Page 34 of The Amber Sunburst

“Sorry, Phelia! You’ve just got so much hair,” Aika exclaims, not sounding sorry at all.

Dora braids Aika’s hair as Aika deals with Ophelia’s as Ophelia gets her eyeshadow palettes ready. A train of productivity, they are.

“You do have so much hair. It’s not fair,” Dora says, waving her own in front of Ophelia’s face and thus into their shared mirror. The mirror was one of Ophelia’s first inventions—it follows the user around the room with a light refraction sensor. Now it struggles to adjust to Dora’s dangling chestnut hair like it’s frantically shaking its head. “Look at mine—paper-thin. The Forms really do pick favorites.”

“Don’t be stupid, Dora,” Ophelia says, rolling her eyes with a smile. “You’re beautiful. Everyone says so.”

“Hmmm, you might be right,” Dora concedes. “But you’re ethereal. Uncanny. Who else have you met with cocoa skin and golden eyes?”

“What about me?” Aika whines. “Someone compliment me!”

Dora hums before providing a succinct, “Eh.”

“Yeah, I haven’t heard anything nice,” Ophelia adds.

Aika gasps dramatically in offense and snaps her teeth near Ophelia’s ear, and Ophelia swoons backward into her arms.

“Oh, you’re much prettier when you’re acting like a wild animal,” she says. “Ravish me, you beast!”

She and Aika make eye contact and it only takes a second for them to fall apart into laughter.

“Stop moving, Aika,” Dora complains, tugging at Aika’s hair.

“But how else will Ophelia admit how dangerously hot I am right now?” Aika asks.

“You’re hot all the time,” Ophelia tells her, grabbing her cheeks with one hand and pushing her back in range of Dora’s hands.

Further chaos ensues, as always with the three of them, but through it somehow everyone’s makeup gets done and Dora pulls some sparkly bodysuits out from under her bed.

“Ophelia,” Dora orders like the group leader she always has been. “You’ll wear the orange one. Aika, you take the green because it contrasts your eyes. I’ll do the blue.”

The outfits are patterned with intricate elemental designs: fire, earth, and water. They are also, more notably, sleeveless, glittery, and very, very tiny. The Mothers would have a heart attack if they saw the three of them. Just how Ophelia likes it.

Taking pictures with their rings takes far longer than they expect it to—no surprise there—so they’re among the last girls to sneak out of the temple. Ophelia sighs exaggeratedly and Aika winks back at her with a knowing smile. The process of sneaking out of the Temple is just so arduous and in the kind of outfits they wear? It’s miserable.

The journey starts with scaling down to the roof of the Temple of the Rose and ends with some free-solo rock climbing until they reach a tunnel carved into the cliff, with plenty more hoops to jump through in the middle.

But as much as she complains, the trek isn’t all bad. It’s entrancing to watch the silhouettes of girls in the Temple of the Rose and the occasional Priestess of the Scale performing similarly elaborate routines to exit their temples without the Mothers noticing that they’ve gone.

Though Ophelia suspects that both the Mothers and the Guardians are well aware of the parties and the sneaking out. What they want is plausible deniability. Hence the climbing and creeping and the fact that the Auxiliaries’ rooms are soundproof to keep any noises from escaping.

Because the Mothers were once Priestesses, after all. And the Guardians were once Auxiliaries.

So they turn a blind eye. If you make an effort not to get caught, they won’t catch you.

And thank the Forms for that.

In front of her, Aika jumps over one last rock and then swings into the cave-tunnel nestled into the cliff. Ophelia and Dora follow close behind.

Ophelia smirks at the familiar sight of the secret path; it’s littered with wine bottles, burnt-out candles, and, at this point in the night, mysteriously amorous noises. They pass two girls making out in a corner. An Auxiliary leaning against a wall, chatting someone up, attempting but failing to be casual. A Priestess and an Auxiliary, her in his lap with his hands tight around her waist.

Aika breaks first, as always, into a fit of giggles and Ophelia joins soon after.

“Guys, shush,” Dora whispers.

But even she can’t stop herself from cackling when they catch sight of a boy absolutely entranced by the Priestess sitting next to him as she passionately recites philosophical theories.

The tunnel eventually leads to the familiar dining hall. Priestesses spend one morning a month here cooking and serving food to the Auxiliaries. When her cooking shift comes around, the Auxiliaries usually groan in disappointment. Something about her pancakes being ‘both rock-hard and scarily liquidy’ apparently?