Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Margie, wake up. It's your birthday!" my smallest sister Posie whispered loudly into my ear while shaking my thin hand rapidly back and forth. "Birthday, birthday, birthday!"

            "Alright, Posie," I whispered with my eyes half closed and a gigglish grin on my face. Pushing the strands of hair out of my view, I swept my legs to the side and pulled Posie onto my lap into a tight hug. She was only six years old, youngest girl in our family, and reminded me of myself. She had long and wavy dirty blonde hair and big, blue eyes that wandered around excitedly. She was the sweetest of my brothers and sisters.

            I had four siblings altogether. Jax was the oldest, fifteen, and he was quiet and mature. Lilee came next with ten years, and was loud and obnoxious, always complaining. Then there was Posie, and behind her Matthieu, who was only two years and whined at us for attention if we even began to turn away. They were a handful, but I loved them until the ends of the Earth.

            "Mother's made us drop biscuits and eggs, your favorite. And Papa has a surprise! A big, big surprise," Posie announced, holding her chubby hands tight around my neck and kissing me messily on the forehead. I couldn't imagine life without my sweet little Posie. She always woke me up on my birthday, not ceasing her act until I was up and about, joining the celebration. Today I would be eighteen years, old enough to leave my family and move on. But I didn’t want to, and had decided on staying. There was nothing out in this dreary land for me.

            "Happy birthday, Margaretta!" my mother peeped by the door frame and whispered. I didn’t see her face, but something about her voice was sad and weak. I wrapped my arms tight around Posie and carried her up and into the kitchen where a sumptuous breakfast awaited us. Jax and Lilee were already eating, eager to fill themselves up for a day at school �" Lilee’s only year of school.

            “Happy birthday, Margaretta,” Jax mumbled with a full mouth of food. He wasn’t excited or happy, like he usually was on days of celebration. It was frightening to me, but I held my smile and my chipper mood and pulled out a chair for me and Posie, sitting down into it with her.

            "Thank you, Jax. I appreciate it.”

            Father walked in then with Matthieu, ready to set him into his high chair and stuff him with a hearty breakfast. His face was solemn as he placed my little brother down and picked up his own fork for eating. Something strange was coming about that I wasn’t informed of. My stomach grew tight and queasy, and I laid down my fork as mother came in with a suspicious smile. From behind her back she pulled a fragrant white rose and stuck it gently behind my ear.

“It's beautiful," I inched out, the sweet smell of the rose quenching my aching tummy. The rose was a sweet gift. My mother knew how I loved roses. I looked up to thank her, but her eyes were narrow and tired, the rims threatening to spill tears. I caught my breath and looked to Lilee, who sat with a grin and a satisfied expression. She was fine and chipper, like Posie, but everyone else was silent as we ate, moving their arms up and down like they were being controlled by some outside force. Spoons clanked against oatmeal bowls. Milk was downed in seconds. Every breath that was taken was heard.

            "Jax, remember what I told you. Now take the kids and go," my father muttered when we'd finished. Something was desperately wrong, and Jax knew what it was. The way he stood and picked up Matthieu brought tears to my eyes and I tightened my grip on Posie in my lap. Jax offered a hand to Posie but she wrapped her soft arms around my neck and burrowed her head into my chest. I wasn’t the only one scared.

“Posie, I love you,” was all I could say before Jax pried her squirming body off of me and dragged her to the door. Lilee followed Jax like a lost puppy towards the door, looking back at me with worry and fear. She knew things weren’t right, but she listened to what she was told.I watched as Jax left our country cottage, not turning back to see my distressed my face.

"What's the matter? What's going on?" I demanded as my father got up and paced the ground worriedly. My mother sat back down next to me, holding her head in her palms.   

            "We have to tell you something, Margie," father whispered.

            My mother looked intently at the wood grain of the table, not wanting to face me. Something wasn't right with them. In their eyes I noticed something familiar. It was the same look they had when they heard the news of Timothy, our neighbor, falling down the well, and snapping his neck in half. They cried for days. I cried for days. Timothy was my best friend.

            He had always been my best friend; since the day of first meeting each other until the age of fourteen. Timothy was strong and smart, and he listened to me. He listened to my opinions about school and books, and helped me with anything. Our favorite thing to do was picnic by the brook and stay there until our parents had the entire town looking for us. It might have been cruel, but it gave us a laugh. We occupied ourselves by telling stories and spotting constellations in the pitch dark sky.

            Many of the kids teased us when we were in school, claiming we were sweet on each other. Truth was, there wasn't anything romantic between me and Timothy. It might've seemed so, but there wasn't. The only time I ever thought there was, was about a week before he died. It was our last time down by the brook, and he kissed me. I wasn't sure what to do, but it certainly made our friendship awkward. That was the last time we were together.

            It was then a week later when his brother dropped something down their well, and he tried to get it, but slipped, and landed in a way that broke his neck. I remember being outside when they pulled him out, and I saw him, pale and lifeless. The image struck me cold. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I was practically paralyzed in terror for weeks. And now, my parents looked almost dead as they began to explain to me what was happening.

            "Your real name is not Margaretta."

            "We are not your real parents."

            "You weren't born here."

            "We're part of The Ignateous."

            "You're what?" I had to interrupt. My heart was completely frozen and my eyes glazed over. I felt something funny rise up within me, telling me to be still, to calm down, a powerful surge running through my veins. My fingertips tingled and my body went cold as I remembered the things I had read over a year ago, coming back to haunt me.

            "We’ve known about the books in the tree, Margie. It was Jax. Jax knows what we know," my mother explained as calmly as she could. Every bone in my body wanted me to scream, but nothing came out.

            "Why do you have The Ignateous?" I began, fearfully recalling the treasonous book I'd skimmed. My brain swam with question after question."What's my real name? And why am I not with my parents? What haven't you told me?" My voice quivered and shook like an earthquake. I couldn't believe this wasn't my real family. They were loving and sweet, raising me like any parent would’ve. The fact that Posie and I looked alike was just a coincidence. I'd never even considered myself possibly adopted because I was so like my siblings and parents in appearance.

            They looked at each other with painfully, not saying anything.

            "Tell me!" I started to raise my voice, standing up from my chair, tears rolling down my cheeks. Anger flowed throughout me and I felt the need to throw something hard across the room, but there was nothing nearby."Has my entire life been a lie then? A lie?"

            "No, Margie, calm down. We want to explain," my mother wrapped her arms around me, calling me Margie, which felt cold and fake. I pulled away. "You do have real parents, they're waiting for you elsewhere. You aren't adopted, but only with us for protection. We haven't told you because the secret is too dangerous. Your name is changed for a reason."

            Nothing they were saying made sense to me. Father stood up and pulled a big dark mahogany case from underneath one of the floorboards, placing it on the table. The gold lock on the box looked familiar, and when he flipped it open, there laid The Ignateous.

            "Why are you showing me this?" I said softly. The entire ordeal was scaring me and I shivered. I stood and threw my chair to the side.

            "Because we're trying to explain to you who you are," father murmured his face now serious and brow furrowed. This didn’t make sense. Who could I possibly be? And then the thought struck me.

            I began backing up towards the wall, horrified and afraid of what they were going to say next. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire and caused me to ache. I squeezed my eyes shut and clawed the wall behind me, bracing myself for their answer.

            "You’re the daughter Felcity,” my father forced me to hear this, taking my hands and shaking them. “The prophesized!”

            "How do you know I'm the prophesized?" I screamed in anger at them, refusing to believe what they'd told me. “The Ignateous is treason against our Kings! I could report you!”

            "Do that and you'll die,” my so-called mother cried out to me. “He knows who you really are now! He will torture you more furiously than ever, Felicity! Please believe us that you are Her!”

            Everything around me was spinning. Every part of me hurt. This couldn't be the truth. That story that I read long ago felt so wrong to me. The person they called Felicity so distant and unknown. Yet I was her? I sunk onto the cold brick floor and dug my head in between my knees, letting these people carry on their argument to me.

            "The reason we are telling you this now is because someone has told of you to the King, and he has men coming here to take you back him," the man I had called my father rushed out more hurriedly than I had expected. He made it seem like time was running out. Was it?

            "You're letting me go with those people? Torture and death? This is what you're leaving me to?" I said desperately, trying to think that all of this was just a bad nightmare, even though I knew it wasn’t.

            "We already have a rescue team in Kingsland prepared to get you. But you're going to have to hold tight until then. The entire thing has to be quiet or they’ll kill more people. No struggle. Do you understand?" my father continued on. My mother was too in shock to speak. Their sincerity made it harder for me to accept these things.

            "You want me to give myself away to them? Just let them hurt me?" I responded like a whimpering toddler. That was the only way I knew how to react. I felt like every part of me was being compromised.

            "Be strong, you have the will and heart �"”

            But mother was cut off from her sentence by a loud crash and a billow of smoke and dust around the doorframe. My vision was a blur as strange muscular men ran inside with dark eyes and knives and swords poised at us. Seconds later, above me was a filthy one with hatred smeared across his face, and blood lust in his eyes. He shoved his sword deep and even deeper into the skin of my neck, causing a trickle to start beneath my chin. I breathed and the dust settled around me. My heart was beating faster than it ever had before and I felt so choked up. Today was my eighteenth birthday, and this was my big surprise.

            "Are you - " the big soldier began, pushing his sword so gently into my tiny wound he already made " �" the daughter Felicity?" His growl when he spoke my true name made me sick to my stomach with worry and desperation. What was to become of me?

            "Yes," I whispered clearly, but as soon as he heard my answer, he drove his sword deep into the side of my neck, causing me to wince so loud I thought I had broken my own ears. The pain was unlike any I'd ever experienced before. It was fresh and sharp, the blades of the sword deadly against my skin, cold and unbearable. I forgot everything that was happening around me and tried not to cry, to let those tiny little tears escape from my blue eyes.

 But the private consolation did not last long. Someone yanked my left arm so hard I thought he had pulled it from my socket, flinging me into the strong grip of another person’s arms. I felt like my head was lolling about my neck, the area around the wound getting remarkably numb. I closed my eyes tight and drifted into unconsciousness, not awake long enough to see ‘mother’ and ‘father's’ fate. My last thought was about safety. I wanted safety for everyone. I was thrown into some kind of important game - a creature of my own destiny.

 

Reviews

[Tkmilling]

Again, well written and concise!
I think you may have squeezed too much storyline into one chapter, but the structure is great and Margeretta is a well created character with real warmth. There seemed to be real emotion put into this story.

Suggestions; "gigglish" this doesn't seem to fit with Margaretta's personality(she seems too smart, too independent to be "gigglish" )

"wandered around excitedly" there is no need for 'around'
Similar to the prologue this would benefit from some refining but again is very well written and enjoyable to read. I'm obviously no editor, so please feel free to disregard my comments, but I feel that with a few tweaks this could be a beautifully crafted story.

There is real characterisation which is good, I feel you really get to know Margaretta and the small world she currently inhabits, though I can't wait to read further chapters when Margaretta's world is broadened.

Well written, enjoyable, well done!!
Tkm