Mama always told me that if I had a friend by my side I'd always be invincible. I became a talkative, social nuisance after she told me life was better lived with those around you. Friends protected you, they kept you sane, they kept you grounded. I made friends like that. Alec, Faith and Matthias were like family. Ramern was merely an annoying cousin who only seemed to hurt your feelings or make you cry but he was still family nonetheless.
That bubbly, story-filled little girl died in that fire.
She died the day Alec's hand slipped from mine. When my Godmother heard the news the next day and came to collect me and the clothes off of my back. I received nothing of my mother's or father's but mere memories that flutter out of my consciousness as the days flow by.
I still remember staying at Alec's that night, his blanket wrapping around me to warm me in his room that faced the direction of the cool northern winds. I remember him talking me to sleep, holding my hand while he sat awkwardly on the floor. That was the last night I cried.
I didn't cry when Katherine came for me and I had to say goodbye to my childhood friends. I didn't cry when I realized I had to move halfway across the Kingdom of Lyth to the East to live with her. I didn't cry when Alec sobbed and begged for me to stay.
As I said, that girl died with her parents.
"Do you have any other materials? Linen is a bit..." The shopkeeper simply stares at me with bored eyes and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"We are quite busy this week Madam. As you know, the annual Carmine Festival is right around the corner. It's either this or a leather dress, although, I don't recommend it since Madam Blake was the last owner."
I scrunch my nose and stare at the linen. Madam Blake was only a couple of years older than I; same height, same build. But Madam Blake was known to keep her nights busy and her days peaceful by examining different pubs and brothels to make those nights exciting. I couldn't imagine the reason why she sold it and I didn't want to know.
However, leather best suited me. I needed something new for my mission, something to make me feel bold and confident in my abilities as a budding mercenary. Linen simply didn't do the trick.
I thank the shopkeeper, purchasing the linen just in case I came back tomorrow and the prices skyrocketed through the roof.
The sky was bright, smiling and kissing my already tanned face and chestnut curls with its glory. The village will be especially busy this week due to the Carmine Festival in three days. The festival will then carry on for a week and a half to fully celebrate the founder of this village; Lizbeth Carmine. Stories and rumours are passed down through generations as everything else does. Some say Carmine was a warrior princess who liberated her fellow female comrades from the clutches of an evil king. Some say she was a normal village girl like me who had her brother killed at a young age by a prince she later on married, only to kill and become queen herself.
Regardless of how the story changed, the ending remained the same; she was a hero. A saint. A Queen in every sense of the word. Something I can only hope to be.
I pass by Linda's old bakery for a quart of hot hops and sweets Katherine likes to devour like food. The woman in front smiles, already detouring to the back to get my usual order.
I dance on my feet idly, turning on my heels to the crowd of people tying orange and yellow posters and banners to the railings of their houses, some spray painting the moon, the sun, and the stars in various dyes and texture of paint on the cobblestone walkways.
Linda sits right on the edge of the Frazier River, the water silent music to the workers already dehydrated from the afternoon sun. All around me were two-story houses made of whites and bronze and beige, met together at random intervals to enclose its people in a cozy environment. The best thing about this village, however, was the children. They laughed and screamed and ran and jumped. I smile subconsciously, allowing myself to relive bittersweet memories of my childhood. Feeling my feet digging into the wet earth, feeling the insects crawl over my toes, the sprinkle of summer rains on my face and hair, my clothes sticking to my body rather uncomfortably from the heat. The scents of fresh rose and pine water from petals and leaves that would fall haphazardly into the water's surface, of damp grass from morning dew, of oranges and sweet berries that grew here around this time of the year.
"Here you go, Skye." The woman returns, handing me a bag of bread. Startling out of my daze, I thank her and shuffle along the cobblestone walkway lining the river on my way home.
Katherine isn't home, as per usual on a Wednesday evening. She usually meets with other C-class mercenaries on Wednesdays, as if attending a casual book reading session with other wine aunts her age. I place the bread on the counter, waddling to my room.
The first thing I notice is the yellow parchment that sits on my bed, a blue marble serves as a paper holder. My lips thin automatically, knowing the details the paper may entail. So for now, I excuse it and focus on the brown, long-sleeved leather shirt and matching skin fitted pants beside it. I almost jump out of my skin in joy and relief, throwing the recently purchased linen on a chair in the corner of my room that is already piled high with clothes I no longer use.
Leather is always hard to get around this village, purely from the fact it sits on the edge of the fourth kingdom in a city that is well known for it's nickname; Poor Man's Grove. There are four kingdoms in total, each hoisting a color to represent a trait; Blue for gentleness, Purple for loyalty, Green for respect and Red for passion. My kingdom of Lyth is the Red Kingdom; the second largest to Blue, however, not in size. Our populace holds nearly three million men, women and children, most of which reside in poverty stricken areas. My godmother being one of them. Contrary to popular belief, Mercenaries don't get paid well.
Our city is one among nine in Lyth, known for its wheat farms and humble backgrounds with rivers that surround the entirety of it. Hence the reason rare textiles, luxury foods and even items like books made from Agar trees are relatively hard to come by for people in my city, more so my village.
I pick up the note with a shaky hand, seeing the handwriting of unfamiliar curves and loops. It is an address of the name I'm to erase from history in three days. My heart lurches at the sight of it. Why am I nervous? I've been preparing for this trial for the last two years. It is my only way to be accepted truly into the society my Godmother is a part of. It is the only way I can stay with her. I have to do it.
"Did you get mail from a lover or did I put too much sugar in your tea this morning." Kat ambles into the room, eyeing the note over my shoulder.
"You know well enough we haven't enough money for sugar."
"That's why I said it." She takes the piece of parchment from my hand, studying it as if our tax bill had skyrocketed into the thousands. "Oh, raincloud, this isn't good."
I know instantly that the address isn't a good one. Kat has several different nicknames for me in place of my original name; Sunshine is for good days, Raincloud is not.
My fingers tingle as I pass it along the leather material in my hands. "I was right, wasn't I. He's not going to give me any chances. Who lives there, Kat?" She doesn't answer. Instead she looks at me like it's the last time she's ever going to see me. "Don't you dare look at me like that."
"I'm sorry, Skye."
"Don't use my name like that, use a nickname, you have so many." I try to smile. I try to ease the tension with a lilt of my lips but to no avail, her eyes droop into sadness. "Katherine, who lives there?"
"It's in another city, Sunshine. I don't know his name, nobody does as far as I know. He's the second General of the Royal Guard. He is who you must kill."
°•°•°•°
I didn't eat tonight. Instead I sit in the tallest tree of the nearby forest Kat uses to train me. I release a content sigh at the wind blowing through the strands of my tangled hair, I haven't the energy to brush them. I think of my parents, I think of Alec and Faith. I think of the last time I felt such a gaping hollowness within me and I cannot place a single moment, for I believe I've felt this for the last ten years. This mission was simply a bell to remind me of it.
A fake bird call sounds from the southern side of the forest and I can't help but release a little laugh. "Would you stop with the bird noises? It's annoying now."
"At least it got your attention, Sunshine." Kat slumps against a gigantic rock that sits in front of the tree, propping her arms on her knees. "I have hot biscuits and your favourite cake waiting for you on the counter."
"I'm not hungry. And you're using the wrong nickname by the way."
"It's not my fault your mother decided to name you Skye. She must've been thinking about the weather when she was conceiving you."
"That's enough, I don't need to know what my mother was thinking when-"
"When your parents were doing the sinful deed?" Kat wiggles her eyebrows and bellows a laugh and I almost fall out of the tree from physically cringing.
It's a suicide mission. You're going to die in three days. This is no time to laugh. My mind takes over once more, the ease in tensions quickly shrinking and readjusting to it's previous state. "Kat?"
"Yes, Lightning strike?"
"That's not even a proper use of my name." I stare down at her, but she is all seriousness now. She knows what I want to ask her, yet she doesn't stop me from asking it. "Do you think I can do it?"
"You already know the answer to that." She raises herself off of the mossy ground, dusting her nightgown. "You've already failed if you think you cannot do it."
"He's a general, Kat. Even if I do escape with my life, I will have to fear for the wrath of the Queen. He is her army, her solider. I cannot risk killing a monarchical official. I die either way."
"Then think about this," she begins to strut towards the house, a tight attempt of a smile on her tired face. It almost makes her look several times older than she already is with her laugh creases and stress lines. "If you don't, you cannot come back to me. If you don't kill the general, you either have to risk death with the Creepers or run for the rest of your life."
I can see that she wants to say more, the guilt is practically etched into every inch of her pale face. I can tell she wants me to succeed, even if it makes me a killer. She didn't want this life for me. She didn't want me to become what I will be eventually if I go through with this trial. So instead, she smiles, "Fail or succeed, I'll always love you, Skye."