light would continue to pass through her and no human would be able to see her.

Her hand found the wall in front of her and 373 lightly grazed the even and cold surface. Energy gathered on her fingertips and her hand stayed still as light blue wisps and spread and formed a circle. With a flick of her finger, the blue wisps extended, flowed into the wall and slowly tore the wall inch by inch until there was a hole big enough to let a child to pass through. Light shone from the other side of the wall and piqued up 373’s interest. She crouched and made her way in. And before she could forget, she returned the wall to the way it was before.

What she saw on the other side of the thick almost impenetrable walls almost made her gasp. Her eyes widened as her pulse quickened. There were no domineering walls and there were all kinds of sounds echoing from the walls. A mechanical voice was calling names and numbers. There was whirring. There were even clicks and crackles of static. She placed her hand against the wall and felt something beneath her hands vibrating and churning. It was almost like the building was alive.

The biggest difference between the Elisium she had known and the place right in front of her were the people : there were many adults in white coats and many faces she had never seen before. But unlike their teachers who spoke in simple terms, the white coated people were saying a lot of complicated things – some of which she had only read about in the books she had taken from the library.

It was really a whole new world! 373 couldn’t help but stare at the machines and metal doors. Every time she heard something new, she would unconsciously stop to listen in on the conversations. She was still careful and kept herself from bumping into things or people. But her legs were moving on their own accord and the hesitant girl who stood on the other side of the wall had disappeared.

Before long, she found herself in a room that was more brightly lit and wider than all the other rooms. The ceiling was higher, the placement of equipment messier. There were countless of metal boxes. On the floor, wires crisscrossed and formed an intricate and multi-colored web. Her black orbs followed the wires to bed posts. There were no sheets, no bed covers, no pillows. But the numbers were still there. And the children which used to lie on those beds were firmly strapped to the bed’s metal frame while the adults in white coats pricked, prodded, cut and experimented on them mercilessly.

373 hid behind a stack of wooded boxes, her hand on her mouth. She felt bile churning in her gut. She wanted to puke and git rid of the acid that was burning in her throat. But she gulped everything back down and made no sound. She went deeper into the shadows, far from the prying eyes of scientists, and her body slowly became visible. Her eyes were no longer bright and curious. Her black orbs turned cold as she studied the place methodically.

She recognized some of the children on the table. Some of them had become corpses and yet the adults were staring at their bare bodies with calm yet intense gazes. Those who were dead were probably lucky. As for those who lived … 373 didn’t even want to think about it.

Suddenly, a howl erupted from somewhere in the room and all the white coats stared at a certain place in the room. The little girl followed their gazes. On a particularly distant area, a boy with dirty honey-colored hair yelled as he shot a menacing glare towards the adults that surrounded him. Although his hands and feet were bound and tied to four metallic rods that were mounted on the wall, he was still struggling with all that he had. Although his hair was unkempt and his face was covered in soot, there were no scars on his flesh.

In front of the boy was a man holding what looked like an iron rod with a dark brown handle. The rod was connected to a very thick black wire that ran through the metal cases and tables and was attached to a gigantic monolith that hummed and surged with power. The man holding on the the rod pressed something on the handle. The exposed iron glinted and released sparks of electricity. Inch by inch, the rod approached the male’s abdomen. The closer the metal was to the golden-haired boy’s body, the more the youth squirmed and growled. 373 watched as the rod slowly made its way towards the boy’s stomach.

Static danced on the metal. Iron made contact with skin.

And ear-splitting scream echoed in the room.

373 ducked behind a set of wooden crates and closed her eyes.

She held her breath for what felt like an eternity. Her heart quickened its pace in her chest as she counted the seconds that passed by. When the boy’s voice died down, she gathered her courage and took another peek. A part of his skin was charred and burnt. As soon as she focused on the dark patch of flesh, 373’s eyes widened. As the minutes passed, the burned marks slowly became fainter and his wound began to close. The white coated people only scrutinized his flesh with cold calculating glances and jotted down something on the sheets of paper that they were carrying. Their voices were oddly upbeat and jolly – like the dying children had no place in their eyes.

A man with hair the color of steel raised his hands and the voices automatically died down. When he spoke, his voice was deep and icy and sent shivers down 373’s spine.

“Increase the voltage.”

He gestured towards one of the other scientists. The small female snapped out from her reverie. A plan quickly formed in her head. She steadied her nerves and concentrated on her hand. The middle of her palm grew warm and static danced on her hand. She eyed the tangled wires on the floor, and the sparks on her hand danced furiously as she grabbed the nearest wire and muttered, ‘Fulmen.’

Lightning was released from her hand and ran through the wire that she was holding in a split second. The sparks scattered to the rest of the wires that crisscrossed on the floor. The bolt shot out of multiple directions and the irregular surge of energy made the wires dance. Equipment malfunctioned. The lights turned off. There were sounds of light bulbs bursting, of fire cackling. Shoes pounded on the floor, voices rang out in panic. In the middle of the chaos, 373 lifted her head and tried to look for a good place to make her exit.

In the middle of the darkness, her gaze met with someone else’s. Blue marble-like eyes in a lovely shade of azure stared back at her both with bewilderment and shock. Unruly yellow hair framed his orbs that remained clear even in the darkness. To anyone else, the boy made a sorry picture. But to 373 he was proud, wild and unrestricted: just like the king of the Jungle.

Just like a Lion in the picture books.