Tag: Writing

The Beginning

By Sara Aziz

Shafarat Alhayaa

______________________________________________________________________

The Almuealijun- The magic-wielders who can grow plants, now usually used as royal gardeners.

The Suntshisir – The sunchasers. These magic wielders can manipulate light.

The Shadubirinjir – The shadow bringers. Can manipulate the shadows and darkness.

Rasul Alwafyat – Deaths Messenger. Only one exists every generation, as it travels in bloodlines and only one can inherit the ability. The Maksur have been trying to track the bloodline desperately, but two hundred years ago, the last female of the bloodline mysteriously vanished. No one could figure out what had become of her blood because they had already killed and hunted the Alrueb Alqirmuziu.

Almaealij – The healers, can spur your skin to heal faster and close wounds.

Mutaradat Alriyah – The wind chasers. They can manipulate the wind.

Albahithin – The time chasers. They can manipulate time. Died out three thousand years ago in the Tathir Eazim.

Almutalaeibun – Manipulators. The Illusionists. They can Change your perception of the world and can manipulate the senses into seeing what they want you to see, and feeling what they want you to feel. Were hunted down in the Tathir Eazim three thousand years ago.

Alrueb Alqirmuziu – Scarlet terrors. They are blood manipulators and can tell you who sired you, and what magic runs in your veins, by your blood. Most unnatural type of magic, they were the first to be hunted in the Tathir Eazim.

Lahab – Flame manipulators. They can summon and control fire.

Raqisi Almiah – Water dancers. They can control all water, including the water in the air we breathe. They can draw out all the water from the air we breathe and can suffocate you while they breathe comfortably and watch you die. Most modern Raqisi Almiah are assassins.

Alnufus – The soul seekers. They can see how rotten or pure your soul is. Most were used as slaves for royalty and aristocrats who wanted a pretty party trick.

Kritari – the messengers. They can send anything, anywhere, to any corner of the planet. 

Aleanasir – The name that refers to all elemental magic. [Elementals]

Magical Hierarchies [Pre-Tathir Eazim] –

Common-

  • Aleanasir
  • Almuealijun

Respected –

  • Alrueb Alqirmuziu
  • Almaealij
  • Suntshisir

Coveted–

  • Rasul Alwafyat
  • Shadubirinjir
  • Albahithin
  • Almutalaeibun
  • Alnufus

Magical Hierarchies [Post-Tathir Eazim] –

Common-

  • Aleanasir
  • Almuealijun

Respected –

  • Alrueb Alqirmuziu
  • Almaealij
  • Suntshisir

Coveted–

  • Rasul Alwafyat
  • Shadubirinjir
  • Albahithin
  • Almutalaeibun
  • Alnufus

Names– Most magic-wielders are called Sahira [Female] or Aljinu [male] meaning witch or jinn.

Change- Change is what all magic-wielders abilities are referred to as in broader terms, what they can do. They can Change the natural order.

Slavery- most magic-wielders became slaves after the Tathir Eazim, the ones who did manage to escape such a fate either became merchants in the Midnight Bazaar or joined the Devil’s Own.

Tathir Eazim – The Great Purging. Three thousand years ago, the Maksur [The Broken] rose up against the Shafarat Alhayaa [Lifes Blades/Magic Wielders] and hunted down the most “unnatural” of them. The Albahithin, the Almutalaeibun, and the Alrueb alqirmuziu all “died out.” There are theories that some still survive, but no one knows for sure.

Maksur – The Broken. The Maksur are the normal ones, the people with no real powers. Ordinary humans.

_________________________________

The most famous Shafarat Alhayaa in the world as of today [the fourteenth day of the twenty-first month, 1860] goes by the name of Ironheart. True name?

Unknown.

A Song of Crows

One for sorrow,

Two for mirth;

Three for a wedding,

Four for birth;

Five for silver,

Six for gold;

Seven for a secret,

Not to be told;

Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,

Thirteen beware it’s the devil himself.

Prologue

Sticks and stones won’t break my bones, but metal destroys us all…

I blinked as I slowly regained consciousness, the throbbing pain behind my eyes only intensifying as a strange light shone down upon me.

“Subject Four is now awake,” a brisk voice said from behind me.

Subject Four?

I started to sit up, but a foreign pressure on my chest stopped me. Looking down, I saw silver bands twining around me like ivy, pinning me to a strange metal surface.

“Who are you?” I croaked, my voice hoarse from disuse.

“Subject Four is now capable of speech,” The same voice said.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice getting stronger.

My eyes darted around the room before locking on a tall man standing in the shadows. His dark eyes arrested mine, cold and inscrutable. His black hair was streaked with silver, born from the moon and darkness. His face was made of sharp angles and hard lines as he watched me, a single eyebrow raised in question. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hello, khione,” he murmured, the warmth in his eyes belying the emptiness of his voice. My eyes stayed on him, my lips trembling. My beloved. He’d called me his beloved. What was going on? Panic was starting to set in, and my breaths shortened.

“Why am I here?”

“Subject Four-”

“Will you shut the hell up with your Subject Four?” I shrieked, thrashing against the silver, feeling it bend and begin to break along with my skin. Feeling my bones begin to strain and bow as strong hands began grabbing me, trying to shove me down. My skin was tearing, blood staining the silver crimson when I felt something stab against my neck. Pure pain erupted, and I screamed as my whole body went numb and still. My breathing slowed, and then it was as though I was hovering above my body, staring down at the quiet, empty form. My throat couldn’t seem to swallow, and living became a difficulty.

“Six liters of pure iron,” the voice said. “A deterrent against your kind.”

His voice wasn’t malicious or cruel. Simply cold and practical, a doctor with a patient or a scientist with an experiment.

“Don’t worry, Subject Four. This will only hurt a bit.”

I looked up with blurry eyes towards a mask being pulled down towards my face. When it connected, it was fire against my skin. Everything erupted as the skin of my face tore and strained towards this foul creation from hell.

I screamed as the iron of the mask began breaking off, burrowing into my skin, sealing itself to my face. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, it was just agony.

“Help me,” I begged the man in the corner as the iron began burrowing into my lips. “HELP ME!”

But he just stood and stared as the iron dug in again and again and again.

When they pulled the mask away, I gasped a single cool breath of air as tears ran down my face, mixing with the copper of blood. My back bowed off the metal, straining towards a reprieve that did not exist.

“Subject Four has survived part one,” the voice noted.

Survived.

Then a second mask was pulled towards my face, and I thrashed, turning my face away, doing anything to stop the oncoming torture. But nothing helped, and no one heard or cared as I screamed

and screamed

and screamed.

Part One

Scene Two

The Laws of the Hypocrites

Never keep a promise

Trust is something best played your way

Win at all costs.

Chapter One- The Stars Do Not Forget

A glint of iron was the only light that shone in the darkness as night descended, creeping upon its visitors with the cruelty and grace of a queen. I blew out a slow breath as a woman began to step out of the Aracne Tavern. Lady Starkov, his lover. Her steps were hurried, furtive. All could see the guilt hanging upon her frame, the way her shoulders curved, eyes down-turned. I was silent as I drew up from my crouch upon the roof of the opposite building, stretching the tightness of my muscles as I pressed a hand against my twin knives in support. 

Eris and Bacchus protect me, I thought, before running down the curved side and leaping to the opposite building. My steps were light, always balancing my weight once my steps had firmed. My hair- loose- fell about my face. I should have done it up in a braid or bun of some sort, but it was the holy night. Even assassins prayed to something, be it greed or guilt or gods. Still, it was a damned annoyance nonetheless. I swallowed as I leaped to the next building, Lady Starkov clear within the crowds, her black cloak clean where others were stained with age and filth. A lady playing amongst thugs and thieves. She stopped near a corner, an unmarked carriage waiting. While it said nothing of her house, the subtle lavishness spoke for itself. It was a wonder she’d survived her week of slumming it with her protector. Once she’s climbed in, I slid down from the roofs, the footman-turned driver climbing down to close the door, turning a mere moment after I slipped in. Starkov was staring out the window, unaware of her passenger as the footman closed the door, then spurring the horses to a start. 

“We need to talk,” I said quietly. Jolting, Starkov swung her head to me, but I already held my dagger, Bacchus, to her throat. “Try to scream, you lose your value. Lose your value, and I slit this pretty throat.”

Her eyes were wide, the light blue igniting a strange revulsion in me at the fear. Hypocrite. “I’d like you to take a guess at what I might be talking about, Yelena.” Yelena Starkov, third, spoilt daughter to a lord, borne and raised to think she was invincible. Married to a rich, yet aging merchant at the age of eighteen, she’d decided she still had years before she was truly required to become a mother. That was not the problem. The king had little concern for infidelity. What they cared for was who she chose. A foreign lord with dying pockets and excessive patriotism. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she whispered, vapid eyes blinking rapidly, straining to find a way out of this situation. I’d left her none. I slid Bacchus along her throat, reveling in the quick intake of breath at the thin slice it left, a deep red line that branched out in trails of blood. 

“Your husband is a rich man, Yelena, dear. A man with secrets he’s often foolish enough to speak of in front of his shallow, pretty little wife. Secrets you seem happy to whisper when only the bedsheets and your lover are privy.” She swallowed and Ieaned back. “His name’s Henrik Byrod. I have two of my Serpents tailing him as we speak. He’ll be dead by the end of this night-” I stopped at her small cry, before continuing as though I’d heard nothing. “Yet since I’m feeling merciful, I’ll give you a choice. Come with me to your trial, and you will have a chance of escaping if Daddy comes to your rescue, as I doubt your husband will care after the details are told. However, if you refuse, I’d be glad to slit your throat as we speak.”

Her eyes darted to Bacchus again, and I almost didn’t see it coming- the quick lunge for Eris. Grabbing her hand, I twisted, claiming a gloved hand over her scream. I always wore gloves, to hide the shade that made my skin so much different. Ironheart here was a legend, a woman borne of the mists and ghosts hue. Her skin was not the color of burnt caramel in sunlight, coffee in the moon’s glare. Yanking down her arm, I kicked into her stomach, slamming her against the wall. The loud thump echoed through the carriage, and the driver yelled for the horses to stop as we slowed. 

“Fine,” I growled, flipping Bacchus to aim at her throat as she cried, “Wait, please! I’ll do the trial!”

I almost felt pity. “No one threatens Ironheart, Yelena Starkov, and makes it out alive. Be sure to ask around in hell.” 

By the time the footman opened the door, I was gone, and all he saw was the slumped-over figure of Lady Starkov, her throat slit in a painless death.

Another kill for Ironheart. 

Fourth Wing

Book Review/Rant

This had to be one of my favorite books of 2023-2024! With drama, humor, incredible world-building, and friendships you just can’t stop thinking about, the book snared me from start to finish.

Characters

  • Violet Sorrengail- Violet was the main protagonist who narrated the book, and was the most savage, fun character! Violet is the youngest daughter of the famed Lilith Sorrengail, but her father was a scribe (not so esteemed). She had two older siblings, but Brennan [Her brother] died. (DRAMATIC GASP) All she has left is Mira, her older sister who is just like her mother. Throughout the book, Violet really grows from a fragile, naive girl to a warrior.
  • Ridoc-
    Ridoc was one of my favorite characters in the whole book, and I cannot tell you how happy I was when he survived the whole book. He was the comedic timing this book sorely needed, and made me laugh, even after scenes that made me ugly cry. He was sweet, funny, cute, funny, handsome, funny, (I think you get the picture.) If it wasn’t for Xaden, Ridoc would be my favorite character! But, Xaden exists, so sorry Ridoc! If it had been any other book, you would have been WAY more appreciated!
  • Rhiannon Matthias- BESTIE #1!! From offering to kill and bury Xaden if he hurt Violet (‘Cause, you know, he kind of hates Violet’s mom), to standing by her even when she was breaking the rules, Rhiannon never wavered by Violet’s side since the beginning of the book and is now my favorite book bestie.
  • XADEN RIORSON- I JUST- WORDS- FAIL ME-
  • Liam Mairi- REBECCA YARROS, HOW DARE YOU?!?!?! WHAT GAVE YOU THE RIGHT???

Fluff
☁☁☁☁☁/5

This book killed me, and I would recommend it to anyone looking for a book that will tear their souls from their body (If they still have one… I mean your soul, not a body. If you don’t have a body, you’re not human…AI’s reading this, I swear, I’m not insane)

Have a good weekend everyone!

Chapter VIII- Yin & Yang

Featured

___________________________________

Bang.

Crunch.

Slam.

The sounds filling the air were both reassuring and terrible.

Crash.

Boom.

Crack. 

I panted as he lunged again, people cheering around us, jeering, calling, laughing. Disgust flit through me as I turned a sneer towards the crowd.

What am I doing here?

I have no idea.

Repressing a sigh, I looked at the crowd, and a thread of hatred ran through me. As I turned to leave-

“Where do you think you’re goin’ pretty boy?” The fat man in the brawl pit sneered at me, his overdone red face gruesome, as though he had been at the losing end of one too many fights.

“I’d tell you,” I said, a small part of me loathing my words, words made to pick a fight, “Yet I find that you require a certain amount of intelligence to understand that I, unfortunately, believe you lack.”

He glared at me, the look in his eyes a mixture of hatred and the idiocy of a man too stupid to understand the insult, but just bright enough to realize it is one. Tilting back his head, he spat at me and the glob of spit landed on my boots. I blinked, disgust almost overriding my senses. Did he, a common pit fighter, just spit on my shoes? I’ve killed men for less. 

And I’m not about to end that wonderful tradition now.

Lunging with sudden brutality, I landed a blow on his jaw, a crack resounding. A low kick to the knee, as I pinned his arms, broke the point, and I grinned at the howl of pain he released.

“You-“

“Ah, ah, ah, mind your language! There are ladies here!” It was a feral sort of joy that encompassed me now, the thrill of the hunt.

He snarled and a wild smile filled my face.

Bucking back up, he thrashed on the ground like an animal, blood, and saliva mixing on the ground before him. A sudden yank on the pinned arms dislocated them with a satisfying pop. Driving my knee down to his spine, I pulled back his broken arms, and he screamed.

Tears soaked the ground before him and I rose, aiming a harsh kick to his head that made a satisfying crack.

He didn’t move again.

There was silence before the noise became a roar as men called in bets and money changed hands. Walking over to the bar, I took an iced water and drank, eager to cool down.

“So, this is what you do.” the cold, judgmental voice behind me said. I didn’t bother to turn around. I already knew who it was.

“Weren’t you here to look for someone?”

“We’ll look in the morning,” I said, my voice rough. I felt someone grab my chair and whirl it around, and I was face to face with the disgusted Ishaan Kaur.

My fists clenched as he kept watching me and judging me. I will help them look in the morning. I’m not lying.

“Are you drunk?”

“It’s water.”

“At least that’s something.”

I scowled.

“What do you want?”

“Why are you here?”

“Cooling off steam.”

There was a glint of humor in his eyes as he surveyed the place and turned back to me before his eyes snapped to the person behind me and they turned cold.

“You scum!”

I didn’t turn, but my hands tightened on the glass and my back stiffened. A hand gripped my shoulder and whirled my stool around again to get me face-to-face with the spitting image of the man in the pit. His small, piggy eyes were spitting venom in their rage, his pink face bulging.

“You know, you all have to stop commandeering my chair, it can get quite tiring-“

“That was my brother! You killed him!”

“Really? Had no idea. Should have bought him a drink first.” I leaned back into the bar as I watched the swirling ice in the drink with a faintly amused expression.

“Sarcasm. Isn’t. helping.” Ishaan hissed. 

“Why? Brings the fun into life.”

He poked a fleshy finger into my face and shoved it between my eyes.

“I can make your life a hell if I want to, and I definitely do.” A ring on his finger glinted with the design of a wolf. It was the emblem of all Enamani fighters.

I stiffened further as Ishaan sucked in a breath. What’s an Enamani boxer doing in Hirhol?

“Now gentleman, there’s really no need-” Ishaan began before the red-faced foreigner cut him off.

“I know about her too. And you’re gonna regret this. I know what a tendre pretty boy has for her-”

I cut him off with a fist to the mouth. Blood spurted out, and he screamed as he pressed his palms against his lips. Grabbing his neck and yanking him closer, I snarled in his ear,

“You will never tell anyone about her.”

He made a gurgling sound, his eyes widening and bulging with fear.

I tightened my grip into a choke. No one can know about her. She needs to be safe.

I blinked. No, I need to keep my brother safe. Get your priorities straight, Gray.

There’s no such thing as a victory without a sacrifice. His face turned blue and his hands, clawing at my arms, became weak. A foam dribbled from his lips as he whispered.

“I’m…not the only one….who knows.”

And then his pulse died. Dropping him, I turned to the men slowly approaching me, murder in their eyes. 

“Sorry to ruin your fun, girls. How’s a drink sound-”

With a high kick, one of the men closest to me attacked, his eyes practically red with rage. A bar stool went flying towards me, and as the first man tried to fight my front, two more men attacked my back. I laughed, exhilaration replacing the emptiness of a few moments before. I paid for that distraction. A punch to the cheek had me seeing stars, and a fist to the spine almost broke it. Drawing in a shallow breath, I readied my fists as I lunged weakly at the golden-haired man in front of me when a snap at the back of my head had me falling. Sprawled on the ground, I looked up with blurry eyes to see a knife flying past me into the heart of the man in front of me. His eyes widened as he looked down slowly at the knife before swaying. I watched as he crumpled to the ground, and blinked the grit from my eyes.

What the hell?

But the world was starting to fade.

“Let’s get you out of here,” A quiet voice said as they hooked their arms and carried me away as the world went black.

____________________

“What?”

“Where’s Damien?” Mikhail repeated, this time with more force. I blinked as I looked around blankly. 

Where was he?

“See Aleksandr? This is what happens when we split up!” Alyona’s sharp voice was shrill enough to give me a headache as I turned to glare at her. 

“None of you saw him leave? Not even you, Levka?” 

As Levka shifted uncomfortably, Alyona snorted and turned. 

“You know what? I’m gonna book a room at that inn, then I’m going to have dinner and find Maria.”

“I’m with Alyona,” Levka said, aiming a smile at her she deliberately ignored.

I winced as I ran a hand down my face. Why were women so ridiculously emotional? 

‘Promise me.’ Her voice still echoes in my head. 

‘Promise me.’ 

“Fine. The inn was that way.” Pointing west, I closed my eyes again as I clenched my teeth in frustration. 

As Alyona turned west and began to walk, I took a deep breath and then followed. I scanned the people scurrying past, their furtiveness feeling…wrong. All at once, for no reason, my mind flashed back to the compound, and…her.

“We-we haven’t been properly introduced, right? I’m Annamaria, but everyone calls me Maria, and wow, this room is pretty bright, isn’t it?” Her voice filled the silent room, her light seeming to be almost palpable. 

‘She did this. She ruined everything.’ I forced myself to remember, forced myself to focus. But that felt wrong. Despising her felt wrong.

“What are you doing-”

“Shut UP!” I roared, my outburst desperate and pleading, and because I was a fool, I turned to look at her. And it was like a bullet. Her black hair and red eyes were just like Gabriela’s. 

I couldn’t stand it. 

“Must you speak to fill every silence? Silence is not the enemy, and you are no more than a murderer. I only do this as I was ordered to.” I turned away, a burn flowing into my veins, filling my blood with fire.

I knew she thought I was talking of that useless enforcer.

She was wrong. But she wouldn’t know who I was talking about. I doubted Gabriela kept track of every life she ruined anyway.

“Turn on your stomach.”

‘You’ll regret this.’ A voice whispered.

‘No, I won’t.‘

I looked at her back and froze. 

It was covered in a thousand scars, each one deeper than the other. And worse than all, were the bright red scars of Gregori’s punishment.

‘You’ve already gone this far. You can’t back out now.’

Then, she insulted me, her voice vitriol and arsenic.

Her cold, Enamani accent was the same as her mother’s.

She truly is her mother’s daughter.

Enamani dogs.

My hands seemed to act of their own accord as I picked back up the needle and smiled internally.

As I turned to look at my sketch, I placed the needle to her back and pressed to begin. I would normally have given her a pain reducer or talked her through the pain. For her, for the name she carried with pride, I did neither.

Even as I felt her tremble beneath the needle, shuddering to hold back the cries of pain and tang of blood.

As I turned away to bandage it, I saw her turn to see it in the mirror and freeze. Her eyes widened, then closed. When they reopened, they were full of unshed tears. They hit me like a blow to the chest.

She turned to look at me, her eyes full of sorrow far beyond her years. Like I was just one more person who had disappointed her, and she was too far gone to even care. With her soft hair falling into her eyes, and her lips trembling, she was beautiful. And I could have painted a thousand portraits of the pain in her eyes that somehow did not seem to even recognize the pain of the tattoo.

Only what they meant.

My breathing was ragged as I helped her bandage her back. I tried to hide it, tried to make my hands as quick as possible. But something about her felt different. The light that had seemed to be almost sun bright was now that of a candle.

Glowing, but flickering.

About to go out.

My hands lingered on her back as she rose and slipped back into her dress. She glided towards the doorway. She hesitated and turned back to me, and I prayed she did not see the tightness in my chest or the flickers in my eyes. She opened her lips as though to say something, an emptiness simmering in her eyes as though she was about to let the words tumble out before she closed them and shook her head, turning away again as she seemed to float out of the room, leaving me behind her, the shattered mess I’ve been since her death. The beast of the story.

The monster.

Like I always would be.

And I turned away as I picked up my sketchbook, collapsed back onto my chair, and began to draw.

“Here!” Alyona announced proudly, jolting me from my thoughts. Her eyes shone and her smile was triumphant.

‘Promise me.’

Levka and Mikhail looked at each other again, and they burst out laughing as though this was a grand joke. I pushed past them in disgust as I entered the small inn, their laughter conspicuous, drawing attention. A woman was sitting behind her desk, writing something down in what looked like a ledger. Her hair was tied back, and she looked middle-aged, her eyes a tired green. As she looked up, she smiled and waved us over.

“Good evening, travelers! How may I help you?” 

“We need a few rooms,” Alyona said, her whole manner different. Her eyes were wide and honest, her smile looked bright and genuine.

“Of course! How many?” She turned back to us, her eyes questioning as she traveled over the bags and dirty clothes. 

“Only three,” I grumbled. We should be finding clues about the prince’s whereabouts, not sleeping. 

“Wonderful! Now, what type of room-” As she continued with Alyona, I wandered over to the small bookshelf near the door. A section was labeled ledgers, and bored, I pulled it from the shelf. My eyes widened as at a date,

The Eighteenth of the Third Month.

1; Guest pays in gold jewelry.

A ring lay in the middle, a thin gold one easily lost in the thick volume. But these engravings were only used in one family, only allowed to be used by one family.

The prince had been here.

But why?

Slipping the book into my jacket pocket, I walked back over to the counter as Alyona turned, three keys in her hands.

“Breakfast is at ten in the morning, and room service is on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays!” The woman said cheerfully, before turning back to her ledger and her smile faded.

“What did you find?” Levka murmured as we reached the stairs.

“I’ll tell you later,” I whispered back. 

If I was right, we were one step closer to finding the prince.

But if this is a decoy or a trap, then we’ll never find him.

_____________________

As I closed Little Women, a smile still lingered on my face. I love happy endings. I rose from the rickety little chair and slid the book back in place as I sighed.  Turning towards the exit, I saw another man standing near the shelves on the opposite side of the room, his hands sliding over the spines as though still deciding. His clothes were nothing short of aristocratic, and his way of standing obviously was that of someone who was used to having his orders followed and now came to expect it always. Those types weren’t the ones usually in a library.

Wary, I slid behind the shelves as I silently crossed to stand behind him.

“You know I can feel you standing there,” His voice was amused, and his shoulders shook as though repressing a laugh. I straightened, my pride stung, and as he turned, I grabbed his arms and shoved him into the bookshelf. 

“How strange. I’ve actually been compared to a ghost on numerous occasions. The only reason you would know I was here was if you were looking for me. So what do you want?”

“I could explain if you released me,” He said, his voice now a bit strained. I looked down and realized my silver bracelet was digging into his spine that was jutting out in the position I held him. Releasing him, I grasped his shoulders and spun him around to see the most handsome man I had ever seen.

Hazel eyes along with high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and a strong jaw came together to make a face that was beautiful alone, but his black hair falling into his eyes combined with a happy-go-lucky smile he was now aiming at me made his face boyishly charming, yet stunning. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance at last Ms. Lopez.” 

“How do you know my name?” A feeling of dread crawled up my throat as a chill ran down my spine.

“It would be the fool who did not know who you are, Maria,” He laughed, a deep sensuous sound. “After all, I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“You know my name, not who I am.”

“Darimati,” He said, his eyes serious. “An Enamani magic-wielder. You know, your home country would pay quite a lot for a wielder of your…caliber.” His eyes ran over me in a way that was cold and downright clinical. I blinked and opened my mouth before closing it again.

“Don’t look so shocked, it took me years to find you. Your mother was quite the skilled hider.”

The world around me was shaking.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said, desperate and numb at the same time, pleading with him, begging him. 

He regarded me as though I was a curiosity, his face expressionless.

“I don’t need to. The King is who ordered me to find you, and he already swore me to secrecy. I’m not some mercenary.”

My knees almost collapsed in relief as I slid back onto the comforting wood of the shelf. I took a deep breath as I remembered what Mother had said. 

Wrap them tight. Hide them. Never let anyone see. 

My terror had invoked it, that inner darkness that yearned for death. The monster inside me, the monster that I have spent my whole life controlling. I bound it tight again, knowing that I could never set it free. I opened my eyes to focus on him.

“What do you want with me, and how did you find me?” My voice was rough, and he smiled again, pleased for some reason.

“The King? He merely wants you to do him a small favor. And as for finding you, now that, that was the hard part. It was only after your mother died – my condolences, by the way- that I was able to pick up the trail again and find you.”

“What favor?”

His eyes were unusually bright.

“I am not the king’s confidant, Ms. Lopez. My job was to find you.”

“No.”

“No?” He raised his eyebrow, and his face was almost disappointed.

“Ms. Lopez, I thought you were smarter than this. I don’t want to hurt you, but I do need to bring you back.”

“I’m no one’s pet, and I know just enough to say that if I go with you, I’ll never get out. ” I turned and ran for the doorway, but paused to look back at him. He watched me leave with a sad look, shaking his head in dismay.

“Really Ms. Lopez? I hate to sound cliche, but you can run but you cannot hide.” 

I raced out the door and was on the street, but his words still found me and haunted me.

“I will always find you.”

I ran through the streets until I couldn’t anymore, my eyes burning. How had this day gone so very, very wrong? As I stopped to breathe, I put my hands to my knees and gasped until I caught my breath.

“Now what woul’ a chit li’ you be doin’ here, sunshine?” A man said behind me. I whirled around, on my guard. I hadn’t looked where I was going. I was in an alley, dark and dank smelling. The man who’d spoken was old and tired-looking, but his eyes a twinkling sharp blue.

“Raphael!” I gasped, never happier to see my old boss and the man who’d gotten me into this whole mess.

“I couldn’t let you do this alone, now could I?” He said, a smile on his face as I rushed over, throwing my arms around him for a hug. 

“Listen, I don’t have much time here,” He whispered, his voice serious, and I leaned back to stare at him. His eyes were furtive, his expression urgent. He wrapped his hand around mine, and I felt the soft sharpness of the paper. 

“He isn’t who he says he is.” He whispered it quickly, his grip suddenly strong.

“Who?” 

“I can’t tell you. I wish I could. Just promise me, you will always have your guard. Promise me.” His desperation leaked into his voice like a vile poison, the poison he consumed for me. As I wrapped my arms around him once more, I whispered,

“I promise.”

”Then all will be well.” He said, his muscles relaxing. I stepped back as he rose.

“Come with me.” Turning, he hunched over and looked around as though to see if anyone was watching him, and he gave me a fleeting smile.

As he walked through the alleys and backstreets, people watched and stared. Even in the dregs of the city, the people watched and listened and spied. 

“Do not fault them,” Raphael said, his voice stern as he faced me. I blinked, and he nudged his head towards them.

“They watch to be paid, they listen to survive.” 

“I know.”

His eyes turned questioning, but I didn’t say anything else. I couldn’t afford to be distracted here. And all memories are useless distractions. I blinked again, then rushed after Rapheal, my mind still whirling. As he stopped in an empty alley, he knelt next to the wall and murmured something I couldn’t hear. He looked at me.

“Don’t watch.”

I closed my eyes, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. 

“Open your eyes.” As they reopened, I saw him standing in front of me with a book. 

“You were always a clever girl. Now use it. “

“But-”

“You’ll find your friends at the Queen’s Inn.”

The Queen’s Inn.

I fled. I fled like the coward I am. I ran, ran through the streets, just like before. I didn’t want to hear his lies. He didn’t know my mother. He’s wrong.

I am a monster.

I am a monster.

I am a monster.

And I can never forget it. 

As I collapsed next to a building, I looked at the book he had given me. It was a diary.

I opened it and began to read the first page.

Dear Diary,

Yesterday, I gave birth to the daughter I have been waiting for for so long! I will name her Annamaria. Things are finally looking up. Marcus cannot wait until she’s older, and he’s already set about spoiling her!

With excitement and hope,

Gabriella Triona Lopez

Dear Diary,

My worst nightmares come true. Today, Marcus’s cat got too close to Maria and scratched her. She screamed, and the cat brushed its tail against her in annoyance. It died.

With fear,

Gabriela Triona Lopez

Mother.

A tear slipped down my cheek. It felt like she was here again, her voice soothing as she stroked my hair and told me to be better. To work harder.

I know I’ll find something in here, something important. Otherwise, Raphael never would have given it to me.

But for now, I just want to sit and remember.

Just sit and remember people how they used to be.

_____________________

I sat in the lounge of the inn, my lips pressed together in disgust as I pretended to read a book on… what was it again? I glanced down.

Oh, right. Geological formations.

“Now what are you doing down here alone?” The woman who had been behind the counter came to sit across from me.

“Reading,” I answered. She snorted.

“If I were you, I’d be anywhere but here. What are you doing with those handsome men? They seem to know you, but it seems like a business partnership, not one of choice.” I stiffened, and she laughed.

“Dear, I’m 46 years old. I’ve seen enough rebels, liars, and honest people to tell the difference and know when someone is more than one. So what are you?”

“That depends on who you are.”

“My name’s Irene Grilqua. Who are you?”

“Alyona Morozov, from Jeterna.”

“I’ve never met a Jeternian in Hirhol.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not by choice.”

She chuckled as she reached past my shoulder. 

“I think the radio would be better entertainment than Jilfins Account of the Rocks and Formations of the New World, don’t you?”

“My friend would find this fascinating, actually,” I said with a grin. 

“Would he? I-”

The front door opened and a beautiful dark-haired woman stepped in. Her eyes were sad, and she had a tremble in her lips, playing on her pale face.

“Meet my friend-”

Irene interrupted me, staring at her as if seeing a ghost.

“Gabriela?”

Maria turned to look at her, the corners of her lips curving down at the corners.

“No. That’s my mother.”

Irene recovered quickly and laughed it off. 

“Of course! How silly of me, you’re far too young to be your mother. I’ll leave you girls to your business.” Rising quickly, Irene walked into the back room and closed the door.

Maria sat in front of me and wordlessly pulled out a book. 

“What is it?”

“My mother’s old diary. Raphael met me in an alley today, and he showed it to me. He said it would help us.”

I looked back to the cover and closed my eyes. 

She was hiding something. 

I opened my eyes. So was I. 

Gabriela.

My fault.

I opened the diary and began to examine it. 

The first thing I noticed was the first letters of the later entries. There were three main calligraphies in Enami at the time, and Gabriela used two of them. Except for the first letters at the beginning of each entry, each one written in Hansit, large and overdone. I would barely have noticed….except she only did it for a single year.

“Look.” 

“What?”

“What happened to your mother in the year 1825?”

“She got a new job.”

“Well, something about that job made your mother cautious.”

Her eyes sharpened as she re-examined the entries, and I pointed at the Hansit. Her eyes widened.

“She’s writing a passage!”

I lurched up.

I ripped out a blank page from the back, grabbing a quill from the stand next to us. 

“THE KING IS LYING. HIS SON IS NOT WHO HE SAYS HE I. HE WANT BRING HER BACK. SHE IS DEAD. HE CAN STOP KING. FIND THE SWORD ENAMI. FIND THE PORTRAIT IN RTERNA. PROVE HE ISNT WHO HE SAYS HE IS.”

We sat back as I set down my quill, my hands now ink-splattered from the pace at which I had written as she had recited the letters.

“Your mother had terrible grammar,” I finally said, and Maria’s head snapped.

“Shut up.” I blinked. It was the sharpest Maria had ever sounded as she stared at my messy scrawl. “We have to find the sword.”

I hesitated. “Maria…your mother was famous for her love of games. What if this is just another one?”

As our eyes met, there was nothing of the kind young woman in them I’d come to know.

“Then we play.”

We only have 5 days left.

It’s time to use them.

“We need Damien,” She said, standing up abruptly and turning to walk to the stairs. 

“But we don’t know where he is!” I called after her.

She stilled before whirling to face me.

“What happened to him?”

“We don’t know. He was here, but then, he vanished.”

She closed her eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Nothing is going right.”

Suddenly, the clock began to peal loudly, chiming in midnight.

Midnight.

A new day has begun.

“We need to find Damien.” She said hoarsely, opening her eyes slowly.

“I know. But how?” I said softly.

“I can help if you’re looking for someone,” Irene called from behind the counter, where she had resumed her perch.

Maria turned to look at Irene, an empty smile playing on her lips.

“ And who are you?”

“Irene Grilqua”

“Well then, Irene, where would you find a teenage boy with good fighting skills around here?” 

She was quiet for a moment. Then she furtively glanced around and bent over to whisper, 

“Virmirs Alley. It’s an underground fight club. But the only people who go there either have nothing to lose, or everything to gain. Be careful. But don’t tell anyone I told you.”

Maria gave her a wan smile.

“Thank you.”

“Glad I could help. It breaks my heart to see these good young men throw their lives away like this.”

Maria smiled again, this time sharp and jagged.

“I feel the same way.”

Picking up the diary and the paper, she stuffed it into the book and hurried out.

I turned to look at Irene.

“Can I ask for directions?”

She laughed before saying,

“Go right down till you see a bakery that says “Closed,” then, turn left, right, straight. They’ll want a password if you’re not a fighter. Tell them, ‘Everything is made to be broken.’‘“ 

“Thank you,” I said.

“Glad I could help.”

I turned to run out the door, to follow Maria. Irene stood still before returning to her chair, then her backroom. I watched her from the outside door.

She wasn’t alone. 

I ran to catch Maria.

__________________

“Who is ‘e anyway?”

“No one.”

I groaned and tried to open my eyes, but my eyes felt like wet sand, and opening my eyes seemed a monumental effort for such a small thing.

“I think he’s waking up.”

“Put ‘im under, then!”

I felt something sharp slide into my arm. My eyes snapped open. 

The horror on one of the men’s faces was enough to spring me from my bed, a drunken-sounding snarl erupting from my ravaged throat as the world became blurry. 

“Who are you?”

“The only people keeping you alive right now.” The sharp voice was so familiar. “Sit down before you hurt yourself.” The world came into focus, and standing next to me was Ishaan Kaur. His eyes were cold.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Damien.” A man was leaning against a wall, his eyes sparkling with humor, his smile so casual, it was as though he were ordering ice at the park instead of standing in front of a drugged and dazed prisoner. There was something boyish about him like he’d either never had to grow up, or he’d been forced to too soon.

“Do you recognize this, Damien?” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a paper and threw it at me, as though I was a dog rather than a human. ‘The amount of disrespect I was receiving within this week alone is more than I’ve received in a whole year,’ I thought dryly. My good humor vanished the moment I began to read. 

“I saw him, you know.” His voice was casual, his smile still light. Monster. One who hid rage behind soft laughs and hate in warm looks. We both knew who he was talking about.

“Mateo looks a lot like you, but very different personality, I must say. “ Charm like the devil and looks like an angel,” the guards say. Wonder how much longer that will last.”

“Don’t you dare touch him!” I roared, lunging at him as the other men melted from the shadows to hold me back.

“Come now, Damien, let’s not get too emotional. I’m here to offer you a deal is all. I happen to have an old score to settle with the husband of your landlady, and he happens to care fondly for her. Get rid of her, and your brother will receive a raise from his present….accommodations.”

Ishaan’s eyes widened, and I remembered that he had called her a friend just yesterday. 

“There is no need to bring her into this, Charun.”

“I think there is.” His tone was final.

He glanced at the shadow passing over Ishaan’s features and laughed.

“Come now, don’t tell me you have feelings for the old bird?”

“I owe her a favor and call her a friend.”

Charun’s smile faded.

“You once called me a brother.”

“Not anymore.”

The tension within the room was thick as the fog that covered Hells Alley, Charun’s face as inscrutable as Ishaan’s. Finally, he turned back to me.

“Bring Death’s Messenger to the king,”

“What if I can’t?” My question was ragged. I wasn’t sure if I could betray her. Hurt her. Take her to someone who will so willingly break her. The corners of his lips tilted. 

“I’m sure you can.”

“Ishaan will watch you. If you tell anyone anything..” 

The threat was a poison lacing his words. The goon beside me brayed a thick laugh like that of a donkey.

The world slowed as rage began to seep in through the cracks in my mind, turning everything a thousand shades of red. Lunging to the side suddenly, I drove my fist into his jaw with all the strength of a drained man. He doubled over, and I grabbed him into a headlock. I panted, the steps I knew better than my own hand becoming harder and harder.

Kicking out the backs of his knees, he fell to the ground. Flipping him over to face me, I pressed a knee to his chest and clutched his windpipe. His eyes widened as he mouthed words he couldn’t say. Suddenly, I felt a crushing pressure from behind me, and I gave a groan of pain. Feeling myself being hauled off by my shirt, I gave a weak twist. 

He laughed.

“Behave, Damien,” His chiding voice murmured above me.

Patronizing pig.

His long fingers grasped my neck lightly, his skin rough with hidden calluses and scars. He suddenly snapped it to the side, and before I could make a sound, he slid a syringe into my neck and I froze, almost wincing at the sudden pain, the alarms in my head slowing to mere beeps.

“This syringe is now in your carotid artery, Damien. One movement, just one, and I inject it.”

“What’s in it?”

Ishaan’s voice was warning.

“Air.”

I would have laughed. He saw the amusement on my face, and something flickered in his eyes.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself, Sariati. The oxygen will invade your veins and travel to your heart, clogging the necessary valves around the heart, and it will mimic a heart attack. A fatal one.” All amusement died on my tongue.

“Now listen to me. You will bring her. You will kill the rest. And you will not tell anyone about Ishaan.”

Slowly, he drew out the syringe. 

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

__________________

I blew out a breath as I looked around Aleksandr’s room. He had a smile on his face that would be faintly frightening if he were actually aiming it at someone. Instead, it was a triumphant smile. 

“What in Jarni’s name is that?” I finally groaned, bored and annoyed with his self-righteousness and secretiveness. 

“An old ledger.”

“A ledger?” I flopped over onto the bed again, annoyance bubbling to the surface. “Good gods, I’m already bored.”

“I’m still trying to figure out how you passed primary school,” Mikhail groaned from the couch.

“It’s not my fault,” I muttered, “that the instructor let me pass on looks alone. This beauty can be a curse.”

Aleksandr gave me a look that said yeah right, before turning back to face Mikhail, still slumped sideways on the couch.

“A ledger that includes notes,” he said triumphantly. I stared at him, five seconds from lunging over the table and throttling him. He rolled his eyes when I growled in anger, his sigh of frustration suddenly seeming incredibly condensing. “When a ledger includes notes about the guests, it usually includes where they were, where they’re going after this, how long they’ve stayed, how much money they paid, and the currency they used.”

“So?”

“So, that means that we know the prince obviously didn’t come here with his real name, so we need to find a guest that would match what we believe he would have. And he paid using his own ring. On that day, only three men checked into this inn.”

“And how exactly would we know where they were going?” I scoffed, almost laughing at the comical flash of anger on his face.

“They’re all heading to the same place. It’s a very good thing the innkeeper is nosy. She asked them where they were heading, and they all said the same thing.”

His face was grim. I was confused for a moment before realization dawned.

“No. Nope, not doing it, you can’t-”

“We’re going to Enami.”

“Dammit, you said it.” 

“What’s so bad about Enami?” Mikhail asked tentatively. Aleksandr snorted.

“It’s where his sister and her family live.”

“Why is that so bad?”

“Did I mention she put a price on his head?”

Mikhail gaped. 

“Why?”

“Because she’s still the same petty little girl she was when we were five,” I grumbled.

“They had a falling-out.”

“Falling out,” I repeated as I remembered the furious look on her face when I showed her the reality of her friend, the shock the next day knowing my own blood had made me little more than a criminal. And since there was nothing for me in Enami, I found somewhere else that could take the work of a newly minted fiend.

“Really?”

Aleksandr started laughing.

“Her friend, Lady Dowager Arashita Von Mokari, turned out to be a famous thief wanted in two kingdoms and one empire for treason, grand theft, and bigamy.  She stole almost half of his sister’s wealth, then ran off to find some other kingdom to torture with her presence.”

“How the hell do you know so much about my family?”

With a smirk, he picked up a newspaper left on the table and snapped it out in front of his face. 

“Research.”

Mikhail was still gaping at me, his eyes wide.

“But why do you have a bounty on your head, then?”

“Because going after an old friend she loved parading about would have been humiliating, especially since countless others were doing the same. Better to make it all my fault.” My voice was throw-away, even as the familiar betrayal flashed across my eyes again.

“Wow.” He blinked again, the book in his lap clearly forgotten as a slow smile spread across his face. 

“Does Maria know you’re wanted in her home country?” His voice was teasing as his eyes laughed.

“No.”

“Are you gonna tell her?”

“No.”

“You’re so grumpy,” he grumbled.

“Bit late for that,” Aleksandr snickered as he returned to the paper.

“How can you read that?” Mikhail asked. Aleksandr raised his eyebrows as he slowly lowered the paper.

“Because I can read.”

Mikhail flushed as he hurried to say, 

“Yes, but it’s not in Jeternian”

Aleksandr shrugged.

“I’m not a barbarian.”

Mikhail watched him in amazement.

“Back to the original point, Aleks, do you have a plan?”

“Don’t call me Aleks.”

“Do you have a plan?” My voice was forceful, but his silence spoke for itself.

“I swear, I don’t care if you’re lying. Just tell me you did not just drag us to a hellhole without a plan.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“We better.”

“Yeah, we better. Or we won’t live through next week.”

_________________

I blinked at the alley the woman had directed us to. It was dark and dank and disgusting, but completely empty. 

“Where-”

“There.” Alyona nudged her head towards a homeless-looking man sitting with a coin box next to him. Her white streak shone bright in the chocolate of her hair and with the moon glowing, her chocolate looked black. 

Black and White.

Yin and Yang.

“Then let’s go ask.”

Chapter One

Featured

By Sara Aziz

______________________________________

I stared silently out the window, ignoring the hissed conversations of my captors.

Dead. She was dead. I wonder if that meant anything to anyone besides me. Lorkai didn’t care, if he’d approved her death, approved my capture by any means.

“Shut up, Achar,” the hunter growled, and my pointed ears flicked in his direction. “The king will not be pleased.”

Lorkai was no king, but I supposed in his mind, by the people he ruled and the land he controlled, he was. What power flickered in the hunter’s eyes?

“Who are you.” Not a question, but a command I was surprised they allowed me to make.

“Aiden,” the hunter said. No family name, nor title. Did he not know his? Was he illegitimate? His face tightened as he seemed to read the thoughts in my eyes. “It’s not your place yet to know who I am beyond that.”

I bristled, and Achar huffed a growly laugh. As I turned back to the window, face flaming, I cursed myself for allowing him to hurt me. Why was I insulted by this callous killer? I felt someone slide beside me as we went over a particularly bumpy part of the path.

“What’s your name?” I stiffened as the questioner breathed against my neck, hot and far too close. Achar.

“Nothing I wish to tell you.”

“So I will call you Fawn,” he murmured, and my hatred flared in a blinding heat as I stilled. His harsh, cold fingers ran down my throat, tracing my collarbone, trailing lower, lower, and I screwed my eyes shut to avoid the inevitable touch, till they suddenly stopped. Opening my eyes, I dared to glance over at the reason behind this lack of movement and saw Aiden gripping Achar’s hand in a death hold as they engaged in a silent staring contest.

“Don’t touch her,” he ordered, and I blinked. “The king will be…displeased if we return his daughter as the damaged goods you no doubt intended.”

My lips quirked in a smile that lacked humor, and it caught Aiden’s eye as I winked. He scowled, and I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Aiden may want me safe if only for my father, but it was safe nonetheless. I would need to keep him near once we arrived at Lorkai’s castle -or fortress?- and hope his fear for my father kept me alive. Mother would have said to ‘watch, wonder, listen.‘ Keep my mouth shut and my ears open. My lips twitched as Aiden moved to the seat across from me and leaned in, expression conspiratorial. Which was pure bull.

But for Achar, for stopping that touch, I would allow it.

“What is your name, Fawn?”

I considered him, considered the merits of telling my name, and tilted my head in faux acquisition. I never agreed to anything I didn’t want to.

“Gianna.” My voice was deliberately soft, my eyes wide and sad, and his own softened. By the gods, the man was a fool. “My mother calls me Gia, though.” She didn’t. But the false moniker lured a smile onto his hard lips, and he leaned back, satisfied with his findings. He’d already forgotten the wink after Achar’s touch, the spit that had spilled from my lips as I vomited when they forced me into the carriage. I buried the flicker of disappointment beside the endless pit of rage deep inside me. The rage they’d incited with the thoughtless murder, the planned execution.

“I believe I will still call you Fawn.” Aiden’s eyes once again traced my grass-stained clothes, and I shivered when they heated. What was wrong with me? I stuffed that strange feeling right into a box labeled, Things I Will Deal With When Drunk. Achar snorted, and my gaze cut to him.

“Why do you laugh?” I blinked innocently after the question, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t decipher, an understanding of sorts.

“The strange thing about fawns,” he said, falling deeper into his seat with his eyes closed, “is when a hunter’s around, they always get shot.”

No one spoke for the rest of the ride.

___________________

I sucked in a breath as the seemingly endless array of pines and elderwoods thinned as we entered the center of the Korinaj. Lorkai’s home…I gazed out the window in wonder as a building reminiscent of the castle of the skies came into view. Cold and imposing, it was grand in a way that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Mother would have despised it. I jolted as I realized she had despised it. And Mother would have had no problem voicing it. Luna always had been brave.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aiden’s voice was amused, and I felt a burning humiliation flash through me. He thought it was funny, the wild girl of the woods just encountering civilization. Keeping my face smooth, I cast him a saccharine half-smile.

“It’s rather ugly, isn’t it?” I relished the way his smile dropped and the way the confusion in his eyes conflicted with a dormant resentment. “The stone is so cold and dramatic against the woods. It’s almost an eyesore.” I affected a shiver after that, keeping my voice open as he nodded, swallowing every word.

“It’s meant to be that way, and even so, it grows on you.” He smiled, and I feigned struggle before letting a small one flash. Mother would be so proud of me.

“It’s incredible regardless.” Achar’s sharp voice cut through, and I unintentionally stiffened. Achar was…unnerving. He was suspicious, watchful, distrustful. Him, I would need to avoid. For my sanity, and my life.

“Don’t mind him,” Aiden chuckled, and I twisted my hands in a show – a rather impressive one- of being torn. “His mother was the architect.” At that, my head whipped towards Achar, who was staring out the window. His mother? Lorkai allowed a female to design his home? Achar’s jaw was clenched, and for the first time, I truly looked at him. His lupine features had vanished -called forth at will, I’d learned when he’d relaxed and his face gained features I would have said were Fae- and without them, his face was harsh. Carved of ice, born of snow. His hair was white, silver-colored eyes constantly flashing with streaks of gold in rage, along with an aquiline nose combined to create a visage I supposed some could call handsome. Achar caught my eye, raising an eyebrow, and I blushed. Sharias’s name, was I admiring him? After what he’d done?

No, I was merely examining him. Examining my prey. That had to be it. I swallowed, hard, as I looked back out the window. The accompanying guards had ridden outside with the coachman, and I pinched my lips as they opened the door now. The cold winds whipped my face, snow finding it’s way into my hair and onto my thin clothes.

“Will you go down yourself,” Aiden said, his eyes cold in the face of outsiders. “Or do I need to drag you before your father myself?”

I shook my head slowly, taking the humiliation he’d incited in those words and pushing it deep, within the same pit Achar had opened inside me. “I won’t fight.”

I heard Achar snort, but I ignored him, instead stepping out onto the cobble, ignoring the lingering stares of the guards. I will find them all later. Mother always said I had Sharias, the goddess of attraction and loves gifts. Guards always knew something from watching and protecting every day from their places. And very few were unsusceptible to a lovely woman’s invitation. I flashed a pretty smile at the tallest male guard and he flashed his white teeth in a wolfish grin that lasted for less than a second. I continued walking, ignoring Aiden coming in beside me, Achar following like the dog he was. I shivered as my slippers stepped into a particularly large pile of snow, pain shooting up my foot, and I let my eyes flicker over my shoulders for a moment to see Achar’s features had turned lupine again. I narrowed my eyes before looking ahead again, only hesitating for a second as I stepped into the castle. Entered my new prison. Achar grabbed my arm, his grip rough and biting as he dragged me down the halls. Stumbling, I desperately tried to stretch my legs to keep up with him, but Achar had to be at least six and a half feet. Looking up, I flushed when I saw he was already staring down at me, silver eyes almost completely gold. His lips curved, and I jerked my gaze forward, swallowing the rage he ignited. Looking around the halls, I bit my lip as I noted the expensive paintings and gold lining the walls. The lush carpets beneath my thin slippered feet. I reached up a hand to brush some of the snow out of my hair, and Achar locked on the movement for a moment, his eyes flashing pure gold before looking ahead again. Did I make him that furious just by messing with my hair? With a secret smile playing on the corners of my lips, I pulled my arm from Achar’s grip and began braiding my hair gently, slowly, choosing the most intricate design I knew. As I braided, I started actually looking at what was around us in the hall. My feet delicately stepped on the deep red carpets that had to have been custom-made, the cold gray stone of the walls emanating a foreign thing that wasn’t of this world. We were near Lorkai. We were near my father. I sucked in a breath as the guards near the door gave me an almost pitying look when Aiden stepped forward to open the door with ease. His face was cold as Achar grabbed me again and pulled me through the doors, the guards filing in behind us. I blinked at the dramatic change from the plush, luxurious halls to this almost dungeon-like room. It was bleak, dark and shadowy, the floor smooth cobble, the walls painted black and leaking cold. There was only one window, and my eyes darted to it and were arrested by it. The view was nothing short of incredible. The snow covered the grass in a bright, sparkling layer that reflected the sun in each falling snowflake. The sky was cloudless, and I was breathless as my body turned towards the window almost against my will.

“Your mother loved that window too,” a soft voice cut through the silence, and my head darted toward the deepest shadows nearest to the center of the wall. A tall man rose from a throne of pure white that reminded me of bones. A chill ran down my spine as my mouth dried. “Of course, now I realize it was because she wanted to run away through it.”

The man stepped out of the shadows, and I lifted a hand to my face as I finally saw the visage of Lorkai, Lord of the Night. I’d thought he would be ugly, old, burly. My father was none of those things, at least, not the last one. The first one, perhaps only on the inside. His face was sharp, crow-black black hair falling into dark, almost playful eyes. High cheekbones led to a full mouth, his black suit perfectly tailored to a lean body you could still see was lined with muscle. No wrinkle marred his skin, but a scar slashed across his eyebrow. Rather than taking away his looks, instead, it only gave him an air of mystery I could see how my mother had fallen for. Lorkai was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Now, I understood the love that had always laced my mother’s voice.

“What is your name, little one?” His voice was still soft, a velvet covering for a knife’s edge. He called for her death. He allowed her to die. I felt the howling pit of rage climb up my throat, begging for me to scream and fight and break his ridiculously perfect face. My father’s face was mirthful like he knew every thought going through my head, every instinct telling me to hurt, to kill. To enjoy the screams that reigned.

“What is your name?” He repeated, and I let a smile ghost my lips.

“Gianna.”

“Gianna,” he said, almost as though he was tasting the name, and I stiffened against Achar who was still holding me. “A beautiful name. But I think I will call you something else Gianna. Perhaps, my little fawn.”

His eyes cut to Aiden, laughter dancing in their depths. He knew.

He was toying with us. Using every bit of my restraint, I kept my fists from curling, held myself back from any hint of emotion at all.

“You may call me whatever you wish, my lord.” I put a considerable amount of disdain in my voice, a gamble I hoped would pay off. Achar sucked in a breath behind me, clutching me tighter as he stiffened. My father’s eyes turned icy.

“You may leave now, Achar.” A command. Now I saw the Lord of Night in him, the tight fury bleeding into his voice, the dead eyes. The expression lacked any sympathy, any pity, at all. Achar released my arm, and I almost stumbled at the sudden loss of pressure. The dead eyes now had a fire in them that looked to almost explode at my quick loss of balance. Achar hurried out, a dog scurrying away with his tail between his legs. A quick jerk of his head had the guards leave quickly before sliding the door shut with a terrifyingly final click.

My father turned back to me, and his eyes were now cheerful and warm again. The sudden change would be frightening for anyone scared by quick shifts of emotion. My mother was one of those people.

Was.

“Is their contempt in your face, fawn?” There was a quiet note to his voice that caused me to meet his eyes with a courage I hoped he would see and appreciate. Remember.

“My mother is dead, my lord. And I was told it was because of you. May I feel a bit of contempt for the man who took away the woman who raised me?”

He shook his head, and one of his fists curled. For the first time, I felt I may have overstepped. Went too far. I stepped slightly towards Aiden, my utterly useless safety net. Yet instead, there was regret in his eyes.

“I never wished for her death, and you can be certain, my little fawn, the male who did it will be punished.” From the cold rage that flashed in his eyes, I knew he spoke the truth. And as the taste of blood filled my mouth with a phantom of the past, I wished I could be the one to let Achar feel the pain he’d let me feel, the pain he’d caused. Let the chaos control him as it did me. “But, my little fawn, we have important things to discuss, no?”

Blinking up at him, he walked towards me in a few long strides, grasping my hand as he pulled me with him, out of the throne room to a smaller, adjourning room which was as leisurely extravagant as the halls, leaving Aiden staring after us as the door swung shut. In the center of the room was a long table, covered with food.

“Who-who else will be eating with us?” I asked, turning towards my- no, Lorkai. He didn’t deserve to be called my father, not even in my mind. Not yet.

He gave me an affectionate look as you might an adorable dog than a sixteen-year-old woman asking a question. “No one, my little fawn. Just us.”

Leading me to the table, he pulled out a chair next to the head to which he then sat in himself. Taking my plate, he began filling it with rich foods, and the scents of exotic spices began to float in the air. My stomach growled quietly, and I was reminded of how little I’d had to eat today, how my meal had been interrupted. Mother would have made sure I’d eaten. Mother always made sure I was well. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I accepted the plate from Lorkai. I glanced towards the closed door and remembered Aiden standing on the other side. Was he laughing at me, at the “naive” wild girl he’d encountered in the forest? He must be, considering the luxury for which he lived.

“I am glad I finally get to meet you, my little fawn,” my father said, leaning his elbows onto the table as he met my eyes. “I just wish I could have been there for longer.”

I give him a small nod, and he sighs.

“My court is a deadly place, my little fawn, and they will not care if you’re my daughter or not.” His eyes were penetrating, and I swallowed the question rising in my throat. Did they care who mother was either? Did you care? ” I have no intention of losing you as well, my little fawn, so I’ve arranged the perfect opportunity for you to become one of my court and be accepted.”

A shiver ran up my spine and the fork I’d been fiddling with now felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

I set it down.

“What?” In my head, my voice seemed to come through an ocean, roaring and sloshing as high tide rose.

“A marriage, my little fawn. To the son of my most trusted advisor.”

“Wh-who?” I stuttered, my voice a little too high-pitched, and he laid his palm above my hand with a comforting expression.

“You’ve already met him. Aiden Evergreen, my little fawn.”

Aiden. I would have to marry Aiden? I felt suddenly nauseous, and I drew back my hand as I pulled my legs under me and curled up in the chair. I’d never wanted to get married. And now, I had to merely to get my revenge? My father rose with a sigh.

“I will give you a moment to understand your new situation. I wish things could have been different.” His eyes shone with regret I refused to acknowledge. “If only your mother had thought things through…”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode to the door, every movement assured, as though he knew he would get what he wanted.

Not this time.

Pulling out the button from my sleeve I’d stolen from my father’s suit when he laid his hand on mine, I fiddled with it as I began to scheme.

I would marry Aiden Evergreen over my dead body. Because the only way they were getting me to the altar was in a casket with lilies in my hair. I would sooner greet hell than marry Aiden. Now, all I had to do was convince him of that too.

Prologue

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By Sara Aziz

________________________

The sun rarely shines in the North. Instead, it flees among the clouds to spur the moon’s rise so it may dance with the stars. That’s what Mother says, her pale, silvery eyes gazing at the sky with both hate and love.

A burning hatred and a fiery love. For my mother, murder, and fear had been her companionable sins for too long. It was he who had created these new hells in her.

“Never fear the darkness, my love. The world was birthed in darkness, and that is where it shall return.”

The oddest thing was that I had never feared the darkness, regardless of what she said. Terror of the dark was for those who never knew what they could find in it. But Fae never feared the unknown. Fear was a death sentence.

And I had no intention of dying today.

The wood was quiet in the silence of the night, and I hummed quietly to a tune mother used to sing when I was a child, golden hair swaying with her. The Korinaj forest was almost my home, where I knew I could feel him.

Lorkai, Lord of Night.

My father. His power stretched across the land, but the cursed woods were his domain especially. I’d once asked Mother how they were cursed, but she’d told me to not ask again and to never summon in the woods. She said Father had, and that was why he was the way he was. I still wished sometimes that I could even just see my father, even if he didn’t know I existed. The snow was falling softly, hitting the grounds like the chimes of the school’s bells. I ran a hand down the trunk of a proud tree, relishing the rough feel of the bark beneath my hands. I sighed with pleasure as I raised my face towards the moon, the cool rays a temptation against my bronzed skin. I heard the crunch of footsteps on the snow and froze. Mother tread so lightly, to hear her was to hear the gentle breeze and the water ripple. This was someone else, their steps loud and fumbling. I felt my lips quirk unexpectedly at the strangely endearing way this person bumbled through the forest. Creeping towards the source of the sound, I threw myself behind a tree when I heard a foul curse. The voice was deep, a baritone that did something to my head and made me wish for things I couldn’t describe or voice.

A man.

Peeking around the fauna, my eyes widened at the sight of a tall, lean-figured male with a bow strapped to his back. The hunter turned in my direction, and I hid deeper in the darkness, even though I knew he wouldn’t be able to see me unless I wanted him to. His dark eyes flashed across the trees, silvery black hair ruffling in the wind. The sharp angles of his face spoke of a life similar to my own. He wasn’t traditionally handsome- no, his features were too harsh for that, but it was the round tips of his ears that made me stumble back. He was not only a human man, he was a human man who intrigued me. Who made me want. By the gods themselves, Mother was going to kill me. The stumble made me clumsy, and I stifled a gasp as I stepped on a twig and it snapped. The sound echoed through the trees, and his head darted to the tree I’d been hiding behind. I stilled, suddenly very aware I was wearing nothing but some simple black trousers that were a size too small and a tunic my mother had bemoaned its use of any longer. I narrowed my gaze when he pulled free his bow and loaded it. Stepping out of the shadows, I slowly approached him so he could see me in the moonlight. I thanked Diana it was so bright tonight, and I gently lifted my hands in a silent plea for understanding. He swallowed when he spotted my pointed ears. Or perhaps he was just looking at the ridiculously low neckline of my tunic. Mother had told me to throw it away.

“The Fawn of the East,” he breathed, and I nodded slowly at the moniker the villagers had made for the daughter of the beautiful wild woman. The girl who drifted through the shadows without leaving a trace, who knew the woods as her home above the company of others. “I thought you were just a rumor.” Was that a hint of sadness in his voice?

“No more than you,” I whispered, and he stumbled at the higher note of my voice only Fae could achieve. Perhaps he hadn’t been looking at my ears after all. “What are you doing in these woods? There is no wildlife left in its winters.”

He blinked, glancing down at his bow as though just realizing what he was holding. “I’m not looking for animals.”

I felt a chill skitter down my spine. “You mean, you’re not looking for prey.”

He met my eyes unflinchingly, a smile playing at the edges of his hard lips. It lacked humor, and I swallowed at the violent edge in his eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

Backing away, deeper into the woods, for each step I took he followed. It felt like a cat toying with the mouse as he played with me, allowing me the illusion of escape. The gentle breeze lifted, twirling about us in a dance I knew better than to join.

“Whatever you’re looking for, I hope you find it,” I called to the winds before turning on my heel and darting away, allowing only the silence as companion. But still, I couldn’t outrace his quiet words.

“You shouldn’t.”

I sat on the wolf’s fur carpet before the fire, warming my cold hands when the door slammed open and Mother appeared. I jumped to my feet, hurrying over to clean up her spot on our small oak table, biting my lip as she sat with a panicked expression. That couldn’t have been panic.

Mother was never frightened.

“Gianna, did you meet someone in the woods?” She turned, meeting my eyes, and I found I couldn’t lie when she looked at me like that.

Like one wrong word would break her heart.

I tilted my head before nodding. My odd tick I could never get rid of. Her face turned white, and I swallowed at the shame climbing my throat. What had I to be ashamed of? It was he who’d encountered me, spoken with me, then followed me.

“I’m not looking for animals.”

“You shouldn’t.”

The sadness in his eyes as he murmured my moniker.

He wasn’t just looking for prey.

He’d been looking for…me.

“Mother…?” The words climbed my throat, demanding answer, reason, any way to make sense of the nonsensical.

“Gianna, we have to go. Now.” Jumping from her seat, she hurried to the bedrooms, and I paled. Following her, I found her throwing clothes in a bag, messy and uncoordinated. What had happened in town? Why had the huntsman been searching for me?

What did she know?

“Mother-“

My question was interrupted by the bang on the door as a growly voice called, “Open the door now, Luna, or we break it.” I flinched at the harsh words, and Mother placed a comforting hand on my cheek before grabbing my arm, dragging me to the window.

“Run, my darling. You have to run now,” she whispered in a hushed tone, “you have to go before they get you too.” There was a panic in her features as she unlocked and opened the window, flinching at the sudden onslaught of cold.

“Who?”

“Him.”

There was only one person who could inspire that sort of love and hatred in my mother’s voice.

It seemed the Lord of Night had found us at last. I bit my lip as I tilted my head, a confusing mixture of fear, excitement, and rage pulsing through me. Fear for the day I would meet the man known as the bane of the kingdom, excitement for the thought of finally meeting him, and rage for what he’d done to my mother.

Running towards the window, I leaped out the glass, toppling into the snow. Mother would be fine.

Mother could survive anything and anyone. She’d survived the Lord of Night once, she could do it again. She had to.

Jumping to my feet, I whirled and ran face-first into a stone-hard chest. Looking up, I saw the cold face of the hunter from the forest. There was a regret in his eyes as he gripped my arms.

“You shouldn’t have run.”

I tilted my head, and he gasped as a shadow stabbed into his leg, another forming a dagger at his throat.

“And you shouldn’t have come, human.” He stared cross-eyed at the knife, and I bared my teeth, fire swirling through my veins. “It won’t kill you, sweetheart. Just mimics the pain enough so that you’ll wish it did.”

Drawing the knife away, he stared down at me with an appreciative glint in his eyes.

“Let. Go,” I said through clenched teeth, and he shook his head as he dragged me to the front of the cottage.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, emphasizing the last word, and I flushed. “I can’t do that.”

I swallowed a scream at the scene that encountered us. My mother was on her knees as a wolflike man towered over her, sword poised above her throat.

This wasn’t a summoning.

This was an execution.

“Your mother was supposed to live,” the wolfish man growled. “But it was you the Lord truly wanted. And it seems you need to be taught the consequences of trying to disobey the Lord. By trying to escape, you signed her death sentence.”

Lunging for my mother, the hunter yanked me back into his chest, lashing his arms around me. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and I spat at his shoes in response.

The man raised the sword, and I wished I could close my eyes, but I wouldn’t steal that honor from my mother. The honor of a daughter witnessing her death.

And the sword fell. I tried to ignore the nauseating clunk of her head hitting the ground and the way the pure snow around her slowly turned red with blood. The empty gaze of her pale eyes.

The world was drowned out as a roaring in my head deafened me. One of the hunter’s arms around me lifted to press a hand to my mouth, encasing the screams that begged to be released.

The executioner met my eyes, a slow smile spreading across his lupine features. “I’ve never killed a Fae before. You lot were supposed to be immortal, weren’t you?” He looked back down at the still corpse. “But you’re as weak as a human.”

“Enough, Achar.” The hunter’s voice was harsh above me, but I barely recognized them over the blood rushing in my ears.

I’ll kill him.

I will kill him.

The shadows began frothing around his feet as I clenched my teeth, a howl building in my throat. But I tamped it down, letting the shadows disperse.

Mother wouldn’t just want me to end them. She would want me to tear them apart till they were begging for mercy.

Weak as a human. Achar would regret that. His death, I will enjoy the most. But first, I would start with the man who’d sent them, who’d wanted me back after so many years.

I belonged to no man, much less my father.

I would tear the Lord of Night and his court apart.

Till all that was left was bones and dust.

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Chapter V- In Every Wish, A Prayer

By Sara Aziz

Hey readers, I hope you enjoy Chapter V and please like and subscribe! This chapter is a bit different, because I wrote this one with flashes from the other characters’ points of view, beginning with Annamaria and shifting to the other characters. I always welcome helpful critiques, and any constructive criticisms are also great! Enjoy!
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“Every person has a story, something that made them who they are. I am not rare, nor different, or especially unique. Rather, I am a normal girl. A girl who has two brothers. A girl who has both her parents, a girl who cares for everyone she meets. But there is a passage I will always remember, no matter where I am, and who I become.” I read aloud in the dim candlelit room, the shadows pooling and dripping gently on the books, each one seeming to bleed its hidden story.

Every hidden lie.

“To break is to shatter. To shatter is to cut. To cut is to kill. Break me, you die, heal me, love me, you create me.” My hands began to tremble.

“I will always love, and I will always wait. I will be what I wish the world was, and I will be the good I pray to see. Always.

Always.

Always.” I closed the book as I blew out the candle and fell back, into my pillow, and into the realm of sleep. But the words still echoed.

I will be what I wish I could see.

I will love.

I will pray.

I will heal.

________________

I paced the length of the room, blowing out a breath as I ran my hand through my chocolate hair. He had laughed while he called it beautiful.

Forget,

Forget,

Forget,

My back was burning, the scar he had given me old, yet flaming nonetheless.

Forget,

Forget,

Forget.

He wants me to forgive him, he wants me to come back, his pleading eyes so much like mine.

Forget,

Forget

Forget.

I was a liar. I was a liar. Alyona, Alyona, Alyona.

Lie,

Lie,

Lie.

My name is Alyona.

Liar,

Liar,

Liar.

This is all his fault.

All his fault.

Forget,

Forget,

Forget.

She had smiled, listened, hugged me, and cared when no one else had. She was hiding secrets too. Like me,

me,

me.

She had red eyes, and black hair, like

her,

her,

her.

If she knew my secret, she would never forgive me.

I never wanted this. I was a child then. I had no choice. She had to understand.

She had to.

My breath became labored.

Forgive,

Forgive,

Forgive.

____________________

I knew want they thought when they looked at me. They thought I was a traitor. Levka, the boy who had stolen food before he learned to read. The boy who joked and lied to cover every break in his façade. The boy who was too broken to ever let anyone care about him without hurting them.

He hurt her.

Because he was too broken.

She was on fire and I was a shadow. The only thing that could never touch the fire, never burn in the flames. But I was burning.

Burning every day.

I needed her fire.

I was so cold.

So cold.

I took a shuddering breath as I pushed the door open and walked into the hallway, my room looking more and more like a sanctuary the further I went. The Brother wanted me to wake Annamaria, and I gave a small smirk when I thought about how mad she would be. Making her angry was just so fun. But I stilled when I saw who was pacing in front of Annamaria’s door. She reached out a hand as though to open it before pulling it back and pacing again.

I swallowed hard.

Alyona.

Fire.

I strode forward, my steps resounding like thunder in the quiet hallway, and her head whirled, only to see me, her hard brown eyes widening a fraction before narrowing.

“Levka” She spat my name like it was a curse. To her, it probably was.

She hated me. And for good reason. She had wanted to be my friend, had treated me like an equal when no one else would, and the first chance I had, I stabbed her in the back. I was the shadow, and she was the flame. But I suffocated her.

She hates me.

And it’s all my fault.

“The Brother asked me to wake Annamaria, it’s time for us to go.” I made my voice sharp.

I saw her eyes flash again, this time with hurt, before they became emotionless, beautiful chocolate.

She hates me.

And I have to let her.

Because I never deserved her anyway.

________________

I almost flinched at the harshness of Levka’s voice, so much like his.

Forget,

Forget,

Forget.

“Well then knock on the door already” I spat back, wanting him to hurt like he hurt me.

But he didn’t even blink.

I had cared for him, loved him like a brother, and all he did was hurt,

hurt,

hurt,

just like him,

him,

him.

Forget,

Forget,

Forget.

“I thought you were.” His voice was dry and my cheeks flushed. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted, shoving open the door and storming in. She was turned on her side, a book tucked under one arm, her face peaceful. I gently shook her arm and her eyes drifted open, revealing a warm scarlet red. She gave me a sleepy smile as she sat up and stretched.

“Wuz goin’ on?” Maria yawned, her arm over her mouth.

“Conan the Barbarian is under orders to bring you to the Brother”

I heard a throat clear in the hallway.

“Fine, he’s only going to tell you to get ready, we’re leaving” I amended.

But that was as far as I was willing to go.

“Doesn’t seem like a barbarian, he’s still waiting in the hall, in case I wasn’t decent” she observed, more awake now, her eyes already scanning her surroundings.

I scowled.

“Oh, all right, you can come in now” I called. Levka came swaggering in, and he gave Annamaria a smile.

“How late do you sleep?”

“Till one, like a civilized human,” she said, smiling back. My chest tightened for some reason. Perhaps the air quality wasn’t good.

He nudged his head toward the closet.

“You better get packing. Anymore waiting and the Brother might just kick you out.”

Annamaria snorted.

“I’m not that lucky.”

Levka stared at her for a minute, and then turned and walked away, his steps echoing in the quiet of dawn.

I turned abruptly and began rifling through her closet. I felt stupid. Stupid for the green-eyed monster in me. I wished I could warn her.

Wish,

wish,

wish.

But when has wishing ever given me anything but

pain,

pain,

pain.

I pulled out the black corsets Maria had picked up and turned to find her standing right behind me, our noses nearly colliding. I reared back and Maria gave me a half smile.

“I don’t have a bag.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“I have one” I heard Levka call back from the hallway.

I pinched my lips in disgust as Maria gave me another half-smile and opened the door again for Levka, who handed her a bag that I was sure he had probably stolen from someone. She then shooed him off so she could change and I cracked a smile at that. The shocked look on his face was enough to make my day that much better.

She grabbed some clothes and ducked into the closet as I continued talking to her through the closed door.

“Remember, pack the essentials. Knives, daggers, first aid, and the like.”

I turned and walked out the door to go pack my own bag, the stairs looming.

I could hear her laughter all the way back

down,

down,

down.

___________________

I was twitching as I walked back to the library, my arms full of books. I needed to figure out which one to bring.

“Mikhail!” a booming voice behind me said, and I jumped. Mikhail. Yes. Me.

Mikhail.

Yes.

Me.

Right.

Right.

Right.

I turned and it was Levka, his broad smile, and sparkling eyes putting me at ease.

It wasn’t him.

“Levka,” I greeted my old friend as he clapped me on the back and my books nearly toppled out of my arms. He laughed again and picked up about half the books as we walked into the library together, my steps easier and lighter now.

Yes.

Friend.

Yes.

Friend.

“What are you doing with all these books anyway?” He asked, seeming to weigh the books in his arms. I grinned.

“I’m choosing which one to bring.”

He gave me a startled look, then began laughing again.

“Narrow it down, buddy,” He said.

“Wish I could help. Have to pack my own bag, and two girls just shooed me out of a room because one of them hates my guts.” He grimaced and I chuckled.

Friend.

Friend.

Friend.

“They are girls, what do you expect?” I asked, and he grinned again. He put down the books on a wooden table and I dumped mine too.

“See you Mikhail. And please, don’t bring everything, my back won’t survive.” He gave me a fake pleading look.

I smiled.

“I won’t.”

He knew I was lying.

He laughed as he left, whistling an off-key tune.

My smile faded.

Friend.

Gone.

Friend.

Gone.

Friend.

Gone.

_______________________________

I watched them move about, running like hamsters in a cage.

Levka, the broken traitor in the making.

Alyona, the fiery, shattered healer.

Mikhail, the terrified alchemist.

And Annamaria.

Who has a power that could bring the world to its knees.

I felt its claw drag down my mind and I shuddered.

“Let it burn. Break it.” It whispered.

“Build it again”

“Build it better”

I stood suddenly, my chair toppling over.

A knock at the door opened to reveal a frightened servant. He bowed and quickly handed me a message.

“For you, Brother.”

He turned and scurried away.

I rolled my neck, the cracks ominous in the quiet. I unrolled the scroll and my eyes widened. Inside of me, he laughed. I felt sick.

For her.

I do this for her.

I closed my eyes.

“I do this for you” I whispered, praying somehow she could hear me.

Somehow she would understand.

I’m going to break the world.

And she will never forgive me.

It doesn’t matter, though. No matter what, she will be mine.

I will take her delicate, free soul and trap it in a beautiful cage of gold and deception. She will not be able to tell what is real and what is not. She will never see the truth.

But this is all for her.

Always.

++++++++++++

Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry. Why should that mean it’s not real?

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore [Deathly Hallows by J.K Rowling]

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Humanity’s Poetry

By Sara Aziz

Hey readers, I hope you enjoy these poems! I’m a writer and a budding poet, so I’m still learning the ropes! This is my attempt to capture human emotion and feeling with poetry, so, hope you enjoy and please like and subscribe!

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#1- Invincible We Are

Invincible we seem,

Stranger yet is the mind,

we value success,

and hide our faults,

invincible we are.

We’re taught to hide our grief and pain,

yet show our anger and our hate,

invincible we are.

We love each other,

yet all for one is what we say,

invincible we are.

We are not special we like to say,

we are unique we like to say,

we are human,

our final truth,

invincible we are.

And when we cry,

we brush our eyes,

embarrassed of an emotion,

invincible we are.

We scream,

we hate,

we laugh,

we challenge fate,

We’re strange beings,

I know it to be true.

We’re one for all,

we’re all for one,

Invincible we are.

#2- Immortality

Life once lived,

is a beginning to the end.

Life and Death,

twin souls.

We die,

we live,

yet fear hath no place among the dead,

for only those alive may feel terror,

for only those dead can feel the threads that connect all.

Dead,

alive,

broken,

whole.

Death and Life,

twin souls,

two sides,

to one coin.

One hate,

one hope.

Death,

is never to be feared,

for death,

is not the end,

but a whole new beginning.

#3- Sunlight

The sunlight hits upon your face,

an everlasting constant.

In a world of turmoil,

the sunlight hits upon your face,

in a world created for all.

#4- To Understand Nothing, To Understand Everything

What can I understand,

that you cannot?

Is it just a matter of circumstance,

a dancing, deadly,

yet adventurous game of chance?

What can I grasp that you cannot,

what makes us so different,

yet the same?

Broken,

and whole,

all at once?

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Thanks for reading my post on my Poetry and please like and subscribe!

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Chapter IV- A Demon in Human Skin

By Sara Aziz

Hey readers, please enjoy Chapter IV-Demon in Human Skin, and please like and subscribe!

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I didn’t know exactly when they left. Maybe it was when the sun started to fall again, the days each passing by like a blur here. Perhaps it was when I heard a rough Jeternin voice behind me, Damien’s arms lifting from my shoulders as he walked away. Alyona stayed with me though, and when the tears finally ended, we sat down and watched the sunrise together, two sisters, about to start a brand new day.

I leaned my head on Alyona’s shoulders and she leaned her head down on mine, just like I had seen my sisters do so long ago with each other, their love evident.

But never with me.

Never me.

My throat began to burn, acid climbing up.

There was a rough cough from behind us and we jolted, turning to see who had interrupted us. My eye twitched when I saw who. Aleksandr Volkov. His face was blank when he looked at us, but there was a rage in his eyes that I didn’t understand. Nor did I care. My back still stung from his brand. The one that was never supposed to be there. I turned back towards the sunrise as Alyona stood and barked at him, her voice biting.

“What do you want, Volkov?”

He gave a long-suffering sigh, so patronizing even I bristled. Alyona stiffened like a wooden babushka doll, and her eyes became nothing but slits. I cocked my head to the side to witness this battle of wills.

“The Brother would like to see her, Alyona.”

The same summoning as before. He then added, his face turned to Alyona but the fire in his deep blue eyes obviously meant for me,

“Alone.”

____________

This time, rather than the throne room, they guided me to a chamber as opulent as the throne room but covered in maps and bookshelves stacked high with titles I knew to be banned.

Typical.

The Brother was standing in the middle of the room, Aleksandr and Damien on both of his sides and two other men I didn’t know standing on the other side of the table.

“Ms. Lopez, how kind of you to join us.” His voice was saccharin, and I itched to hit him.

“They say good things take time,” I said.

Shut up,

Shut up,

Shut up.

He raised a pencil-perfect eyebrow.

“And that matters..?’

Don’t you dare say it,

Don’t you dare say it,

Don’t you dare.

“It’s why I’m late, I’m literally perfect.”

I heard a snort at the table and Damien hurrying to cover it with a cough.

I straightened my back and walked over to the table. On it was a large map showing every country. Jeterna to the north, Enamani to the east, Rterna to the south, and Fjiduna to the west. There were many more illustrated on the map, each different country in some way connected. But these countries were highlighted, their size exaggerated.

“Ms. Lopez, do you have any knowledge of geography?”

My cheeks flushed and I gave a curt nod. My hands were linked behind my back but now they were curled into fists. He thought me an idiot. He was humiliating me by trying to degrade me, make me out as a fool.

“Whatever mapmaker you have has no knowledge of proportion. Enami, Jeterna, Rterna, and Fjiduna are not nearly so large.”

If looks could kill, Aleksandr’s eyes could have buried me six feet deep and still had time to dance on my grave. When I caught his eye, he rolled them at me.

I snapped.

“Why in the world are you rolling your eyes? Are you looking for a brain?” I sighed,

“I’m afraid it does seem rather hollow in there,” My face was sympathetic, puckering my lips and turning my head to the side in an attempt to look like I marginally cared the least about him.

Damien looked like he was trying not to laugh.

The Brothers’ eyebrow was faintly raised. I took the moment to finally examine him. His features were all hard angles and sharp edges, his eyebrows a jet black, hair still covered by his hood. His eyes were such a deep blue they looked almost black, the color blending with the pupils giving you the unsettling feeling that he could stare into your soul, see your darkest secret, and still not be impressed.

‘That’s not far off,’ I thought wryly.

“Ms. Lopez when I want your opinion, I will ask. Until then, only answer the questions I say. Understood”

My lips pressed together into a hard line and my eye twitched. He saw this and gave a small smile, yet it was gone so quickly, I wondered if I had imagined it. But Damien’s shocked expression and Aleksandr’s hard face told me I hadn’t.

Actually, only Damien’s face told me. Aleksandr always looked like that around me.

I laughed softly at my joke, too loudly. They all turned to look at me, and I flushed again when the Brother angled his head as I flusteredly sat down.

“Did you know the crown prince of Rterna has gone missing?”

I nodded. I’d heard the gossip of customers as they came in and out of the shop, speaking either of poor Prince Faraj, or cursing his name for abandoning his duties.

“Good. That saves me some time. A few days ago, I received a letter from the royal Tamil family. They need outside forces involved in retrieving their son.” His eyes burned holes in my face, my cheeks growing redder with each second of breathless silence.

“I had at first no care for helping them. After all, how would it help us at all? It would cost us resources, time, and men that I honestly have no wish to spare. Until I got another letter as of yesterday. This one offers us a reward for his capture. 190,000,000 Turninli. I have received word that the king is nearing the end of his life and he wishes to see his son one last time. They need the crown prince back, as they only have the daughter as of now, and she has no intention of marrying.”

One of the men swore, a word so foul I gave a soft wince. Aleksandr’s eyes widened slightly while Damien’s face went through five stages of shock. None of us cared about the royal family, one glance around the room told me that. It took a moment for the number to set in. That much money may have been enough to empty a smaller county’s coffers. It would be enough to shove Jeterna out of its economic fall over the past few decades. This money could literally save a country.

“The king has received our letter of acceptance and you will find the lost prince. If the king dies before we find him, it will send Rterna into turmoil and we will lose all trade negotiations within the country, as the Queen is practically useless on her own. After all, what is a queen without her king?” The Brother’s lips were curled in disgust and I smiled quietly.

There was a deafening silence.

“You will find Faraj Tamil, and you will bring him back. I don’t care whether he offers you money or prestige. If you try to save him, you will find that the Ten Skulls are not so forgiving.” The Brother’s voice was an attempt at seriousness, but when I looked up, I saw his lips twitch, and I heard the amusement in his voice.

I saw even Aleksandr frown slightly at the harshness of the wording, and if there was one thing I had learned about the dark-eyed man, it was that he was loyal to a fault.

“Damien, Aleksandr, Levka, Mikhail, and Annamaria, you will work together and you will find the lost prince.” The way he said it left no room for argument and made sure it wasn’t a question.

“You’ll leave for Fjiduna by sunrise tomorrow.”

“Annamaria, do tell Alyona she is to accompany you as your healer for this mission.”

The way he said my name… like he knew it well, had said it a hundred times in a hundred different ways… Why?

He locked eyes with all of us as he strode to open the door and unlocked it,

“I would suggest you don’t disappoint me”

____________________

Alyona was waiting outside the door, her face pinched as she paced. When she heard the doors open, her head jerked up and she gave me a broad smile. The door creaked again, and she looked up and saw Levka, her face sliding from happy to almost awestruck. Levka avoided her gaze and walked down the hallway, his cheeks slightly pink as he rushed away.

I winced at the wounded look that flashed across Alyona’s face before she was dragging me away.

I turned and caught one last look before we lost sight of them in the winding halls. Damien was leaning on a pillar near the door his eyes dark and his expression one of distaste. Aleksandr was standing ramrod straight next to him, both speaking in low tones. Mikhail left the room with the Brother, neither of their lips moving. I turned a corner, and then they were gone.

I glanced at the back of Alyona’s head.

“Where are we going?”

“Your room, obviously” Alyona looked at me again and her brown eyes were cheerful, if not a bit too bright. She was hurt, but that wasn’t what I was so surprised about. It was almost like we were…friends. I had never had one before.

Mother never let me.

I shivered as we made our way to my apparent “room” There were a lot of things Mother never let me do. And there were some things I had to do.

We stopped outside a door that was almost unnoticeable, small, and dark. We opened the door and my jaw dropped. Stacks of books, piles everywhere. There was Little Women, Dracula, and A Tale of Two Cities. I laughed as the sunlight streamed in through the two windows and I ran and threw myself on the bed, clutching all the books I could. It was a heaven. Who had chosen this room, who had filled it with books? Damien? Alyona? When I sat up, I began stacking books next to my bed while Alyona went through the closet, wincing at each unfashionably ancient dress.

“Ugh, who filled this closet, a barbarian? We’re going shopping.” The pure disgust on her face as she glared at the closet had me laughing.

“Oh you won’t be laughing in a minute” She said, grinning suddenly.

Turning, she shrieked,

“LEVKA!”

Alyona grabbed me and dragged me off the bed to the door. What’s Levka got to do with anything?

_______________________

Levka was the one who made sure no one “wandered off”, apparently. Poor guy was taking a severe tongue-lashing from Alyona.

But then I remembered her face in the hallway. The small wince of pain as he ignored her.

Suddenly, I was glad Alyona had the sharpest voice of anyone I’ve ever met.

We got into a gray carriage, Levka leaning out the window to say something to the driver. I despised these carriages, much preferring the newer invention, the motorcycle, over this old-fashioned contraption. We jolted to a start, throwing me against Levka as he climbed back in. He began to laugh and gently placed me back on my chair, my face bright red.

“I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, but never literally.”

A small smile flashed across my face. But one look at Alyona’s face had my smile dying on the spot. I looked closer at Levka. Was he really so oblivious? But he was now looking out the window and didn’t seem to notice us at all.

He finally noticed my staring, gave me a grin, and pulled a bracelet out of his weathered bag. I stared at it, confused.

I reached over and took it, my hands closing over the rough surface. I turned it inside out and froze. A name was engraved on the inside.

This was her bracelet.

This was hers.

“The Brother asked me to give it to you since I’m the one watching you.”

I scowled.

“I’m not a dog to be watched.”

“No, you’re a teenage girl with some really bad luck,” he said with a wink.

“And you’re a teenage boy with a bad sense of humor and an ugly pack,” I fired off.

He stared at me for a moment, and I had the sudden feeling no one ever actually talked back to him.

No wonder he had such a fat head.

I was not in the mood for a joker as I shoved the bracelet into my pocket, unsure whether to throw it away or slip it on my wrist and never take it off.

He finally smiled.

“Actually, I’m 20”

“And actually, I’m 18”

He chuckled before turning his head to look out the window again, his smile fading just like the sun that was fading in the constant cloudy skies of Jeterna.

____________________________________________________________

We stopped in front of a mall, our carriage looking outdated compared to the cars and motorbikes of everyone else. My face flushed pink as I rushed out, followed by Alyona and Levka. Levka seemed to silence all gossip, his joking smile gone replaced by a hard look that he seemed content at aiming at anyone stupid enough to look at us for longer than a passing glance.

When we walked inside, I was in awe of everything. There were perfumes, dresses, leggings, and trousers. Alyona grabbed my arm and dragged me inside one of the stores to the right, with mannequins dressed in black. Levka gave a small groan that made me giggle as we walked inside, Levka’s feet dragging like he wanted to be anywhere but here. A small, ferrety-looking man was standing behind the cashier, his small body hunched over. He was a very twitchy man, with oily gray hair and bony, rough-looking hands.

“Msss. Morozov! How nice to sssee you again” His voice was as oily as his hair, his tongue stretching out each s to an unnatural length. His rheumy green eyes stared at Alyona greedily. I felt rather than saw Levka move closer when the man took a step back and muttered something about checking the storeroom. He rushed into the back when Alyona whirled around to glare at Levka, her eyes shooting daggers.

“Stop trying to scare away everyone who I need to talk to you big brute!”

“Why the hell would you want to talk to him?”

I drifted away from the arguing couple as I began to look around, absentmindedly brushing my hands across all the fabrics until something made me pause. A beautiful black corset, tight and strong.

It was just like hers.

I marveled at the feel of the fabric, silky and smooth, but when I tugged at it, strong as steel. I pulled it off the rack along with a pair of tight leggings. I disappeared into the dressing room as Levka and Alyona continued to argue behind me, their voices getting louder as Levka got more irritated and Alyona more infuriated. I unlaced my dress and watched it pool at my feet. I turned to see my back in the mirror and saw the wineglass dripping venom as the snake seemed to slither across my back, almost like it was alive. I hurriedly laced the corset and shoved on the leggings. When I turned to see myself in the mirror, I stood still as I gazed at myself. I reached out tentatively and touched my hand to its reflection. I looked like her.

I looked like her.

I loved it.

I changed back quickly before rushing back to those racks and picking up different corsets, each one made with a new design that was beautiful and strong.

Alyona and Levka seemed to have finally tired of their ridiculous argument and were now looking for me. Alyona saw what I was piling up on my arms and looked from the black corsets to my white dress and gave a smile.

“I knew you were like us”

I graced her with a smile as crooked as her own as I continued to pile the clothes onto my increasingly heavy basket, which I had found lying next to a mannequin in ugly neon orange. I finally walked over to the cashier where Levka was leaning against the counter, looking supremely bored, much to Alyona’s consternation. The twitchy little man finally came back out and gave a squeal when he saw the pile of clothes I put on the counter. Levka clenched his hands into fists, I noticed, as Alyona and I paid and she smiled at the weaselly man. And when he picked up the bags, he walked stiffly, like he itched to hit someone.

My eyes gleamed.

________________________________

I couldn’t breathe. The room was closing in on me. I hated the boy looking back at me from the mirror, hated his gold eyes, hated his black hair. I hated Damien Gray. The letter was crumpled on the floor as I slid to the ground, my breath coming out in short bursts. Annamaria Lopez. I hated her. If she had never come, never shaken my world with one mischievous glance of those deep red eyes, then everything would be okay. Everything would have been okay. I couldn’t get her laughter out of my head, the strong grip of her arms on mine, the fiery warmth of her body. I couldn’t get her tears, her sobs out of my mind. I felt so helpless. Mateo would have known what to do. I put my head between my knees as I began to shake. My better half, my twin. And now he was gone and it was all my fault. Mateo would never have let me get kidnapped, get hurt, and cowered. Mateo would have felt guilt after his first kill, repulsion.

“It felt good…really good, like-“

“Meeting an old friend”

Her soft confession, the guilt in her beautiful red eyes had been my undoing. I shouldn’t have shown her the pixies, shouldn’t have let her kill one. But I needed to know if what she said was true, I needed to know if I was the only true monster. But I’m not.

Could I really destroy the only person in the world even a little bit like me?

I reeled back at my own thoughts.

No.

No.

The king wants her. The king wants Death’s messenger. And I will deliver.

I rose and reached over the broken glass that littered my floor, scraping my knees and tearing my jeans. Blood stained the floor. But it wasn’t scarlet.

It was black.

As black as death.

I was trapped. I was trapped in this cage of a murderer, a thief, a scoundrel. a man with no honor left in whatever scraps of a soul he had. I grabbed my bottle, my own poison and I began to drink as black poured from my body like the shadows I wished would pour out too. Because I knew, if I could cut my own skin, and let the shadows and memories pour out, I would.

Even if the skin I needed to cut was my own heart.

Annamaria Lopez has to die. And the bottle shattered in my hands, staining my skin the color of all the blood I’d spilled to get here, to this point. The point where everything else has led…

All the way to hell.

___________________________________________

When the carriage finally stopped, me and Alyona stepped out followed by Levka, piled high with bags upon bags of my new clothes. Alyona had offered to pay but I refused. What’s the point of having a rich family if you can’t spend all of their money any way you can?

We ran up the stairs, giggling like young girls of 13. I practically glowed as we raced to my room, Levka groaning behind us with the weight of all my new clothes. I would have felt bad for him, but I still remembered Alyona’s face when he was leaving the meeting. Then, I felt much better. We collapsed on my bed, laughing like loons, my father would say. Levka walked in, dropped the bags, and promptly walked out, grumbling about girls and clothes, and fools. Alyona and I locked eyes again and began a fresh round of giggles.

My laughter began to fade when I saw a white envelope on my dark bedside table. I sat up warily and reached for it, Alyona watching me, her eyes following the path of my hand. I grabbed the envelope and opened it carefully. I turned it upside down and out fell a small, folded letter. I opened it carefully, my hands trembling. This felt too much like… It wasn’t…

I took a deep breath and began to read.

________________

“Ms. Lopez and Ms. Morozov,

In all my years, I have yet to see someone perform a job that requires such effort out of even loyalty, much less fear. Therefore, I have taken the liberty to offer you a fraction of the money.

1,000,000 Turninli

This is a generous offer and if it is not accepted, there will be no others. There was a very famous quote, Ms. Lopez, I do hope you will remember.

“There are the people who hold, who strengthen over time, and there are those who shatter. Shatter and break apart.

Be the one who will not break”

Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Lopez, and Ms. Morozov.

Sincerely,

Nirsj Viskani “

____________

I rescanned the letter, trying to find some trick, some condition. The letter itself was written in heavy, masculine scrawl. But there was no sign of anything other than what was plainly written.

“Nirsj Viskani?” I said, taking a chance on the hope Alyona would know the name.

“The Brother.”

Alyona’s voice was quiet, her soft eyes wide.

“That’s his name. But no one is allowed to call him that. And he never signs his real name” She gave me an odd look.

“You really are special aren’t you?” Her face suddenly split into a wide grin.

The room was deafeningly silent. The message was so short but so essential. That kind of money…. with that kind of haul, I could move back to Enamani, find him, get my life back. Even just half of that money could change everything. Alyona was still smiling at me with a sly expression.

“Let’s try on some clothes”

________________

My face was sore, my lips cracking from all the smiling. I felt like I was overflowing, with yellow, and red, and gold. With ecstasy, and anger, with joy and fear.

I didn’t know why I was angry.

But I knew why I was scared.

I was always scared. I was always scared since she had burned me, burned me to try to burn it out of me, the thing everyone wanted. The more I screamed, the harder she shoved. Her hands burned too, along with me. I wonder if that’s what hurt most. Because she almost killed me… out of love.

My smile faded and my breathing became labored.

18 dresses.

3 jumpsuits.

4 walls.

Everything was swirling, everything was just like she said.

I hate you, mother.

I love you, mother.

I wish I understood you mother.

I hope I never understand you mother.

I love you,

I despise you,

I wish I could see you again,

I’m glad you died,

I miss you.

“Everything has an explanation, dear” She had whispered, tucking me in.

My skin was raw, and it was blackened. But I was alive. And that was terrifying for her.

Somehow, I was alive.

It was a miracle.

And nothing frightens people more,

than a miracle.

“You just have to find it”

__________________

Alyona looked over, her smile fading. She looked away quickly, picking up a dress and twisting it in her hands.

“You know… I’ve never seen Damien look happy before. But when he looks at you, he looks almost…content.”

I stared at her, startled for a moment, before rasping a hoarse laugh. As if. But the ludicrous statement, the ridiculousness of it, was enough to snap me back to reality.

“I haven’t known you long, but what about Levka then?”

She flinched at his name and I grinned.

Jackpot.

She tried to glare at me, but broke into giggles, and soon, I joined her. Suddenly, spontaneously, we were just laughing, about boys, about money, and about everything.

Just us.

And everything, for that minute, felt perfect.

______________________

I flexed my hand, the paleness startling next to the blackness of the cloak. It was slender and long and

not mine.

“Your name is Nirsj” I whispered, my voice echoing in the darkness. I couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now. Not when everything was so close. I will do whatever it takes to build this for her. I have journeyed through hell and suffered the fires and I would do it a thousand times over for her,

her,

her.

I felt the fire claw me on the inside, tearing me apart and burning me. I forced the pain at bay, the demon that lurked inside me. I will create a new world. One where she is safe. One where Annamaria Lopez is safe,

safe,

safe.

She can think me a monster as much as she wants, but she will be mine.

Hearing her today, seeing her raise her eyebrows and glare at me, knowing she did not even recognize me, almost broke me. She was so close, I could smell her cinnamon-pumpkin scent.

But so, so far.

I tilted the photo on my bedside table as I pulled off the cloak and fell into bed. I turned and looked at it, a woman with startling red eyes, raven black hair, and a face like an angel’s. A woman with a sarcastic, sharp tongue, and a soul full of strange and magical things. Her lips were curled into a smile, her eyes brimming and overflowing with all the secrets that hid within. I will enjoy finding out every secret in those red seas, and then, when she is finally broken, she will finally see it is only me that can heal her.

Only ever me.

“Goodnight, my love,” I murmured as I drifted into the darkness and flames.

Sleep well, my beauty.

Sleep well.

____________________

I hope you enjoyed Chapter IV- A Demon in Human Skin, and be prepared for Chapter V on May 30th! Please like and subscribe!

Some make people happy wherever they go. Others, whenever they go.

Oscar Wilde
Featured

Prologue

By Sara Aziz

Hey readers! I’ve decided to start posting the chapters of the story I’ve been writing on my blog every 2 weeks so that I can get reviews/opinions on my work! I’m posting one chapter per 2 weeks, so please enjoy! This is the prologue.

_____________________________________________________________

Prologue

I heard the nightingale singing softly in the branches that hung high above my head, the willow swaying in the softest breeze. They lifted the casket gently before reaching down to place it in the freshly dug ground that still smelled faintly of dandelions and wildflowers. I didn’t cry, I didn’t shake, I couldn’t feel anything. The sounds of the night seemed to expand, the chirping of the robin deafening, the clanging of the church bell a distant explosion. I knew that to not feel was rare, was wrong. Yet, she was always the one with the big smile, the warm hugs, the constant glow of happiness. My dad’s body convulsed and shook violently with his wails, the tears running down his face like liquid rivers of pain. Those tears seemed to carve themselves into his very being, into the depths of his soul. My mother used to tell me stories. Stories about heaven, and how the angels waited on earth and in the sky to guide you home. Now, it felt like only the demons lay on earth, waiting to steal. Steal lives that were never theirs. I felt the wind pick up as the willows-branches became whips, violent and lively. I didn’t know at the time what the future held. All I knew, was without Mom, I will never heal. She had left a scar in me, a hole that seemed to deepen and hollow with every minute she was gone. And my eyes burned with unshed tears as the nightingale’s song became louder and the wind a jagged cold blade as the earth itself seemed to punish us for putting a body in the ground when it should have been lying in the heavens.

2 weeks later

My body jerked awake as though some invisible force was tugging me to the door. The house was silent. The house was never silent. There were always the thuds from my father trying to exercise himself into exhaustion, the memories of my mother haunting him. They haunted me too. My hands glistened with blood that had poured from my cracked knuckles, my punching bag in the corner stained scarlet. What’s going on? I raced up the stairs into my father’s room, and froze, a fractured, overwhelming feeling sweeping in. The whole world seemed to slow down. There was no noise, no color, no anything. My eyes stayed focused on the white, bloody corpse that was my father. And I felt whatever remnant of a heart I had – bloody and bruised and broken – shatter. How dare he. After everything I had done, all I had suffered, he left me. Now I was here, and he was gone.

Just like her.

His body was twisted on the blanket, his eyes a cloudy white, gun in his left hand. His wrist was ravaged, scarred, and bloody. I put a trembling hand on his neck, searching almost maniacally for the remnant of a pulse.  Proof that I wasn’t all alone, proof that I’m not the only broken thing left. Anything. I sat back on my heels, my heart seeming to speed up to a bursting point, my head growing woozy. Nothing. He was gone. As that thought set in, I keeled over, my legs numb, my heart shattered, the bloody pieces staining and cutting the inside of my chest like dark little daggers. They were gone. They were gone. Everything blurred with the bitter sting of tears, and I couldn’t draw in a breath. It felt like my heart refused to beat. I looked at my father’s cold body again and saw a hint of white peeking out from his right hand, that was curled into a fist. I gently pulled his fingers away to pick up the paper. A note.

My Annamaria,

My dearest daughter. I love you, and you are my gift. But your mother is calling me. Every night, I hear her voice, a whispering echo saying my name. Every night when I hear her, I feel like I’m fading. And every morning, I wake up, just to be killed in the night again. A man can break only so many times before he shatters, my sweet Maria. I love you. But I love your mother. I hope one day, you can find it in your heart, as great and beautiful as it is, to forgive a tired, desperate old man.

Love,

Father

I crumpled to the ground, still clutching the paper, the blood stains seeming to grow larger, the world blurrier. “He doesn’t love you”, the voice in my head taunted. Jeered. No. No. I bent forward, the weight of it all seeming to crush me, force me to the ground, the pain a searing fire, burning me, branding me. He doesn’t love me. He wouldn’t have left me, abandoned me, if he truly loved me. I’m not his Annamaria. Not anymore. And for the last time, I allowed myself to cry. Cry for what could have been, cry for what should have been. Cry all the tears that lay in my soul, so that when I finally rose from the ashes, every tear that fell was a promise of revenge. Finally, my tears seemed to end, my heart seemed to wither, to die. I pulled myself to my feet and, taking one last look at my father, pulled the gun from his cold fingers and left. I paused at the doorway, the hand that was holding the doorframe trembling. Then, I pushed away as I walked away from the place where everything was taken from me. My footsteps echoed in the cold, dark chill of midnight. The fog that had rolled in earlier seemed to thicken. I allowed one last tear to roll down my cheeks before I disappeared into the icy cold shadows of night.

____________________________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed the prologue to my story “A Tale of Murder and Lies”, and please comment if you have any helpful suggestions! Be prepared for Chapter One on April 5th, and keep on reading bookworms!

“All autobiographies are alibi-ographies.” 

Clare Boothe Luce
Featured

5 Writing Tips

By Sara

1: Show, Don’t Tell

I know I probably sound like your writing teacher right now, Show, Don’t Tell! Show Don’t tell, but It is really important to show in your writing. Let me give two examples of sentences about a woman and her son arguing in the store.

Telling- Angela was arguing with her son over the bag of candy, and she did not look happy.

Showing: “Mom, why are you such a jerk!” The 5-year-old boy, James, hissed at his mother through tears as his mother, Angela, looked torn between saving money, which their family needed until she got her next paycheck, and making her son happy.

Do you see the difference? One sentence is so much stronger than the other because you can visualize the torn mother, whom we now know doesn’t earn a lot of money, yet also wants to make her 5-year-old son, James, happy. When you make a sentence, paragraph, or even story, easier to visualize for the reader,your hooking them onto your story.

2: Read

I know when you envision yourself writing, you imagine yourself sitting in front of that computer, maybe in a cafe, drinking coffee to stay awake because you wrote all night. It doesn’t necessarily work like that. Most writers read, not only for pleasure but to improve their writing. These are a few stanzas from a poem by Emily Dickinson “Because I could not stop for Death.”

Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— 
And Immortality.

We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—

Or rather—He passed us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—

Because I could not stop for death by Emily Dickinson

In her poem, Emily Dickinson used symbolism to highlight ideas of mortality, fear, and death itself. In the first stanza, when she said “Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me, the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.” There are many ways to interpret Ms. Dickinson’s poem, but I understood it to reference fear of death, but also fear of life as well. She had no fear of death, so she did not spend all her time waiting for death to arrive, and when death finally arrived for her, she did not run or fear it, but accepted it. The reference to immortality suggests her belief that death is eternal, and as there will always be something to die for, death will always live. When you read, you can learn to imitate, or understand the concepts the author is using in their work, and apply them to your own.

3: Target Specific Writing Skills You Want to Improve

Each author has their own writing problems or something they struggle with in their writing. Maybe it’s writing realistic dialogue, or maybe it’s writing believable scenes, but each author has something in their work they need to work on. Some authors skim over their problems and never face them, making writing that has the potential to be amazing, but the writing needs work. When you’re struggling at something, don’t just sit back and work on the things you are already good at in your story, find the things in your story that seem weak and write them again and again, read books, talk with authors who are skilled in the area of your struggle. And if you really care about, work on your writing, someday, you will make the New York Times bestsellers list.

4: Don’t Give Up

You probably already know this, but when it comes to your writing, don’t give up. J.K Rowling spent years working on her first book “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” before it became one of the most popular books for kids in the world. Writing takes time and a lot of effort. It often takes years to write a book you feel you can really be proud of, and that’s okay. Writing is not for the easily discouraged though, because it takes grit and determination to succeed in writing, and that’s okay. You really need to love what you’re doing and work hard, because then, there will always be a reward.

5: Make Yourself Clear

When you write, there are always many styles to choose from. But often it’s best to make your writing clear to the reader. You don’t always want to fill your writing with fancy words that you have to get a dictionary to find, because then, it’s harder to emotionally connect yourself to what you’re reading if you can barely understand it. Reading is half putting the words on paper, and half making the reader do the rest. You put the words there, and their minds will make the connection, wonder what will happen next, and get hooked on your story. Writing a good story means also applying the reader’s emotions to the mix, trying to get their emotions and experiences involved. One word can evoke a memory in the reader that helps them empathize with the character they are reading about. So remember, try to keep your writing clear and understandable to the average reader.

Conclusion

Thanks for reading my post on 5 Writing Tips! My tips are purely optional to use or not, and there are always different styles you can use instead if they appeal to you more. Please like and follow!