Twenty-Five

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
"All of our people used to have powers?" Greer says, leaning back in her chair and grazes her palms along the shaved sides of her head.
I lock eyes with Raelle, and she tips her head down, urging me to share more of what we know. I slide the book to the center of the marble table and keep my voice down as I say, "According to this, yes."
"And you think if you find the Cruel King's Stone—"
"The Imperium," Raelle says, cutting Ulric off.
He carelessly circles his wrist and continues. "You think if you find the Imperium, you will awaken the power in every Cyffred?"
Raelle grips my hand, pulling it into her lap. Finding the stone is bigger than we could imagine. Not only could the dormant power in every Cyffred come alive, but we will have the power to take the gifts of anyone who unjustly uses theirs. The Imperium does what no other Sacred Gift of the Statera can—it rules over the powers of the other kingdoms.
Raelle pulls her plump bottom lip between her teeth and scans the athenaeum. Most in the open study area have their noses in books, paying us no mind. But we have drawn the attention of a few. They glance at us from time to time with curious stares. I'm sure we are quite the site, dirty and dressed for war. We are an elephant sitting among the studious minds surrounding us.
Raelle drops her voice to a whisper, saying, "Ours is the only kingdom that has people who have dormant powers. Haven't you ever wondered why that is? Why would the Statera allow for discourse like that amongst us, but not the other kingdoms?"
Terro shrugs and, with a sheepish look, says, "I just thought the Statera was an asshole to be honest."
Ulric and Greer nod while Ashavee's eyes grow wide with shock. It isn't every day that someone speaks ill of our creator. Most would fear retribution for such disrespect. Stories have circled from generation to generation about people who cursed the Statera and lost their ability to speak, watched their homes go up in flames, or woke to find their entire family dead. The fear of angering the Statera was always there. The funny thing is, that to this day, I've known many people who've spoken badly about it, and not one of them was struck down by lightning. It is still a risk most wouldn't dare take. 
"Centuries ago, there were no Khiros or Cyffreds, just the Pliris people," I say, unable to hold back my smile. "Back then, every kingdom had a responsibility to the entire continent. Each was called to care for different attributes of a person. Saras looked after the physical wellbeing. The spiritual was handled by the Sibyls, and the Esspress tended to the mental by sharing the knowledge of our ancestors. Allajis were the protectors, but it was Pliris who shouldered the heaviest responsibility."
Raelle nods and picks up where I leave off. "Pliris was the peacemakers. Our people were called to handle any disorder. We maintained a balance between all people. Anyone who caused harm with their gifts was brought before our sovereign. They would listen to the accusations and determine if the accused should keep their power. If they were found guilty and their crime warranted it, they would use the Imperium to render their gift useless."