The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Seventy :.

My name is Elliot Parker… Normally… Here… Not so much.

Here my identity that I thought was a well-kept secret is not. My name, my identity, who I really am, well I am a princess. I have never been that fond of the title. I have never been fond of the fear some people have of power, or the perks it brings. But the thing is, it turns out, I am pretty powerful, pretty entrancing. Part of me wished I could be the stowaway girl and runaway forever, it was a beautiful fantasy, but I will never be free. I am Princess Ellainor Parkrovia and I am being taken home.

My running away was covered up in a lie, that the man I thought was helping me run away told them. He let me believe he was simply “the Captain”, turns out he was the prince my parents wanted me to marry, that they had chosen for me, Prince Adrian Ferislekraig. Even thinking his name bothers me. I continue to sit in the desk chair and stare out of the window. The moon is beginning to rise on the sea, it’s pretty. The prince has fallen asleep again, it happens every so often when staring at me, waiting for me to talk or move again gets to exhausting. The words on the reverse of his sketch are bothering me. What does “day walker” mean? Who is he really? Why the hell have my parents agreed to this marriage.

“You pull magic from your environment?” He is awake and talking to me again. I return my eyes to the window. As engaging as the conversation might be I don’t know if it is one I want to have. “You pull magic from everything, don’t you? From those around you, from the simple to the strong, you pull at the magic from the very essence of life.” Why is he asking? A secret is a secret and that is what I want to keep it. “Your parents, their magic comes from the earth, from the elements. But your magic is more complex, but it is easier to access than if it was just from elements, isn’t it?” His line of questions feels dangerous, like he knows the answer, like he knows what I am already, like he wants me to confirm his suspicions. I stare defiantly out of the window. “Do you know why your parents chose me to be your husband?” No. It was probably a strategic alliance choice. I keep my answer silent. “Do you even know what you are?” Not a day walker, whatever that is. I still my tongue and chew it a little, I realise I moved, it’s a tell and I stop chewing my tongue and set my jaw again. I can see his reflection in the window and the intensity of his eyes pull at me. He wants me to answer. “You know, you are lucky, your parents know what you are and haven’t tried to destroy you once. Your parents protected you, but my parents had to be charmed.” That’s wrong, you shouldn’t be able to charm them, they are meant to be more powerful than you, they should see through it. This isn’t right, their position of power should be greater than yours, their access to the elements should be greater than yours.

He’s got to me, he knows it, I can see him watching my eyes dart across the window as I try to work out what he is saying. I see the smile creep across his face. He turns the chair around and his face is close to mine, he is leaning over me, resting his hands on the arms either side of me. “You are a syphon.” I try to look confused by what he says. I know that word. I remember hearing my parents whispered conversation. “You know, if you wanted you could have more power than your parents, you could over power them and take over at any moment, they have lived with you, a ticking time bomb. But they made you weaker, docile with love for them.”

“It’s not weakness, it is strength to choose who you want to be.” I didn’t want to speak, but I did. He knows he has my attention.

“Did you think you were the only syphon in this world?” I glare at him. “We are rumours, we are weakened, hidden away. But they couldn’t hide me, just keep my secret. Just like they did you.” I try not to flinch as he inched closer. “What do you think will happen to us after the marriage ritual?” I shrug. “Our magic is meant to change, our connection to the world is meant to change. Our parents changed, they were pulled further from the elements, traditional magic is harder for them, but not impossible, after all, that is how we exist. Those that are born without power or status, they have no magic for a reason, the ritual is different for them. The ritual is tamer. We can give the magicless some power but it is different, it is dark and twisted. So we don’t, we remain the top of the chain. We are the jewels of the crown for now. Until our own marriage ritual and then our magic will change. Are you ready to change?” He is trying to scare me. I feel my nails digging into the seat of the chair. He is trying to get a reaction. Any reaction. I try to keep my face like stone, but wearing a mask is too much a drain and he can see right through me. His features soften slowly. His arms stop tensing either side of me, he draws back from leaning over me. He steadies himself still with the arms of the chair but now he is crouching in front of the chair. “You don’t want to change?” He asked so softly.

I know what happens in the ritual, what will probably happen to my magic, to my connection with the world. I know what I am likely to become. A monster.

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