#auralia

Aiden moves to Auralia.

Journal Entry 2 — Age 11

Date: 3rd September

Today was the strangest day of my life. Mum and Dad sat me down after breakfast and told me we’re moving. Not just to another town or even another country, but to a place called Auralia. I’d never even heard of it before. Dad says it’s an island country near Australia and New Zealand, but it used to be part of Britain, so it’s sort of like coming home again, he says. That doesn’t really help.

I don’t want to move. I love my school, my friends, the park where I ride my bike, even the corner shop that always lets me pick out a candy when I buy a comic. I can’t imagine life without all that. Mum said it’s a great opportunity, and I’m sure she’s right about some things, but I’m scared it’s going to be horrible.

They say the schools there are very strict, and that boys have to wear uniforms everywhere—not just at school, but even when you’re playing sports or going to church. I’m not sure what that even means. I wear jeans and trainers every day. Mum tried to show me some pictures of the uniforms: short trousers, white shirts, ties, blazers, knee socks, shiny black shoes. It looks like something from an old movie or a costume party. I think I’d feel silly and trapped wearing that every day.

Dad says that Auralia is very disciplined and orderly, and that everyone takes pride in their country and themselves. He says it’s a place where boys learn respect, responsibility, and to be part of something bigger. Mum says the schools there focus on good manners and community spirit. But honestly, all I hear is rules and no fun.

I asked if I could stay here with my friends and just visit sometimes, but Dad said that’s not how it works. We’re moving, full stop. I know they’re doing their best and they want what’s best for me, but I don’t want it. I’m angry and sad all at once.

I don’t even know what kind of boy I’m supposed to be over there. Will I be able to still be me? Will my friends even like me if I come back one day wearing those uniforms and talking differently? I don’t want to change. But maybe, if I have to, I’ll make the best of it. I’ll write it all down here, so maybe I can remember who I was before all this starts.

Tonight, I’m going to try and sleep even though my head feels so full of noise and worry. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll ask Mum and Dad more about what life is really like in Auralia. Maybe it’s not all bad. But right now, I just want to stay here.

Locals that could see the golden fringe of her black hair. The brilliant gleam of her eyes beneath the dark hood.

Locals that could tip off the Inquisition to her presence.

She was so close to leaving, to getting even further away, she could not risk it. She had already given her robes-shimmering golden things of fine silk made for her to wear in the Palace- to the governor of this planet. In exchange she received a contact, one that she was assured would discreetly take her off planet and away from the clutches of the Inquisition.

Ah, this was the place. Only a bit less seedy of a drinking establishment then the rest. Sit in a far corner if the room. She remembers her instructions well. Order two drinks and place these small drink stirrers in them, the iris crafted at the top is a symbol of trade in this system. Your smuggler will know what to look for and find you.

This is all new to her, but she can't deny how exciting it all was. To be on edge, to be dressed down in rags and ever conscious to never meet another's eye...

The thrill was intoxicating.

Now if only intoxication was possible off of this backwater swill...