Chapter One

Those standing on the Dais have been the next

to die. Stripped of their clothing and their

humanity, the 4 guys and female were

condemned by means of the Crown for their defects.

Seen or unseen, Mageia could not tell from

where she stood, however their whimpering sent

sharp pains via her heart.

The announcer ascended onto the Dais with

his parchment. "Hail Fairests of Ardania!

Today we shall please the Divine Six, who

spoke so many years ago to cure our hearts

and our land from the defect and the vulnerable by

means of sacrifice. They can also be our friends,

or a family member, but the Law is the law,

and the Crown and the Divines has spoken."

Mageia Unknown clenched the hilt of her

sword as the crowd cheered for the sight of

blood. Her pink eyes glared from her cloak's

hood, scolding the Ferry Priest in his black

robes with inexperienced stitches of boats along

the trims reciting a prayer for the souls. The

families of the misplaced wept nearer to the Dais,

shouting their goodbyes and pleas for mercy

which fell on deaf ears.

"These men and girls are responsible of

blasphemy and associating with the

dangerous rebels, the Blesseds," the

announcer continued. "They are enemies to

our sacred kingdom and have been chosen

by our anointed Priesthood and the Divine Six

to be sacrificed for the opening of our holy

ceremony. May the gods take delivery of their sacrifice

and bless the Kingdom of Ardania."

"Holy Dawnis have mercy," Mageia muttered.

She hoped the god of life and loss of life was not

as merciless as the clergymen portrayed him to

be.

She ought to see why these condemned Strange

decided to switch their beliefs towards the

Holy Ordained, instead than the Divine Six.

The six gods had been known to be type and

pleasant solely when they've drunken enough

Strange blood to show it. One scar, disease,

deformity, or crime marked any person in

Ardania to be a bad soul and possibly the next

one to meet the executioner. At least that's

how the priests preached and taught it.

However, the 5 nameless Ordained were

said to have been chosen by way of the Old God

Hamino to possess his electricity of justice, unity,

peace, and love. Passed down throughout

the centuries, the stories spoke on how these

gods had been born human then transformed

into living gods to be rulers over Royals and

the Divine Six. Hence why the Crown scolded

these people.

For Mageia, she wavered in between both

deities, now not understanding whether or not who to have faith or

which teachings to believe. One issue was

for sure, neither had determined to put an give up to

Ardania's heartless traditions.

The guards on the Dais's emerald green

platform, compelled the first man to the beam

and strapped him down so he couldn't

move. The executioner stepped forward, prepared his sword, and with one swift

motion separated the man's head from his

body. Blood squirted everywhere. Its metal

odor clung to the spring breeze whipping

across the cobblestone courtyard of the Dias

Grounds. Mageia's stomach curled. She hated

working during executions, but it was the only

best time to collect from the pockets of those

who found these proceedings pleasing and

holy.

"Blessed be" some shouted, eyes flickering to

the skies, lips moving in silent prayers.

A hand tugged her sleeve. She caught eyes

with Faebrin, a teen member of her family

who didn't need to cover his face. The

fourteen-year-old's birth defect dwelled on

his chest, hidden from scolding eyes, but the

Crescent Mark, tattooed to the side of his

neck identified him as a Strange. The burnin

his narrowed sky-blue eyes reminded her of

what they came to the Dais Grounds to do.

When she nodded, he slipped away into the

crowd.

Swift and with years of great skill, Mageia

pick-pocketed coins, purses, timepieces,

fancy pipes, and anything her sticky fingers

touched. The sack attached to her waist,

within her cloak, grew heavy, but not heavy

enough to weigh down her silent feet. She

was of a woman's average, law enforced

height, about five by six inches that would

not make her stand out. Many like her wore

cloaks or robes with their hoods flopped onto

their heads to block Holy Mesori's angry sun.

So, she weaved through the rowdy crowd

undetected.

Midlaan soldiers and guards in their greens

and black chuckled at the horror taking

place on the platform. They were unaware

of the many thieving fingers doing what they

knew best right under their noses. It always

amused Mageia how the priests within

Hamino's Temple refused to triple security

around their favorite spot. But as usual the

Grounds was packed with people, especially

on a special day as this one.

The temple guards grabbed the second

Strange who gave a heart-wrenching scream

as they forced her into place. The Ferry Priest

muttered his prayers to the Divines as the

woman whimpered sore. The crowd's ruckus

heightened and all Mageia could do was

avert her eyes as the sword came down. Past

images of standing on the Dais made her

chest tighten. She hated when this happened

while she worked.

I need to get out of here, she scoffed, wishing

she could run on the platform and cease this

evil act.

She decided to finish up early and made her

way through her section, head low and hands

prying into men and women's clothing and

purses. Then someone bumped into her from

behind, the same time her hand dug into her

next victim's vest for a timepiece hanging

from a silver chain.

"Hey, watch it, lady," the man snorted, only

for his eyes to widen, feeling her hand in

a area it shouldn't. They caught eyes and

fear crawled onto his face as he screamed.

"Purple Thief!"

She gasped however did no longer hesitate to sprint into

the crowd.

"Stop her," the man shouted.

Heart thudding in her ears, she pushed people

out the way, heading eastward closer to the

crowded Rimly Market Arena. The guards

and troopers close by snapped into pursuit,

ordering her to stand down. People squealed

and jumped out the way in fright as her hood

flapped off revealing her Strange eyes.

Still, she continued to run, remembering

the many escape routes that should lose her

pursuers and their heavy armor. She scanned

the Mideri Wall trailing at the back of the stalls on

her right. With calm assurance and much

practice, repositioned her bag of stolen

valuables, and climbed onto a man's smelly

onion stall.

"Oh gods, get off," he screamed.

Ignoring him, she climbed the stall's wooden

poles onto the roof, the only sturdy roof she

had taken note of weeks ago. With careful

footing, she tiptoed to the other side, jumped,

and latched onto the wall's protruding stones

and began to climb with a reptilian speed.

Her pursuers beneath have been frantic. One tried

to repeat what she had done. The fool failed,

tipping over and crashing into the seller's

stall. His companions rerouted themselves,

running closer to the stairs of a wall-post. The

two lone guards inside the publish scurried onto

their feet and started out strolling toward her.

Unfortunately, for them she used to be too far

away. She climbed over the different facet of

the wall into the neighboring city of Strana

and climbed down to the thick vines of

overgrown trees. They shouted above her as

she switched over onto the tree limbs and

disappeared into the woods. Laughing to the

core, she ran via the clutter of bushes and

exited into the into the shadows of an alley.

She stayed close to the structures and weaved

back into Hamala's Market Arena. Barely out

of breath, she glanced up at the wall where

the guards scanned anxiously beneath and

chuckled. Mageia had outwitted them again.

Strolling with her head casted down, she

went eastward toward the Hillside. The

market arena steadily became into the upper

northside neighborhoods for the middle

classes of Strana. The houses were joined in

rows with the occasional single domestic or store

mixed into them. Some of the neighborhoods

appeared as if they have been a lost part of lower

Midlaan with their smooth grassy lawns, bright

colors, and everything reputedly in location and

in order whilst the others wore its struggles.

Every so often, Mageia would stroll through the neighborhoods, imagining herself living

In one the place every body dealt with her as equal.

But in this Kingdom of Ardania, division was

The air they breathed. So, her fantasies were

Always reduce short. She noticed a farmer riding

A horse-drawn wagon full of hay and easily

Climbed it and sat internal besides his notice.

She repositioned her aching ft and pulled

Her hood very low over her eyes and leaned

Back as if she had fallen asleep.

But she stole calm glances at the area

Around her as the farmer grew to become onto a street,

Crossing into the Hillside. The Hillside trailed

Ardania's whole eastside from north to south

With hills of bushes and countless farmlands

And estates. Mageia sucked in the air damp

With cattle smell and the sweat of slaves tilling

The ground and felt her coronary heart go heavy. The

Crowds of humans had reduced drastically,

But she didn't dare take off her hood. No one

Could be trusted, not even the slaves.

This was the phase of her journey home

She dreaded the most. For thirty hardened

Minutes, she surpassed via slaves at work.

People regarded as the Strange, considered

As defected, cursed, and unwanted by the

Gods, condemned to a existence of servitude until

Exonerated by their masters or the Crown

Or by means of death. If she were ever caught for her

Sticky fingers, this may want to be her life. But the

Risk was essential to feed her growing family.

Then the farmer's wagon turned

Onto an adjoined road in the direction of another

Section of farmlands and estates which used to be her cue to proceed the next hour on foot. She

Slipped off just as easy, wiped herself off,

And continued the essential road till the trees

Of the Old Forest swallowed her. She passed

The ultimate of the small homes inside the forest's

Entry and found the hidden path leading to her

Home.