Reaper - Fault Lines

1. Azraela

The bright light stung Azraela's eyes as she clambered from the mines to take a rest. She'd been working all day, trying to avoid the repercussions of appearing lazy, but after waking before dawn on very little sleep and mining away for eight hours already she was exhausted. Her muscles ached and her hands felt weak from swinging her pickaxe. She threw herself down by the clan's only well, staring down into the water at her reflection. Her eyes looked tired, her long ebony hair looked dull and she was beginning to appear quite unwell. Her father had always told her that her clan was strong. They were warriors. In comparison, he would often label her as weak and pathetic. 'It might help if I wasn't worked to the bone.' She thought bitterly.

In her exhaustion, she slipped into a daydream; one where she was far away from her home. It was difficult to imagine the world outside of the Beltane territory. Everything was dark and bland. There were no real trees or lush grass, aside from the one patch of woodland that hid the docks from her view. No animals would stay long. It felt as though the land was poisoned. The nearby volcano didn't help with the harsh conditions at the encampment, although it was what made their mines so valuable. The constant simmering of lava below the surface made an ideal climate for valuable gems to grow. It just showed that even in the harshest and most hazardous environments, something beautiful could still flourish. After that thought left her mind she dreamed of green fields and wide open expanses. And the sea! She'd heard of open waters stretching across the entire world. Oh, how she'd love to sail one day...

"Hey, Scrappy!" Attie called at her over the barbed wire fence. She was snapped violently out of her daydream and hastily checked her surroundings before making her way over to him. She ducked through the gap under the fence and grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his jacket, dragging him behind a conveniently stacked pile of boulders just off the track and began to scold him.

"What are you doing here?" She hissed. "I told you it's dangerous! If my father catches you-"

"Relax, Scrappy. If he's anything like you he can't be all that big and scary." He rolled his eyes at her as he spoke and she growled to herself at his flippant behaviour. The boy was infuriatingly careless.

Azraela had met Attie a year before. She'd been attempting to escape in the night but hearing someone crashing through the dry brush had frightened her. The next day he'd come back, curious to see the young woman who'd run for her life at the sight of him. Atticus Wolfe was a strangely charismatic young lad with snow white hair and striking blue eyes. He was the first person she had ever met outside of her clan and at first she had taken a fervent disliking to him. He was cocky, but over the months he showed his sweet side. They would sometimes meet in the woods in the dead of night and play his childish games, of he would play his lute or read to her by the light of a fire. They would also play-fight. Azraela always lost...

"Are you listening, Scrappy?" Attie pinched her ear, dragging her out of her own mind.

"Ow! Yea, I'm listening." She grumbled impatiently. "And how many times have I told you? It's not Scrappy, it's Azraela. Az-Rah! You don't like it when I call you Atticus."

"Yeah, but Scrappy suits you better." He chuckled, giving her a playful nudge. "Y'know, because you're an aggressive little shit."

Azraela had to admit, she liked Attie. He was loud and rude, and quite frankly annoying, but he was her first and only friend in this desolate world of hers.

Attie presented her with a small cloth bag full of coloured glass balls. The perfect spheres glistened as the light hit them.

"I learned a new game." He told her proudly. "I wanted to show you!"

Azraela's heart welled a little knowing that he'd thought of her like that.

The two spent the next twenty minutes in their hiding spot, living in their own little world. He taught her how to play his game, drawing a circle in the dirt and placing two of the balls either side. The aim was to knock your opponents ball out of the circle without losing your own. He beat her every time.

"Come on Scrappy, you can do better than that!" Attie mocked. When Azraela pouted, he chuckled and poured some of them into a separate bag. "Here." He murmured, handing them to her. "For practice while I'm gone." His mouth twitched into a wolfish smirk and he stood up to leave, brushing the dirt from his trousers. "So I know you're worried your dad will catch me, so did you want to meet in the woods next time? Tomorrow night, maybe?"

Azraela nodded, smiling to herself. Now she had something to look forward to!

That night while she was packing the last of the mining tools away she had a rare smile on her face. She daydreamed of the reprieve of seeing Attie again. Her elation didn't las long, however, as a large shadow darkened the doorway of the tool shed.

"What are you up to." Memphis snarled. His beady eyes burned with rage already.

"N-nothing, Father." She murmured subserviently. "I'm just cleaning up."

"Some of the other miners said you disappeared this afternoon." He growled. "Where were you?"

Oh no! Her legs trembled and she bowed her head in submission.

"I left the mines to get a drink." She lied. "Then I got distracted tidying some of the gems that had fallen from one of the barrels so they wouldn't get lost. I really wasn't gone for very long-"

She was cut off when he dragged her from the shed by the back of her shirt. Her stomach wrenched as he dragged her into their home and shoved her roughly into the kitchen table.

"You do not leave your post! Do you understand?" He roared. Azraela flinched, keeping her eyes to the floor while she nodded mutely. She recognised the look in his eyes, and it wasn't a good one.

Memphis reached for the steel tipped whip on his belt and Azraela fought against the urge to hyperventilate.

"Please, don't!" She begged. His glazed eyes darkened into black and he slapped her across the face.

"Take your shirt off and put your hands on the table." He ordered her. "This is what you deserve, girl."

She knew better than to fight him on this. It would only make her punishment worse. She did as she was told, tears streaming down her face as she braced her hands against the rough wood of the table. The tip of the whip tore through her back and she bit her tongue to keep from screaming in agony. He must have been feeling merciful as he only lashed her once before ordering her to get out of his sight and never leave her post again.

The next day was especially unpleasant. The mines were hot, yet somehow outside was just as awful. It was mid-summer and the sun bore down on them while she and the other youngsters in the clan went about their gruelling daily routine. When night fell and the temperature dropped, Azraela was relieved that she would soon get to see a friendly face. She fetched the pouch of glass marbles from where she had hidden it behind her wardrobe and snuck out through her bedroom window.

When she met Attie, it wasn't long before his usual complaining started. "I still don't understand why we have to meet in secret." He grumbled. "What kind of girl isn't allowed friends?"

"You don't get it, Attie. If I'm caught with you or outside of the clan at all my dad might just kill me." Azraela whimpered. The memory of her father's cruel steel tipped whip was still fresh in her mind. Attie sighed and held his hands up in surrender, grumbling "Fine."

They played marbles for a while, nestled in the scorched grass while the cool night breeze brushed their skin. They were soon bored, however, and resorted to chasing one another through the trees.