The Rouges

e p i l o g u e

  IT FELT LIKE days, weeks, months had passed and still I was trapped in this hell. But by some cruel joke of fate, I didn't die. The fifteenth time (I was counting) the lights came on, something was different. The harsh lights were softer this time. It took me a minute to comprehend there wasn't the usual searing heat burning my skin, then another to realize I was no longer alone. Balancing on the thin edge of delirium, I could see the outline of a man standing before me, but it was hard to make out his face through the tangles of my hair and thickly crusted eyelashes. He was nothing more than a dark shadowy figure looming above me. I didn't bother lifting my head to get a better look. Instead, I just closed my eyes.

The toe of his shoe slid under my shoulder and then with a shove flipped me onto my back. As my stringy hair fell away from my face, he muttered something that sounded like a curse. My eyelids fluttered, but I couldn't focus. Stepping away from me he addressed someone else. His words sounded strange mixed with the residual sounds of the music still pulsating in my ears. They said something about taking me somewhere... to see someone. But before the words could register, my body shut down, casting me into a grateful unconsciousness.





Something cold struck me in the face. It rolled over my skin, down my chest and into my lap. It should have been refreshing, but the chill of the water felt almost violent against my scorched skin, a million minuscule pins and needles stabbing my nerve endings. My head whipped back involuntarily before rolling forward again.

A groan slipped from my lips. My temples were throbbing.

I blinked a few times, trying to focus. Neither my body or mind felt under my control. Keep your head. I reminded myself. My name was Phoenix. I had made a sacrifice. The Sanctuary had captured me. I didn't want to die. As I stared at my soaked thighs, I tried to make an assessment of my fuzzy surroundings.

They had moved me.

The floor I could just see beyond my bare toes was grey now and I was sitting up—well, not so much "sitting up" as tied to a chair. While my instincts screamed at me to resist the restraints, I knew they were the only things holding me upright. As much as I wanted to be rid of them, I needed them for support. Without my bindings they would know how weak I was, but with them I stood a chance at feigning strength.

"Do it again." A snide male voice spoke to my right. I heard the movement of feet and the sloshing of another bucket.

"I would highly advise against that." I meant my voice to be strong and confident, but what came out was cracked and raspy.

The sloshing noise stopped.

"So nice of you to join us, Prea." A different voice spoke this time. It was deeper, more refined than the first.

Using all of my strength, I pushed against the ropes on my chest and pulled my head up to face the man who said my name. It was like staring at him through a dark tunnel. I forced my eyes to focus.

He was old by Tartarus standards. His perfectly coiffed hair was streaked grey and white. The wrinkles embedded in his face had given way to gravity slightly, but there was something wrong about them. It was as if his face had been stretched back a little to keep the drooping lines tighter. There was something else in his features I couldn't quite place. Something... familiar. He had a sharp nose like a beak and the most piercing blue eyes. Even in my semi-delirious haze, their gaze sent a chill down my spine.

Focus, Lyra...

His pressed suit was perfectly white, with a high blunt collar that stopped just below his angular jaw. Two silver bars were mounted on each shoulder. There was something round, shiny and silver over his left breast that I could not quite make out. The tailored uniform gave him an authoritative look, but it was not a soldier's uniform nor was it like the civilians' garb I had seen—that I had stolen—before being captured. The attire had been well calculated. He appeared to be a commander yet still a man of the people—white like a citizen's but cut like a soldier's. In his left hand he held a brass cane, but wasn't placing much weight on it. Possibly it was more for show than actual use. He may have looked older, but he carried himself with the authority and arrogance of a much younger man. Clearly, this was the man in charge. He was the one I had heard so much about and yet knew almost nothing.

This was The Minister of The Sanctuary.

This was Minister Fandrin.

As the tunnel of my vision widened, I took in more of my surroundings. We were not alone. Three other younger men stood in the room with us. While I was now aware of their presence, it was The Minister who still held my complete attention. He was the one who had spoken my name. My real name.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You must be confused old man. That's not my name," I lied.

His returning smile made my hollow stomach flip. "On the contrary my child, I am positive that your name is Prea. Prea Mason."

My throat clenched. No one knew my surname, not even Triven. That name had died with my parents. I concentrated on keeping my face calm. Emotionless.

"And what the hell makes you think you know anything about me?" I said through my teeth. My head was getting heavy again, but I forced myself to hold his cold gaze.  

  His smile shifted, looking more like a snarl.

"Even beneath all of that grime and filth..." There was loathing in the old man's eyes as they scoured over me. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognize my own granddaughter?"

                                                                  *******************

Title song for the book: Yellow Flicker Beat by Lorde. (In the media of this chapter. Check it out!)

Instagram: www.instagram.com/alzekmagus

Twitter: https://t.co/gyHMkZqk9D

                                                           AUTHOR'S NOTE 

(BEWARE SENTIMENTAL CONTENT)

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! And thank you a million times over. I know for a lot of you this is just another story that you've read, incredibly supported and finished but to be honest you guys have no idea how much you change the person writing the story's  writing.

I've been using Wattpad for a really long time, as a reader, never finding the courage to write something. We all have that weird idea that writers are some literary geniuses, somehow different from us. I had that same idea but you guys have completely altered it.

After weeks of jotting down eerie stuff in my brain; fight scenes, dystopia ideas, crazy world building, I finally did one less crazy thing.  I Published it.

I still remember that totally out of the blue moment when   commented on the first chapter saying it was really good. Standing in my room that day,  I wasn't sure why she would say that. More updating resulted in more amazing comments by you guys, and you cheered me up more. Not a single comment exists in this story that I haven't read at least three times. To cut the sentimental rant, all i want to say is thank you for all your comments and votes which have inspired me so much to go forward. While writing the first chapter of The Rouges, I never could have imagined this would be a complete novel-length story. THANK YOU for letting Lyra, Triven, Mouse and all the Tartarus be our fun place and letting me do what I really like. When I see the Rouges being ranked to #91 among the best SciFi books of Wattpad, competing against the books which have thousands of reads and sometimes with the ones that have millions of reads, you do not know how much that makes me happy. 

I have started writing a new story which is also Science Fiction/Dystopian adventure which i really hope you guys will check out once its out. I'll make sure you guys know when it is out.

And so we come to an end of this book and overly-sentimental rant( couldn't help myself). Thank you for making my Wattpad debut beautiful. 

Stay safe from the Ravagers.

Till next time!

-Alzek

P.S: Sorry for the cliffhanger!!!!!!! BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! :) :)