Prologue
Immortality is not meant for the living. When alive, we dread the final voyage into the unknown. But once free of flesh, a soul remembers that death is but an end to a chapter from a never-ending book. All life, from beginning to end, begins at the Plane of the Dead. That’s where I had existed before my rebirth into a new bodily existence.
I thought about my previous life, I missed the way air filled my lungs, and the way blood rushed through my veins, but what I missed the most was the beat of my heart. I was addicted to living.
There was a desire to be reborn as a sapient being, I had a thirst for greater knowledge, for the complexity of thoughts and emotions that higher life-forms possessed. I could feel the living’s emotions, irradiating from their bodies. It was a calling to me, and I wanted to be one of them. They had a power I desired to experience.
My Soul Guides told me I wasn’t ready for this kind of challenge and my inexperience to live as a complex entity concerned them. They believed I would be suited living as a small animal; I had the freedom to disagree. They weren’t my wardens, yet. I needed to reincarnate before a Soul Harvester could sniff me out. In hindsight, a part of me wished that a harvester had removed me from existence, but the rest of me hoped that I had listened to my Guides. Against their warnings, I reincarnated into a new body, leaving them behind in the Plane of the Dead.
I wish I knew then what I know now, that my new name and form would have become the most reviled and hated throughout history. I couldn’t imagine that my name would become a verb for suffering. Had I known that many generations after my life, people would forbid naming their children after me, I would have never entered that world and became a living nightmare. The world called me Von-wratha.
Life One
One
The Academy
The Academy appeared to be an old and modest orphanage. Many who would look upon the crumbling building incorrectly assumed it was just another haven for unwanted younglings. Every tigers-eye brick that made the spiralled structure was cracked, and the large loosened brown chunks jutted out, giving the appearance of pointed teeth from a predator. Between the slabs, the centuries-old cement housed maroon moss growing on the building’s surface.
Despite the structure’s surface, if one was brave or foolish enough to look deeper, every matron that cared for the younglings were ex-assassins of Giria. This Academy transformed the cities parentless younglings to be the most valued Girian assassins. Inside the vast training halls and bunkers, fledgling assassins would be taught to become masters of shadow; they were taught different skills from poison making to marksmanship and engineering, and above all, psychic abilities were the most valued.
Most Girians considered serving the Twin Snakes, gods of the city and province, to be the highest honour – no matter how depraved and lowly the act their serpent masters desired. Even wretched criminals, who fought on behalf of the fetid Twin Gods, would have their sins wiped away with every drop of unholy blood they spilled. The most devoted would see sinners everywhere and act as executioners, eager to be elevated in their masters’ eyes. Giria was a breeding ground for fear and mistrust; no one dared defy the Twins, especially speak about them in an unflattering manner to another. This was taught to all younglings; this was the Girian way of life.
A small fledgling sat on her favourite windowsill, high up in the tower with her little bare feet dangling over the dead drop. She was no older than eight years, but her supple frame made her vanish from sight amongst a crowd or furniture. That’s why she would make a fantastic stealth assassin, the matrons would tell her. Von-wratha knew all the secret nooks and hiding places in the Academy, both above and below ground in the bunkers. During the night and against her matron’s commands, she would watch the neon lights of her city from the broken windowsill. Von-wratha smiled as she glanced to her grey three-toed feet, gently swaying in the night’s wind, but her smile faded when she thought about her parents. It was the only time she could think about them when she was on the sill. She had been raised by matrons, like every other fledgling in the Academy, and it was forbidden to talk about their old family after arriving to the school. That was a dead life.
When Von-wratha learnt language, she asked Matron Aeos of her parents. She recalls Aeos flinging her three-finger, clawed hand across little Von-wratha’s cheek for daring to ask a question. But Von-wratha didn’t cower; she wasn’t allowed to show fear. Otherwise, her other cheek would be swollen from another slap. However, in a cruel twist, Matron Aeos blasted Von-wratha’s mind with images of a Girian woman leaving a bundled infant in the red gardens for predators to find. In the vision, infant Von-wratha’s little body covered by the tattered cloth, she could see her bowed-shins sticking out and her fat three-fingered hands squeezed into fists. Then a black-robed figure emerged from the darkened redwoods, approached and slipped the babe into her warm robes.
As she reminisced her earliest memories on the sill, her attention was drawn to a small golden light blinking from the black tree trunks from the nearby forest. Knowing she wasn’t allowed to be above ground when night settles in, her chest puffed to hold her breath – praying that Matron Aeos’ psychic probe hadn’t detected her. The light came close enough to transform into two orbs had blinked, and she realised they were eyes belonging to another fledgling: Nalax. His grey shoulders and arms materialised from the shadowed forest, his frame crouched low, but his long and lanky body betrayed his ability to appear stealthy.
Von-wratha’s body went rigid, attempting to blend with the stillness of the building, but she sensed Nalax had already spotted her. If it were any other fledgling, she would’ve slinked away into the tower and race back to the sleeping quarters, but he was a trusted friend. She watched Nalax slip closer to the tower base, his head directly beneath her legs when he looked up. Her face stretched into a smile. He looked to the sill where his friend sat, hugged the cracked wall and reached out to the slanted bricks with his gangly grey arms. His fingers gripped around a solid stone and pulled his body up. Brick by brick, his body moved like a spider carefully doing the dangerous climb.
Von-wratha intently watched her friend gracefully slide up the tower. A devious part of her wanted to psychically push the red vines to slash Nalax’s hand and make his azure blood drip from the wounds. His head shot up to her with an unamused frown; his face showing he had heard her thoughts.
You are so unkind, he transmitted.
“Nalax, you are aware of who my matron is?” she replied with a cheeky smile.
“It’s your choice to be who you want to be, Von,” he said as he made one last heave to reach the sill. She quickly slid to the other end to make room for her over-sized friend, “speaking of your matron, she is now my matron, too.”
They were the same age, and both arrived at the Academy on the same night, but they were drastically different in physique and personality. Nalax worked himself sick to impress his Matron of Poisons, while Von-wratha preferred being beaten than trying to be a sycophant to her Matron of Stealth.
“By the Twins!” she said with her mouth hanging open, “since when did Aeos become your trainer?”
“Since the morn. The Poison Matron said that I had advanced through her teachings and that now I needed to train under a new discipline. She chose Aeos, despite my protests,” Nalax said as he tried to comfort himself on the sill. His face cracked into a grin while staring at Von-wratha’s expression.
“At least you could protest with your old Matron. If I had spoken like that to Aeos, she would’ve taken one of my fingers!” Von-wratha said as she wriggled her smallest digit. A pang of jealousy struck her. Nalax was an exceptional student and advanced quickly through most disciplines. Surely, he would gain Matron Aeos’ favour, thereby taking her attention from Von-wratha. However, the possibilities of having fewer beatings did ease her worries.
“At least, Aeos would never cut up a healthy fledgling, unless they really crossed the line,” he said as his golden eyes searched her face, eager for a response, “Matron Aeos can be ruthless in her teachings, but she would never kill an underling of hers, I don’t think.”
Von-wratha folded her arms across her chest and scrubbed her back against the stone wall.
“Aeos has little room for mistakes, let alone dispensing second chances. She takes pride in her profession and is more than willing to break anyone that mocks her craft,” her voice was flat. She looked toward the city’s colourful lights emanating from the beautiful spiralled buildings and lit roads.
She sensed a small rise within Nalax. This conversation put his nerves on edge, a habit best picked up to prepare oneself for Matron Aeos. His expectations will crash after the first day; she will eat him whole, Von-wratha thought. Then he will finally understand.
“You’ll do fine, Nalax. Save your strength for when the lessons start,” she said as she tapped her hands on her friend’s bare shoulders with a sympathetic smile. She worried about his naivety, but a part of her knew that he would fare better than she ever could.
He patted her hand and then took it into his. “The sooner we both finish with this school, the sooner we can leave the Academy and never come back here. I promise,” he said.
Von-wratha scoffed. “Yes, then live a life of servitude to the Twin Gods and their oracle fanatics.”
“Better than here. It must be better than here.” Nalax said.
“Anywhere is better than here.” she said as she gazed back to the black city.
~
A silver whip cracked across the small back of a cowering fledgling. Von-wratha watched upside down as the older male fledgling struck the younger one in the stealth training halls. The youngling was being punished for failing to steal past him, but Zenin took pleasure in the violence. He was the most despised fledgling in the Academy, and even the other matrons had a distaste for him. However, Matron Aeos saw something in him that mirrored her own horrid tendencies. Von-wratha’s arms and legs interlocked with the complicated ropes and beams hanging from the ceiling. She could easily travel across the chamber without her feet ever touching the ground. She glanced over to the high poles where fledglings balanced themselves on the narrow surfaces. Nalax had his legs spread across two poles and had been watching the whip fly on the back of the small fledgling.
Von-wratha sensed he was terrified at a thought of what else Aeos was capable of personally doing if she allowed the older fledglings to deal out such punishments. Behind his back was Giria’s banner which covered half of the gym’s brick walls. Its presence draws the eye to the black background with two sunset orange serpents interlocked with each other. She had seen this banner every day innumerable times, yet it always instilled an indescribable menace inside her. He locked eyes with Von-wratha’s slivery orbs and her focus on the banner snapped away. Her long navy mane swayed upside down and her body in black training clothes strapped around her torso, legs and arms was on the move. Her advanced acrobatics allowed her to climb towards Nalax’s post.
“That’s Blyth down there,” she whispered to him.
“I don’t know how she will ever graduate from this school. She gets regularly beaten by most other Matrons. Why put her here?” he said looking up at Von-wratha for answers.
“Knowing Aeos: to teach her a lesson about failure or teach us a lesson about failure,” Von-wratha said. Her hands began tiring from holding the coarse rope, and her head started welling blood, making her face turn blue.
Nalax edged back to give Von-wratha space to flip on one of the pole’s surfaces. She quickly glanced around the hall for Matron Aeos, but she didn’t see her, which caused her more significant worry.
Have you seen Matron Aeos, yet? Nalax asked in the safety of telepathy.
Don’t bother speaking this way, my friend. If she were here with us, she would know what we say, even within our minds, Von-wratha replied.
Down below on the training floors, Blyth collapsed bleeding on the matted ground. Zenin rose his silver whip with glee in his eyes, ready to crack it against Blyth’s skin. Then, an old wrinkly hand materialised in mid-air and grabbed the older fledgling’s hand. A sparkling silver light made an old female Girian appear before the trainees. Her hood kept most of her grey, decrepit face from view and heavy black robes draped around her hunched body. Matron Aeos yanked the whip out of the surprised Zenin’s grasp and punched him with such force, that his sharp nose burst in blue blood.
“Useless…” her voice was barely above a broken whisper, but the entire training hall held their breath in silence, which amplified all sounds made by the haggard female.
She towered over Blyth, who was now in a foetal position. “A waste of blood. None of you is worth the servitude to the oracles and our gods,” Aeos roughly grabbed her thin grey arms to pull her up, “the only reason why you are here, is because an oracle chose you to be one of their prized breeders.” Her scarred mouth lightly showered Blyth with spit. Von-wratha watched Blyth remain silent as Matron Aeos addressed her. Her broken spirit had certainly experienced worse than spit.
“Von-wratha,” Matron Aeos howled which made the other fledglings shiver, “you have a new peer with you today. Come and show him to me,” not looking in Von-wratha and Nalax’s direction.
The pair exchanged glances and hurried down the poles. Nalax almost tripped over the training mats as he rushed over, while Von-wratha followed closely behind. They respectfully bowed to their hooded matron and looked down waiting for her words.
Matron Aeos cackled. “Nalax, the other matrons say that you are a fast learner, but your true talents lie in the deception of the eye – a talent I too possess. And seems like your company to my pupil has made her more respectable to her superiors,” she said, smirking towards Von-wratha, “show me what you have acquired from your training with my prime student, but I do warn you, she was reared by myself. Remember younglings, the Twins are always watching,” her head cocked up to the wall behind them.
Von-wratha and Nalax turned to the looming banner over their heads. They respectfully bowed low before turning to each other. She noticed his head was still hanging low and his scruffy maroon hair hid his eyes, too afraid to look up.
Use your gifts against him, Von, Aeos whispered.
Von-wratha readied herself in comfortable sparring position, intently listening on her matron’s desires.
Then he might be hurt, Von-wratha replied.
Then he will win, and you will hurt if you don’t obey! Aeos’s thoughts were like static in her mind,
She scanned for vulnerable areas on her opponent; she prepared her mind for any telepathic attacks her foe might throw at her. Von-wratha glanced around the landscape for any vantage points to cast an invisibility illusion so she could attack her foe with an ambush, perhaps telekinetically throw a whip at him for a momentary distraction. Nalax was good and obedient, while Von-wratha tried to rebel against her matron at every chance. She knew that Matron Aeos was trying to make them enemies using their differences to separate their close bond, but Von-wratha wouldn’t allow Matron Aeos to succeed.
This was just training; she kept telling herself. Now that the telepathic shields were up – there was little way of saying if Nalax had thought the same. Matron Aeos clapped her dry hands, beginning the match. He may have had the physical strength and height superiority, but she was smaller and many times faster. She saw weakness in the right side of his attack pose and disregarding his height, she leapt into the air with her left leg ready to hit his cheek. She needed to get his eyes off her so she could cast the illusion effectively without him detecting a psychic trail.
However, Nalax sensed this tactic coming. He pulled his head into his shoulders and jabbed two fingers at a cluster of nerves on the back of Von-wratha’s outstretched leg. Usually, that would cause great pain amongst regular Girians, but assassin fledglings were trained to embrace pain – even use it as a source of strength. Von-wratha’s leg recoiled, but she could still move with great agility. He threw a punch towards her face, nearly missed her eye socket; she swung her body around his arm and latched onto it with both hands using it to slide down to the floor. In a moment of panic, Von-wratha saw her friend sprout several different arms from his sides, trying to grab her. They were just illusions, she told herself. Von-wratha found another weakness in Nalax’s stance. Once her back was on the floor, she catapulted both legs into his knees, causing him to buckle.
Nalax instinctively bent over to grab his injured knees. This was Von-wratha’s opportunity to slide behind him and cast her illusion. She pushed herself beneath him as he tried to regain his footing. She was finally behind him, and he had finally lost sight of her. She cast her illusion and remained invisible to Nalax who spun around to look for his opponent. He lashed out with his hands and feet in all directions trying to grab at her; he even tried psychically blasting her mind so her defense could weaken.
Von-wratha was now a predator, she stood a meter barely from Nalax and could remove her foe by any means; it would undoubtedly impress Matron Aeos. That thought dispersed as quickly as it came; this was nothing more than training; Nalax was her ally and friend. Ending him would be the death of herself too. She crept behind him, within a flash she telekinetically pulled a tiny dagger from Matron Aeos’ training sash and put it to his neck, which collapsed her invisibility illusion. Nalax instantly stopped moving and was now at the mercy of his sneaky friend. They heard Matron Aeos cackling loudly behind them, indicating she was entertained by the spectacle.
Good of your worthless mother to leave you that night. Matron Aeos echoed through Von-wratha’s primal mind.
Von-wratha felt herself resurface and replace the beast that burned within her. As she quickly removed the dagger from her friend’s neck, she noticed blue liquid on the black blade’s edge. She felt a wave of guilt at her actions. She leaned into Nalax’s ear, trying to comfort him and whispered so quietly that Aeos wouldn’t have been able to overhear.
“It’s just you and me…” she said, turning his defeated frown into a smile.
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