Not Quite

Graythe

As we walked, Eli hummed a sad tune. It sounded like a dozen animals crying out for help at once. Terrible, but strangely beautiful. A salty drop eased its way out of my eye, and rolled down my cheek. I hurriedly wiped it away, for fear of Eli seeing my weakness. After a while, the terrain beneath our feet changed, levelled out and became grassy. Eli told me that we were going to the village of Graythe. He looked like he was going to tell me about it, but noticing the look on my face, he simply nodded and walked on.

Graythe was one of the first villages to rebel. They had advanced far in medical studies, and could see that the new way which had started was wrong. So they distanced themselves from the Hub. The Hub is the main city, where the important people live. Like Vignus Wilson. A burning hatred set up in my stomach at the thought of his name. Anyway, if a village is no longer connected to the Hub, they cannot receive the money that is made there. And while they can still use the old currency for a time, money gets ripped, or lost, or dropped and forgotten about. So when they are out of 'real' money, they make their own. Graythe had a very unusual idea for theirs. To ensure that no-one was ending up with more currency than they should, or stealing others, they came up with a unique solution. Limbs. It should be known that while Graythe was a small village, the inhabitants hated each other almost as dearly as they hated the Hub. So when one person wanted something from another, they had to pay what they called a 'tithe'.

It sounds harmless enough, but the real meaning is nothing like the original. If, say, I wanted to purchase something, the owner of that item could charge what they wanted. A tooth, or a toe, or a layer of skin. Once this body part was removed, it was thrown away, of no benefit to either parties. Except one had exacted a small part of revenge on another, and the other had what they wanted. The only problem with this, apart from the obvious, was that people were charging different amounts for things. And so, when most inhabitants had only one or two limbs left, and little teeth, or were blind, they introduced secrets. For a secret, you got a cut with a knife. Depending on the severity of the secret, you could either get a sore area or a deep, bloody gash. Which is where science came in. Their medical advances meant that it would hurt less, would bleed little, and there was no chance of infection. People traded secrets for their looks.

Gave secrets for food. And there was a market where people could pay to learn. Not just secrets, but anything. Eventually, you would be proud of your scars, as they showed your knowledge. Slang was invented to describe those who inflicted damage upon themselves. They were called slashers. In Graythe, you could trust people with lots of scars, could depend on them. They knew everything. Which is where Falkyne came in. She was a tall, beautiful woman with stormy grey eyes and hair long and black. She did not fit in at Graythe because of her imperfections, but because of a noticeable lack thereof. And yet, impossibly, she was their wise woman.

It was her, Eli told me, that we were going to meet.