Pytiria, The Immortal

CHAPTER ONE

Pytiria sat in the corner of her room, legs out-stretched over the peach-tiled floor, back pressed into the cool drywall. She stared up at the beige, popcorn ceiling, attempting to find familiar shapes in the patterns.

“Elephant,” she murmured, pointing at a cluster of ceiling. Then she sighed and turned her gaze to the floor, bored. The

sound of footsteps crept into the silence nearly unnoticed, perking Pytiria’s ears.  More than one set. She only heard footsteps, one pair of boots, at mealtimes: it was not yet time for lunch. This time there were multiple sets of boots and… heels? She listened more closely, moving to her knees on the cool floor and lowering her head to better hear the click, click, click of what she was growing sure were high-heel shoes on the tiles outside her door. She could pick out at least three distinct steps slapping the ground in unison, in addition to the heels. Oh, she could remember wearing high heels. At least, she thought she could. It had been so long since she had been out of this room, since she had worn anything other than starched, white, linen pants that tied in the front with a matching starched, white linen top that tied behind her back. She had forgotten what the sky looked like; she did not see how she could remember how her feet felt in heels. Still, some part of her knew.

Before she could collect her thoughts she heard a beep and the steel door slid open with a whoosh. Light poured in from the hallway, framing a tiny woman with a stiff back, her platinum blonde hair pinned in a tight bun. She wore a small, blue and green hat on her head, long black pants, and a white, button down blouse that fit her well. As expected, she wore black shoes with distinct heels, about 2 inches high. She was flanked by three guards wearing slightly more obvious uniforms; navy blue slacks, with black boots, a white blouse, and a similar blue and green hat.

“Hello, Pytiria,” the small woman spoke clearly, deliberately, as if she had never experienced a moment of doubt in her life.

Pytiria tilted her head to one side, looking up at the woman. Her frizzy black hair fell over her face, obscuring her lavender eyes momentarily. She said nothing.

“We need you. Please come along,” the woman said crisply. She made no movement to enter the room, instead waiting just outside the entrance.

“Who… are you?” Pytiria replied, as though she were trying out the words for the first time.

“Lieutenant General Cruz,” She didn’t bother smiling or extending her hand, choosing instead to stand stiffly and wait.

“Where are you taking me?” Pytiria asked, words coming more naturally now.

“To save the world,” She said evenly, as if it were a completely normal statement. Of course this tiny woman should be approaching Pytiria to save the world. Pytiria, who could just barely remember what an elephant looked like.

Shrugging, she looked away, “I don’t think I’d like that very much.”

“I’ll explain why you will like it on the way.”

“But I’m comfortable here,” Pytiria countered, keeping her eyes averted.

“Pytiria, we really don’t have time to argue. You must come along now,” Cruz sighed like a mother chastising her toddler for refusing to wear her rain boots. 

Suddenly, Pytiria whipped her head around and glared at Cruz, her eyes glowing like lavender embers.

“I said, no!” She bellowed and the walls reverberated under the power of her voice. Then she looked back at the floor with disappointment etched in her smooth face, knowing somehow that was the largest act of defiance that she could muster in this room.

The General narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips before responding sternly, “Now, Pytiria, that is not how we speak indoors. You do not have a choice. You will come with me,” Pytiria placed her hands on the cold tile and slowly began to move to a crouched position. Her head popped up, and she sneered at Cruz before feeling the prick of a dart in her neck.

“Stone! I said you could only tranq her if she tried to fight!” Cruz scolded as Pytiria slumped, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Sorry, sir, she looked ready to fight,” Stone replied sheepishly.