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  Spectrum

  The Spectrum Series

  Spectrum

  Diffusion

  Crystallized

  Covalence

  Iridescence

  Scintillate (Prequel)

  Samantha Mina

  Spectrum

  Book I of a Series

  The characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialog in this novel are either the products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2017 Samantha Mina

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9991577-0-1

  Visit the author’s website at http://www.SpectrumSeries.org

  to order additional copies.

  For Tracy Gusukuma,

  the first to lay eyes upon the earliest draft of this story,

  in the spring of 2005. Thank you for encouraging me to

  strive for my best. Sometimes, tough love is just what

  a girl needs to reach her true potential.

  Cease would certainly agree.

  Pronunciation Guide

  Acci: “AX-ee”

  Arrhyth: “AR-hith”

  Ichthyosis: “Ik-thee-OH-sis”

  Leavesleft: “LEEV-ssleft”

  Lechatelierite: “Luh-shaht-LEER-ahyt”

  (rhymes with “light”)

  Qui Tsop: “Key Sop”

  Part I

  Eyes of Fire

  Some say the world will end in fire,

  Some say in ice.

  From what I’ve tasted from desire

  I hold with those who favor fire.

  But if it had to perish twice,

  I think I know enough of hate

  To say that for destruction ice

  Is also great

  And would suffice.

  —“Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost

  Scarlet July

  Scarlet. What would pop into your mind if you pondered the word? I’d think of blood, lit on fire.

  The System named me, ‘Scarlet Carmine July.’ I was born on July seventh of the seventy-seventh age, seventh era. At fourteen ages old, I weighed about eighty pounds and stood two inches shy of five feet, and everything about me was as crimson as my name—my hair, my permanently sunburnt skin, my robe, my old home… everything except my emerald eyes.

  Until age ten, I lived in a nation tiny enough for one to traverse on foot in a couple days: the South Conflagrablaze Captive—or, Conflagria, for short. Fire burned continually throughout the island, hot as the breath of a hobnail dragon. Fire was central to our society because it had many crucial magical uses. The temperature around here rarely dropped below one-hundred-twenty, even at night. But, the heat was nothing. Nothing compared to my past. Everything changed nine ages ago, on my sixth birthday.

  “You will come with me to the System Mage Castle today,” Mother told me that morning, black eyes alight. Her long, raven hair looked almost blue, in the blazing sunlight. “You will begin your magical education.”

  “Why do I have to start so young?” I whined. “Amytal and Caitiff started when they were seven.” My siblings, the twins, were three ages older than me.

  “It’s what the System requests.” She cast me a hard look. “And, we don’t question the System.”

  Fair enough. The System didn’t make mistakes, after all. The System kept our fires burning, the System named us at birth, the System taught us our magework, the System told us who to marry and when, the System told us where to live, the System appointed our jobs, the System rationed our food and possessions and the System decided whether or not we were worth keeping alive. I regarded the System fondly, like a majestic deity worthy of our praise and obedience. After all, it put scabrous-dragon meat and taro-root on my plate and gave me all the supplies I needed to draw pretty pictures and craft spin-tops and kites. What more could a kid want?

  The System named my father, ‘Coronet Regal’; my mother, ‘Melanize Stygian’; my sister, ‘Amytal Angel’; and my brother, ‘Caitiff Carpus.’ ‘Coronet Regal’ meant ‘majestic purple,’ ‘Melanize Stygian’ meant ‘black entirety,’ ‘Amytal Angel’ meant ‘blue angel’ and ‘Caitiff Carpus’ meant ‘yellow wrist.’ So, basically, I had a purple father, a black mother, a blue sister and a yellow brother. Everyone on the island was colorful. Our ‘magic’ was born from the visible portion of the electromagnetic spectrum, or what we called the ‘spectral web.’ Every mage’s magnetic field peaked at a different optical frequency. There’d been many red children in our land before, but none as red as me.

  The System typically chose our names according to our colors or prospective powers. When I was born, the Christeners told my parents they were giving me a name they’d been reserving since the first era—one of few set aside for those whose auras were the pinnacles of their colors. Reserved Names were given to the bluest, greenest, yellowest, reddest—and so forth—mages in the spectrum. For orange, the Reserved Name was ‘Tiki.’ For blue, it was ‘Azure.’ For green, it was ‘Jade.’ And, for red, it was ‘Scarlet.’

  Mother told me I didn’t open my eyes during my Christening Ceremony. The weird thing was, I actually remembered that day, though I was just a baby. I always remembered everything, without trying. When I thought back to my Ceremony, I recalled a strange sort of fear overcoming me, when in the presence of the Christeners, compelling me to keep my eyes shut as long as they were near. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

  “If you did open your eyes,” Mother said, “your last name would probably be ‘Emerald.’” For long while, I wished my name really was Scarlet Emerald. I thought it sounded more majestic than Scarlet July. But, the Christeners insisted on ‘July’ because I was ‘called to the month,’ whatever on Tincture’s island that meant. They said I was special, that I would do something important in my future. I was the Red One. I was different.

  Well, on my sixth birthday, I didn’t feel very different or special. I felt like a lost little girl in a huge castle full of strange, colorful people. I was brought before a ring of System professors who’d decide my course of training. Afraid, I watched them through closed lids.

  “Where does her magic originate?” an old woman began, voice scratchy.

  I opened my eyes and the circle gasped.

  “We won’t be able to find a teacher for her,” the System Principal—Tiki Tincture, for the color orange—said, gravely. Since I had a Reserved Name, I was ‘privileged’ to have the Principal himself attend my exam. Not that it felt like a privilege to me, but rather another reason to shake in my sandals.

  “Conflagria has never seen a mage with this source before,” the old woman said. “I expected to assign her to Magister Risque the Blue—I was sure from her Christening Ceremony that her spectrum would be in her hair.”

  The circle buzzed in agreement.

  “Maybe it’s in her hair and eyes,” said a dark-robed man with a goatee. “Let’s not make any rash decisions, here. We should hold her for further observation and testing. Take her to the spectroscopers to be examined.”

  The Principal laughed richly at that. “Are you suggesting this little girl is the Multi-Source Enchant? She, the first to possess magic in more than one source?”

  Everyone chuckled except the dark-robed man.

  “Well, she is the granddaughter of Spry Scintillate,” he said.

  At once, the atmosphere went chilly. What did this mean? I didn’t know much about my grandfather. Just that he died the week I was born and was somehow the reason my family—once wealthy and powerful—lost its prestige. To me, any relation to Spry Scintillate sounded like all the more reason to be cast aside. But, the goateed man seemed to be using it to my defense. Why?

  “Spry Scintillate was a failure,”
the Principal spat, icily. “We won’t waste our time or resources on any of his descendants.”

  His words were met with widespread cries of affirmation. Only the goateed man remained still, arms folded.

  “Her brother, Caitiff Carpus,” he argued, “is a wrist mage with a hint of throat spectrum—”

  “Unusable throat spectrum,” the raspy-voiced woman shot. “He’s a partial-multi-source mage, like Scintillate.” She faced the Principal. “I suppose we have no choice but to leave Scarlet July unschooled.”

  “Unschooled?” Mother stood up.

  Everyone stared at her. Neither the examinee nor the examinee’s family were permitted to talk during a Circle Trial. The rule was set in place to preserve the neutrality and purity of the System’s decision, since family members often came with biases and incorrect pre-conceived notions.

  “I didn’t know that was an option, if her frequency isn’t infrared,” Mother continued.

  “A declaration of Uselessness is always an option,” the woman said. “Now, sit down.”

  Mother didn’t sit.

  “Surely, you know, not just Infrareds are considered Useless, but also those with impractical power-sources that render them unable to adequately contribute to society,” the Principal told her, mildly.

  “What’s impractical or unusable about eye magic, Your Excellence?” Mother breathed.

  “Well, since no one has had it before, our economy simply isn’t structured to accommodate it. Society has no use for it.”

  “Then, find one, sir,” Mother countered. “She’s a smart girl. Teach her anything; she’ll learn.”

  “There’s no one to teach her,” the Principal answered. “She’s the first of her kind. I’m sorry.”

  Decades ago, Uselesses were permitted minimal instruction at the Castle. But, these days, as the island became more crowded and resources more scarce, the policy changed. Uselesses were left completely uneducated.

  “Your Honor,” Mother wrung her hands, “what about what the Christeners said when she was born? They told me she’s special.”

  “She is.” The Principal looked at her with sorrow in his citrus gaze. “That’s the problem. Scarlet is too peculiar for the System. She can’t be trained. She’s Useless. That’s our decision.”

  “Sir, I object!”

  “You can’t,” another man interjected, coldly. “You can’t argue with the System. Nor can you change it.”

  The Principal then stood for the Final Declaration that followed every child’s Circle Examination.

  “I, Principal Tiki Tincture, hereby declare eye-mage Scarlet Carmine July—born July seventh of the seventy-seventh age of the seventh era, resident of Ardor Village of the South Conflagrablaze Captive—Useless. July is hereby banned from all training programs and dismissed from the Mage Castle. The System reserves the right to declare July’s existence unnecessary at any time and request its termination. All System decisions are final.”

  Mother started crying as we were escorted from the Castle.

  As for me, there were no tears. I could feel a pit of revolution forming in my heart—the seed of the person I was today, at fourteen.

  Four aimless ages later, when I was ten, an island-wide depression began. There was a job shortage, a magic shortage, a food shortage and a fire shortage. The System wasn’t kind to my family since I was declared a waste of resources. They rationed us less food, took our land and our fire and demanded my parents work harder and the twins train longer. Every day, the torment of being written off smoldered in my heart. I spent most of my time at home, reading my siblings’ schoolbooks and drawing pictures in berry-ink on scraps of parchment. When I did venture outside, it was usually to swim in the Fervor River. The water was one of the only places I felt free. I could hide in the warm waves, vanishing from before the judgmental eyes of the village-folk.

  On July twenty-fifth of the eighty-seventh age, just a couple weeks after my tenth birthday, I went outside not to dash to the shore and dive into the river, but to find my only friend, Fair Antiquartz Gabardine.

  Fair was named for her long, straight, white hair. Back before our Circle Trials, our families believed the two of us would probably study under Magister Risque the Blue. Fair and I spent our first five ages of life excited about the future we’d spend together, facing all the same adventures in hair-mage training.

  Even as my declaration of Uselessness shattered our dream, Fair and I still remained the best of friends. The only joy of my childhood was to watch her blossom into a successful, young mage. Our regular Sunday-afternoon hangouts were the highlight of my week. Fair always came to my cabin at exactly seventeen o’clock on Sunday to sit by the fire and chat for hours about her exciting week. Sometimes, her grandfather would come over too, which was always a lot of fun, though his hypersensitive ear-magic made him difficult to talk to (it was safer to whisper). Auricle Capitulum—whom I called Grandpa Auri, since I never knew Spry Scintillate—was the jolliest man I ever met. I admired his courage to be so happy, since the circumstances of his life gave him every reason not to be. Like me, he was declared Useless by the System. But, unlike me, he was sentenced to a life of labor in the taro fields. (If I grew up during his time, I also would’ve been a field-hand. But, I’d been spared by the Useless Women Protection Act of the Seventieth Age.) Decades of backbreaking fieldwork afflicted him with scoliosis so extreme, he was due to die of spinal-fluid-leak, any day now. But, from the joyful way he carried on, one would think his life was always perfect. I wished I could take my failure so well.

  Whenever Fair ran late for our weekly catchup—which wasn’t often—I walked over to her place, instead. July twenty-fifth of the eighty-seventh age was one of those days.

  The first stranger I passed didn’t miss the occasion.

  “Is that Scarlet July?” a green woman carrying a bread basket asked her companion.

  “Why, yes, I think it is,” the other said with a scowl, cradling her purple son in her arms.

  “She’s still alive! For Tincture’s sake, I thought the System would’ve terminated her already, with the shortages and all.”

  “It’ll happen soon, no doubt. She and that old ear-mage—Auricle is his name?”

  “Nah, Auricle is so old and bent, he’s about to kneel over soon, anyway. I think they should just go ahead and kill Scarlet, though.”

  “What a waste of food and fire, that girl. At least she doesn’t waste magic.”

  “That’s ’cause she’s got no magic. She’s a bloody, dragon turd with scary eyes.”

  “Is it true, the Castle expelled her because of those eyes?”

  “Yep. What a waste of a Reserved Name. My daughter was born two days before her and would’ve gotten that name if the System didn’t give it to that scrap of taro root. And, to add insult to injury, they betrothed Scarlet to my son!”

  “What? Wow, poor Crimson and Ambrek. I know the System doesn’t make mistakes, but what on Tincture’s island did your family do to deserve all that?”

  Any kid would’ve scurried home in tears upon overhearing such a conversation. But, I just stared, weakness ebbing in anger. My body temperature seemed to rise in parallel to my fury.

  One of the women dropped her bread basket and the other, her toddler. The bread withered to ashes on the floor, and the little boy screamed.

  I blinked and stepped back, horrified. My gaze only lasted a second—I couldn’t be the reason for what happened, could I?

  I turned on my heel and ran back down the Dust Path, toward home. And, I rammed right into none other than Crimson’s brother—fourteen-age-old Ambrek Coppertus. He was an Iridescent, the only one I knew. Iridescents had two-toned auras. He stared at me wordlessly as I scrambled back to my feet, his amber-gold eyes wide and eerie. His rusted-copper hair always stood upright, as though oiled with dragon fat. Averting his gaze, I scurried right around him, hoping no one else would notice me. Unfortunately, the town freak couldn’t fly under the spectrometer for long. In a fl
ash, an olive-green System mage intercepted me.

  “Scarlet July,” he barked, surveying me from the hem of my tattered red robe to the wiry mess of my hair.

  Instinctively, I closed my eyes.

  “It is with great pleasure I announce, the time has come. Principal Tiki Tincture has declared a state of emergency; the shortages have gotten out of hand. We can no longer supply rations for deadweight.”

  The word ‘deadweight’ sent a prickle of anger through my body, and I felt the edges of my hair begin to curl.

  “The System reserves the right to terminate Useless lives,” he continued, seizing me with the strength of a hand-mage.

  I struggled in his grasp, to no avail. My eyes throbbed under my lids. He hoisted me over his shoulder and began to carry me into the center of town—the ‘square’—where most of the island’s spectral fire burned. It was gathered in a large and deep pit, continually surrounded by people anxiously awaiting their daily ration. On the verge of tears, I caught snippets of various conversations.

  “Is that Scarlet July?”

  “It must be time!”

  “So glad it is.”

  “What a waste of rations, that girl.”

  “She and all those Uselesses and Infrareds.”

  “How did the System let her live so long?”

  “I can’t wait to see her thrown into the Pit; that’ll help us get more fire.”

  “I can’t believe it’s taken the Tincture administration until now to do it.”

  I kicked and screamed, only succeeding in attracting more attention.

  “There’s no use resisting, Useless,” my captor spat. “When the System decides to do something, it gets done.” He tightened his arm around my ribcage, constricting my breathing. “We’re here, the Fire Pit.”

  In appropriate doses, fire from the Pit was soothing. However, as we all knew, too much of a good thing could be dangerous. The System warned the wealthy folk who owned vast ‘flame fields’ about the dangers of uncontrolled fire usage. Once, a rich man named Ribald Briny decided to adorn his best dinner gown with a fine fire lining. Well, unsurprisingly, that got out of hand fast, and he wound up burning alive, right in front of his wife and children, in the middle of the Mage Castle’s Annual Summer Solstice Day Feast. After his death, the System passed the ‘Ribald Briny Fire Safety Laws,’ which forbade everyone from coming in direct contact with more than two gallons of fire at a time, unless specifically authorized and properly outfitted.