Chapter 1:

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   (Updates every Friday! Thanks for being patient!)

   Chapter 1:

   I've always known something is wrong with me, but I've never been able to place a finger as to what it could be. Is it all in my head? Or am I just foolish enough to believe that? Sometimes I just don't know what to think. Magic doesn't exist, and yet I find it all around... so to truly believe what I'm telling myself, must I perish within the flames this castle holds to light? I don't know...

   "Sky," Hero begins. "Go get me a glass of wine." I don't respond, as I find my own voice to be repulsive. I simply walk out of the dining room, and begin towards the castle's kitchen. Within the dark hallways of brick, I see others, all working on one thing or another. Hero says we're servants, but we all know that we're merely slaves.

   Entering the kitchen, the bags under my eyes not too terribly visible from the faint glow of the stone above, I glance around for the man that actually speaks English. The rest don't. The smell of blood is ripe in the air as the quartz flooring sounds from beneath my feet, the grunts of the natives – the only ones with free will around here – quiet, muffling slightly from the loud slicing of butcher knives. I stop besides the man that speaks (limited) English, and gently tug at his ripped shirt.

   Spinning around quickly, knife in hand; the blade catches my right wrist and leaves a gashing mark. I silently cry out as he looks me up and down, but his only reply to what he'd done is a quiet grunt.

   "You want?" Tears rolling down my cheeks, I look to the counter and manage to pick up a wine glass, showing him. He grunts once more, muttering in pig Latin as he snorts, and walks off, his rotting flesh revealing the bone of his left cheek as he turns away from me. I gag, as I always do when I see it. As I wait, I take into account that I'm the only one human within this kitchen. Spotting a small rag, I quickly snatch it up and firmly press it to my bloody wrist, already feeling faint. And when the man returns, he grunts, and hands over the glass.

   "You go, smell bad." Quickly hurrying out, I hear the man snort before continuing with his work. I hurry down the hallway, and listen to my somewhat heavy footing while careful to watch for others. The murky, thick, black liquid within the glass is stationary, even as my hand is shaking. I slow my pace, as even something as simple as speed walking causes me to feel light headed. Or the faint feeling might just be from the blood trail I'm leaving. I enter the dining room once again. The roaring fire snaps like the whips of the natives when we don't work fast enough, but Hero smiles as he sees me. Until he realizes I've (once again) been hurt. I hand over the glass, but he spills it on the table as he tosses it aside, taking my slashed and bloodied wrist with a gentle grasp.

   "How many times must I tell that bastard to watch it?" Hero whispers, leading me out of the dining room. Our familiar path sets into motion as he leads me to the nearest bathroom like the many other times things of this sort occur, and he begins to clean me up. The harsh sting of the disinfectant upon the open wound is enough to draw a soft, high pitch cry from my lips. The smell of alcohol is strong as Hero uses a plentiful amount of it, soon bringing clean, white bandages into the mix. And as soon as he starts wrapping, the bandages are no longer white in some areas. Hero wraps the bandage tightly, but not tight to the point where I'll lose blood flow in my arm. He wraps the bandage counterclockwise around my wrist, right then left, and soon the bandage covering my forearm is red and white. Hero's thick fingers gently wipe at my face, a sorrowful look within his eyes.

   I'm nothing special. I don't talk, though I eat a plentiful amount, and most of the time I'm messing something up. Why Hero keeps me around... I don't know. Hero sighs.

   "Well, why don't you return to your room for the night; I'll see to it that the wine is cleaned up." I quietly nod, and exit the bathroom, Hero following only briefly before disappearing back into the dining room. I continue to walk, silent as I hold my numb hand to my chest.

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