A Russian fugitive with power like no other. Though strong, powerful, and wickedly smart, secrets lie deep within her heart, mind, and soul, haunting her to this day. Those very secrets will chase her until they catch up to her. She may have thought...
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𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐮𝐧—𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐎'𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥
𝕶𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖆'𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖛
I've always worn the veil.
Ever since I was chosen at seven days old, I've been veiled, my face and body obscured by the opaque, black fabrics I am forced to wear. "It's to show you are chosen," they tell me. Chosen by who? They never answer. I'm told to be quiet. To not ask questions. I'm told to be seen only when I'm veiled. To be seen by someone other than those approved to see me unveiled would make me 'unworthy' in the eyes of someone important. Who? I have no idea. Every 'morning' I dress myself head-to-toe in black, not an inch of skin visible. Not even my eyes are allowed to be seen. I am veiled all day and can only undress after dinner once I am in my room and alone, with no prying eyes.
To stay veiled until the grand ceremony is to remain pure and remain worthy. To not allow those to look upon my skin is to remain worthy of the power I hold. Worthy of life.
It's a load of bullshit.
Everyone else in this school may believe the lies these people spout, but I have common sense. That seems to be a rarity in this place.
Although I know everything these people say is a lie, I still pretend. I follow their rules as far as they know and allow them to think their brainwashing of me is taking effect—allow them to believe that I am another one of their clueless sheep. But sometimes, I just wish I could openly break their rules. Just once.
Sometimes I wish that I could just feel the sunlight on my skin. Classes begin once the sun has set and end before it rises, meaning we never feel the sun on our skin. We are allowed outside, but only at night when the moon is high, and the sun is nowhere in sight. Though I love the night, I would kill to feel the sun on my skin, especially in the winter when the nights here are bitter and all there is to keep me warm is a roaring fire and a fur blanket.
I wish people could see me as well. See my dark brown hair that looks black when I'm not in direct sunlight, or my green eyes, or even my hands. I just want to be normal—unveiled—able to be seen by all like everyone else. Not the chosen one. Not special.
"Kritana, do you have the answer to my question?" my history of magic teacher, Miss. Florshen asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.
Rule number one: Always pay attention in classes, for knowledge is power.
I swallow and slightly lower my head. "To obtain knowledge is to have power," I answer, not entirely sure it's correct. I don't know her question if I'm being honest. I was too busy thinking about what life would be like if I were normal to listen to whatever question she asked. But knowledge is usually the correct answer.
