Regions of Saleen

Regions of Saleen - Ch. 2 - Part 2

    I awoke in the dead of night to the sound of heavy footsteps outside my door. Shadows slid across my walls and the moon was still high in the sky, signifying it was still night. The air was very cold, making my body uncontrollably shiver. As quietly as I could bare I slid out from under my quilt and crawled along the cold stone floor. I winced as I made my way, feeling the blood beginning to leak from my knees due to the scratches the rough floor caused. I knew I'd be whipped for this later, as the master dislikes it if my body is not perfectly in shape.

   Once near the door, I peered through the small slot near the top. The hallway was very dimly lit but I could make out the shape of several figures marching past my door. At the end of the pack of people, a smaller person is being dragged along the floor, crying. They must be taking him to a cell. It's very common for new people to arrive but I've never see one that size. The prisoners are usually very old men, captured for practicing magic among the commons, an act that is very strictly forbidden. They are told this place will show them how to further their magical abilities in a safe place, but it is quite the opposite.

     Once lured past the entrance, they are forcefully taken down to a cell where they will wait their inevitable fate, sacrifice. I've been ordered to kill hundreds of people who practice the ways, for the blood of a mystic can enhance the abilities of another. I realized the newcomer must be one of youth from their size, but I had been told that no one born in the past 20 years had been taught the sacred ways. I was the only exception to this due to my "unusual" upbringing. They must be here for another reason, it's impossible for someone my age to be a mystic, but then I stopped and thought about it. If someone my age was here, then maybe I won't be alone anymore.

    A single thought crept into my head and immediately consumed my entire being, if I'm not alone maybe, just maybe I'm not meant to be here. My whole life I thought it was my fate to live my entire existence here, in my dark cold room, killing innocents to save myself...but if they are others who live outside this stone prison, why can't I?

    I walked back and lay on my "bed" and recalled everything that had happened before I went to sleep. Ritual judgement, caring for my sore feet and the newcomer. For some unknown reason I felt as though I'd missed something, and I tried to remember but nothing came to me other than a faint memory of a face. It doesn't have any outstanding features and I was unable to place who it is or where I met them but I couldn't help but to think it has some greater importance. I decided to just shrug it off and do something else to take my mind off the face that is now haunting my thoughts.

   The silence I'm accustomed to is interrupted when I hear faint crying to my left. It comes to me they must've put the newcomer in the cell adjacent to mine. I walk over and press my ear against the cold wall. The crying continued so I softly knocked on it.

"You okay?"

The crying stops and I hear the person, now apparently a boy, answer.

"Of course I am, I'm not some sort of baby. They're lucky I'm sick or they would've been killed."

I couldn't help but to laugh at his overly defensive response.

"Alright. Well, I'm Alura, what's your name?"

"Illias."