The flame of the candle flickered; moving as if it had a will of its own and although the room was cool as most stone rooms would be, there was no noticeable breeze that could be felt by the young girl sitting at the tattered desk of which the candle provided its light too. She sat slightly hunched over looking intently at an old piece of parchment which she had moved as close to the candle as possible in hopes to see as best as she could under the dim lighting. The texts and markings that adorned the page were unfamiliar to her, and so she sat with the finger of one hand moving along each line of the text while using the other hand to write down what she was able to translate. There was a stack of books as well as scrolls that also lay on the desk that she would periodically fumble through, many of them records of history, others were the documented translations of all the known languages. After some time it had become very apparent that the translation aids she had been given were useless for her current task and she slowly started to become frustrated. The young girl took her hands away from the desk, reached above her head, and arched her back, taking in a deep breath as she stretched, inhaling slowly through the nose then exhaling slowly through the mouth. She slumped back down in the chair and stared at the parchment she was trying to translate.

         “A little distracted are we?” came a chilling voice from behind her, causing her to jerk from the sudden break in the silence.

         “No master…” she quickly replies. And although the room was too dark to make out where exactly her master was, she stands and bows in the direction of which the voice came from. “I…”

         “You what!” her master quickly interrupts.

         “I apologize, master, I was thinking.”

         “Thinking? Of what?” He demands. The young girl tries not to hesitate to answer as her mind raced for an excuse but,

         “Nothing…” is the only word that quietly trails off her lips, and she immediately closes her eyes in shame and disbelief.

         “Nothing,” he repeats as he walks into the dim lighting of the singular candle. “You were thinking of nothing,” he says again. “If you were thinking of nothing then you must have gotten distracted, were you distracted?”

         “No master,” she replies quietly, knowing that no matter what she said during his line of questioning the out outcome would be the same.

         “If I am to understand that you were thinking of nothing and you were not distracted, then you must have been taking a break.”

         “No master I…”

         “Who gave you permission to speak!” he shouts cutting her words off and towering over her. “If you were taking a break from your studies then you must be tired or bored. Are you tired or bored Nariah?” he says leaning in closer to her.

         “No master.”

         “You must be one or the other,” he says glaring at her. “But that is okay, I have a way to fix your inabilities and help you to stay focused in the future. Come with me,” he demands as he turns around and walks away.

         Nariah slumped against the heavy door of the academy in hopes to recover enough energy to get to the dormitories off-campus. Her breathing was heavy and deep, while she tried to ignore the pain that radiated from her aching muscles; this wasn’t the first time her master became furious with her over such a small thing as taking a break. She had understood his opinion on the idea, that the moment you take a break during a time of frustration is a moment the enemy has a chance to exploit you; which she felt would be practical on a battlefield but within the walls of the academy and in a land where there hasn’t been an all-out war in over three hundred years, it was pointless. She stared down the dark corridor from which she came, as she focused on her breathing, afraid to close her eyes knowing that there was a high chance that she would probably pass out from fatigue; and while there was a small chance that another master would stumble upon her, she knew if she was found, the wrath of her master would be tenfold. Nariah placed her ear up against the door, listening closely for any passing guards on night duty patrolling the streets. Once she was certain there was no one close, she exited through the door sticking to the shadows of dark alleys to remain undetected as she made her way to her destination. With each step came a wince of pain, reminding her of just how brutal her master can be. She knew all too well how powerful he was by the way he was able to use the primal brute force of magic in ways she had never seen or experienced before. During their “lesson” she had decided to first focus on countering the vicious attacks that he hurled at her, but the instant her abilities began to waver her master took advantage of the opportunity pushing Nariah to go on the offensive, which ultimately justified her master using even more powerful magic. By the end of the “lesson” Nariah could only focus on not losing her life to her master’s wrath. Nariah continued to move as silently as possible through the streets, hesitating cautiously before turning corners, keeping the chances of her being discovered by guards to a minimum, knowing that making it to the dormitories would be an amazing feat considering the state she was in. The distance she had to travel was relatively short however, in her mind it became a rigorous journey every time she had to stop and rest, which allowed her to reflect on the reality that she was making extremely slow progress. As she approached the last corner that she would need to round, that intersected the open stretch that would take her to the entrance of the dorms, she could hear the steady footsteps of a patrolling guard heading in her direction and she quickly shuffled back into the shadows of the of an overhang; crouching down as she waited for them to pass. The guard’s demeanor was overly casual as he passed the opening of the alleyway that would’ve revealed Nariah’s presence, without even the slightest head turn to look for anything unusual or suspicious. Not thinking of her actions, Nariah stands up slightly, taking a few steps backward while the guard passes then suddenly spins around the instant her body bumped into an object that wasn’t behind her before.

         “Master!” she gasps startled, as she sees the towering hooded figure behind her, and instantly bows to one knee. Her mind raced as she tried to think of any excuse that would please him as to the reason she was still on the streets and not already in her dorm “Forgive me, master, I was…” her words were cut off by a swell of emotions and tears, “I was…was.” tears ran down her face as she tried to gather some bearing fearing the repercussions of her indiscretions. Nariah continues to stumble over her words while all the muscles in her body started to spasm until a warm hand reached out and touched her face.

“Calm down my child, everything is alright.” came a soft voice, “I assure you, I am not your master and I mean you know harm.” the cloaked figure removed their hood exposing a fair-skinned woman with black hair, captivating green eyes and an elegant tribal tattoo that adorned her face, complimenting her striking beauty, that could be clearly seen in the light of the moon. When Nariah finally lifts her head and realizes, that the person in front of her is not her master, a wave of relief coupled with fatigue washes over her causing her to fall unconscious.

Thank you for taking the time to read the first installment of Betrayal: Nariah's Origin

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