Dearest Lana

Chapter One

Classes And Order Of Status:
{status in society and class determined by the Authorises}

Class Arian: population- 45%
Class Birya: population- 15%
Class Cayra: population-30%
Class Darja: population-10%

{Classes C-D are forbidden to take part in society's norms}

.....

Gentle droplets of rain hit the window of a closed shop in a calming rhythm. The girl looked into the reflection, staring into her own eyes.
Over her left shoulder, light from the sunrise set the rows of grey houses alight. It was honestly the only time her small community would be considered beautiful.
Jasmine Wilson pulled her hood so it hid more of her face, loose brown curls falling messily. Her flushed cheeks stung with cold.
Her vision, slightly blurred by the rain, was drawn to the only wealthy looking building in the area. A small brick building attached between two houses with a '13' on the front door in gold lettering.
She brought up her hand to knock, but the internal battle between her gut and mind made her freeze in the shadows of the house.
Closing her eyes, she knocked three times, gentle the first and gradually getting louder as her bravery increased. Whether she was imagining it or not, she heard a raspy voice from inside, calling her to join him.
Inside the house the interior was old fashioned, and Jasmine found herself standing in a long corridor, abstract paintings decorating the dark blue walls.
"Hello?"
Jasmine got no answer. A sudden panic grew inside her as she wondered if she had just wandered into a house, one that she had been told never to visit.
"Hello?"
She called again, this time much louder as she remembered the owner of the house was fairly old. Jasmine's 'brother' had told her he was Class Birya, the class of the second best and most unusual of all society.
"Yes?"
The reply came slowly, the voice raspy and Jasmine thought it was how she'd expect a snake to speak, if that was possible. She hesitated, wondering if it would be easier to just run out the door. But the message replayed in her head: meet me at 6:32, no later, no earlier.
"You, er, asked to meet?"
Jasmine brought her hand to the fabric of her dress, nervously stroking the soft hem and running her finger along the daisy embroidery.
The man who arranged the meeting stepped out from the shadows of his unlit house, into the weak light of a gas lamp on his desk.
"That I did."
His only reply made Jasmine want to press him, yet something told her she wasn't finished speaking. He gave a cough, one that started as merely clearing his throat but erupted into a fit of low coughs and gasps.
"Sorry.
And yes my dear, I did summon you to me. I find you unusual, a low rank like myself yet you possess the raw abilities of an Arian. What do you plan on using your abilities for, farming like the rest of your foster family?"
Jasmine stiffened. It had been a secret that she wasn't born to Timothy and Jane Wilson. Luckily, she bore a strong resemblance to their daughter, Marie, and their three sons, Sam, Marcus and Ki. She shifted away from the man slowly.
"How did you know?"
The man narrowed his straight eyebrows so a crease formed in between them. He tilted his head slightly, as if taking in her size, height and appearance.
"I know everything about you.
But that's not important. I'm here to offer you a chance you can't refuse. I will help you find your real parents. Then, you must compete in the Test. Harness the ability of the S.O.U.L."
"Really?"
Jasmine didn't know much, but she knew about the S.O.U.L. When their souls were taken, they were replaced by Society Organising Unjust Liberties. Yet, this inbuilt system offers some a glitch, a malfunction. They get a piece of their soul, the piece that's called the 'libertatem candentis' or 'candtatem' for short.
"Are you...
...are you saying I haven't lost my candtatem? But that's impossible. It can't be true. I'm only a Cayran. They possess no talents, abnormalities or abilities, that's why they're completely outcasted."
"If you didn't remember, you weren't actually born into the Wilsons. Your parents, actual parents, might not have been Cayran. Maybe Arian, or Biryan like myself."
Jasmine frowned.
It was true, this man's theory was only his own and may not be remotely true or possible yet she found herself believing him. Stepping closer to him for the first time in her visit, she narrowed her eyes.
"What's in it for you? There's no way you would offer to help me for no reason. I've heard lots about the Biryans, they are selfish and will only do something that benefits themselves. There's got to be something you want."
The man smiled.
"You call my class selfish, yet others call yours standard and dull. You, Miss Wilson, are far from both those things."
Jasmine didn't respond.
The Biryan gave her a small smile and went towards the front door, opening it and getting in light for the first time. Jasmine winced at the brightness. It had stopped raining and had probably been sunny for a while, as the ground was now dry with no sign of earlier rainfall.
Jasmine walked out into the streets again.
"Well then, Miss Wilson, if you still want my help, I'll see you at 10. Sharp."
With that, he watched the teenager begin to walk back home. He could almost see the burning questions and hope flying around her mind.