44. Always Be The First

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44. Always Be The First

Silas didn't bring me back to the dining tower, but instead locked me in a room a bit down the hall from it. I stayed there for what felt like hours, but was actually only a few minutes. It was a storage room, lined with shelves holding hundreds of burlap bags and wooden crates. I paced up and down the length of the room, occasionally stopping to search through one of the bags, but ending up exactly where I started, facing the door impatiently with nothing but my own two hands. I'd tried magically unlocking it, but Silas must've spelled it. I also tried picking the lock with a few sticks and pins I found, but, as I didn't actually know how, that didn't work either. Eventually, the door did open, but by the hand a young teenage girl about the same age as me.

"Morgana?" She questioned with a small, encouraging smile. Her glistening blue eyes ran over my body and I felt the strange sensation of being intensely scrutinized. She pushed the door open even wider, tucking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her small rounded ear. "Come." She urged.

My eyes narrowed and I didn't move, rooted to the center of the stone floor.

"Who are you?"

She just smiled wider and beckoned me forward.

"I'm not moving until you tell me who you are." I persisted.

"You may call me Jenna. Now, come, they are waiting."

I took a tentative step towards her. "Are you . . . ?"

She tilted her head just barely at me, the innocent smile still playing at her lips.

"Morgana, come." She repeated, but this time her voice had softened, laced over with a sweet melodic caress. I felt drawn to her, compelled by the enchanting tone of her voice, by the simple natural beauty of her features. "I won't hurt you." She murmured.

And for some reason I believed her. My feet traveled towards her of their own accord, startling me by the sudden movement. My eyes caught in hers and the storage room melted away. Everything just became that kind, honest, foamy blue.

A sharp pain cut through my wrists and I snapped out of the trance, scrambling wildly for a sense of what just happened. Then I realized I'd been pushed to my knees, my arms twisted behind my back and bound together at the wrists with a rope so tight it cut like blades into my skin. Then hands gripped my forearms and hauled me easily back onto feet with a strength so astonishing I barely noticed the pain throbbing beneath my skin from the harshness of the grip. I spun around, grasping for a sight of my attacker, but my eyes only met the soft gentle, entrancing ones of the strawberry blonde. I jerked my eyes away before I could get sucked into hers again and they found their way to her lips, lingering a long time at the taunting slight upward turn of the corners. I felt dazed as I stared at that devious smirk, my foggy mine struggling to accept that it was her who had bound me, who had lifted me up with a visor-like grip. But then her fingers were digging into my shoulders again, spinning me around and forcing me out into the hallway.

"Oh, and by the way," She hissed, her breath tickling the back of my neck. "My name's actually Arielle."

The doors of the dining tower slid open before us when we approached, and closed on their own after we'd entered. The circular room was filled, but the table clear and not a single chair had an occupant. Voices rung through the air, but at our arrival, they silenced. Arielle and I stood there for a moment, then before I realized what had happened, she lifted me up onto the dining table and pushed me to my knees at its center. I looked up warily, my eyes flitting across a canvas of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Alexander. Silas. Wixan. Elyria. A girl with eyes the color of a raw amethyst crystal and features so sharp they looked like they could cut through glass. Another girl with locks of milky chocolate and eyes of glittering gold. But Derek wasn't there.

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