Children of the Citadel

chapter 1

Her. My sister.

The words echoed in my mind as I rested my forehead against the wall, the freezing steel slick with moisture. And that voice that had spoken them... it was like the birds.

Through the dim light, not originating from any natural source, I peered out into the hallway, listening for any signs of life in the darkness. Nothing but the slow, casual dripping of water prevented complete silence.

My sister.

I wondered how long I would be kept down here until someone was sent to retrieve me. If someone was sent to retrieve me, that is. I prayed to The Messiah, seeking the answer, but there was no response, no sign. Surely there had been some purpose behind my sister's decision. I could only hope I would had the chance to ask her.

- - -

a week prior

The cool wind caressed what little of my skin was exposed to the air. It was only a moment's walk to cross the courtyard, but I admit that I wasn't dressed properly for braving the outdoors on a Spring morning. There wasn't time to regret my choice of dress, however - I was late, and I could not be late for this. I entered the veranda on the side of the courtyard opposite from the library, where I had been prior to realizing the time. I was in my bedroom within a minute. I rustled through drawer after drawer until realizing that the dress I was looking for and had planned to wear had already been laid out on my bed - by myself, this morning. I huffed a breath as I made for it, my apron dress already half-stripped off of me.

The dress I was about to replace it with was equally simple, but an air of formality was required at my next destination. Though no one would see it, I had chosen a modest, yellow tunic dress. There was little to do in regards to my appearance beyond that; acolytes were not meant to accentuate our physical bodies. I rapidly brushed through my hair, though it too would be hidden for the majority of the rite. Changing my shoes was not necessary - the shapeless black slip-on shoes worn by all acolytes would be as suited to this as they were to holing up in the library. After sliding the new dress over my bare body, I returned to my wardrobe and retrieved my habit robe, a thick willowing garment of violet and silver. It reached beyond my ankles, covering every inch of skin, save for my face. That would soon be remedied. As I slipped out of my bedroom and began to make my way towards the Citadel, I pulled the hood of my robe, sitting limp at the precipice of my back, over my head and hair. Finally, I stuck my hand behind my ear and fiddled around inside the hood until I grasped the piece of fabric I was seeking and gently removed one end of it from the hood, pulling it over my nose and mouth and fastening it to a clip on the other side of the hood. Without having looked in a mirror for months, I knew exactly what I looked like; a figure clad from head to toe in shimmering violet, nose and mouth covered by a silver rag-sized portion of fabric donned with the seal of The Messiah - a raven. The only unique quality by which I could be distinguished from another, and the only part of my body visible, was my thin hazel eyes. My footsteps were the only sound in the veranda as I broke into a jog, determined to make it to my place on time. There were no windows in the halls, only gaping but intentional breaks between pillars, connected by railings against which one could stand and observe the land that surrounded the compound. This particular hall was the southernmost, flanked only by farmland. If I were to take the northern hall upon my return, the view would be quite different, homes and shops scattered amongst the massive downward slope south of the Royal Palace.

The city that lay beyond the compound was Messivita, a thriving, sprawling city, the largest of the few situated around the water-locked continent. Messivita, the oldest of them all, had been founded at the mouth of the river of Illamore, the namesake of the rather large island itself, where it met the sea. The city was old enough that no one could remember who had founded it, but it was universally recognized as the informal capital city of Illamore as it held the Royal Palace, the seat of political power. I had been there only once, when me and my sister underwent the Rite of Age. A shiver ran down my spine each time that particular memory surfaced. I was grateful that my younger siblings were never to be subjected to such things. They were just normal kids.