by Aubrie Nixon
“You were such a small babe, quiet and lovely. Your eyes were bright and filled with life. I knew I had been led to you for a reason. An abandoned child raised into the life of a warrior—you have always been destined for greatness.”
His eyes locked with hers. Suddenly, she felt small and scared, sensations entirely foreign to her.
The monster she’d killed—what was it? She thought back to her lessons on the ancient evil beings called the Dark Ones. They hadn’t been seen since King Amous had defeated them, bringing an end to their long and destructive reign on the world known as the Dark Ages. Although it had been five hundred years since the end of the war, people still whispered about them, superstition making people afraid to say their names aloud. The gods had abandoned the world in those years and had yet to return. People still prayed to them, out of habit perhaps—or fear. Sephera prayed to them only out of desperation. She had never received an answer to her pleadings. She knew they were gone. She had more faith in the Dark Ones than she did in the gods. They at least had power, even in their defeat. Their name alone could silence a room. Perhaps she should pray to the Dark Ones. Maybe then she would get an answer.
Her master's voice interrupted her thoughts. “You fought a creature from the darkness called a Shasakar.” The word rolled off his tongue like a writhing snake.
Her eyes widened. “A shapeshifter? But those are creatures of legend. They are long dead and gone. The last known sighting of one was right before King Amous disappeared. He hunted them to extinction after one of them killed his wife and child.”
He tilted his head, and a crooked smile crossed his face. “So you do remember your lessons.” He cleared his throat and clasped his hands, looking into the fire. The flame’s flickering light caressed his features, making him look much older and more wary.
“A Shasakar is one of many creatures that dwell in the darkness, long thought to be extinct. For five hundred years, scholars have argued over what happened to these creatures after the Dark Ones were defeated. They simply disappeared into thin air. Some thought they had died with the Dark Ones; others thought they were just stories—after all, there is very little written about them. Others still thought they had gone into hiding, awaiting the time when mankind would be at its weakest, listening for a call from their masters to awaken. Recent reports have provided me with the whereabouts of some of the creatures—reports which, unfortunately, I received too late. For that, I am sorry. Had you died . . .” He bowed his head in shame. “There are few who believe that the Dark Ones were ever truly gone. I have dedicated much of my life to the research and study of the creatures. I believe that the Dark Ones are returning, that there will be a resurgence of the sickness which plagued our land so long ago, and that the creatures who now roam the world are just the beginning.”
Sephera exhaled deeply and steadied her hands on the arms of the chair.
“You think that there will be another Dark Age?" she asked. "But how? We don’t even know how it was stopped last time. King Amous disappeared after they were defeated.” She struggled to keep her voice steady.
The old assassin—her master and mentor—turned to look at her, his face unreadable.
“I have heard tales of a way to eradicate the Darkness from this land. I need to consult an old friend before we pursue the matter further. But something is coming, Sephy my girl, and we must prepare ourselves to face it.”
A knock at the door made her jump, and a messenger hurried in and whispered in Baleem’s ear. His brow furrowed, and the messenger rushed out.
“There are matters I must attend to. Please get some rest and do not speak of this to anyone.” He bowed his head slightly and rushed out of the room.
CHAPTER 3
Sephera slept restlessly, her dreams filled with the Shasakar and other monstrous creatures that existed before the Light Age. She dreamt of immense power and horror, a great evil that spread throughout Nostorra like a plague, devouring her whole, until all that was left were the Creatures and the Dark Ones. She woke suddenly to a knock at her door.
“Seph, wake up!” Zad’s optimistic voice called through the door. “I haven’t seen you in ages, and I need a visit to the bakery. C’mon. Get dressed. I’ll be in the courtyard. And hurry up!”
“UGHH,” she grumbled. She had slept better on the road than in her own goose-feather bed. Pity, it was such a comfortable and light bed. Cozy even, with her fur blanket. She looked around the dimly lit room she called her own. Her closet was ajar, giving a tantalizing glimpse of the furs, leathers, and velvet and silk dresses that hung inside. Ah, her closet. Her clothes were the thing she missed the most when she was gone. She rolled herself out of bed and walked over to her shelf, which was filled with books and other trinkets from her travels. Her favorite was a lovely bottle of perfume that smelled of rose water which she had bought while journeying to the Rose Fields of Sarilo.
She ran her fingers over her writing desk, leaving a clear path through the dust. Then she touched her unopened, dusty writing books. She hadn’t felt the urge to write in years, ever since her tutor, Morwen, had left the Keep. As awful as Morwen was, she had inspired Sephera to write. She’d put her through hell and back again, but her harsh methods had taught Sephera to speak and write dozens of different languages. She loved to dream up stories of people of different races who were free and normal. She wrote of adventures similar to her own, epic stories of men and women who fell in love and spent all the rest of their days together. She wrote because it was a fantasy, something she would never have—an experience she got to share through the characters in her stories. Dwelling in fantasy for a time was all the therapy she needed to face the harsh reality that was her life.
She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Then she pulled her black hair out of her face into a single braid and dressed in her favorite linen pants and cotton tunic, which had gold embellishments on the sleeves. After picking off the lint from the sleeves, she put on her walking boots and headed to the courtyard.
Zad was standing with a guard near the gardens, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched tightly. As the guard continued to speak in a hushed whisper, Zad’s features scrunched into a scowl. They were talking too quietly for her to hear any of it, but she could sense that whatever it was, it wasn't good. Zad looked up as she approached, his face softening when he saw her. The guard bowed his head to her and uttered a quick farewell.
“What was that about?” she asked curiously.
“Attom. He was found alive, but only barely. They brought him in late last night. It's unlike anything Baleem has ever seen.” He bit his lip nervously.
“I am sure if there is anything to hear, Baal will tell us.”
“Maybe, but even he seemed worried. He left for the castle at dawn. Apparently Attom was screaming about—” He turned his head to look around and dropped his voice to barely a whisper. “He was screaming about the Dark Ones. He was covered in his own vomit, along with some kind of dark, murky substance.”
Her heart fell, and her eyes widened. “You saw him then?”
“Just a glance, before they ushered him down into the under chambers. It was unlike anything I have seen before. He smelled of death. And the look in his eyes—I have never seen any man or creature possessed with such a look, even the ones I have killed. It was terrifying.”
She sucked in her breath. “Even if the world is ending, we still need to eat. Let's go. I am dying for a cinnacake.” Her voice sounded a lot braver than she felt.
Zad chuckled, his smile lightening the dark shadows that danced on his face. “Food! That's all you ever think about, isn't it? You have a stronger stomach than I do. What was it you wanted after your first assassination? Honey-glazed pork and mashed potatoes? Honestly woman, you're a twisted little thing.” He pushed her playfully.
She smiled. “Glazed carrots. Don’t forget, I also had glazed carrots.” They both laughed and headed on foot to the city shops.
CHAPTER 4
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��You are aware that the time is drawing near. Is she ready?” a hooded figure asked Baleem warily.
"She will be. I have spent years going over how I would tell her, but when I finally had my chance to tell her everything about where she actually came from, I stumbled. She looked frightened and overwhelmed from her journey. It just did not feel right,” Baleem muttered.
“It would have been better coming from you. She will be angry when she finds out you knew,” the figure replied.
“So be it,” Baleem whispered, staring directly at the figure. “The things the boy said—the blood, the fear in his eyes—the plagues are returning. It will not be long before the window opens for the Dark Ones’ return. It feels the same as before, even after all of this time. I can feel the darkness in my bones. It aches, and I fear for our world.”
“We must gather the others. Have you a sense of their whereabouts, Baleem?"
The warrior's eyes darkened, and he stroked his greying beard thoughtfully. “I have an idea of their last known locations. The mage will be easier to find. Her magic has steadily been getting easier for me to sense. Sephera can be of use to us to find her, but she must not be aware of the true cause of her mission. She is loyal, but even this would shake her faith in me.”
“You taught her well, Baleem. She will be our greatest weapon against them.”
“Or our greatest downfall,” Baleem said, fear glazing his eyes.
“The others will not let that happen, Baleem. Bringing them back will set things into motion quickly. We must be sure this is the right path.”
“There is no right path here. You of all people should know that, my friend.”
“All too well,” the figure replied, sounding sorrowful. "We must locate the First. Only then can we stop the Plague. The blood of the First is the only way, and this time, we will find her before it becomes too late."
“She will be hard to pin down. Her story is old, and there is very little written about her, hardly even a mention. I think I know a way, however. It will be dangerous, perhaps even a fool’s quest, for I am not sure if it will even work." He furrowed his brow, thinking deeply.
Nodding, the figure took out a small scroll and handed it to Baleem. "Give this to your king. It is the name and location of the Other. Summon him, and he will come. It has been many years since I spoke to him. I would avoid telling him much of anything for now. I am not sure he can still be trusted."
"Thank you, my friend," Baleem whispered sadly and pocketed the letter. "After we go down this path, we may never meet again."
"I would think not," the figure replied, pulling the hood back. Smiling fondly at one another, the pair bowed their heads and parted ways. Baleem headed out into the busy market square and walked through the crowd of busy shoppers, merchants, and boisterous children, his pathway taking him back to the Keep.
CHAPTER 5
Zad and Sephera left the bakery with sticky fingers and full bellies. The air was light and full of the scents of nearby shops and the laughter of children playing. The bustle of the shoppers was something Sephera always found comforting. They had such easy, carefree lives. As a child, she had longed for the normalcy of their lives, but as she grew older, she knew it was something she would never have. Even if she had the choice to live as they did, it wasn't something she even remotely deserved. She had done too much, was too full of hate and disdain.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Zad’s light chatter. He told her the most mundane things. He recounted his reconnaissance mission to the West and spoke of a wondrous, sugary fruit known as a Famoca berry, brought to the market last week by a dark-skinned merchant. He told her of the prank they pulled on the new recruits by putting itching powder in their undergarments and about the new weapons shipments. Sephera loved to listen to Zad talk. He was good and pure. He had a light soul, and he was everything she was not. He only killed because he had to, taking the life of only those who had to be punished, never enjoying it. It broke him every time. For days after a mission, he was always withdrawn and hard to reach. She never understood why he stayed at the Keep. Baleem was willing to let him go. But he didn’t want to leave. He said he longed to make a difference in the world and had the connections and means to do so working under Baleem. Truthfully, she would have been broken if he left. She hated her selfish need for him.
By the time they returned to the Keep, the sun was blistering hot, despite the shade from the towering buildings. They arrived at the gates, sweaty and tired. The Keep was eerily quiet. The normally bustling noises from troops training and bands of soldiers and assassins coming and going had been silenced. Instead, a gleaming ivory carriage stood at the entrance.
“That's the king’s carriage,” she said in alarm, looking at Zad. His left brow arched slightly, telling her he shared in her curiosity. A man dressed in white and crimson silks approached them. He was short and stout and reminded her of a toad. Sephera smirked at his clothing, thinking he must have felt the need to overcompensate for his short stature with the ridiculous and gaudy drapery.
“Pardon me, are you Sephera and Zadkiel?” he inquired, his voice full of forced pleasantry.
“We are. Can I help you, sir?” Zad asked with polite concern, always the gentleman.
“I am to bring you both to the castle, straight away,” he said, eying their sweaty clothes. Then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Such a pity that you will not have time to change.”
The strange man must have realized his mistake because his brown eyes widened slightly, and he scratched his balding head. He cleared his throat and motioned for them to get into the carriage.
Sephera felt a rush of panic as she followed Zad into the pristine vehicle. She sat in the seat opposite of Zad, and the man joined them, taking a deep, calming breath.
The ride to the castle stretched on for what felt like an eternity, with nothing but awkward silence and the sounds of the carriage wheels bumping over the cobblestone streets. The courier's face was frozen into an uncomfortable smile, and every time they made eye contact, he bowed his head. Sephera looked at Zad and saw he wore the same, forced smile. She couldn't help but laugh.
The castle was at the center of the city. It was the tallest building in the land and was graced with glistening white marble and diamond pillars. Ivory taken from a long-extinct, large animal accented the colorful gem embellishments. Sephera hated the idea that an animal had been hunted to extinction for its tusks just to satisfy the greed of a king who lived five thousand years ago. But such was the way of the world. Old magic preserved the castle’s pristine, white gleam. The spell used for such a marvel had probably cost a great deal.
When they arrived at the castle courtyard, the little toad man ushered them inside without a word. He led them through an oaken door at the servants’ entrance and down several long, cool hallways. They came to a room that was the size of her bedroom back at the Keep. Inside was a large wooden table placed near a broad window. A small fire crackled in the grate, and a few large, red leather chairs were scattered throughout the space. It was a rather disappointing room, given that it was inside such a gorgeous castle. Baleem and the king sat at either end of the table, which she could now see was made of finely embellished ember wood. She sat down across from Zad. They exchanged curious, nervous glances as they waited for one of the men to speak.
“I apologize for the short notice.” Baleem addressed the two assassins. “We would have contacted you before you came to the palace if we had more time. There are dangers emerging which must be dealt with immediately.”
“Is this about Attom? Is he all right?” asked Zad, his voice filled with worry.
“I am afraid Attom was infected with an ancient sickness. He died shortly after he was brought to us.” Baleem looked forlorn. “He was infected by the blood of a creature of the Darkness. The disease spread quickly. Four of our men who came in contact with the substance on Attom’s body have been stricken and are in quarantine now. I fear that they will not make i
t. I cannot let anyone tend to them. I cannot risk an outbreak.” His sorrowful voice rattled tightly.
“You mean to tell us that you’re leaving those men to die without even trying to help them?” Zad asked, outraged.
“Once you come in contact with even the smallest amount of the blood, you risk being infected. Those who contract it die a slow and painful death, replete with visions of darkness. We cannot risk it. The sickness travels fast and kills all who contract it. These men understand the necessity and have been given an herb to end their suffering if they so choose."
"Five hundred years ago” —the king’s deep voiced boomed through the room— “as thousands of people fought the Dark Ones, the plague spread like wildfire, sending many good, brave people to their deaths. Some chose to be taken by the Dark Ones rather than succumb to the sickness. Weaker souls took their own lives out of fear. It was chaos. I will not see our lands share that same fate.”
“I apologize, Y-Your Majesty,” Zad stammered. “I did not mean to offend. I was simply shocked.”
Sephera eyed the king, squinting slightly and wondering how his copious, long beard could look so unkempt. It was brown, with large patches of ginger and white. It rested gently on his rotund belly. She imagined it must have been uncomfortable to have such a tangled mess of a beard.
“You are young and able, which is why I requested you for this mission, Sephera. You have encountered a dark creature before, correct?” He raised an eyebrow.
She felt a pain in her shin and looked from the king’s beard to Zad, whose eyes bulged out of his head as he stared at her intently. She would have laughed and told him he looked like a scared goldfish if it hadn't been for Baleem clearing his throat loudly on her right. She smiled gently at the king, struggling mightily to keep her eyes focused on his deep, brown eyes. She noted that they weren't an attractive, soft glowing sort of brown. Instead, they were like mud mixed with decaying seaweed. She fought to keep her features neutral as she answered him.
