Chapter 1

Ira steps through the doors from her lifelong prison to begin her freedom.

Ira pushed the wrought iron door open carefully, wincing as the cold metal but pressure on the perpetually raw skin of her hands. Her eyes squinted in the radiating sunlight, now a novice to natural light. As her vision adjusted, she shivered. Even in the heat of the high sun season, she shivered. Not from cold, but from fear. She was alone, but she felt as if something was watching. Something was always watching her, even if it was only in her head.

The gravel under her crunched, stabbing her calloused feet through the thin shoes she was given to wear. She must have looked like an incel with these thin leather sandals and a dress that looked more like an onion sack than clothing.

She fingered the coins in her small pouch. They were given to her to go home. Home. She smirked and shook her head. Home was behind her. Home was work, fighters, murderers, slave traders. Home was a bed of concrete. Home was dirt caked under her fingernails and eyes cast down in shame. She shouldn’t complain though. She was an orphan and was lucky to even have a place to sleep. The other prisoners were her family. They taught her to fight, to take care of herself, to survive. Now it’s time to use those skills to find who she is and who she is meant to be. The continuous cycle of prisoners were her only human contacts. She didn’t know if they were released or if they were killed. She could only acknowledge their temporary presence in her life.

She had been looking forward to this day her entire life, so why did she feel so...drained? No that isn’t the right word. She feels terrified. As if her life was in danger. That wouldn’t make sense though, right? She spent her life sharing meals and sleeping besides thieves and murderers. So why would being free be so frightening?

She took another look behind her. The iron gate was still open. She could turn around. She could willingly walk right through those doors and return to the work prison; the only life she had ever known. All she was ever told was that she was born in Vangal. She told herself she believed that, but something didn’t feel right. She was sure that these visions were the key. Visions. Memories. Whatever they were, she did not know if they belonged to her. But something was unfamiliar and familiar about them. They had to be the answer.

Minutes had passed and she still hadn’t moved.

Another minute went by.

With a deep breath to reignite her frozen heart, she took a step. The grinding rocks below her shoes triggered an unknown feeling. Something was pulling her back. Something had taken hold of her and she was suddenly gripped with fear.

“Not now” she whispered before the world fell away.
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She was blinded. She could see nothing through the thick cloth on her face. It was suffocating. Around her was silence save for huffing breath to her left, a mans groan, and the clang of metal against stone. Someone was sharpening a blade. She stayed silent, standing tall as if she was unafraid, as if she had been in worse predicaments. It felt like hours before the sharpening stopped, but she knew it was only minutes. She was counting his breaths to keep track of time. The horrifying sound stopped, and there was silence. She shifted in what felt like a wooden chair but did not move She only braced herself for the impact. Suddenly, sound reappeared. Heavy footsteps came towards her, and a mans grunt broke the thick air as she heard the sound of a blade rising quickly in the air above her head.
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Ira opened her eyes. No visible time had passed but she was hunched over, hands on her knees as if she was going to be sick.
She shook her head, working to take deep breaths and calm breathing.

These are not her memories. She was here. She was alive. Her life is about to begin. With a deep breath, she held her head high as her friends had taught her and ventured into the world.

Author's Note

Still need to work on describing her environment better. Any tips?