Strains

No one knows how we got here. There are theories, ranging from reward due to self-sacrifice to actual glitches in the matrix. Humans who woke up in Near Elysium were gifted with supernatural abilities they never had before death, and they all had ages ranging from seventeen to twenty-one.

No one knows why we have superpowers either. There are theories. Perhaps the universe, rectifying some cosmic mistake, gifted the abilities that would have been needed to avoid our untimely demise. Maybe it was a random effect of being denied entry to heaven or hell. It could even be Fate just pulling strings.

Beyond the uncertainties are undeniable truths to ‘living’ in Near Elysium. Nothing will die permanently, nothing will break forever, and things will work as they are meant to. Humans and items passed from the living world will regenerate to their original point of origin upon death or destruction and will not be affected by the passage of time. Conversely, anything that passes back to the world of the living can die and grow old. For us, going back to the living world comes with a catch. Our time is limited and you can never be sure when you’ll die for the final time and be spirited away to heaven or hell.

Legacy Academy was established to give purpose to souls given this unique opportunity. Train to become true heroes and aid the living so their early demise would not be in vain, and, ultimately, accept their death when the time came. In the early years of the academy, few souls entertained these lofty goals. Most would simply return to the living world, and live out the rest of their lives.

It wasn’t until the first graduating class that the academy became an institution in Near Elysium. The first heroes built the academy with materials they gathered from the living world until they could provide a comfortable place for the wayward youths who had nothing to return to. The classes that followed would create graduation requirements and inspire the pillars of heroism we all would be judged by.

As time passed in the living world, it grew dangerous from famine, plagues and war; all things Near Elysium was shielded from. Eventually, it became law that only those who had the soul of a true hero would be permitted to enter the living world. A hero that the original founders identified as being :

Youths possessive of a spirit that burns like fire, yet so pure that water flows through their veins; powerful enough to move destiny’s mountains with the gentle swiftness of time and mindful of the strain put on by Fate.

***

This is too much. It’s like a stale saltine, too much and yet too little substance to swallow. The first section is dedicated to the academy’s history, but it’s all pomp and circumstance level stuff.

Capital ‘b’ for boring. Though, that last line, about true heroes, it resonated with me somehow. Though, I can’t imagine why. I have no strain to speak of. I guess that means I’m trapped here. Seems pretty clear that the only way out of this place is to graduate; something I’ve already been told is impossible. I look at the words again. They sing like a poem, but those pretty and powerful words translate plainly in my head. I’m no hero and I never would be.

I drag the book from over my eyes and sit up. I wonder if they’re still serving lunch in the dining hall. I missed the rush earlier since I had come back to my room in between art classes to get cleaned up and change into my much more comfortable athletic wear. Maybe I should go check it out. Then again, seeing other students isn’t on the top of my priority list. Still, I can’t sit here and do nothing.

I hear scratching coming from the floor and look over to the door. It’s that same obese chihuahua sized spider from earlier. It must’ve just squeezed itself in. It’s gross to look at, but I do admire its tenacity. No matter how many things I throw at it, it keeps coming back.

The thing is, I’m a little low on ammo at the moment.

Sorry, Matthew.

I chuck the book towards the door. The book slams against it, then falls limply to the floor below, directly on top of the spider. That’s the first time I’ve actually made contact.

Now what am I going to do? There’s no way I have the stomach to pick up its remains. Guess I’m stuck here until Matthew shows up. A leg pokes out from underneath the book and then another until the spider pops up, shakes for a moment, then squeezes itself underneath the door again.

Well, another crisis adverted. I better get my handbook up before Matthew scolds me again for using it as a weapon. Honestly, with how dry a read it is, I can’t imagine it being better used for anything else.

I grab its spine and as I’m lifting it, folded pieces of paper slip from in between the pages. Crap, Matthew isn’t going to happy if I start mangling the thing. Maybe I could tape it back in, though I’m a little low on supplies at the moment.

I take the page off the floor and open it up. It’s not a page from the handbook, the edges are worn, but not jagged as if they’d been ripped out. No, this was always a separate piece of paper. It’s a drawn map, like the one Matthew left me. Except this one is a little bigger, with more details.

The first discrepancy that I notice: a library. This school actually has a library! There’s hope for me yet. I mean, my classes might still be a lost cause, but I may actually get something worth reading.