Tightrope walkers have exceptional balance. While hungry gaps wait with mouths open-wide, they cheat expectations. Exceed the limitations of beings. Shock and awe any audience. 

“Well-fitting,” Zhoumi once commented when I tried my feet at the extraordinary. Near the Ytri mountain range. Months away from here. Where representatives crowded the Council’s Supreme Court.

Flior. Dunai. Jingxi. Alberos. Beleuch. The list exceeds the teens. “Your highness” echoed like a bellowing symphony. Various accents trumpeted the grand title so loudly surely all this pomp and happenstance wasn’t for me. 

Teetering upon this pedestal, I fought the urge to look down, “Where shall we begin?”

Twelves doting parents watched the conference’s live broadcast from the hall. Judgmental comments spouted in abundance. Preferential bias much too obvious. Onlookers whispered words unheard.

Vernon Milford, crows’ feet digging into rising cheeks, addressed the room, “‘Equal opportunity’ sounds all well and good in theory, but how will we go about implementing our grand ideals?” Cawing towards the young woman who gathered this congregation.

“He’s coming out swinging.” 

Lay kept close watch on the transparent projection, every glitch in the stream cause for a physical twitch. The situation could explode at the drop of a hat. With the Council’s forces mere feet away, breathing wrong is insult enough.

Dunai’s representative, girth showing excess, replied contrary to his appearance, “Merit: individuals are qualified for appointed work. Let political gain and social connection fall away like rust. When called upon, only strong iron remain.” 

“Only strong iron remain!” 

Sehun beat his chest, relying on comedic mockery to defuse the tension. This imitation earned two or three muffled chuckles from beneath black visors. Spying the slippery slope, Suho brought him back in line with a smack across the shoulder blades.

Interest piqued by the entitlement in the voice who agreed, Luhan pushed past the towering Chanyeol to listen. “Success shouldn’t be a consequence of birth.” Spoken quite unlike a true Jingxian. Touched by the desert metropolis’s aid during the Sun and the Moon’s vengeful calamities, the glass artisans lowered their raised noses. For Exo Planet.

For Exotians, another expressed similar concerns, “Public institutions and Rank 1s have been butting heads for centuries. It’s time we grow our own horns.”

“Preach, random citizen!” Chen cheered, 9-to-5 electrician at heart. 

Like this, career allocation fell upon a merit system. Familial inheritance as a concept was undercut; committee meetings scheduled to begin within the week would reestablish cooperation chairs and reopen food markets. Electronic currency was given weight; monetary values brought back from the 4500s. Housing remained obligatory, a town’s or city’s leading members to distribute on needs’ basis alone.

Crunching numbers takes hours. Exon news captions become unruly. “New Housing Provision Unsettles Beleuch.” Applying eyedrops became a “telltale” sign of discontent in the — otherwise tranquil — cave-dweller. Baekhyun cried injustice, dry eyes struggling to watch the bright screen.

After much delegation, a one year adjustment period is set. Irony has the Seeress laughing; cynicism drives Kai from the hall. “Bathroom,” he excuses. 

Unaware his brethren held a general distaste for deadlines, Xiumin mused aloud, “Changing the very fabric of our lives in a year? I suppose committing to anything less would be disingenuous.”

To oversee these drastic changes, Exo Planet required new leadership. The Council’s association with a negative narrative amongst the general population left Vernon Milford’s supporters retracting to the shadows. Thus his exclamation, “May I,” went ignored as Flior’s representative moved to stand.

“Over two years ago, the 70th Seeress of Exo visited Flior with the Protectors of the Moon. Tulips sprang from barren dirt. Brittle apple trees bloomed ripe fruit. Prosperity came in days, and then went within hours of her departure.

“Harboring mistrust after an unfortunate encounter, we blamed her highness’s foolhardy nature for the Sun’s punishment. Rationed foodstuffs. Argued endlessly.

“Gave up on ourselves when the news broke: the 70th Seeress of Exo is dead. Bearing grudges was pointless. The Capital as our destination, we left our homes behind.

“But at this, our lowest, we camped at a nearby pond. Found tall trees and deep dirt in abundance. Grew vegetables to keep during the coming months. Moved on. Did the same at each resting point.

“We Fliors descend from nomads; why not use our ancestor’s knowledge to survive?

“This is the question our Seeress — child of the Tree of Life — asked us. In our ignorance, rooted in our ways, we used her as a scapegoat for the future we wrought upon ourselves. May I suggest we all agree the Sun and the Moon know best?”

Henry Lau, leader of the Boards, was the first to applaud the proposition: sole leadership of Exo Planet should fall into the hands of the Seeress of Exo. Vernon Milford, Gardener of the Capital, seethed on his throne. A collective hush fell upon the assembly as the claps died down.

Everyone waited with bated breath. Sense was never more commonly shared in a room filled with so many different beings. Tao, the youngest Moon Guardian, took to mindreading with ease, “She’s not saying anything.” Voicing the thought permeating the entire planet, “Why isn’t she saying anything?”

In light of this meaty topic, court adjourns for the evening. Plans to vote on the morrow are made. Gracious goodbyes are exchanged. Before the Moon Guardians retired to B2, her highness says without context, “Ever thought about something so long, it becomes nothing?”

History tends to repeat itself.

Tracing the pattern across multiple reincarnations denotes several, separate incidences of returns to a holy monarchy. Each followed periods of unrest under an unchecked government system. Textbooks are wiped clean with each new regime’s insurgence. Reality’s an endless set of worn-out stairs; she had the privilege of knowing when the next step would cave beneath her.

Treading a path through the toppled ruins of the People’s Court, the Seeress of Exo whistled a quaint diddy. Picked up from a passerby. She gave the tune her own meaning with a knowing smile. “Do you know it?” D.O shook his head.

Mimicking the action, she scolded, “Of course you do; it’s whatever you want it to be.” Continuing the chorus before, “The nice thing about being in the present? Fate’s probing hand or not, you decide what happens now.”

Kai advised against accompanying the Seeress on her morning jogs. It’s her time to think about awful one-liners, he says jokingly. D.O disregarded the half-assed warning out of spite. Broken promises soured his disposition. What his brother failed to mention was the crying.

Suddenly. Without warning. Big, soggy tears stained her flushed cheeks. Panic overwhelmed him, pushing past the desire for celestial retribution. Neither the Sun nor the Moon could’ve been as shocked as he.

Apologies fell from her first, shaking hands wiping away the evidence of weakness. “Excuse the waterworks.” Shame shaded her ears red. “The inescapable nature of mortality hit me all at once.” 

Though Suho told grand tales behind closed doors, D.O had yet to see the infamous sight in person.  Two years prior, she rarely had anything but a constant smile on her face. Thinking again, the oddity humbled her. Shortened the distance between them. She’s human, too, Kai says. 

A beautiful thought resurfaces. Puts pressure on an already burdened mind. Memories come flooding back when there it is: the smile he remembers.

“Flatterer.”

Laughter echoes. He thinks harder. She’s always been weak to that particular adjective. Grievances fade away.

“Don’t force your feelings on me; what am I supposed to do with them?”

“Nothing.” D.O uses this same pronoun — yesterday's encounter with the Moon Guardians only now becoming meaningful. That’s the nice thing about being in the present: freely deciding the significance of the past. “Have you ever considered sitting still?”

It’s all about your mindset, D.O would lecture Sehun later that night. After the Seeress was elected the leader of Exo Planet with a 24:1 vote. When the Capital glowed yellows and blues and pinks, abuzz with victorious cheers and relieved sighs. During an unprecedented lunar eclipse as the Moon bloomed red like her ears. 

Past. Present. Future. No matter who Fate deemed worthy to be the writer history, the 70th Seeress of Exo would be etched in the minds of Exotians for centuries to come. 

“I wouldn’t do you the injustice of being ordinary.” 

Late Fall. In the year 4834. Authorities on the events leading up to the Council’s demise cite this as her last peaceful morning until the day she drew a final, beautiful breath.

A/N: Thoughts?