From The Ashes [#NaNoWriMo16]

Chapter Twelve - Ryia Ivetta

Ryia woke up early in the morning, pulling on a long-sleeved black leather shirt that cut off just under her breasts and came up around her neck. She then tugged her black pants on, that stopped just around the middle of her waist. Just as she pulled her boots on and tightened her belts around her thigh and her waist, she grabbed her daggers and left her room, going straight for Collin's chamber. As she tucked her weapons into their sheaths, she arrived at his door and tapped her fist against its surface. A few moments later, the door swung open and Collin was looking at her through squinted eyes.

"What are you doing up?" he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he let out a yawn. Ryia flicked her head over her shoulder, gesturing to the sewer exit.

"Come on," she said. "I'm gonna kill a kid; wanna watch?"

Collin grinned. "You're crazy, you know," he told her as he moved back into his room to change into his own black clothes. Ryia tousled her dark, wavy hair with her hands.

"I try," she admitted, leaning against the door as she watched her friend. He had a really nice figure, and she enjoyed watching his muscles tense and un-tense as he moved around. He looked really good in black.

"Alright, I know where he lives," Collin announced as he grabbed his own knife, tucking it into his belt before leaving his room. "It's not far from here; let's go." So Ryia followed him out of the sewers and onto the streets, where they crouched in the darkness of the early morning. Both assassins tied their cloths around their faces and moved quickly down the streets of Targanon, keeping to the shadows without letting anyone see them. They were good at what they did, but it was still important to check your steps.

"It's that house, on the corner," Collin whispered finally as he slowed down, glancing around at the empty street to make sure they were alone. "Make it quick, before someone sees you. He shouldn't be up yet."

Ryia nodded, darting for the side of the house after seeing a clear passage to the window. She picked at the latch with one of her daggers, watching it pop open with ease. She continued to lift the window halfway, then slipped through easily. She only just scratched the part of her stomach that was showing on the window latch, but she barely noticed it as she landed silently in the room of the house, looking around with her dark eyes narrowed. The room was empty. Scowling slightly, Ryia snuck over to the door and opened it, testing the air as she crouched in the doorway before moving on. There was only one other person in this house; the parents must've left the kid alone. How strangely ignorant that was of them.

Ryia slipped down to the room at the end of the small house, quietly opening the door with a gloved hand. She saw the sleeping child with his back to her in the bed, the furs draped over his shoulders. Ryia flipped her blade in her hand, sneaking closer to the child with a hateful look in her eyes. This was it; this was her chance to prove herself as an assassin. This was her chance to prove to the world that she was what they called her.

And just as Ryia extended the blade in her hand towards the child's throat, something stopped her in her tracks. No, it wasn't anything she saw; it was something she could feel.

Some kind of strong force was holding her wrist back from driving that knife into the child's throat, and Ryia began to panic. What was going on? Was this a trick? Was she being played?

The child, as if sensing someone was in his room, suddenly sat up, the furs falling from his body. His bald head was the first thing Ryia noticed, which wasn't how the child was depicted in the picture Mercer gave her. His skin also looked clammy, and almost unhealthy. Was he sick? Was he already dying?

Then, suddenly, the child turned around, lifting his hands up and splaying them out towards Ryia. As if by magic, Ryia was forced to drop her knife and was lifted up, her feet dangling above the ground. She started breathing heavily, her eyes full of fear.