My full name is Lanella Mercallahs, but everyone calls me Lani. I look back behind me. I do a quick check for more threats. It was mildly safer. I was in such a hurry it was like forget where and who I was. My eyes dart to the city square in front of me. This was Lapona's main square. It was wider than I thought.

I pry my way through the bodies, to get a better view. The morning mist evaporates into the air and take another refreshing look.

The city guards were patrolling a tempest of people with hidden intentions. I wince at the sun reflecting off the shiny bayonets of fresh recruits. They were pacing through the crowds. The flapping of finely sewn black banners fills my ears. They reach out over the edges of the square with unwelcome pictures. What was of a watery eye, and the other peering through exotic writing. Smooth hands were sewn beneath it giving a message. It was a message of love ready to be flicked away by a finger – the hand sign for “hate.”

I take a look beneath me at special stones poking through the boots and legs of those standing near me. The carefully designed mosaics enlarged the entire square. There were artistic dancing bodies of all kinds painted with semi-precious stones. I almost lost hope of finding my way to the stage, being distracted by the artwork.

“The stage,” I think.

I knew the beginning of the stage line was somewhere. I stand on my tippy toes and my eyes dart around.

The random glowing stones in each mosaic left a purple hue on the faces around me.

I look high above me. A large marble stage shoots out from the masses with a polish that made it look anew. Its gleam extended over the vastness of the city square for all to see. Steps lead up to it on three of its four sides, while the vicinity around the stage was empty. That was where I needed to be.

Walls of city guards were already surrounding the stage's borders, keeping those away from its sacred origins. I push my way through, taking in the soul of my people. The Ryoken stages were filled with an energy you could only feel in their presence. In my mind, it felt like a warm breath against my face. A kiss for me, or perhaps a moment of heated passion after an argument. The energy at the stages was always shifting – the dancers made it shift with their energy.

I take note of the top of the stage I needed to be at. I narrow my eyes at the clear sheets of human-sized window panes at the top. They were shifting with wild colors. The living colors were moving as if they were cutting paths through the transparent planes like lights over flaky creases of bent mica.

“Pelathi stone” I think.

The giant panes of Pelathi stone were crackling with vapors and flickering with holograms.

I had rarely see the fine work of my Lam Lathi craftsmen and now it was there up above me. I think about my training. If I was skilled enough as a dancer I could light up their oily colors and spread them over the crowds with translucent images. A good dancer could imprint them on her viewers as if to make them experience feelings and memories, as if they had them. Nothing was off limits, but everything had to be done tastefully. My first kisses weren't something I wanted others to experience, but my smooth hand running up their back, would be just fine. The illusions were always filled with my energy. Even if the mirages were artificial, they could keep my audience distracted as I danced my sacred message. My onlookers experienced it as real.

“Move there. Get that. There.”

I watch the stage crew motion quietly to each other. Their bandannas waver beneath their helms as they organize another messenger to the stage. Some below shout up at the city guards working the stages, who made sure the messages she danced didn't hurt herself while she was performing. Pelathi stone could have a will of its own and it wasn't uncommon for dancers to die from over-exerting their influence. When that happened, their soul was fully absorbed into the oily creases.

A look at colorful smoke. Beside the stage crew high above me was a collection of rust stained trays. Small clouds had already formed above the.

“Trace dust,” I think.

Trace dust was a major part of my training. It was a special dust made from ground Pelathi stone, used to draw pictures. I used to spend hours drawing out my feelings with the vibrant perfumes. Hallucinations could be manipulated by my soul, creating art around my body. The vivid scenes altered light and the best messenger dancers could even alter reality for moments. No one became that skilled though. It was risky.

My eyes dart around. I give the stage a final look before turning away. I rub my arm and try to hold myself together. The stage was like an island, surrounded with competing messages and passionate crowds. It wasn't uncommon for one dancer to outdo another, or completely wipe away the feelings of the previous one. You had to control the crowds, even compete against their will sometimes. Everyone wanted their influence and it didn't always go well.

Suddenly someone jabs my rib cage and I gasp. I narrow my eyes angrily at another dancer. We look at each other, both fighting for a place to stand. Soon it would be our turn to go on stage and we both wanted to be in line. It was my first stage dance and everything felt foreign to me.

“I’ll never make it to the front…”

Suddenly, something even more foreign than the people appears to my side - a friendly voice.

“Hey, Lani! I've been looking all around this hellhole for you!”

I turn around quickly to face a Lapona city guard named Tejani. The bandanna of his wife covered his mouth – the one she wore over the back part of her ponytail like me. My eyes dart to Tejani and his black helm. It was scratched and his bayoneted rifle was thrown hastily over his back. He looked busy.

“What are you doing way out here? This way….”

I feel Tejani speak to me silently as he taps my arm. He motions me to follow him with “come” and we set on our way. The crowds had become eerily silent. The current messenger dancer was already finished with her dance and her influence was no in motion over her viewers. I break past some bodies with Tejani and crumple up my arm sleeve.

“I want this over with,” I say to Tejani.

The surrounding noises escalate unpredictably as the current dancer leaves the stage. The crowds fill the air in protest as their mindsets are altered with competing agendas. The uproar is enough for Tejani to keep his silence. There was no use trying to contain this one. Glass shatters nearby, as city guards shout threateningly toward two aggressive bystanders.

I look over at the disturbance, only Tejani grabs me below the shoulders and recaptures my attention. When the shouting dies down, he speaks.

“It will be over before you know it, Lani - Just three dancers to go before you. I can't get you any closer to the front of the line.” Tejani takes another look over at the three dancers in front of me. He smiles at me.

“How can you be so calm? Don't you get scared?” I motion silently.

“I get scared too sometimes,” he gestures back.

“But then again, I'm used to being around this mess,” Tejani smiles.

I look past Tejani. There were so many tribes that had collected in Lapona. Each Ryoken tribe had a way of supporting their own on stage. It led to violence and friendships, love and hate. The manipulation of souls was unpredictable.

I think about my training again. Every since I was little, I was trained to permeate my onlookers. I could even re-create their darkest memories and release them in an explosion of new emotions within them. I specialized in dancing sadness, loneliness, and joyful friendship, but I had other strengths. My Lam Lathi trainers taught me well. They were the trainers who taught me to read my enveloped message and convert it into a dance with my skill.

Tejani holds my hands together again and I look across the people. My vision blurs around an outline on another flapping banner. I try not to feel alone. Far above me, the emblem of Lapona waves perilously – a dancing girl in black, maroon, and gray. I felt trapped like the image, stuck on its fabric. The banner had a phrase:

“Noble forever or drag me to hell.”

“You see Lani it’s not so bad,” rehashes Tejani. Another dancer had already left the stage and I was starting to shake. Everything seemed fine, until the dancer's foot tapped the city square as she left. As soon as it did, the crowd unleashed their anger as if they had awoken from a nightmare. My cloth mandate touches my fingers with softness. I pull it out of my envelope and run my hands over the ancient writing. My possessor being full absorbs the writing. My possessor being was part of me and had already been merged into my soul. My dark brown eyes glisten like tiger's eye – the writing still fresh inside me. I was dancing a message of “hate.” That's what I knew and felt. I felt unsure, but determined from my training.

Gunshots go off.

More gunshots deafen my ears and I move closer to Tejani. Immediately, the other city guards rush after those who were armed among the rioters, only to be pushed back uncontrollably. The wall of city guards writhes like a serpent as they push demonstrators back with their shields.

Tejani takes another look around and this time his attention is pulled away by insults around some Calenian flag bearers. In an instant, he smiles wryly at me. Caleni was his tribe and it was time to defend his dancers.

“Hey be careful, duty calls,” says Tejani giving me a special shove below my shoulder. My skin tingles. Tejani's two fists cross, giving the sign for “protect” as he pushes me back a step. I pick at the tops of my boots as I am left all alone. I see Tejani re-wrap his bandanna over his mouth and watch him run over to a disruption of shouts.

I frown. Tejani's shove was a bit too strong.