The Last Light

Chapter 1 - Ezra

Looking in the mirror, sweat runs down my face, and some of the little flyaways are stuck to my forehead. I move my gaze and scan my body, my semi-muscular build outlined by sweatpants and a tank top. Looking away before the thoughts turn negative, I turn my head and channel my focus on the punching bag in front of me. The chalk rests in a bowl on a little table close by. I rechalk my untapped hands. Getting in my ready stance, I take another punch to the bag.

My previously broken knuckles bleed. The sting of the open wounds repeatedly hitting the vinyl brings a sense of calm. I enjoy finally being in control of the pain I am feeling. I take advantage of every chance I get to be in control. Being in control gives you this power; you can dictate what happens. I keep punching the bag.

The repetition, the sound of my hands repetitively hitting the bag. I'm so focused that I don't hear the click from the opening door. Thud, thud, thud, my hands keeping a steady pattern; I count to two in my head-counting one when the right hand hits and two when the left hand hits.

"ehem," I hear from across the room. Jumping at the sound, my heart nearly pounded out of my chest. I snap my head towards what made the noise. I let out a breath of relief when I realized it was my youngest brother, Phoenix.

"Phoenix, you bitch! You scared the shit out of me!" my voice leaked of joking, anger and sarcasm. I grabbed my towel off the chair, and I continued to wipe the fresh blood off my knuckles. I walk over to him. He was taller than me, maybe by a half foot. Phoenix stood at six feet two inches. I playfully punched his arm as I neared him.

"Ahhhh," Phoenix jokingly screams, adding a couple of sarcastic remarks, "Who knows, maybe one day you can actually leave a mark, Ezra."

I scoffed at his statement, "Smartass."

I would never say it out loud, but Phoenix meant a lot to me. I would take a bullet for him anytime. We moved to the Americas when we were just children. Our parents wouldn't tell us why we moved from Italy, but here we are, my siblings and I, against the world. We go back every summer to visit our Nonno and Nonna. I snap back into reality upon hearing my name.

"Ezra!" Phoenix raised his voice, continuing, "Anyway, I came to inform you that Father requested your presence in his office." I sat there dumbfounded.

"Tell the old man to wait," I seethed. Phoenix just shook his head.

"It seemed important, sorella," Phoenix insisted.

"Tell him I'll be there soon," I coaxed with clenched teeth. I picked up my dagger's sleeve and attached it around my waist. I had a beautiful dagger with a diopside handle and a gold emblem at the end of it. The dagger had a pentagram with wings separating the handle from the blade. The blade was 12 inches of carbon engraved with gold and green swirls. I protected this dagger with my life. It was a gift from my mother when I first started my training. I placed it carefully in its sleeve on my right hip so I could easily grab it with my left hand. I walked past my brother with my head held high. As I exited the room, I exhaled a breath I didn't know I was holding. I walked through the elegant halls of our Castle.

The floors are decorated with patterned tiles. Making different geometric shapes. They are all shades of brown and white. The stone and tall walls make the ceiling high, as that's how it works. The ceiling has beams of wood supporting it. They are stained a dark brown, contrasting with the white ceiling. The walls are lined with portraits and paintings. Sometimes, there's greenery or flowers in a pot on a little table. I absolutely love walking past the plants. I have granted most of the plants names. It gives me more reason to walk through the halls decorated with more little tables topped with plants. The little tables have intricate metal flowers going up the legs. The top is a circle piece of wood engraved with swirls and flowers. It was so beautifully hand-crafted. Every table looks different.