Under a Copper Sky
It is twenty-one days since I entered the Tower, the last devotion to what we were before death came to our world. It is not what I expected. I, who come from dying fields where the sun screams over the lone brook. I, who toiled between brook and field. I, with my spark of magic. I, who may be the one to revitalize the world. The promises in the arcanist’s eyes; he who brought me here, are partly fulfilled.
Related: The Arcanist (prequel)
It is a cold world in the Tower. My eyes tear up words on the ancient books I read. My fingers turn the pages in the spots generations before me have turned the page. Sometimes in my chilly stone room with only a square glance at the treetops outside I wish to be back in my fields where my magic pulsed the strongest, where I sang with the notes in the flickering stars.
I am here. I am meant to find the secrets hidden in the ancient books. The secrets of revival and life, yet my magic has never felt so dim. Without the moon or even the harsh reality of the sun, the books are crumbling paper weighed down with ink.
I meet her one day walking a corridor alone. The endless stairs lend muscle to my legs, but she is a tall and powerful woman with watermelons for breasts and whole walnuts for eyes. The inhabitants of the Tower; people like me brought here because of their wisps of magic, call her the Mistress of Copper. It is a pretty name, but I have seen her counting coins in her chamber. Slowly her pile expands.
She is a seductress. Love is the magic she knows. The arcanist, I am told, brought here her to offer one more reason to stay to those driven mad by the constant studying of writing from eons ago. She is a fly in the eye of her web of charm.
The Mistress of Copper is not the lady of the Tower, yet she walks in every passageway, scents every step, haunts every shadow. The Tower is her and she is the Tower. In the presence of the arcanist, she quails prettily but I see her hands form claws inside her billowing sleeves.
I come to feel her in the stone. I come to know her in my dreams. I come to understand the ridiculous joke we have played upon ourselves. The Mistress of Copper, she sucks the life from the books and feeds off the last sparks of magic in the world. She is the death of growth in our midst, a constant block against our efforts, yet it is also she who livens the grass outside the Tower and tends to the last trees.
I wonder. I wander.
In a passageway at midnight, I meet her. “Come,” she says, and draws closer to me with greed in her eyes. “Come to the Tower roof. The world is waiting to see you.”
I do not like her voice. She wants only for herself. In my fear I walk away strong. Behind me I feel the stirrings of hate.
The Mistress of Copper pursues me. She gets what she wants. She is what she wants. Her nails dig into my arm. “Your power is fading, girl. I feel you in my dreams. The fresh air is what you need. Do not think I do not know where your magic comes from.”
She is right. I am a girl of the outside world. I feel the life in death. To feel the wind is welcome. But not with her.
She draws blood with her nails when I break away. A red drop falls on the stone of the floor. I am gone before it falls.
It is inevitable. My heart whispers in my throat. Sooner or later, I will find myself in her web. Not tonight or the next. She gives up on the night and comes for me in the day.
I find myself alone with the Mistress of Copper on the Tower roof. We look out at the bubble of our green world; the last existing utopia in a planet turning to dust. She has brought me here for she knows the fresh air will refresh my heart and eyes and magic.
She wants to kiss me.
I do not like her taste; she is made of copper, it seems, and she bitters my tongue. I feel the life of the world flowing up through the Tower. It flows into her. With the wind above me and the crows shedding feathers overhead, I distract myself from the woman crawling over me by thinking of my dusty fields that comforted, of the sun that was hot but never burned.
I feel my magic revitalize, fingernail clipping by fingernail clipping.
At the edge of the Tower I stand. The Mistress of Copper stands in front of me, blocking out the view of the crystal blue lake that never swells nor diminishes.
I give her a small push. She falls. I fly. The Tower shudders. It is stronger than her; we are stronger than her.
Photo by Vishal Gautam on Unsplash
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lifestyleseason
This is incredible! I loved reading this longer piece as it is so interesting! Your writing skills are amazing and thank you for sharing this!
quirkymoms486
I don’t think I’ve read one of your long ones before this is amazing! You are fantastic!
Jenny in Neverland
Although I love your poetry, I do like delving into your longer pieces too. You’re such a fantastic writer. Thank you for sharing!
Merry Sari
I think this is my first time reading the longest piece of your work, Jaya! I enjoy reading your work, as always 😀 A powerful story with a strong imagination, I love how it was written x
Jaya Avendel
Thank you so much! I am delighted you enjoyed this. 🙂
glowsteady
This is such a great tale, I really enjoy reading your longer pieces for a change. I loved the ending, so powerful!
Nancy
Oooh, I am loving the castle vibes of this story. The Mistress of Copper is such an interesting take. Haha, I know what you mean by that taste of copper! Even then they have a weakness of being very malleable. Love this piece. You outlined the story really well. Great job on the story!
Nancy ✨ mdrnminimalists.com
Jaya Avendel
Thank you so much, Nancy! I am loving writing longer piece and am heartened knowing you enjoyed every word.
In Asian Spaces
I was pulled in from the first sentence! Amazing writing!
Raji (@journeyintofantasy)
This was a wonderful read! I think this is the first time I’m reading any of your prose pieces, and I really like your writing style!
Jaya Avendel
Thank you so much! It means a lot coming from you. 🙂
quirkymoms486
So powerful! Jaya your writing is so amazing!!
Keep Calm & Drink Coffee
Oh my! This is like neverending poetry!
As soon as I finished reading I wanted to read twice because I was full of a world of emotions raised by your magical words Jaya!
Your SPARK OF MAGIC is a precious gift!
“My eyes tear up words on the ancient books I read. My fingers turn the pages in the spots generations before me have turned the page.” I loved this idea, I stopped minutes only thinking to this and it was only the beginning.
And I ended thinking to the generations after me who will enjoy reading your Words dear!
This is Heritage for everyone.
THANKS A LOT! <3
Jaya Avendel
I have been loving writing prose lately, so this was a treat to write! So, so happy you connected with this on more than one level!! ❣️❣️❣️
babygaydays
A great read! I loved the style of writing and the way you ended it has just left me wanting to read more!
TheQuietGirl (Anissa)
Love your writing style, such an interesting read, always enjoy reading your pieces! 😊
Tom's Nature-up-close Photography and Mindfulness Blog
Interesting! Copper is a necessary element for all of us. However, if any of us get too much of it we could easily perish.
Jaya Avendel
Love your perspective, Tom! Thank you.
Tom
A powerful story, I love how it was written. So much intrigue and unwritten undercurrents of mystery… I’ll have to check out the prequel!
Jaya Avendel
Thank you, Tom!
Unwanted Life
An awesome read. I think this is the longest piece of work I’ve read of yours, do you write like this often? When I first saw the name ‘Mistress of Copper’ I wondered if it was because she was black
Jaya Avendel
Oo, I never thought of a comparison between the Mistress of Copper as a name and her ethnicity, so I love that her name inspired a unique image for you! Thanks so much for sharing.
Jodie Paterson
Interesting read. Love your writing style! Keep up the good work.
Christina
I really enjoy your writing style. Will explore more of your writings!
short-prose-fiction
What a magical writing Java. I am in love with it.
xoxoxoxo…
eob2
Much to digest and much to wonder (where did the Mistress of Copper come from?) who is the arcanist? in this short piece of fiction, Jaya. I love this line (what a summation of her) …. She is a fly in the eye of her web of charm. 🖤
Jaya Avendel
Thank you for sharing your thoughts! 🙂
Ingrid
Intriguing words from a fantastical world, Jaya! Thank you for sharing this prose piece, it is great to read some of your longer work.
Jaya Avendel
Thank you, Ingrid! I have been missing prose and fiction lately so it was refreshing to write this.