The Torn

Prologue

Written by Abi

Orabella Hyman opened her cornflower blue eyes and looked to her left. There in a huge cocoon of duvets was her twin sister, Anja. Her ginger-brown hair was in a sweaty halo around her pale face. Ora pushed her slightly darker brown hair back and shot out of bed, her small feet slapping loudly on the oak wood floor of their shared room.

"Anja!" She hissed, "Anja, wake up!" No reaction. Sigh. Anja was always like this. Always asleep. She was abnormal for a 5 year old was Anja. Always sleeping, a total pessimist, constantly too cold and (to her parents distress) much to harshly sarcastic for any 13 year old, let alone a 5 year old!

"Anja!" Ora was impatient now. She wasn't know for patience. She shook her twin by the shoulder, first gently but it quickly progressed to violence. This finally woke her up.

"Leave me alone Ora," moaned Anja. Her small face was scrunched up with tiredness and irritation.

"But Anja," Ora drew out the name in an irritatingly whiney way," It's our birthday and Mummy won't let me open my presents without you!" Pulling a sad face and a whiney voice would've worked on anyone else, but not Anja. She was insistently grumpy and there was nothing on earth that would get Anja out of her bed before 9. Well, nearly nothing.

5 minutes later Ora returned with their Father, Conlon Hyman, brother of the King of the colony who came in and began to tickle his daughter under the ribs. Anja burst into a scream of laughter and thrashed under her fathers hands. Behind him, Ora couldn't control her laughter either.

"Daddy!" cried Anja ,"Daddy, stop!" she managed to gasp between giggles. He did. Anja sat up and scowled at them both. She crossed her arms and glared. But Ora was there, smiling at her, and she couldn't help but break into a huge grin too.

"Betrayal," she said to Ora, a giggle slipping out of her lips. Her father laughed too and lifted her out of her little cocoon. Anja instantly toddled over to her wardrobe and picked a mustard sweater off the floor. Pulling it over her head, her father picked up the twins and proceeded to carry them out of the room.

Downstairs their mother was waiting amidst a mountain of wrapped goodies. Their mother, Dysia had her long wavy hair plaited in a swirl at the back of her head. Conlon would later that day refer to it as a cinnamon swirl due to the ginger-brown colour of her hair, just like Anja's. A light spattering of freckles made her nose look soft. Ora had those freckles too, and both twins had their fathers cornflower blue eyes. Ora also had her fathers darker brown hair but her mothers waves. Anja had her mothers soft features while Ora has her fathers strong jaw and large lips. Thought Anja and Ora were twins, they weren't identical. They would later find that Ora also had her fathers height while Anja was more average.

"Happy birthday my beautiful girls!" Dysia smiled and threw out her arms. Conlon put the girls down and they ran into their mothers waiting arms. She smelled like lavender soap and lemon shower gel. Those smells would later become extremely important to the young girls.

"Mummy, Mummy, can we open our presents now?" asked Ora, Anja nodding beside her.

"Of course my lovelies," and before Dysia had finished her sentence the girls were on those presents like vultures on fly ridden meat.

Anja was the first to get to her ceremonial dress. Because that was the day of the wing ceremony. On each angels 5th birthday, when the turn exactly 5 years of age, at 4:38pm and 4:55pm the young angels would grow their wings. So Anja would have to wait till 17 minutes after Ora to grow hers.

Anja's dress was mainly white with buttercup yellow trimmings. Contrary to her personality, yellow was her favourite colour. The dress was a white silk top with spaghetti straps and a poofy, lace skirt down to Anja's shins. It was backless. There was a buttercup yellow silk belt around the stomach that attached the two fabrics seamlessly. There were matching yellow ballet flats.

Ora's dress was different. It was all silk and floor length. It also had spaghetti straps, a swooping neckline at the back and matching ballet flats (these a minty blue). There was a satin belt of the same shade with a silver broach that had a long, satin strip swirling down to the floor in a blue cascade.

At 3 o'clock Dysia got the two girls into their ceremonial clothes. She plaited Anja's hair in two Dutch braids and Ora's into milkmaid braids. She added blue glitter to Ora's face because she insisted and then made Anja have it too so that they matched, only hers golden. They were at the palace by 4 and ready for when the ceremony started at 4:15.

The ceremonial hall was huge and grand. The ceiling was high and domed and tiled in swirls of beautifully skilled paintwork. There were high windows at the far end of the room and glittering thrones of gold and silver at the other. On them sat King Varick and Queen Ivory. Ivory had her golden locks in soft curls all down her back. Her magnificent, white wings were folded neatly against her back. King Varick looked just like his younger brother, Conlon, but his jaw was softer and nose bigger. Both the royals had a floating circle of gold above their heads that was their crowns. That is where the legend of the halo came from.

The priest stepped forward, his wings reaching out behind him like grasping hands. He was very old.

"Orabella Rose Sapphira Jane and Anja Anastasia Adelaide Amelia Hyman, we are here today to celebrate your ceremony of the wings." The crowd of onlookers from the pews at the back of the room cheered and clapped. They were the lords and ladies of the EC, pretending to be happy that there were two more people in the their way of the crown. Nobles are always like this.

"Orabella Rose Sapphira Jane, when the sad passing of our gracious rulers and Sir Conlon had taken place, you will be our next reining queen. This is the time that our future queen becomes an angel." The crowd cheered again. "Anja Anastasia Adelaide Amelia, this is the becoming of a true, just and beautiful princess." Claps and cheers. He then christened them with holy water.

Then 4:37 struck, and quiet descended. There was always the fear, even if tiny, that the wings may not be purely white. After a sickening minute in which Ora thought she may vomit, swirls of white light descended from the highest tile above. Strands of it stopped too soon, but the majority came down and encircled Ora. Pearly white feathers began to bloom at her bare shoulder blades. The wings bloomed like a time lapse video of an apple blossom in spring. They almost seemed to sparkle. Even the lords and ladies couldn't help but admire them, however begrudgingly. There were claps and cheers and little Orabella was engulfed in cheers and hug. This lasted for 16 minutes until the priest banged the gong at the front. It was time for Anja.

Now, this is where it gets interesting. Because when the minute was up, there wasn't the same swirl of white light like everyone expected. Instead, the whole room darkened and pure blackness descended from the ceiling, engulfing Anja in it. Dysia and Conlon looked aghast at the side of the room. And Anja's wings began to grow. But the feathers weren't white like everyone else in that rooms. No. They were pitch black.