Vanished (I LUV U.) - Abide With Me Book 1

Prologue

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Well, okay. Baka medyo malalim yung english, pero sana magustuhan niyo po 'to! :D

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PROLOGUE



May 20, 1497

     Thirteen-year old Alaya was about to be married. She looked herself in the tall gold-framed mirror. An orange lily above one’s ear is a cultural sign of happiness. Still, she couldn’t find a reason to smile. Her culture seemed to be fond of young girl’s belly buttons. The long sleeve undershirt she wore barely reached to her waist. A notch in her white vest exposed her navel. At least her silk skirt reached down to the ground. Alaya won’t be having any men admiring her fair-skinned legs today.

     “Atz,” Anita called, “I hate this maroon vest! My navel’s getting cold!”

     She approached the mirror and sneered at her elegant royal hairstyle as well as the red passion flower clinging to the back of her head. Her tartan skirt made her legs itch really bad. The gold braces on her wrists and ankles seemed okay though.

     “Anita, you are royalty,” Alaya said. “You should try acting like one.”

     “But atz!” she whined. “I am a warrior!”

     “In-training,” her sister added. “We both are.”

     Alaya and Anita looked at the black bands on their heads. Their stylists have expertly hidden them in their hair, but the part that had a red “Z” dyed on still showed. Both siblings have pledged never to remove them for the rest of their lives. Anita was very proud of it. Her sister, on the other hand, wished she never had it.

     “What if I did not become a jorean?” Alaya asked. “Would my life have never come to this?”

Anita bumped her with an elbow. “Being a warrior is one thing, but being a warrior who commands fire? How can you not want to be a fire-jorean? To control one of the eight elements has been my one and only dream!”

     She giggled, before whispering, “That is your dream, not mine.”

     “Then, atz, what is yours?”

     Alaya clenched her fists for a moment. “Not this.”

     The sisters walked to the ten-meter tall tepee’s entrance. They poked their heads out to see more tepees scattered everywhere, blocking the view of the great grasslands beyond.

     Anita looked up to the sky. “A sunny day,” she muttered. “Great Gnomon is smiling upon you and Inigo.”

     Despite what she said, Alaya still couldn’t smile.

     “D-do you really believe such beings exist?”

     Her sister shushed her. “Great Gnomon will turn you to ashes if you keep saying such things!” she hissed.

     The younger sibling’s voice may be frightening, but Alaya still had her doubts. She had so many things in her mind that she failed to notice the murmurs of excitement in the Hachen Village. Everyone was smiling and singing for their dear princess. If only they knew how she really felt. At least those peasant girls gossiping in the corner can refuse a man they didn’t want. What if she was born a peasant girl? Would her life still be as bad as it is now?

     “Atz?” Anita slowly said. “If I get married, can I still be a warrior?”

     Her sister wrapped her long fair arms around her and rested her chin on her head. “If only that were true,” she whispered.

     For the first time in eleven years, a sad tear rolled down Anita’s cheek. Before it could leave her face, kind Alaya wiped it away.

     “I thought warriors do not cry,” Alaya said.

Anita didn’t answer.

     She knelt down on the ground, not caring whether her long, white skirt would get smeared with mud. The sisters met eye-to-eye. Only now did Alaya find a reason to smile: to cheer her sister up.

     “Do not cry, warrior,” Alaya said with watery eyes. “It is too late for me now, but you still have a long time before you wear a bridal outfit. Live your dream while you still can.”

     A breeze entered the tepee. The sisters looked and saw a bald man standing by the tent’s entrance. This twenty-one year old looked young and fit. His white tribal groom outfit made him seem like a gentleman. But his sharp black eyes told a very, very different story.

     “Inigo,” Alaya said with a fake smile, “what are you doing here?”

     “Making sure my bride is looking her best,” he proclaimed.

     “Stand up!” he yelled. Alaya was nearly thrown back by the shock. “I do not want to be thought of as marrying a peasant girl at my wedding!”

     Alaya could only manage a nod. Inigo carved another smile on his strangely angelic face. He closed the tent flaps before meeting with the peasant girls in the corner.

     “Is he always like that?” Anita asked.

     “No,” Alaya replied. “Only today does he seem so brutal. And yet he was so nice when I laid eyes on him.”

     Another breeze entered the tepee. A young, skinny bald guy in his teens peered inside. His gorgeous black eyes, thick eyebrows and five o’ clock shadow made Anita blush. She immediately looked away in shyness with Alaya covering her giggling mouth. It was Edur, the peasant boy who served as her parents’ butler. If only he wasn’t a peasant boy then Anita would, without a doubt, marry him. She wanted to see his face one more time, but when she looked, Edur’s eyes were marveling at her atz’s beauty.

     “Princess Alaya,” Edur eagerly said with blushes, “the wedding is about to start!”

     The bride gulped. The moment was finally upon her. Before leaving, Alaya whispered to her dear sister, “If anything wrong should take place, do not hesitate to help me.”

     Anita nodded. She watched her atz breathe her last breath of freedom. The bride brushed off some dirt and stray grass from her skirt and then left with the Edur.

     At that instant, the younger sibling wiped away her tears. She took a deep breath and then grinned in a sinister way.

     Why should I help you, atz? she thought.  Why is it that to our parents, I am the best, but to the eyes of the people, to the eyes of Edur, you will always be the most beautiful!?

     A bright blaze attracted Anita’s attention. She looked down on her right arm and saw faint wisps of fire emanating from her wrist. Anita ran to the flames and placed her hand above it. Slowly, the flame crept up to her fingers, then to her palm, then to her wrist and then finally into her skin. A slight burning sensation made Anita pull back. When she did, the fire was all but gone.

     It was only then did she realize she had set the portrait of her elder sister on fire. Now, even the gold frames themselves seemed melted. Where Alaya’s face was once was now a gaping hole in the parchment. She stared at it with disbelief.

     What has envy turned me into?             

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