Chapter One

Here we meet the first protagonist and her journey.

Chapter One

“Kill him,” he said, his eyes shining steely gray in the pale light of the garden. The face above me was stern, watching intently. The boy sprawled on the ground before me was frightened, his eyes wide as his body shook with fear. The cold of the night air was seeping into my skin like a cool blade. “He has stolen from our family,” the voice above me whispered. “He deserves punishment and killing him is the only way to rid you of these foolish emotions, child.”

I just stood there, my long curly brown hair hanging over my dull green eyes; my body became numb to the cold the moment the order was given. I was frozen in place, the silver blade of my dagger glistening in the light. I couldn’t believe my ears, a cloud of white forming as my warm breath mixed with the cold air of the winter night. The boy’s large luminous eyes were staring up at me, my own eyes becoming misted with faint tears. I could feel my heart pounding, jolting my small ribcage, my hands now gripping the hilt of the large dagger so tightly that my knuckles whitened.

“Must he die?” I whispered, my lips trembling.

There was silence and then the hard hand met my face, striking me to the ground. I could feel the snow soaking into my cloak, the cold biting my nose. There was something warm though, creeping down my chin. I’d never seen blood before now but that is all I could see in this dim white washed garden.

“Kill him or else take that dagger and kill yourself. Weakness is not tolerable.”

“Yes sir,” I murmured, my voice steadying with resolution as I stood. The boy shuddered and scrambled to his knees, his hands coming together in silent prayer as I approached.

“Please,” he whispered, the chattering of his teeth making his voice quiver, or at least that’s what I made myself believe. Before he could utter another word my blade was firmly lodged into his neck, his eyes wide in shock and pain. The shock that shot through me from his eyes was enough to cripple my heart. I looked away in pain, a tear falling down my cheek but could feel a cold hand squeeze my shoulder.

“Do not look away. You must see this in order to overcome your apprehension,” the voice above me demanded, the cruel truth of it stabbing through my soul leaving hot and searing tendrils of pain as it wretched free. I turned my eyes back to the boy’s face, the gurgling and trickling sound of his blood like a sad song, a tragic hymn. His eyes were blank now, no light behind them as his body became limp and finally, as I pulled my blade from his neck, he fell onto the cold snow covered path. My hand was shaking, my fingers caked with the warm blood that I had robbed him of.

“I have killed many men, women, and children Phoebe,” the voice above me cooed. “All for an assortment of reasons both selfish and business. It has come to the point where I forget all of the faces of my nameless victims but I assure you that every victim, every soul, remembers the face of their killer. It is your job to become that face.” He paused and I could feel his warm scented breath on my neck and ear. “However, you did hesitate,” the voice stated coolly, the warmth from his breath on my ear and neck grazing my skin with every word. “However brief, be sure it does not happen again.”

My voice was lost, and my thoughts overrun. The blood was pooling around me now as the lifeless body lay at my feet. The pain in my chest was heavy, suppressed with another emotion, one I could not understand. It was a mix of pride and regret, a yearning that grabbed my throat and closed tight around it like a vice. The only words that I could muster to escape my lips were that which I had spoken time and time again, and since then, have treasured. “Yes father.”

~*~

I heard a tapping and I shot up in my bed, my hand firmly on the knife underneath my pillow. I observed the cool, dimly lit room quickly before answering the call of my intruder.  “Yes?”

“Mistress, it is dawn. The master has instructed me to wake you to prepare,” the voice of my servant echoed through the door. “May I enter?”

“Of course,” I said, my hand pushing the covers from my legs as I moved to stand. The door swung open and a short woman in a worn gray dress entered, shutting the door firmly behind her. I quickly slipped from my long tunic and grabbed for the silver pitcher of hot water that was poised in her hand; it smelled of mint. I also grabbed the towel from her shoulder and walked to the stone basin adjacent the door. As I began washing my face and body with the warm and damp towel, my servant began laying out my clothes. It was the day of the ceremony and my usual outfit was set aside to be replaced with tall black leather boots, dark grey breeches, and a silvery white tunic. As I pulled my tunic over my head the servant woman handed me my belt, and I clasped it around my waist firmly. It was made of silver and embedded in it were emeralds, the telltale symbol of our clan.

The final touch was a ceremonial black robe, the silver cross on the left breast shimmering in the dim light that was pouring in from the small window above. I slipped it on over my head and turned to inspect my face in the mirror now, the familiar ivory skin and rosy cheeks greeting me. I ran my brush through my hair quickly and was about to throw it up into a pony tail when a voice from behind stopped me. “Mistress, wouldn’t today of all days require your hair to be attended?”

I scoffed, slapping her across the face. “No, I would not,” I said coldly, watching her closely as I turned back to the mirror. “In all this time that you have waited on me you have asked that very same question three times. You should know my answer already.”

“I’m sorry mistress, forgive me,” she said, her voice shaking. She was becoming old and for a moment I thought that perhaps I should treat her more gently. Father would not be pleased if I required yet another handmaid.

 I then grabbed a ribbon from the dressing table, which frequently stood vacant, and tied my thick brown hair up on my head, the curls falling over my neck and back. I wore my hair like this every day since before I could remember, and even though my hair had lengthened and thickened, it was the same routine which I had found only necessary to keep the unruly locks from my face.

“Run ahead to the training ground. I will follow after.”

“Yes mistress,” the woman said, grabbing my discarded night clothes and leaving the room.

I sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. The dull green eyes had become vibrant, almost neon, and my skin had yet to darken. It was still pale and sickly as it had been on the day I was born. It had been over fifty years and yet I was unable to understand how a daughter of the Caligo could have such pale, unnatural skin.

Shutting the door with a snap behind me, I started down the long and wide hall, the paintings of scenery and forgettable ancestors watching me with a quiet cold. It smelled of pine and fresh linen in the hall, the fragrance overwhelming all other senses. I inhaled the intoxicating odor and could hear through the double doors ahead of me the bustling of the servants in the dining room preparing for our normal breakfast. Father had always inflicted such fervor amongst the servants and maids.

As I opened the double doors there was a silence in the room, the servants pausing to bow and then there was the sound of silverware hitting the table. My father, dressed in his long black robe stood, his eyes meeting mine. He had short curly brown hair, his demeanor and facial features much like my own. He was tall, his jaw rigged and set. He had wide shoulders and deep olive skin that made mine look even paler than it already was. His eyes, the only other deviation between our similar appearances, were a dark blue, deep and wise. “My daughter,” he greeted with a slight bow. I bowed back, my eyes on the floor. His voice wasn’t deep; on the contrary it was like the steady monotone of a drum which reverberated throughout my entire body, shattering my reserve every time. The way he intentionally said the word ‘daughter’ softly was like a promise to me and I quickly shook those thoughts from my mind.

“Good morning father,” I said, straightening to see he had already retaken his previous position at the long table. I strode over to the table, sitting gingerly opposite him, the servants rushing to place a napkin in my lap and offer me a drink. After assembling my usual breakfast of hard boiled eggs, pork, fresh bread, and a large glass of milk, I began to eat, my stomach gnawing at me in protest. It was nearly impossible to get myself to eat in the morning, and the more my body protested, the more I would eat.

The irony of eating, or performing any humanly function here in this world, was all an act.  The ceremony of converting energy into edible delights only proved how dependent we were on the weaker, and mortal, humans. They were nothing but an energy source to me, and since there has never, and will never, be a shortage of mortal souls to pass into death, my craft will never become obsolete. This I indulged in. It seemed to be the only thing that I could do to please my father.

After finishing half my meal in silence, my father spoke. “Are you prepared?”

“Yes sir,” I replied, looking at him. “I am prepared.”

“Good. You have all the promise of our ancestors but it is unclear whether or not you have the strength.”

At this I paused, unsure if I should speak or if I should remain silent. I believed myself to be powerful but my father would certainly laugh at such a notion. I couldn’t possibly overpower him but he need not know my insecurities. Finally I answered. “I am your daughter. Any strength that you have given to me I will bring forward today, father.”

“Good, you will not fail,” he said, taking a sip of the wine that had just been poured into his empty glass. “Unfortunately you will be the only representative from our clan. There is none old enough to properly represent our family in this great ceremony.”

“I will not disappoint,” I replied, my fist clenching in my lap.

“You are a Caligo, you will not fail. You would do well to remember that fact.”

“Yes sir.”

I heard the scuffing of a chair on the hard wooden floors. I quickly stood, bowing to my father as he made to leave the room. “The coronation will take place earlier than scheduled,” he said, pausing before the door leading into the foyer. “Make sure you are prepared because it will be at noon in the Courtyard of the Moon.” Then he disappeared through the large doorway into the foyer.

I nodded, sitting back down at the table, my stomach still screaming in protest. Be prepared he said. That’s laughable. What he really meant was don’t shame the family by being naïve and ill-equipped. After a few more bites of egg and a drink of milk I was done, standing stiffly and swiftly striding from the room. I must do some training before the ceremony. My mind was racing, my eyes surveying the hall leading out to the training grounds. Moved up? Why would my coronation be moved to an earlier time? And not just any time, but high noon, when the families would be returning from their morning lessons. It was such a cruel joke only conceivable by my father; how predictable.

As I sauntered into the hall, opening the sliding door to the training grounds. There, in the main arena I paused, my eyes drawn to a young boy who was standing at the center of three men, their weapons drawn. I recognized him instantly as one of my father’s illegitimate children, from his second wife. As I watched I noticed the boy had many similar characteristics resembling my father. His hair was short and unruly, darker than my fathers but his eyes were the same; cold and focused. As I observed his opponents, none of them I recognized, I noticed that they were all seasoned fighters. One man had a sword, the other a large mace. The final man, a brutish looking man, was holding an arm length blade. The boy stood calm, his hand clasped onto a single knife. Then there was a flash, the man with the sword lunging forward at him, the blade barely shimmering in the dim light of the morning as the boy dodged, sinking his knife into the man’s arm. He pulled it free, blood spraying his pure white training robe as he turned toward the man with the mace, the blunt weapon missing his agile body by inches. The boy swung his knife now, hitting the mace clad man directly in the shoulder, the blade becoming stuck. He let go of it quickly and ducked just as the brutish man with the large blade swung.

As I watched the sparring session I was somewhat fascinated in the boys form. It was unlike mine or fathers but had many definite similarities. He used his opponents own tactics against them, making them work for him. It was very reminiscent of the way my father approached any battle. Then again, I had only seen father battle once and the sheer magnitude of his power was unmistakable. Though a tall man he was not brutish, agile and quick.

Just as I was about to disappear into the adjacent training ground the boy was knocked down from behind and by the man with the blade. The boy grasped at his head, his body sprawled out on the ground. Then the brutish man was over him, quickly sinking his blade deep into the boys arm. The boy didn’t scream out but kicked swiftly at the man’s genitals, making his knees buckle under him. The blade came loose from the boys arm enough to reach the man’s body and he swung his knife, slicing his neck, blood flowing down his chest. He then fell to the ground, grasping desperately at his throat.

Quickly, a group of men and women in gray cloaks came rushing in, tending to their wounds, the boy standing as a woman in a long white robe came rushing over to tend to his wound. He allowed her to dress it, his eyes never leaving his blade as he inspected it for any impurity, wiping it clean on his cloak. Then his head turned, spotting me. His eyes, large and dark blue, narrowed slightly but he bowed in respect as I turned, entering the adjacent training ring. I had never given it any thought but I, being my father’s first born and the only child of his first wife, made this boy third in line of inheritance. He looked so young, yet I knew not his age. He was obviously not old enough to enter the ceremony. Father had made it quite clear that I was the only representative.

 As I entered the adjoining training ground my handmaid came rushing over to me, her arms outstretched. In them were several blades. I grabbed up the matching daggers that I usually trained with. If I was determined to be the most powerful of the Caligo I had to become accustomed to training with their weapon of choice. Since I was a young child I was taught to feel nothing and to forget nothing. This was my basic training. For the first couple decades of my life that was all I was taught by my father. He had long ago decided that he would preside over my schooling.

Sometimes I had enjoyed it, for he had let slip several grins and just once he smiled with pleasure. It was during a fight when I had gotten him off his feet but after a time, and after his male child was born, he began to look down on me and eventually he handed my teaching over to his most trusted colleague, and friend: Bash. He did not have a name for my father granted it to him when, by chance, he had beaten my father in a sparring match.

My training was always strict, controlling first my mind then body. I was subjected to several hours of meditation followed by training. Eventually days blurred together and my father would often say that I had become the machine he had always wished for. If it weren’t for my master’s disappearance I would still be training with him. Since then I have taught myself how to control my weapon and in turn my entire body. I was a machine and that was fine with me.

After a couple of hours of training with moving targets I decided that the only thing that would prepare me properly for my coronation was a sparring match. The only unfortunate part about this is that I was no longer able to spar against another. Though my skills were rough, and incomplete, no immortal, trainer or not, would spar against me. After a couple of accidental deaths when I was younger my father thought it prudent to allow my training take its own course.

I do not remember it but I blame myself for the disappearance of my master. He was a great man, both quiet in temper and thought. My father respected him greatly, so much so that his disappearance was mourned throughout the entire household. I remember my father telling me that I was responsible for my own training. He also told me that Bash would not be coming back and that I should do my training in private. This is why this special training arena was created. But sparring was what I needed. I made my way out of the training ground now, back toward the house. The training ground that Blaise had been using was abandoned and I looked around, as if expecting him to be spying on me.

I saw no one so I sauntered across the grounds toward the barns. Hunting was always an option. In this world it wasn’t typical to simply hunt deer or fowl. No, unlike the mortal realm the thrill of the hunt and kill was simply that. There was no need to consume our kill, so naturally our kill was much more sporting. As I walked into the barn I noticed that our stable master was grooming my father’s most prized possession, after his name. It was a beautiful black horse almost ten feet from shoulder to ground. He had large silvery eyes that searched frantically back and forth.

My father had blinded the beast long ago. To me it was cruel but with creatures like this if their eyes were not terminated before they came to full age they would kill all who looked upon them. I slowly made my way up to the beast and laid my hand gently on its snout. It snorted and sighed before nuzzling into my palm. The stable master noticed that I had appeared and quickly bowed, looking at the ground.

“So sorry mistress,” he said his long hair hanging over his eyes. “What can I help you with?”

“Take your clothes off James,” I said, stepping away from the horse.

“Mistress, if we are caught…”

“I will handle it. Take off your clothes,” I said, looking over my shoulder at my handmaid. “Stand and wait at the door. This will not be long.”

“Yes mistress,” she said, bowing and leaving the stables.

I waited until the doors closed before staring at James. He was tall, dark skinned, and covered in scars. His long red hair was thin and straight like a curtain over his face. I walked up to him, pushing it behind his ear before maneuvering him toward the empty, freshly strewn, stable. We did not meet as often as I’d like but it was the thrill of getting caught that enticed me to his side.

There was no emotional attachment, no need for contact. Just the primal instinct of lust and the thrill of this hunt that relieved the mind’s wandering. Perhaps it was unnecessary but the feeling it gave broke me from the haze of this stiff, and often bland, life.

~*~

There was a loud applause as the large double doors opened. I followed in line with four others, all wearing similar cloaks, long and black with silver crosses on them. As we walked across the large courtyard, I saw that the honor stand was full. My father, better known as councilman Caligo, was on the left hand side of the center seat, as well as his fellow council members of the other honorable houses. Since the great upheaval centuries ago, only three houses remained. The Caligo, Bivius, and Telera houses still stood; all three as ancient and noble as the realm of our ancestors.

Every fifty years this ceremony was held and of the three great houses only I represented the Caligo. There were two from each other house but I was the only participant this time around. I found out that Blaise, the boy from earlier, was born 39 years ago and had missed the opportunity by less than one year. I was born sixty years ago and have been waiting for this opportunity since I came of age two earthen decades ago. Of course age in our realm is just a number, our bodies and souls aging at a very slow pace compared to that of the human world. If you were to look at me you would only see an adolescent woman.

As we came before the council, we bowed, Master Tabum standing at the center of the honor stand. He was wearing his ceremonial royal purple robe with a simple red cross on its breast. This, I have been told, represented the blood lost in the great upheaval. He bowed back and then, as if through a loud speaker, his voice echoed across the courtyard, across the many men, women, and children who had come to inspect the ceremony. It was like a festival for them.

“Welcome friends, families, and Consorts of the Netherworld. Be at ease and watch this sacred ceremony take place. Of the three noble houses, five worthy candidates have been chosen to be inducted into the ranks of the great Consorts. There will be a series of three tests, performed for all to see to gauge the willingness and power of the candidates before you. We shall begin shortly!” And with that the older man disappeared, reappearing before us like a flash of lightening, smiling through his white mustache.

There was a roar of applause as he stepped closer to us all, motioning for us to listen. “Now then, you all have been chosen from your respected houses for a reason,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning our faces. “And that reason is to pass on a tradition spanning thousands of years. You are to be inducted as Consorts but first you must go through the motions of this sacred ceremony. Therefore, speak not a word to anyone what I am about to tell you, for it is important and secret.” He looked about, gauging our reactions. I kept my face stone cold, no emotion overtaking my features. “You’re all going to die.”

I kept my face still, my eyes staring straight ahead as if I had not heard his words. I could feel the atmosphere change now, the man to my right shifting uneasily. He had pale blonde hair and bronze complexion, his eyes shifting from Tabum’s face to the honor stand. Then there was a slight shift in the pressure of the air around us and it felt heavier, as if Tabum’s very thoughts were going to crush us then and there. I stood my ground, my hands behind my back, gripping my wrists. My body wanted to collapse, to fall to my knees and be relieved of this massive pressure but I would not allow it. My legs could give out on me and I would stand on my hands. I was not going to bring shame to my family or my father.

Suddenly the world jolted, as if a great earth quake had moved us all and darkness had taken us. I could see nothing. The master had disappeared, the weight of the black atmosphere pushing down upon me heavier. Voices came rushing in from everywhere and I could not discern a one. They jumbled, screamed, cried, and clawed inside my head like a rusty set of nails scrapping against my skull. I wanted to scream out but I kept my mouth closed, biting back my screams as I cleared my mind. Shutting out these voices was not completely possible but their sound dulled to me until finally the pressure was relieved. The air lightened, as if I were going to float away like a leaf on the wind. It felt good and for a moment I wanted to close my eyes and just enjoy the lightweight feeling on my body.

The light came back into the world and I noticed that I had not moved from where I had previously stood. The great master was still before me in the courtyard of stone and sunshine watching us all intently. Then, Master Tabum nodded, turning to face the crowd that had gathered. Just then the three honorable council members were before us, bowing humbly to their Master. “Council members, I present to you the fruits of your labor, all of whom have been informed of their purpose. The first test, of mental endurance, they have passed! Prepare to begin the second stage of the ceremony!”

With this the three council members came face to face with their candidates, my father staring down into my eyes as if he were trying to read my every thought. I kept a solid stare at him, refusing to move my body no matter what. Then, Tabum’s voice rang out over the field.

“Councilmen, present your weapons to your candidate, reciting your affirmation in clear voice for all to hear.”

At this the councilman to my left spoke clearly to his two candidates. One was a tall dark haired boy with a slight goatee, his eyes a deep brown. The other was a young man with shaved head and slight stubble around his chin. He had a single piece of jewelry hanging from his neck that shimmered in the light as he drew breath. “To my sons the house of Bivius presents the sacred weapons of our ancestors; The Tekko of Strength. They are the weapon of choice in our household and the vessels that will bind with your soul to create the bond of master and weapon.” Then the man held out the two shimmering gold and white tekko, one in each fist. Quickly he swung, a piercing gasp signaling their purpose. Sharp inhalations beside me signaled that both men were in pain.  My eyes, even though all of this had happened right next to me, never left my fathers. It was as if he dared me to look away.

Then, the man to my father’s right spoke, his voice deep and booming. “My sons Donner and Kayden, the house of Telera presents you with The Onyx Axes of Night.” One of the men beside me, the blonde was shaking, whether it be in anticipation or fear, I was unsure but the man to his right stood still, quiet and unmoved. “May they guide your souls like the souls of my ancestors and may you find them loyal servants in your lifelong battle!” Then, the man swung the axes, lodging them tightly into both of the men’s sides, their own bodies giving away with a crack buckling to the ground.

It was as if the whole court had stopped breathing, a chill settling over my body. I could feel the eyes on me but the only eyes that I met were the deep blue ones of my father. His voice was crisp and clear as he spoke, almost as if in song. “My daughter,” he said in that sweet voice, yet again bringing me some semblance of hope. In his hand was a long, silver dagger. “The house of Caligo presents to you The Silver Dagger of the Beyond. Let it be the binding element that brings about clarity and strength in times of doubt.” And then, I felt a searing sensation in my stomach, as if it were on fire. I wanted to scream out, but I did not allow it. I remained standing, grasping my stomach and the dagger that was lodged in my abdomen. It felt like it would not end, the constant ache and pain taking over every part of my body, making my arms and hands start to shake. Then, as if I had plunged, I felt a relieving sensation sweep over my wound like cool water over a hot surface.

It was a numbing sensation that took over my whole body, senses and all. I began to buckle but caught myself, forcing my body to remain standing, not allowing my resolution to waver. It started to pulse, the sensation coming in waves trying to take over my body. I couldn’t move, my arms becoming heavy, the dagger still deep in my flesh. My eyes opened again, and I saw my father’s face standing before me as if nothing had happened. A slight change in his eyes hinted towards amusement but it quickly faded when he saw that I was not breaking eye contact.

I felt a cold sweat break out over my skin and I began to heave, my breath becoming shorter and shorter, in unison with the pulses of the daggers blade. It felt good; a gripping and pulling sensation in my chest, making me gasp as it grasped me, not allowing me to breathe. I wanted it, wanted more. Is this death? I was dying, I could feel it, and the more I fought it, the stronger the waves were. I could still see my father’s face, the edges becoming blurred and rough. His jaw was stiff, his eyes not looking away as my own green ones finally drifted shut and all consciousness had left me.

 

I was floating, floating amongst multicolored clouds, the breeze perfectly cool on my inflamed skin. A sound I had never heard before met my ears, something that mere words could never describe. I felt light weight, free, the never ending clouds engulfing me in their soft warmth. I could not see anything but color. I knew my eyes were open but it was as if I could not open them wide enough. I found myself turning, spinning through the light weight air as if nothing except this pleasure existed. Then I felt something warm fill my hand and I looked down at it. What felt like years were only moments as I stared down at the most beautiful blade I had ever seen.

The handle made of pure silver was glistening in the light around me, my reflection evident within it. The pommel was a large dark emerald inlaid between two silver curls of metal, the light shone through providing a green reflection onto my hand. I turned it over; the handle inlaid with a simple design of diamonds, knotting and weaving in and around one another until the design reached the quillion. As if the silver handle and bejeweled end was not enough, the quillion branched out away from the blade and like a drawn line, gracefully intertwined with one another until it curved back inward meeting below the handle to flatten out into a beautiful silver blade.

The dagger pulsed in my hand, as if matching my own heartbeat, the warmth spreading throughout my fingers and arm. I was thinking, as the many multicolored clouds passed me by, how beautiful it was; what a world of light weight abandon. Then I felt something unexpected; a weight on my body lowering me deeper and deeper beneath the colorful clouds. I was falling quite fast and could barely spot below me an expansive sea, dark and calm. It was pulling me down into its depths and it could not be stopped.

I panicked, my heart ceasing to beat for the briefest moment. My head rushed and my body shook all over. I landed almost too lightly onto the surface, as if I had just stepped into the frightening depths. When my body was pulled under the surface my hands started flailing and my legs kicking. This was the way I was going to die and this realization took over my very being. For the first time, in a very long time, I had felt fear. I tried to push myself to the surface, my lungs becoming strained, my body feeling heavy as it fell further beneath the solid surface. The glimmering light from the world above was fading, and I feared what was hidden in these depths. A sudden surge of warmth filled me and I looked about, straining to see in this darkened place.

Before I could react before me appeared the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. It was pale blue, with a halo of lights around its neck and its eyes were huge luminous green spheres. Small, human shaped, it stared at me curiously, its hand reaching out and touching my cheek. I felt that warming sensation again yet this time it flooded my entire body, leaving me gasping for air. Surprisingly, I could breathe under the thick surface of this water as I sunk deeper and deeper, the beautiful creature staying eye level with me the entire time. I reached my hand out through the water and touched the creature gently on the torso, its eyes going wide.

“You are my master,” said a voice, both distant and close, as if an echo could be heard under water. I looked at the creature and it came closer, its forehead nearly touching my own. “You are my master,” it repeated lyrics in my ears, something harmonious and yet off beat in the way that this was stated.

“Master?” I asked, my voice sounding muffled and distant.

“Yes, you are my master, and I am your blade. I am Enya.”

“Enya?” I repeated, the words slipping from my lips like a whisper.

“Yes, my master, my Phoebe Caligo. I am your blade and will always be beside you,” it hymned, its choppy sentences carrying like an echo within the water, the reverberations making my entire body pulse. I looked about now, astounded to see that my blade was no longer clutched in my hand. Then I looked up at the creature and to my amazement there was a glow about her, as if I knew she was happy.

As if I had known all along, I could read her thoughts, could feel her emotions, knew her next move and for some reason I felt that this was too natural. It was an unexplainable bond and the way she mirrored my movements was graceful, precise, like she knew what I was going to do. It was oddly familiar and somehow I felt as if I knew all that needed to be said. I knew that she was my dagger, my weapon, and my eternal partner until the end.

Death had left my mind and she must have known because she just grinned slightly, her slim mouth turned up in a familiar smirk. Then Enya grabbed me and pulled me toward the surface spinning in circles up and up until finally my lungs had filled with harsh thick air. I was alive again, my eyes snapping open and my breath heavy and rushed as I looked about.

I was standing on the surface of that dark expansive sea, looking at the creature that had just delivered my salvation. She was changing, shifting from what looked like a creature to a mortal, a body with legs and arms appearing before me. Her skin was still a pale green color and her eyes, though large and luminescent were more becoming to her form. The ring of lights that surrounded her neck now shrunk and formed into a single silver necklace. Her hair was long and fine, a beautiful dark blue that bordered on black.

She still grinned at me, an all knowing grin that caught me off guard. As if walking on water wasn’t enough I noticed that a structure was on the horizon. Just a small inconsistency far enough away to overlook but I noticed after a few seconds that it was growing larger.

“Fear not,” Enya assured, watching me still. “It is nothing to fear. It is simply my home. For the longest time I’ve been stuck beneath that dark surface below your feet. Now that I am free I have a home.”

“Free? I did not know you were trapped,” I replied watching as the structure moved closer, a castle-like shape coming into view.

“Well, I was not trapped necessarily,” she replied, shaking her head. “I am a part of you, detached from your own soul and bound to your dagger.”

“That explains the style of the dagger but it doesn’t explain the purpose of our meeting.”

Now the castle was in clear view, a white structure in the shimmering light from the multicolored clouds above. It was a single wall with one tower. A castle was not an accurate description. More like a fortified keep. Enya still grinned at me and then turned to look at her home. “Beautiful, I must admit. I have you to thank for this home.”

“Me?”

“It is a culmination of your will and mine. So, I guess thanks are in order anyway.”

I stood there momentarily, confused at first but then I let it go. It mattered not to me. What mattered was completing the next step of this ceremony that had been entirely forgotten until now.

“That was the next step, and the final step is relatively simple. You just have to return to your world,” Enya chimed in, glancing from the castle to the clouds.

“You can read my mind?”

“Yes and no.”

“Well which is it?” I asked becoming impatient.

“You see, I am a part of you so I can see, hear, and feel everything that you do. This includes thoughts but it is limited,” she replied, walking first to the left then the right; the surface below her never stirred. “I can only do these things when I am physically attached to you. This will be the only time you can see me in my true form. My form, in your realm, is that lovely dagger you subconsciously designed.”

I stood there a moment taking in her words. A few things just didn’t sit well with me. She must have known this cause a quizzical look came into her fine features. She then looked about and sighed. “Well, our time here is limited so I’ll try and answer the lingering questions you have but there are quite a few.”

“I don’t. I get most of it,” I replied hotly, my eyes wandering over her face. “You can’t read my mind without being attached to me as my dagger?”

“Yes, that is right.”

“But what’s the-?”

“Point?” she said, smirking at me now. “Those answers I don’t have. Sorry but I know just as much as you do. Now, I think you’re being called back. It is the final step of the ceremony. Resurfacing from death is not a simple task. Some masters get trapped in their own worlds. We’ll discuss more later because, whether or not you like it, I am a permanent part of you.”

All I could do was nod as I felt my body being pulled back down below the dark surface. I gasped for air again but this time it was the harsh air of reality. I had come back to the stone courtyard and ceremony. Standing over me with his ever present stern look was my father, his eyes glancing over my face.

“Stand Phoebe Caligo and take your oath,” he said, for the first time offering me his hand. My eyes must have gone wide briefly but I quickly reached up and grabbed his palm, the icy cold touch sending shivers down my spine. My other hand went to my stomach where my wound was supposed to be but there was nothing, not even the remote ache of scar or bruise. It had vanished. I stood eye to eye with him and he turned, raising my hand to lead me across the courtyard. My eyes never left his face as he led me, stopping before the base of a great alter of silken curtains.

“Phoebe Caligo!” a voice said, and I tore my gaze away from my father to Master Tabum who was standing in front of the alter, a symbol in his hand. It was a silver cross, just like the one on my cloak but instead of a normal cross there was a circle around it with four similar symbols within each wedge; four different circles, each a different color. “You have been reborn for the sole purpose of becoming a member of the consort class, a warrior of death, and an heir of your household! Do you accept the terms of the following oath?” He then pulled out a scroll, pulling it apart and reading it aloud. “Honor, duty, and family are universal, forever important. I am a tool, disposable until I am deemed worthy to take my rightful place in this world or the next. Do you accept?”

I inhaled deeply, my chest raising slightly as I spoke. “I accept the terms, upon my honor, great Master Tabum.”

 

Author's Note

Does the plot make sense? Hard to read? Does it flow? Anything confusing? Does it hold attention? Dialog too stiff? Does it add to the mystery? Ignore punctuation problems. I add too many commas all the time.

Reviews

[Erik-Bo]

Hello Francis,

Here is my review of your chapter 1. Take what you find useful and please, ignore the rest.

Revision of sentence needed:
‘I just stood there, my long curly brown hair hanging over my dull green eyes; my body became numb to the cold the moment the order was given.’

Very good description: ‘The boy’s large luminous eyes were staring up at me, my own eyes becoming misted with faint tears. I could feel my heart pounding, jolting my small ribcage, my hands now gripping the hilt of the large dagger so tightly that my knuckles whitened.’

I would delete this part of the sentence, since it stops the pace and sounds whimsical for the killing scene.
‘, or at least that’s what I made myself believe.’

I don’t think powerful beings don’t see people who they have killed as ‘victims’ or else they would know they’re evil and guilty. Thus, they would not use the word ‘victim’.
“All for an assortment of reasons both selfish and business. It has come to the point where I forget all of the faces of my nameless victims but I assure you that every victim, every soul, remembers the face of their killer. It is your job to become that face.”

I would change this sentence to impact the point that the main character is a woman.
“I have killed many men, women, and children Phoebe,”
For example: “Phoebe, my beautiful daughter, you must understand and be comfortable with the ugliness we must do to survive and from that, I’ve killed many men, women, and children.”

Excellent paragraph description of a young superbeing in training and the revelation of characters:
My voice was lost, and my thoughts overrun. The blood was pooling around me now as the lifeless body lay at my feet. The pain in my chest was heavy, suppressed with another emotion, one I could not understand. It was a mix of pride and regret, a yearning that grabbed my throat and closed tight around it like a vice. The only words that I could muster to escape my lips were that which I had spoken time and time again, and since then, have treasured. “Yes father.”

I would add ‘Phoebe’ in the following dialogue, to reintroduce the reader to the main character.
“Mistress Phoebe, it is dawn. The master has instructed me to wake you to prepare,”

I think the Phoebe description of getting ready for the ceremony was a bit long and it slowed the pace of the story.

I would add, who is Caligo, in the following sentence if a reader does not read the prologue.
yet I was unable to understand how a daughter of the Caligo could have such pale, unnatural skin.
For example: … how a daughter of the great immortal and the founder of our clan, Caligo, could have such pale, unnatural skin.

The following I think is very important, yet it does not read clearly. Is eating an option? Do they consume mortals, if yes, how? Is being in a human form optional or permanent for these immortals? Are mortals seen and used as servants, from farming to soldiering?
The irony of eating, or performing any humanly function here in this world, was all an act. The ceremony of converting energy into edible delights only proved how dependent we were on the weaker, and mortal, humans. They were nothing but an energy source to me, and since there has never, and will never, be a shortage of mortal souls to pass into death, my craft will never become obsolete.

Is the introduction of ‘the boy’ in this chapter important to the plot, if so, I would give him a name.

When you start the paragraph with the following sentence, is the back story important to mention because it stopped the pace of the ongoing story? Can this back-story be placed at the beginning of other chapter, or can the info be interweaved with the ongoing story?
Sometimes I had enjoyed it, for he had let slip several grins and just once he smiled with pleasure. It was during a fight when I had gotten him off his feet but after a time, and after his male child was born, he began to look down on me and eventually he handed my teaching over to his most trusted colleague, and friend: Bash.

The description of Pheobe’s ceremonial stabbing was very good.

Maybe you can delete this part of the sentence since its unnecessary info.
‘As if the silver handle and bejeweled end was not enough,’

You could delete the following part and merge the following descriptive sentence. ‘the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.’

This dialogue seems unclear, as though Enya knows that Pheobe will not get trapped in their own world. “Those answers I don’t have. Sorry but I know just as much as you do. Now, I think you’re being called back. It is the final step of the ceremony. Resurfacing from death is not a simple task. Some masters get trapped in their own worlds. We’ll discuss more later because, whether or not you like it, I am a permanent part of you.”

Very good end to the chapter and plot, since Phoebe has a new role as member of the consort class, a warrior of death.

I imagine, so far in the story, that Master Tabum is the only being with the power of disappearing and the others are stuck in physical human form.

Overall, you wrote very well with description of the characters and physical action. I could feel the pain of the main character, Pheobe.

Cheers,
Erik

[Francis Bernath]

Again thank you so much. I appreciate every bit of help. Your thorough combing of my first chapter has definitely helped me with what I want to achieve. Thanks again!

[C. Rose]

(No I would not) might make more sense as (No it would not)

In my opinion, the first section should be the prologue, the second section should be the first chapter, and the next section should be chapter two.

Even if you disagree, I've seen some authors on WC with particularly long chapters break them into chapter 1.1 and chapter 1.2 and so on to make it easier for reviewers.

[C. Rose]

Nice hook of highly emotional, but not over the top gory, violence.

We don't need to know the protagonist's eye color. The reader isn't going to remember this detail. It isn't relevant yet. Avoid cliches when you can.

"caked" implies the blood had time to dry.

I like that you delayed indicating the man giving her orders is her father, though you did hint at it at the mention of family.

I only read up to the first -*- for now. Thanks for sharing.

[Francis Bernath]

Thanks so much.
I do have some cliches in there that I'd like to edit and rework. I'm glad you liked the hook. I am hoping to continue with it and publish. I'll have to watch out for some of the problems you've mentioned. I'm really passionate about it so thanks again!