1 Chapter One -- The Party and the Thread

--Lewis--

Thousands of mountains stretched below and away, and continued far over the horizon, creating a fractured landscape illuminated by the soft shine of two moons.

Overlooking this terrain was a palace constructed of irden -- a silver metal that glows gold under white light.

This was the residence of King Castine of Rithveer -- he who held my life in a cage.

The fall of the final enemy country a week ago marked the end of a 19-year war, leaving all 8 continents in Castine's control.

Today he held a banquet, the largest in history -- a banquet for the poor and the rich, the strong and the weak, every citizen of, the now united, Rithveer.

Looking over the serene landscape the palace sat upon; my hand subconsciously swirled a glass of dark liquid while my mind wandered to those final, bloody battles. The discombobulating, broken dysphoria of screams, followed by the unnerving silence of a battlefield now quiet. How did.. how could people fight in all that? Wasn't it completely distracting? Unsettling? Brutal?

I couldn't see how there was any satisfaction in killing another on the battlefield...

I'd never get used to it.

The only good satisfaction was watching a target fall into the spiderweb of a perfectly executed plan -- watching them struggling, trying to escape, only to be dragged in deeper.

The sound of glass crashing followed by drunken shouts pulled me back to reality, fortunately forcing me leaving those thoughts behind.

I looked over the edge of the balcony, towards a giant roofless dining room filled with the masses, about 10 meters below me.

Five drunkards engaged each other, armed with fists, bottles, and one with a knife. A small feeling of responsibility entered my mind, pushing me to go down and break up the fight. A small feeling that was trampled by a lack of care -- especially with something so trivial. Although, the fact that it was probably the only bit of entertainment for the night was enough to keep my attention.

Though, before I could've gotten any closer, a light knocking alerted me to a figure standing in the doorway behind me. My hand went under my cloak to some hidden knives as I spun on my heel to greet whoever dared to disturb me. A maid stood there, her left hand on her right shoulder, a formality when requesting entrance into the presence of a person who's status was above your own. I gave her a sharp nod, and she marched closer, stopping a short distance away to bow her head.

"The King requests your presence, Captian Vediir."

My unprofessional, relaxed posture corrected itself slightly.

"Would you like me to lead you there?"

"I can get there myself. Thanks" My voice filled with venom. Did a mere maid dare doubt me? I had been enslaved to this place for a time greater than my own memory could hold.

I glanced back at the scene of the fight down below -- three men were splayed out on the floor, at least one was twitching. The other two were being held down by soldiers -- a pity I missed it.

Sighing, I strolled towards the King's room.

--Aeryn--

Night.

A most beautiful time. A beautiful sky, a beautiful moon, a beautiful landscape.

This night blanketed fanciful flower fields framed by bewitching bleached beaches that bordered luculent water which caressed the crystals of the heavens.

This landscape awakened a small memory deep inside me; a memory that looked back through the broken mirror of a soul that inhabited my body.

I glanced up at the moon -- judging by its position, it was roughly four hours before midnight, four hours before I missed my chance.

I leaped off my perch on top of the castle-like mansion, and glided along its roof -- scanning for an optimal entrance.

I stopped by a small window, which lead to a bathroom. It was a suitable opening to the building, but not what I was looking for. I proceeded with my search until I arrived at the perfect spot.

A massive ornate red and black window.

I slowed to a silent stop, the only sound being the rustle of the midnight folds that clothed me.

After I secured my climbing rope to a nearby stone chimera, I lowered myself to peer through the stained glass.

My body was hung upside down and in my view was a man at a desk, scribbling away at something. He was dressed in white clothes, with small jewelry decorating his ears and wrists.

This wasn't my target, but it would be someone who knew him. I think. It was impossible for anything else otherwise... yea. It had to be.

I crawled to a stop; completely slowing my breathing, my thinking, my movements. All my focus condensed into that bright ephemeral thread. That fragile, thin string that granted access into a person's mind, into their memories, into their very soul. I pulled myself up back onto the roof and tugged on the thread. My brain pulled the plug on my body as my vision went dark, and I fell back onto the roof.

Haunting, ghostly voices spoke, fading in and out over me as if they were water.

"Sweetie! Honey! Come here! Charles said his first word!.."

It faded.

"Father! I made championships for lanc…"

It faded.

"Hey, Charles!.." A hazy image appeared of a boy, maybe around thirteen years old running towards another boy, about the same age. The image faded, first to deepest red then black. A mental chill pierced my dream-like trance.

Dark figures appeared outlined by a dim musty yellow light, like looking through murky water.

"We stand … pronounce Charles Moncreif… ruler!..."

Suddenly, a violent stream of images and sounds flooded my mind.

"Charles!.."

"Oi, you there, STOP!.."

"The prince is ours!.."

It faded.

Then a single frame filled my mind's eye. It was the monarch and the man whose memories I was watching. They spoke in hushed whispers, but whispers yield no effect against an eavesdropper of the mind.

"...into hiding nearby in Werven's Forest..."

A smile crept onto my face. I had found where the monarch was hiding. Now to kill the brother.

Then, as if drawn through the waves behind a boat, I found myself being dragged away from those images, back through the murky water.

The cool breeze of a mid-spring night brought me back to my senses -- though my mind was still lost in the thick fog.

Small images still frequently ran through my thoughts, remnants of the man's soul that my own had tried to steal -- tried to use to mend itself.

It'd been years since I'd first unlocked that divergent power, the power to see and manipulate people's memories, in exchange for forgetting who I was.

I had lost a part of my soul and it yearned to repair itself, to make it whole again. It ached with the pain of losing one of the most important pieces that made someone who they were.

Whenever I tried to look back, tried to gaze through the mirror, I could only ever get a few, faint, fleeting recollections; a smooth quartz-white room, a group of people dressed in white, a never-ending wasteland of white.

I always felt an overwhelming feeling of pain and loneliness.

The clearest thing I could remember then was talking to a man dressed in dark gray. We were talking about another contract… I think… I exactly can't remember who he was, but I was sure that if I helped him, I'd remember something, gain something about who I was. Something to satisfy that ever-growing feeling which was eating away at my soul, the feeling of forever struggling, forever being lost without any memories to call my own.

Another cool breeze helped me come back to myself, still lying down on the roof.

I smiled at the sky, why? Who knows. I'd always felt a familiarity with it.

I stood, it was time to finish the hunt. I went back to the small, open bathroom window that I spotted earlier and peered in.

No one was inside.

With cat-like grace, I slid into the room. Also cat-like, I got down on all fours to peek through the space between the door and the floor.

A silhouette was visible, almost hidden around the corner. They were facing away from me. Perfect.

My knife was ready; sleek, slim, and silver.

My aim was sure. I tested the door softly; it'd been well made and thus quietly opened. Funny how our needless indulgences only seemed to hasten our demise.

Time slowed to a standstill, my mind and my hand poured everything into that small, exposed spot of the neck.

My hand rose.

Reality halted frozen in this moment: sound stopped, time stopped, thought stopped, while the blade spun ever so slowly towards him.

Followed by the etched frame of sharpened metal slicing deep into soft flesh, the airless sound of a surprised cry, and the thud of a lifeless body.

I retrieved the knife, dragged the body into the bathroom and locked the door from the outside.

Time to finish this.