[Fan] Academy Chronicles: Cassandra Phillias (T)

And now I present to you all, my first serious foray into original fiction. Though I have a very fat folder full of *Cough****tycough* fanfiction, never have I ever managed to finish any of the original stories I have started thus far. I intend for this one to be the end of that.

This is…the first section of the first chapter of the first book in the first series I intend to write…FIRST!

Now don’t expect any updates to this story for a very, very long time. I have the tendency to stop working on stories if I feel the pressure to update them. So, without further monologing, I present…oh you know what, you know what the story is. You wouldn’t be in this thread if you hadn’t read the title.

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“Come, gather around and see the mystical and enchanting power of magic!” the masked woman called, as she raised her hands in the air and called to some of the few people she had yet to entice. “Watch and be amazed by powers of the universe that you might only hope to comprehend!” She finished the miniature show with a twirl of her staff, red sparks shooting out of its tip. Even this simple act enchanted the townsfolk. It fulfilled its true purpose, though, and drew the final stragglers over to her.

With an introductory bow, the show began.

The sun, for a moment, seemed to focus its light on the woman, for the town—and everyone in it—suddenly darkened. Fanning both her arms out to the side, a wide circle of fire burst up around her, bathing both she and her audience in an orange glow. Surprisingly, the crowd seemed undaunted by the flames

“Ladies, gentlemen and various unclaimed children who are using me as an excuse to disobey their parents…” The wall of fire jumped several feet higher. “I am the Illusionist! The master of the elements! The bender of the very fabric of your reality! No, I am not here to insult you with the cheap parlor tricks of the cons you’ve been so smart to see through; for today, I’ve come to show you the true power of magic.”

Taking her stave with both hands, she thrust the butt of it into the dirt, putting the fire out with a sudden wave of cold wind. Since she continued to hold it there even after the last smoldering embers had gone out, however, it was obvious that was not the true intention of the spell. For several seconds, she remained perfectly still, perfectly silent.

The crowd had just begun to grow bored and impatient when they felt the ground rumble beneath them. Several jumped back, as if expecting the earth to envelope them. All were surprised when the Illusionist rose triumphantly over their heads on a stony pillar, leaving her at least ten feet above even the tallest of the townsfolk.

Slowly rotating atop the pillar, she did one last check on her audience. As she saw each and every one of their eyes locked on her, waiting like eager pups for her next trick, she smiled beneath her mask, mouth twisting into an arrogant smirk. With only the simplest of spells she already had them eating out of the palm of her hand. Of course, now she had the chance to do the big stuff.

And another random chunk from the tentative chapter two.

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In what seemed like minutes after the end of the show and the disappearance of the Illusionist, the local tavern was already jam packed with drunken customers, all of whom were raving on about the mysterious performer…and some of them about their children running off to see said mysterious performer.

All the activity of course made the tavern a very uncomfortable place to be—at least for those who were trying to stand or order any sort of food amongst the drunken crowd—but the owner of the very now profitable establishment managed to push thoughts of forcing the ruffians out the moment he realized how much money he was making out of the commotion. Thoughts of a vacation kept him fairly cheerful as he struggled to keep up with the constant demand for drinks.

Turning at the feint sound of his cook dinging up another order, he quickly read the name off, struggling to raise his voice over the collective ramblings of the crowd. “Phillias! There’s an order here for a Cassandra Phillias!”

He was surprised when a frail figure managed to push her way through the crows to the counter. “That’s me!” she chimed cheerfully as she reached for the plate. “I paid when I ordered…” she added tentatively when she noticed the suspicious look she the barkeeper was giving her. “It was fifteen copper…?”

“Oh, right, right!” he laughed, pushing the plate the rest of the way towards her, “Sorry about that! Can’t be too careful when you’ve got this many people here. I’ve had more than a few who’ve tried to filch food during stuff like this. But then again, it isn’t every day the Illusionist shows up in town.” He quickly returned to serving drinks, ignoring the woman’s grumbling as she walked away. But when her back was turned, he couldn’t help but cast one last glance. “Damn girl looks like a skeleton.”

Cassandra, the girl—or woman, to be more accurate—indeed seemed to lack any real meat on her to differentiate her from the walking dead. If not for the short brown locks that rested on her shoulders or the way her eyes gleamed with cunning, it would seem much more sensible to bury her six feet under.

Even more surprising was the ease at which she seemed to move through the crowd, all while keeping her plate balanced. It was like the path to her table was already set. Perhaps the most surprising of all was the speed at which she ate the food from said plate. Within seconds, a chicken leg had already lost most of its meat. Soon enough, she dropped the now bare bone to the plate and began on the rest of her meal with animal-like ferocity. And even when the plate was finally cleared, she appeared to long for more.

Since Mr. Burrito forced me to do this, I might as well put forth an effort.
I've had to read that, like, twice now.

But, I think that he put a good amount of detail in the story and didn't go overboard. I hate when people go into so much detail as to describe the way the character's clothes wrinkled and even giving a huge description of something so simple. Anyways, his detail gave me a picture of what was going on. It kept my interest and didn't get lazy near the end, like some stories do.

The character of Cassandra seems to be thought out and not just a cheap knock-off of some video game character that a poor soul happened to stumble upon. She has some unique qualities that can differ her from some other OC's. But, most do, so nothing really special there. I'll grant him that's unique, but I've seen better.

So, to end this, I'm going to recommend this. It has a good story line, good imagery and a good character.

Fortunately, that longing disappeared seconds later. Unfortunately, it was right after a particularly drunk man stumbled right onto her table, bringing it, her mead and one person unlucky enough to be caught in his path, to the ground.

Like most people who’d nearly had their lives ended by a clumsy drunk, Cassandra was visibly pissed. Had he fallen but a foot closer to her, she probably would have lost feeling in everything below her torso. As the man’s head soaked in what remained of her mead, she delivered a hard kick to his arm. “I hope you’re going to pay for that. I wasn’t finished.”

Her eyes followed him as he stood. Truly, he was a giant of a man, standing at least a foot taller than her. She judged that it would take at least four of her to match his girth, perhaps even more than that.

Gazing down at her with beady eyes, he brought up his ape-like fists to eye level, cracking them loudly enough to silence the crowds. “Your drink, your money,” he growled, beginning to turn away. His head slowly turned back towards Cassandra when her hand clasped the fabric of his sleeve.

“I don’t believe you understand the rules of this fine establishment. You break, you buy.” She stared defiantly up at the giant, not flinching as she looked into the eyes of someone who had clearly been the alpha of the town for a very long time.

“You have a death wish, girl?”

“No, I’m just really adamant about people reimbursing me for meals that they wasted.”

He seemed both insulted and impressed by Cassandra’s silver tongue. It was not many people who could keep their cool when he had his eyes on them. “You really think this is smart, girl? Talking back to someone who could snap you like a twig?” But even the goliath was unnerved when his words went unheeded.

“Huh? Oh, nah,” she said with a wave of the hand, “I’m used to it. It’s not like there’s any brains behind the brawn. You stick your foot out, trip ‘em, game over. Hell, most of the time the small people are the ones you should be worried about.”

The woman’s confidence continued to rattle his. “…I’ll give you one last chance to walk away before—”

“Oh, you’re giving me a chance to walk away? I wasn’t sure you could understand the concept of mercy with that brawn to brain ratio that you have.”

And that comment became the final nail in the coffin of his patience. It was bad enough that she thought she could tell him what to do in his bar, but to also have the audacity to talk back to him? He was going to break her like the arrogant little twig she was. It was almost in slow motion that he brought his fist back.

She didn’t even try and get out of the way.

As he sent his hand flying forward, he let out a monstrous bellow. When he felt his knuckles make contact, his initial reaction was satisfaction. This, however, quickly turned to shock when he saw that the woman was still standing there. Instinctively, he sent his other fist forward, dealing what should have been a devastating blow.

But again, nothing. Each time he lashed out, his hands stopped inches from her face. For more than a minute, he threw punch after punch at her, desperately trying to break through the invisible barrier. Finally, after fruitlessly expending all his energy, he staggered backwards, stunned by the woman’ invincibility.

It was right then that his realized his reign as toughest person in the bar was officially over.

“M-magic!” he stammered, eyes rapidly glanced around, searching for any kind of backup.

Cassandra’s arrogance was well earned at the moment. “What? You just figured that out? I thought it’d be pretty obvious.” Bringing her arm up, palm towards the ceiling, she began the real fun.

Immediately, the giant rose unsteadily from the ground. It took several more seconds for him to realize this, but the moment he did, he began foolishly running in place, trying to escape the invisible grip.

“Since you probably didn’t know, this spell is called telekinesis. I would explain what it does but—” She smirked. “—I take it you’ve already had a firsthand experience.” Each spin and twirl brought deepened the growing red on the man’s face. At the moment, he was practically a tomato. “Now if you want down, I suggest you drop enough money to pay for everything you so kindly broke.”

She was surprised at the length he held out before complying. Crossing his arms, he attempted to wait it out, knowing she couldn’t keep him up there forever. That…didn’t work out too well. Whether it was the vomit working its way up his throat or the blood rushing to his head, he relented, shoving his hand in his pocket and dropping a bag of coins to the floor.

“Good.” She nodded with approval. “Now how much are you going to drink the next time you’re here? You never know, I might pop in again. And trust me, if you’re always this dumb of a drunk, you really don’t want to be around me.” She dropped him roughly to the ground, not bothering to keep his face from being first to come down.

Clambering to his feet and stumbling towards the door, the man shoved one scrawny man out of his path, taking in a small amount of pride from knowing that he still had dominance over some people. Nervously, he glanced backwards, expecting Cassandra to inflict some measure of pain on him for that act of rebellion. He lucked out. She had chosen to ignore his petty display. The rest of his exit went by without incident.

His departure seemed to re-ignite the conversations that the fight had halted. Seconds later, everyone seemed to have forgotten the brief scuffle.

So it was with an arrogant smirk that she retrieved the bag of coins and approached the counter, spilling the sack’s contents onto it. For a common thug, that man had sure carried around a large pocketful of gold. “Eh, keep it all. I’ve got enough for myself.” Her gaze turned cold when she noticed the greedy twinkle in the innkeeper’s eye. “You know what?” she said suddenly, sweeping the coins back into the bag just before the innkeeper’s eager fingers got a hold of them, “I changed my mind. I think I’ll just keep this.”

He threw a menacing scowl at her, but being witness to Cassandra’s abilities kept him silent. He was one of many.

The sorcerer juggled the bag back and forth between hands while walking towards the exit. She half-expected the thug to jump out in front of her and make a second attempt on her wellbeing. She would have felt extremely sorry for the man if he’d been stupid enough to try it.

Rounding a corner as she headed for the stable, she threw the bag of coins to the first and only beggar she saw. Hopefully they wouldn’t end up back in that innkeeper’s pocket once the poor sap was done spending them.

She watched, amused as one passerby stood, wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, obviously stunned that Cassandra would give away such a hefty sum. Of course she would. She had traveled the world, dozens of cities, dozens of castles, but they all acted the same about money. It was their precious, their beloved. She had yet to see a single coin be given away by so-called charities.

She walked to the stables, coughing as she went.

Amongst the scattered piles of hay and animal droppings, her mount awaited her. An aging grey stallion, he had nevertheless stood by her side loyally for the past several years. But his reactions were slowing, his body beginning to dull. She had no doubt that Alchon would pass on before the year was done.

Cassandra ran her fingers through his mane.

Another town behind her. They all felt the same now; all eager to see her arts, yet unable to appreciate it in the way a fellow user would. To her, they all felt the same. At first, there had been something alluring about it, about traveling the world, about feeling cunning as you hid your true identity from the masses. Even close calls were beginning to drag on. The excitement was wearing off.

‘This is my last one,’ she decided, something she had promised herself after the last five shows. It never stuck. This time though, another thought accompanied it, one that hadn’t popped in for a long time. ‘Maybe it’s time to go back to the school. What if this is what Master James meant when he said to get my fill of the world. It could be time to go back.’

The school—or the Academy, as it had been dubbed by those less than fond of magic—was the only place where her craft was actively taught. Mages and sorcerers had been running it for what seemed like the beginning of time. There wasn’t anywhere else you could go to learn the arcane without tracking down a necromancer. And the chances of that were slim to none.

THE COASTAL CITY of Portside was always an exciting place to be. Festivals, entertainers, and a place to buy anything you could ever want from any country. But today, it was getting a little more excitement than it was used to. Streets that were normally bustling with happy travelers were now filled with a sense of grave turmoil as several armed guards pursued a runner. Tourists rushed to the sides of the street, some only just avoiding the drawn blades of the guards.

The runner was female, quite obvious from her thinner build. And she was tiring. The chase was draining her energy too rapidly. Her breaths were quickly becoming ragged and her strides were growing slower. Although she could spare only a few quick glances over her shoulder, she knew she was outmatched in every way. To slow down was to die.

A small hole in the fleeing crowd revealed her only possible escape: a short alley that might hold temporary refuge from the guards. If time had permitted, she would have muttered a quick thanks to the Mother for granting her such an opportunity. Making a beeline for the alley, she hoped the crowd would block the men, buying her a few seconds.

No such luck.

IF there was any kind of opening on the other side, she might have an escape route. An open window, an unlocked door… If there wasn’t, it would only be a matter of time before they wore her out. She had no doubt that she would run into another squad not much farther on, no matter which was she ran.

Her emergence from the other side left her with much less momentum than she would have preferred. But somehow, she managed. The key moment had arrived. It was do or die now. Time seemed to slow. Her eyes scanned each possible escape route. Closed, closed, closed… There didn’t seem to be anywhere to hide. She couldn’t break a window; doing so would draw as much attention to her as continuing the futile chase.

But at the last minute, when she knew the guards would emerge from her previous escape route and make fleeing impossible, good fortune once again won out. An open window in an unlit house. It was her best and only chance. If they decided to search it, she was still dead, but it was small enough that they might ignore it, thinking it too small to allow her through.

She went for it, diving through, praying that she could land without a sound. And she almost did. The expected “thunk” against the wooden floor was quieter than even she could have hoped for. In fact, she doubted the noise could have even been heard from outside.

But even with that reassurance, she didn’t move. She waited till the clangs of chainmail and chinks of swords had come and gone before she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She had again evaded pursuit and she doubted it would be the last. Heaving another very exasperated sigh, she pushed herself up, wiping the blood and dirt from her hands onto her heavy brown pants.

‘Great, more bandages,’ she thought with an inward moan, all notions of muttering a quick word of thanks to the Mother forgotten, ‘Need to start wearing gloves or—’

It was only then that she realized why her landing had been so soft. Something had gotten in-between her and the floor. A woman, as a matter of fact. Mid-thirties, middle class, and now—thanks to her—unconscious. Guilt overrode all other emotions. She panicked. Of course she’d expected to run into someone, just not literally…or right away.

She stepped over the woman, though her gaze returned to her several times before she finally left the room. Even as guilt wracked her brain, a small part of her already admired the woman. To have so much while still so young was rare. The home was stocked with many luxuries rarely owned by anyone of less than noble birth. Running water, cushioned furniture. Mother, what did this woman do for a living?

The temptation to restock her supplies was strong. She doubted anyone would notice if a few pieces of food went missing, but this time, she held back. She knew it was the guilt. It felt like she owed the woman something because of the abrupt intrusion. But that wasn’t her biggest concern. She still needed to find a way to get out of the city without being detected. That was easier said than done. They knew she was there. More guards would no doubt have been posted at every entrance into the city and every ship leaving it.

She heard a creak echo through the house and then a click behind her.

“Do not move,” someone said, pressing a cold object to her back.

She instantly recognized the thin end of a gun, probably a pistol.

“Turn around slowly,” the voice ordered.

Again, she obeyed. She had no desire to be shot. Maybe there was the off chance she could negotiate with them. Turning around, she came face to face with the very woman she knocked to the floor. Only this time, their roles had reversed. Now this woman had the upper hand.

“Who are you?”

A simple enough question with a socially compromising answer. Whether or not honesty would keep her alive was a gamble, but could only hope that it would pay off with her freedom. And dishonesty never won you any allies. “Karen Akana,” she answered, trying to keep her voice stable.

“Why are you in my house?”

“I was…being chased.”

“By who?”

This was going to be the potentially destructive answer. There was the chance this woman would automatically assume she was a criminal without giving her the chance to explain herself. If so, then escaping the guards had been futile. “…by the city watch.” She held her breath, bracing herself for—if not a gunshot—the alerting of the guards.

There was a long, tense silence.

She wasn’t dead. Amazing. Karen exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief beginning to dumb down her vigilance. She easily fought it off. She wasn't out of this just yet. The gun was still hovering inches away from her chest.

“Why?”

“…I was framed."

"For what?"

"Murder." There was another long silence after that word was uttered. Karen could hear her own heart beating up into her throat. She kept her eyes locked with the woman’s. She had to stay—or at least act—confident if she was to get out of this confrontation alive.

Although the gun did not falter, there was a visible softening in the woman’s features. She pulled the gun back another inch. “Are you lying?” She pushed the gun back into Karen. “Because if you are, you’re going to regret jumping through my window.”

The runaway forced herself to relax, letting her shoulder loosen. “No, I swear by the Mother I’m not,” she whispered, keeping her voice controlled.

“Swearing by Her doesn’t add anything to your argument.” The woman slowly brought the flintlock weapon to her side. “So if you don’t want a metal shot in your stomach, I suggest you start explaining yourself.” She pointed to one of the cushy chairs, particularly one that had been pushed to the corner.

Karen was more than hesitant to do so. An interrogation? This was more than she had in mind. The idea of escape briefly flitted through her mind. What was another enemy on the already long list going to matter? With much willpower, she shoved the thought to the back of her brain. Again, she obeyed the woman.

“Who did you murder?”

“I told you, I—”

“Who?”

"I-I…" She could lie. That seemed like the only way she was going to get out of this unscathed. Or it could completely screw her over since this woman obviously had more than enough training with that gun. "It…was…" She looked away, unwilling to meet the woman's gaze as she answered. "Hilleon. I was framed for the murder of Lord Hilleon." She cringed, waiting for the reaction.

It didn't happen.

Instead, the pistol shook. The woman faltered, even seemed afraid for a moment. "Y-you?" she stuttered, "You're kidding. That's why you had an entire squad after you? You're behind the Hilleon murder?"

"I said—"

"I can't believe this!" She was bent over, laughing, not even bother to keep the gun ready. "Mother, there is no way! There is no way! You're just a little girl with weird eyes!”

Anger flashed through said girl’s eyes.

“And unless you're hiding a blunderbuss under those clothes of yours, there is no way that you killed him." She laughed for several more long seconds before she finally regained control of her voice. “I used to deal with criminals every day. People like that—killers, thieves, all of them—there’s just an air about them. You know what they are. You can’t change that. With you…I don’t see that.”

The anger disappeared from Karen’s eyes. Suddenly, there was hope. She had a chance of getting away alive with this woman…or at least more of one than she did running desperately for her life down some forsaken alley. “Does that mean…you’re letting me go?”

The thought process the woman seemed to go through for this question was more than enough to dispel the sense of reassurance she’d only briefly held. She paced, leaving an anxious Karen staring nervously at the pistol she still held at her side. “Maybe.” Her tone was more serious now than ever. It was as though she’d had a sudden change of heart about Karen’s morality.

Karen’s mouth hung open. ‘Maybe’? That whole thing about the air of criminals and now the only answer she could give was ‘maybe’? “Please, just let me get out of here! I—”

“It’s a question of duty, Karen Moraius!” she growled, turning an angry gaze towards the girl, “Not one of innocence. I have a duty to my brothers—” She scoffed the last word. “—in arms and to my superiors. I should have incapacitated you the moment I heard your name.” Her body stiffened as she brought her arm up for a rigid salute. “Captain Melissa Akana, Portside military.”

Chapter Three

Any chance Karen had of escape seemed to slip away from her in an instant as her expression turned to one of horror. Her left hand immediately went for the dagger she kept at her waist, only to find it missing from its sheath. At that moment, her terrified mind could think of only one word that would suit the position: “♥♥♥♥…”

“You’re right. This is definitely a ‘♥♥♥♥’ situation for you.” Melissa said this without a hint of a smile. “I should turn you in. It’s my duty to turn you in. Hell, it’s my job to turn you in.” The hand holding her sidearm rose several inches, causing an already frightened Karen to squirm and twist. “I could be wrong. You could just be really good at hiding it. If I let you go, would this knife of yours?” She withdrew the blade from her pocket. “Took it off you the moment I got close. You sure you’re not the killer?”

Karen’s mouth tried to form words, a defense against the accusations. “I... I didn’t… it wasn’t me.”

She slipped the dagger back into her pocket. “You said that already. If it wasn’t you, then why is there a warrant out for your arrest? Why would anyone bother to frame you? Nine out of ten times, it’s the servants or slaves that get it because of how willing they are to take bribes. Why did someone conveniently pin it on you instead of taking the easy way out?” She twirled the flintlock pistol around in her hand.

“I—I don’t know… I’ve… I’ve been trying to find out why….” She trailed off, tilting her head towards the floor.

“Is there anyone you know who would want you to take the fall for them?”

“…no” she whispered faintly.

There was obvious hesitation in Karen’s voice. She was holding something back, something that might potentially absolve her of the murder charge. “Holding back evidence isn’t helping you. The law isn’t based on killing. If you have evidence, you could clear your name.” Again, she withdrew Karen’s weapon, this time handing it to her. “You probably don’t have that high of an opinion of me or the people I work for right now, but I might be able to help you clear your name if you lay all your cards out for me.”

She watched the girl’s head come back up, their eyes meeting again.

“It….” Karen’s voice was softer than a whisper. For one moment, her eyes pleaded with Melissa’s, begging the woman not to make her go on. But she also knew she had to…and that this guard was right. She had no other choice. “It’s always been like this…everyday’s been the same. Eyes watching, looking at you like…like you shouldn’t even be alive just because of… how you look.” Her silver hair flowed over her shoulders, glowing in the light of the elaborate chandelier above them, matched eerily by her blank white eyes.

The captain crossed her arms, the pistol no longer in her hand. “That can’t be it. No one’s stupid enough nowadays to judge someone based on their appearance. Humans would have been wiped out years ago if we kept that up.”

Karen looked away. “There are… some things about me people have a harder time accepting.”

“Can you tell me what those things are?”

Like a child, Karen shook her head. “No. I… I can’t.”

“It could be important.”

“No,” the girl repeated, hardly acknowledging the point, “No. It’s not.”

Again Melissa picked up the apprehension and hesitancy in Karen’s voice. She knew something vital was being held back, something that might explain everything. This time, as she spoke, her tone was softer, her usual cold way of speaking forced away. “Karen, you’ve got to tell someone about what’s going on. If you keep running, you’ll just end up dead.”

“No.”

Melissa’s brow creased from her growing sense of irritation. She was getting nowhere slow. This girl wasn’t opening up. Not that that she blamed her. But at least she could figuratively cross off the more unlikely idea that Karen was the killer. If her own experiences served her well, then the girl was indeed framed, but by whom was the question. “Who were your parents?”

She almost regretted asking the question. The way the girl changed at the mention of the subject was…horrible. She curled into a ball, bringing her knees to her chest and hiding her head between them. “No one…” she mumbled, slamming her eyes shut in an effort to stop tears, “…they were no one.”

Melissa fell silent. Several minutes passed as she waited and hoped that Karen could overcome her memories. They may have stumbled onto one of the links in the chain, something that might help them to unravel the mystery. “Karen,” she finally began again, starting off simpler this time, “Who was your father?”

Upon hearing one of her caretakers singled out, she looked up, eyes beginning to flood over with tears. Inquiring about only one of her parents seemed to have less of a negative effect. “My… father… ” She paused as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Was… one of Lord Hilleon’s… personal guards. He…” She stuck her head back between her knees. “…he’s gone.”

Killed. That was the only thing “gone” could mean in that context.

“What happened?”

Karen didn’t respond. She didn’t even acknowledge the question. The tears just continued to flow.

“Karen, you need to tell me what happened to him. Let me help you.”

The girl’s eyes briefly met hers again. She saw the eyes cloud over, no longer seeing the world around. “She killed him.” The words came out without a stammer or a pause. “She killed them both.” Karen remained in that trancelike state for a few seconds longer before she hid her face. “She killed them both.”

“Both? You mean the same person who killed Lord Hilleon murdered your father? Do you know who it was?” The second question seemed pointless. If Karen knew who was really behind it, an investigation could be called and everything could be set straight… but if she knew who did it, why didn’t she make an effort to start the search herself?

“They… looked like me,” she whispered, “Their face was… just like mine. The clothes, the hair… the eyes. When I saw it… it was like looking in a mirror. But no one else knew. It… it was me in their eyes, I was the killer. …I couldn’t do anything to prove them wrong.”

Melissa’s mouth hung open in disbelief. That was a far from what she’d expected as anything could get. The original idea that Karen was the killer came back to mind. Was it some elaborate hoax? Some way to gain sympathy so she could be absolved of her crimes through some fakey story? Or was it really a doppelganger? If so, to what end? Why would someone use Karen’s image to commit murder?

“Are you sure you don’t know anyone who might have had a grudge with you or your father?”

Karen slowly shook her head, letting her feet slide back to the floor. Her body sunk farther into the overstuffed chair, arms hanging limply over the sides. “…I’m a freak. Who doesn’t want to take a shot at the freak? It was the same thing that happened when the humans met the elves.

Melissa cringed at that remark. Their relations with the oversea Elvin society could at worst called formal, but several hundred years ago during the first attempts to mix both cultures together after first contact, a war had almost been fought overly purely physical differences. “Humans have changed since then. Not all of us are like that.”

“But so many of you are.”

“’So many of you’? You talk like you aren’t even human yourself.”

“What? Is your humanity something to be proud of?” Her hands curled up in anger and she sunk farther into the chair. “It was the humans who tried to start a war when the elves refused to conform to their standards and it’s the humans who think themselves above giving a fair trial to someone who doesn’t fit into their definition of normal. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing to be proud about for being human.”

Melissa’s previously prepared response fell through. She hadn’t expected that. But she recovered her composure an instant later with another simple question. “Was your father human?”

“No.”

“No?”

“He was a better person than any human ever will be.”

"And you're sticking with that opinion?"

"Yeah."

"…that's pathetic."

Karen eyes widened at the words. “What?” Hearing it seemed to stun her.

“You heard me.” Melissa crossed her arms and tilted her head to the left. “Get over yourself. Move on. Figure out what happened, but don’t let it weigh you down and be a burden for the rest of your life. You’re parents—or at least your dad—must’ve cared about you. Stop beating yourself up over it.”

“I—”

“Before you say it, I know he was your father, but that doesn’t change anything. If you just keep clinging to all that guilt it’s going to kill you from the inside. It will eat at you.”

For the first time since she had been caught, Karen stood. Despite their age differences and her clear disadvantage, she was quite the intimidating figure. She glared daggers at Melissa, which were met in full. “You don’t get it.”

“I don’t, huh?”

“No.” She seemed to forget the situation, that Melissa had a sidearm she could quickly retrieve and that her only weapon was now no longer in her possession. Putting one shoulder forward, she shoved past the guard captain, thinking nothing of the consequences, only of how much she hated the woman for what she’d said. “I’m leaving.”

She didn’t make it far before a strong hand caught her arm, pulling her back. “No, you’re not,” Melissa said even as the girl struggled to break free. “At least… not without a disguise. You can’t go getting caught again. Next time you probably won’t be so lucky. Not everyone will be as willing as I was to hear your side of the story.”

Karen wasn’t struggling anymore. “What…? You’re… letting me go?”

“No, I’m going to do you an even bigger favor than that.” She released Karen, hardly expecting the girl to bolt as she’d intended to before. “I can get you passage off-continent. Pay anyone enough coin and they’ll know not to turn you in, especially not when the captain who’ll be taking you is personally indebted to me.”

“But you just tried to tell me humans weren’t so bad…”

“Look, I know I’m wrong about that point. Some of us have moved on past the thing with the elves, but the majority of us still having this stupid prejudice against non-humans. The best you can do is avoid humanity altogether for now. We might improve in a couple of decades if the right people get into power.”

Karen smiled. "At least you're not a narrow-minded ass like the rest of the human race."

"Hey, you're at least half-human, so don't go marking us off just yet."

The younger of the two dropped back down into the chair, finally feeling a sense of true relaxation. She had an escape route, a true escape route. No more running, no more nights out in the rain… She had a real way out. It might finally all come to an end. "When is your captain leaving, captain?" She didn't ask the question as much as sigh it.

Melissa could only laugh. "In several hours. He’ll start taking on passengers at about five in the morning. But even after you’re on board, it’s gonna be a hell of a wait before you finally make it all the way ." Her serious face returned. "So be careful. I mean, how old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?"

The girl turned her head and stared at the wall to the left. "Almost eighteen…"

Melissa retreated from the room, talking as she went. "Ah, so you're still a kid really. Well…" There was a pause. "…I should give you some money, at least so you can find lodgings for a while. It can't be too hard to find a job… over there, even if it is something mundane—" She stopped again, this time for much longer. "…something mundane…"

She stared down at her own hands.

"Melissa?"

The sound of her name jolted her from the strange lapse of activity. "Uh, yeah, sorry." She grabbed the small cloth bag she had previously been reaching for and shoved into Karen's hands with more force then she'd intended. "This should last you for a few weeks over there if our currency is worth as much there as it was a year ago." The laugh that followed was forced.

It seemed that Karen was no longer the only person there who was hiding something. Even though the almost-eighteen quietly accepted the money, she was still smart enough to know something was wrong. She was not, however, bold enough to bring it up.

Chapter 4

The new morning sun was only just beginning to creep over the horizon when Cassandra reached the iron gates of Portside and, as many did in the city, she felt another massive step closer to home with the seaside city now in view.

But as she stepped under the gigantic metal portcullis, she could feel a sense of paranoia that the guards gave off, nervously gripping their weapons, their gazes jumping between travelers faster than even Cassandra's eyes could track.

She did not bother with a greeting. They wouldn't stop her anyway. Her authority overrode theirs as a graduated student of the Arcane Academy. Of course, it was more a magic user's ability to crush the armored men under any of the elements that truly gave them dominant power anywhere they went.

One particularly young guard stood watch just within the city's entrance. He didn't even have any facial hair. What a shame. He was Cassandra's current target. She had him locked in her sights and he had no chance of escaping. "You!" she shouted at the rather pathetic guard, adding a growl to her voice for dramatic effect.

The look on his face was priceless. He probably pissed his pants immediately. "U-uh, yes, Noble User?"
"What's with this wimpy little group of men you call guards? None of you look like you could handle a stray cat if it tried to bit your ankle!" She couldn't help but wonder if the man's privates had just done pee MK. 2. His face certainly looked it.

"Well, uh, user, we , um, a runaway got in last night. M-murderer, I think. They say she looks pale enough to be a v-v-vampire!" The boy's hand fumbled for his sword, but he never even managed to pull it out of the sheath.

"Ah, well, carry on."

The one thing the boy managed to get right was the salute. His body instantly went rigid and his arm shot up to his brow. "Yes, ma'am!"

Cassandra took quick strides away from the man. A murderer, huh? There weren't any recent ones she could think of off the top of her head. 'But was it a magic user?' she thought, 'And if it wasn't, why don't they put some effort into searching the houses? If they haven't caught them by now, they're obviously being sheltered.'

But the oddness of it all did not stop there. Never during her walk through the city's narrow streets did it ever become populated enough for her to even brush shoulders with anyone. It was practically deserted. And considering it was a town often filled with gamblers, peddlers, and sailors, that was saying something.

But there was no way one person was destructive enough to drive everyone back into their homes… well, a mage probably could, but still. Why weren’t they forcing whoever had caused the commotion out of the city? With enough expendable guards, they could easily just swarm the killer and take them down.

She laughed at the mental image.

But it wasn’t her problem. Let Portside deal with its own problems for a while, she was going back to the island, back to Arcane Academy. If she had really been gone long enough and mastered her abilities in the eyes of the Arch-Mages, then perhaps she could even take on a pupil of her own. It would be like having a kid without the nine months of pain.

Anyway…

Her mind refused to dispel the idea of a child. There was just…

Finally, she pushed the thought away before any of its ideas could distract her from her goal. There was time to think of frivolities later, like after she was on her way back to the isolated island that housed the school of the arcane.

Each step she took was a long strut. She was one of the few who were venturing out onto the streets and it gave her an immense feeling of pride. She was powerful and almighty. Bring on the killers and thieves! She would take them all on! She was the Illusionist!

But it was then that the almighty Illusionist felt a foreign hand reach around and cover her mouth. From behind, she heard silent, trained and controlled breathing. Her captor’s free hand shot only a moment later, snatching up her own bony fingers and holding them in a stranglehold of a grip. Then, she heard his gravelly voice whisper in her ear.

“You’re Cassandra Phillias?”

She did not answer. Beneath his hands, she struggled. The all powerful Illusionist was helpless beneath the hands of a lone assailant. Without the necessary hand gestures, she couldn’t perform her spells. She was at his mercy. And to make it worse, the man was wearing a leather glove, so she wouldn’t even be able to get the satisfaction of drawing some bloody bitten retribution from it.

Admittedly, I am not much for fantasy (I'm more of a sci-fi person), but this is amazing. You have the perfect level of detail. You describe enough to give an accurate picture of a person, but you don't spend 2 paragraphs describing what their hat looks like either. Not to mention the characters and the locations are both very interesting and well done.

I thank ye’, gentle Sheikah, for your appreciation of the arts. This roughly translates to, “FINALLY! Someone posted on my story!” And I thank you for the praise. I’ve only been working on this story for a little while, but so far, I’ve made much more progress and enjoyed it a lot more than anything I’ve written…

So I hope you continue to read.

Originally Posted by Sir Calibur

I thank ye’, gentle Sheikah, for your appreciation of the arts. This roughly translates to, “FINALLY! Someone posted on my story!” And I thank you for the praise. I’ve only been working on this story for a little while, but so far, I’ve made much more progress and enjoyed it a lot more than anything I’ve written…

So I hope you continue to read.

Your welcome. I guess I can sympathize with people rarely commenting, my story doesn't get many either (you can find it here in case you want to read it).

Anyway, I am definitely looking forward to the next chapter.

I shall get on that as soon as I can Mr. Sheikah, but for now...

--------------------------

“You are. You smell the same.”

“Wmph?” she asked through the thick leather of his glove. As if it had been unnecessary, he uncovered her mouth, but continued to crush her wrists beneath his hands.

“I bring a message from the Arch-Mages.”

Cassandra stopped struggling. “What?”

“I bring a message from the Arch-Mages.” He released her.

Finally getting the chance to face the messenger/sneak, she was surprised to find his appearance wasn’t even close to what she would have expected. She was met with dim grey eyes shining just above a black coif. They were as intimidating as they were empty. Though he was masked by dark leather armor, she could tell that he was not human. “What do they require of me?” She winced at the use of formal language.

“A hunt.”

“What?”

“A hunt,” he repeated, never displaying a shred of emotion. His eyes stared straight through her as though he wasn’t even looking at her. “You are to incapacitate your prey. Retrieve them. Return with them.”

Despite the necessary respect that she had for all those above her at the Arcane Academy, the order was…odd, to say the least. “Why the hell am I hunting someone? And who for that matter?” she asked, gasping as the creature finally released her wrists. Red circles were like thin fleshy handcuffs on her skin, the painful aftereffect greatly restricting the movement of her fingers.

“Their orders are that you are to hunt, but not to know what you hunt.”

“Then how am I supposed to find them?”

“They are hiding. When you find them, you will know.” The creature raised a muscular arm and pointed through the buildings, down to the docks. “They are leaving now. You will lose her unless you are swift. Your ticket is paid for. Follow her.”

“You haven’t told me who it is I’m hunting.”

The creature remained silent, still holding its arm up. “They are hiding. When you fin—”

“I heard that. Now would you just tell me why they want me to kill someone?”

Again, he did not respond, never acknowledging that she’d spoken. “They are hid—”

Cassandra swore angrily in frustration before grabbing the creature’s arm in what she hoped was a strong grip. “Listen you stupid excuse for a human-being, who do they want me to hunt? It’s not that much to ask! It’s a seven word question!” She was only meant with that very same silence, only this time, there was no repeat of her order.

No glare worked. No number of eye-daggers made him so much as blink. His murky grey eyes matched her gaze every second. Effortlessly, he pried Cassandra’s fingers from his arm, once again crushing her wrist under his powerful grip. He indifferently turned away from her before muttering, “They are to be alive. To kill them is to forfeit your own life.”

The User tenderly massaging the aching joint, yelping in pain every time she so much as tried to move it. It felt like the bones had been shattered, but a gentle prodding revealed everything to be intact. “”What the hell are—”

For once, even Cassandra was pushed to silence. The creature had disappeared just as mysteriously as it had come. There was no evidence of its presence, no shadow struggling to remain hidden behind some stall, it was just… gone. Her jaw hung open for many seconds before she shook herself out of the stupor.

“What…?” She stumbled backwards a step. Nothing had affected her like that before. Almost no one could catch her—hell, any User—off guard like that.

Pushing the feelings aside, she treaded down the slanted road to her new objective.


In the original document, this is meant to be in small caps. ----> “PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY ON THE LOUISE,” yawned an elderly man before sliding the cheap piece of paper that was her ticket across the stall’s counter to Karen. “We will be setting sail once all reserved tickets have been picked up.” His eyes repeatedly shut and sprang open as he struggled to stay awake at such a horrible hour. “Food and drink will be provided free of charge at any time during the trip at your request.” He slumped against the wall, body too tired to support itself.

Karen muttered an incomprehensible response before snatching the ticket and hurrying to the ship’s gangplank.

“Oh and little girl,” the man called out suddenly, bringing her to an immediate stop. “You might want to put that hood down sometime. The captain doesn’t trust people who hide their faces.” He smiled a surprisingly toothy grin.

She went faster than before, holding her cloak tightly against her body. “Half-human,” she mumbled repeatedly to herself. “Half-human, half-human…” This continued until a significant crowd made their way onto the deck. Then she thought it repeatedly. Any moment, she expected them to leave so that she might more easily blend in amongst the preoccupied passengers, but they remained tied to the pier.

Karen leaned nervously over the rail on the side of the ship, drumming her fingers on the wood. ‘So many people….’ Moving as little as possible, she glanced around, taking in appearance and mannerisms of as many passengers as she could. The whole ship was a deathtrap. There were dozens of chances for her to be recognized.

An hour must have passed before the flow of passengers finally began to dwindle.

Karen wandered away from the deck, letting her eyes wander again amongst the crowd. There was so little space to move and in some places hardly even enough to breathe. But it increased her chances of survival. Hopefully, no one would take notice of her and she could wait the trip out.

High above them in the crow’s nest, someone yelled, “Last call for boarding! Departing soon!” The docks around them were practically empty, but several more times he called it. Each time, no one came.

Karen stumbled away from the railing as someone carelessly pushed her aside. She landed amongst a sea of low pant legs and ragged shoes. For a moment, she stopped and watched. The people circled around her, never treading on her once. Beneath her dark cloak, her pale eyes softened. Pushing herself back to her feet, she found her spot at the railing open once again, coming back just in time to see the ropes that held the ship in place be thrown aside.

Beside her, someone else gazed over the side, holding a long wooden stave in one hand while her other drummed on the railing. “Arcane Academy?” the frail looking woman asked suddenly, turning her gaze to Karen.

“Uh, no.” She immediately looked down, keeping her eyes masked beneath the hood. “Just… just traveling.”

The other woman looked away. “Oh. Well, that’s a pity. You’ve got a powerful aura.”

“I…do?”

“Yeah. Means you have a large mana supply in your body. You could probably throw more spells out than the average User if you were trained.” The woman turned away and, leaning forward, stared down at the glistening waves as they crashed up against the side of the ship.

Karen did the same. Pulling away from the railing, she slunked away from the robed woman, dodging between the other bustling passengers until she’d found a more sparsely populated section of the ship.

“Attention, passengers,” she heard someone call out. “We’ve sighted a dense storm near us. For your safety, we ask that you step below deck until it clears up. While we apologize for the inconvenience, no refunds will be distributed regardless of any injuries that occur as a result of the storm.”

The tone of the many conversations on the ship suddenly grew became grimmer as the collective crowd shuffled towards the stairs. Already the storm was beginning to pick up as hats were swept from the heads of the less fortunate and clothes were blown every which way.

Karen remained on deck, pulling her thin cloak tightly against herself for warmth. Cold raindrops splashed against her face. Minutes passed and no one seemed to notice her standing there, drenched. She shuddered only once in the cold. Was it worth it? Was survival really worth it? Again and again she asked this of herself, never able to find a clear answer.

“Hey, you!”

She looked up.

A gruff man stood over her, one muscled hand firmly clasping her arm. “Can’t you hear? Get below deck!” There was no choice in the matter. Her feet barely scraped the ground as the man carried her by her arm to the thick wooden door before dropping her inside.

Her feet nearly lost their grip as she landed. Only a hand instinctively thrown off to her right kept her from snapping her neck in a dangerous trip down the thin stairs. Despite being only a small sliver of what she usually faced, she felt her palms heat up and her heart race.

On either side of her lay two different kinds of danger. Below her, a million faces, all of whom she didn’t recognize, but many who would no doubt know her. Behind and above her was the storm, a purely physical threat that seemed more and more like paradise. It was an escape.

She turned back to the door and let her dripping hand fall to the brass knob. Without even a thought, it began to turn it. ‘Damn them,’ she thought, eyes narrowing into tiny slits, ‘Damn them.’ Her hand trembled as she withdrew it, letting the knob slowly rotate back into position. Lowering her head, she clunked halfway down the stairs, then dropped down into a sitting position, head in her hands, water flooding from every bit of her clothing.

Chapter Five

Cassandra wasn’t the textbook kind of smart. She was practical smart. She was intuitive. She’d known from the moment she’d felt that girl’s flaring aura that she was the target. She knew that the girl was in hiding. It was all in the way she never met anyone’s gaze. But what she couldn’t figure out was why.

Why did the Arch-Mages want a girl who was barely out of her teens? And that was only one of many questions she wanted to ask. Why was a barely-human servant sent to find her instead of an actual representative of the school?

Although no one was giving her anything close to enough space, as she leaned against the ship’s inner hull, she still managed to keep her thoughts clear as she scanned over the faces of the other passengers, her arms crossed. The girl wasn’t among them.

She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, standing up straight, both feet on the floor. She should have asked for a name before the girl had scampered away. It would have been fake, there was no doubt about that, but it also might have been a lead.

Shoving her way through the crowd, she took closer observation of everyone around her. Capturing that girl might have been her first priority, but she also had a duty to her school; and that meant watching out for riffraff that thought they were good enough to go there.

Pausing, she glanced back at the porthole she’d been standing in front of. There was a storm raging outside. Waves crashed up against the ship, blurring the vision of anyone looking through the glass. Someone was quick to take her place by the window, staring out at the destructive storm with childlike interest.

Her steps were wobbly as she walked, her innards swaying back and forth as the boat rocked through the horrid weather. If not for a few conveniently placed people whom she was able to latch onto, she would have fallen on her face.

The boat made one final lurch and she was forced forward, catching herself on the downstairs railing, but not before her head bounced off the thick wooden wall. Wrapping one arm around the railing, she tenderly poked the spot. In the dim light the lanterns above them cast, she could see a faint layer of crimson coating the front of her fingers.

She forced herself to ignore the wound, rubbing the stained fingers on the wall.

The world around her felt shaky, even without the constant shifting of the ship. Ignoring any potential help from those behind her, she pushed the pain to the back of her mind and looked up.

There she was; the girl. Even without a name to put with a face, her dazed mind instantly recognized the powerful aura. She should act. A quick knockout was all she needed. Away from the other passengers, she could handle it quickly and quietly.

She groaned, grabbing at the increasingly wet part of her head.

She rocked again as another wave crashed up against the side of the ship, almost forcing her back to the ground. One look up revealed that the girl had stood up and was slowly walking down to her. Her orders flashed through her mind once again. She needed to incapacitate her. The boat was already enroute to the school, so getting there wouldn’t be…

Her vision began to fade. She felt warm liquid run down her neck. Control over her own body seemed to fade as she was thrown roughly from side to side, screaming once as her bloodied head again bounced from the wood.

Her feet slipping about beneath her, she hugged herself to the railing, forcing her feet to move with some coordination up the stairs. That worked… for six steps before she was too shaky to keep going. Looking up again, she saw that the girl wasn’t looking at her.

She resisted crying out in weakness, instead forcing her body to take another step.

The blood stained her collar of her robe, seeping through to the skin beneath.

She fell her left elbow landing painfully on her funny bone. For just a moment, her pride relented and she allowed one murmur of weakness to escape from her mouth. A squeak was the only acknowledgement of the pain she was in.

Then, she heard the clunking of heavy boots on wood. Her head did not move, but her eyes looked as far up the stairs as nature would allow. A moment later, a thick piece of brown fabric swept over her face.

The blood was sucked from her skin into the cloak, staining it a dark crimson. Each time it dabbed down, her body felt a bit cleaner, but as the fabric brushed the actual wound, her knuckles curled up and her teeth gnashed together in pain. “Don’t do that!” she hissed at the girl, feeling strength rise up in her again through the pain. She shifted her head on the stairs, pulling it out of the girl’s reach while allowing the User to get a better look at her.

Her rescuer said nothing as she pulled her hands away. Grabbing the lower right corner of her cloak, she ripped a thin strip off with enough force to make even Cassandra fall silent. Her eyes flickered to the woman for a second to check the reaction before she tore off another piece, this one smaller and rounder.

As the girl tried to place the round piece over the wound, Cassandra’s head snapped to the left. “No.” She forced herself to sit up, holding in a sigh of relief as she leaned back on the stairs, even as the sharp angles of the wood jabbed painfully into her back. “I’m doing it.”

The User snatched the cloth from Karen’s hand… or at least tried to. She was only able to pull it away after a second attempt, her fingers too shaky to get a solid grip.

Finally managing to jam the fabric against the bloodied and open part of her head, she cried out. It hurt. It stung. There were so many words she could have used to describe the sharp pain that shot through her when even just a bit of the cloth brushed the wound.

But with gritted teeth, she held it in place. “Wrap it up,” she whispered, pushing all emotion out of her voice. Pride still held some small significance to her, even in times of pain and hardship. “And make it quick. I… can’t spend the rest of this trip bleeding to death on the floor.”

The girl ignored the banter as she wrapped the longer strip of cloth around Cassandra’s head, tying the two ends together to hold both in place. “You must have delicate skin,” the girl said, imitating Cassandra’s emotionless tone from before with pinpoint accuracy, “All you did was fall.”

“I hit a bad spot,” the User retorted calmly, shaking away from the girl’s hands the moment the unconventional bandage was finished.

Again, the girl was silent, still refusing to acknowledge Cassandra’s wit. Slowly, she pulled away from the User, moving back to her previous hunched over position. “You’re welcome.” She said it without a hint of anger or irritation towards the User’s attitude. “You seemed nice before.”

Cassandra looked up, already scratching at the itchy material of the bandage. “Common courtesy.”

The girl looked away, keeping her eyes hidden beneath her cloak.

“You talked more before; what happened? Lose your voice?” A smile appeared alongside her usual arrogance. The attitude was perhaps her favorite part of being a User. After all, who deserved it more than them?

“No. You’re just not acting as open as you were before.” The girl held her cloak tighter, even as rainwater dripped from the material. Several moments later, the girl’s mouth slowly opened to allow a question out. “Do you always hold yourself in such high regard?”

Cassandra winced as she felt a twinge from her head wound. “Majority of the time, yes.”

KAREN TURNED AN IRRITATED gaze back to the User, but resisted making any sort of retort. ‘Can’t draw attention to myself. Just play it cool and this’ll all be over soon.’ Beneath her cloak, her left hand dangled inches from her dagger… just in case this woman’s arrogance turned to violence.

“…but thank you.”

Karen looked up, hand falling away from her weapon. “What?”

“I said thank you, okay?” The woman was quick to put on another snobby expression, but there was something hollow about it, something fake. “For doing this.” She poked a part of the bandage that would not hurt to be touched. Even so, blood still oozed out from beneath the rough fabric. “That was nice.”

“…it was nothing,” Karen replied, dismissing the gratitude.

A moment of silence followed before the woman suddenly stuck out her hand. “Cassandra Phillias.”

The shock of it nearly caused Karen to lose her seating. For a long while, she only stared at the outstretched hand, surprised by such an open gesture of friendship. Then, with all the speed of a tortoise, she brought her own up to meet it. “…Sarah,” she lied quickly, picking one of her false identities, “Sarah Hedrick.” From her count, their hands stayed locked for what seemed like forever.

“So where are you going?” came Cassandra’s sudden question the instant their hands had finally broken apart, “They aren’t stopping at any human settlements after the Arcane Academy, so you must be heading into Elvin territory.” She finished the question with a smile that seemed much too friendly.

Karen fell back into silence. “I…” She paused, not knowing how much she could reveal without jeopardizing the escape. “I have a family over there. I’m going to be staying with them for a few weeks.” It was as close to the truth as she was going to get. But… as she spoke, her voice changed. Subtle hints of enthusiasm sparked up in her tone. She couldn’t help but feel that there was something… nice about talking with someone about something normal, about something that didn’t relate to her part or her supposed crimes.

The feeling that welled up in her for a moment made her feel… human. It was strong enough that she felt compelled to ask her own question. “Why are you here?” Her whole body seemed to relax. The tenseness flowed out of her shoulders.

“Business,” the woman replied without so much as a moment’s hesitation, “I’ve been offered a teaching position at my school. I’m taking up the offer.” Her smile never faltered.

“Oh.” She looked up a bit more, on the verge of simply throwing the hood down. The urge felt almost overwhelming. Even as the thought pushed up against the edges of her mind, she found her hand creeping its way up the wall. Even though she was able to resist for the moment, it was like something was compelling her.

Grunting under the mental stress, Karen dropped her arm back to her side, knuckles white as she held onto her pant legs to keep it from happening again.

Cassandra’s smile faltered for a moment. “So why didn’t you go with your family when they went over to Merkua? Aren’t you a little young to be living on your own?”

Karen’s response was delayed. Her head was spinning as two different voices spoke up in her thoughts, pushing her to respond differently. She nearly yelped as she knelt forward, hands massaging her forehead, desperately trying to work the pain out.

Her hand reached out for Cassandra, pleading for support.

The moment her hand touched the woman, the pain vanished. Cassandra blinked, smile fading. “Is something wrong?” she asked, now no longer working to hold onto the grin.

“Yeah, I—” The moment she withdrew her hand, it returned. The second voice reappeared, muttering, chanting, trying to order her to reveal herself, to take back all the lies she’d weaved. “Something,” she grunted, keeling over again, knuckles still white as she grabbed the folds of her hood. “In my head…” Again, her hand reached out to Cassandra for support. Again, the moment she touched her, the feeling vanished.

“Are you going to live or what?” Indifferent words were echoed by a sympathetic voice.

“I…” This time, Karen didn’t withdraw her hand. “Are you doing this?” Her hood slipped back enough to show the tops of her eyes. She was lucky. Cassandra didn’t seemed to be paying any attention to that part of her body, or at least she didn’t act like she was.

“Telepathy requires uninterrupted concentration. If I was, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you like this.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, catching a glimpse of the pale orbs hiding beneath Karen’s hood. If she recognized the trait from any wanted poster, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“Then what’s happening?” She slowly pulled her hand away. This time, the painful sensation of having her mind invaded did not return. Letting herself relax for the moment, she let out a short sight of relief.

The User shrugged. “No idea.”

Karen felt a pang of frustration towards Cassandra. She didn’t know why or what was causing it—even though her calm mind already had a guess—, but it overrode all other logic. Her forehead creased and her eyes tightened into small grey slits. “You’re…” She clamped her mouth shut and jumped up, turning away from Cassandra before her mysteriously high temper carried her away.

She needed to vent.

Walking back up the stairs, she gave little thought to the consequences or how the crew would undoubtedly try and force her back below deck, just as they did before. This time…

Her knuckles whitened.


Cassandra was saying something. She didn’t know what. Her mind wouldn’t accept words. The rage felt so absolute, so controlling, so manipulative. Common knowledge and intelligence seemed to be beyond her. For the moment, she reverted to primal instincts, to rage. When her hands reached out for the brass knob of the door, it felt as though it would crumble beneath her grasp. Gone was the slowness and hesitation from before. She threw it open, bouncing it off the hallway walls.

She didn’t know what was happening or what outside influence had caused such traits to surface, but she didn’t care. It felt good; it felt… powerful. The scowl on her face was maniacal, spreading from cheek to cheek. The blind rage enveloped her.

“Sarah.”

And then it was gone. When the User’s hand entered her aura, the feeling disappeared. Rage and anger fell away. The glee and power that had encased her vanished instantly.

She stumbled forward, falling out the door and back into the storm that was flooding the deck. Again, she was wet. Her clothes were again filled by the chilling water. Only then did her senses seem to return to her. She tried to look up and speak, but no words could be heard through the fierce storm.

From behind, someone tugged her cloak, urging her to come back. Complying, she crawled backwards onto the staircase, pulling the door shut with her.

She collapsed on the stairs, falling against the wall, panting. Her hood had fallen back, revealing her true nature and appearance, but she didn’t notice. She just kept on breathing, her mind recovering from the attack, if it could be called that. Invasion was more like it.


CASSANDRA’S EYES NARROWED. Someone was interfering. Telepathy could only be attempted by a highly trained User and actions could only be influenced by someone who had specialized in the field. Perhaps the Arch-Users weren’t the only ones who were after Karen. Either that or there was more than one person on the job.

Strange that her own presence seemed to negate the telepath’s abilities.

Crossing her arms, she leaning against the wall next to Karen, looking down at the girl. Unconscious and helpless; she was in the exact position that would allow for her to be easily apprehended. In a sense, she’d already been, thanks to the other User.

At least that’s who she hoped it was.