Warrior's Veil

Prologue

Hi all! I won't give you a rant in every chapter, mostly because I know no one really reads them anyway (not because I don't love ranting 😉). I just want to let you know I'm super proud of this story even though it might be a bit rusty at first.

I hope you like it and thanks for giving Warrior's Veil a try!

- Glass Star

. . .

When I was young my mother used to tell me stories, stories of The Shadows. Not tales of heroic deeds and happy endings. No, these were stories to scare me and to keep me from playing in the dark. She told me how The Shadows would steal me away to never be seen again if I stayed out too late.

I release the knife from my hands. Guiding it with my mind as it sails through the night, I nudge it to keep it on its course. I watch just until it hits its mark, but quickly shut my eyes when I hear the sharp gasp my target makes.

I desperately try to think about something pleasant now, but the guilt of knowing that my victim, whom I just stuck a knife in his throat, is a father, a husband, and likely loved by others too clouds my mind. I try to remind myself he deserves it, Lord Gaisov played a hand in the imprisonment of nearly a dozen innocent families falsely accused of harboring criminals, but the distant sounds of his dying breaths as he chokes on his own blood fills up my mind, leaving little space for anything else.

I hear a final gargled sound escape his lips from where I'm perched on the wall outside his bedchambers. I know he's dead when silence follows.

I hear footsteps pad into the room. A woman's voice calls out, "Gaisov what was that atrocious sound?" I recognize the voice of Lady Ceair of Ikuna. "Gaisov?" she asks once more.

Through the open window, I see a candle flicker to life, casting the room in a dim glow. It reveals the extent of the damage I've caused.

There, lying in a pool of his own blood is Lord Gaisov of Ikuna, dead with a small throwing knife stuck through his throat. The top of his nightshirt, once white, is stained a deep red.

The annoyed grumbling of Lady Ceair turns into a scream of horror. I glimpse Lady Ceair step backward into a small writing desk, causing it to fall over and crash to the ground.

"Gaisov!" she cries. She rushes over to where he lies in his bed. She pulls out the dagger and frantically places her hands over his bloodstained neck.

If only covering a wound could save an already dead man.

Other windows light up with candles as servants wake up from the screams upstairs.

Realization slowly crosses Lady Ceair's face of what has happened. She brings her hands up to her face, looking at the blood in horror. She stumbles back from her dead husband's side and snatches up the discarded knife. She runs onto the balcony outside her bedchambers. She is no longer screaming in dismay, instead, the dull moonlight shows agonized fury etched across her face.

She looks like a madwoman, her own nightgown is now stained with blood and a summer breeze catches her hair making her look wild. Waving the knife in the air she screeches into the night, "Who did this? Show your wretched face! You'll pay! I swear I'll have your head!"

Her threat makes me flinch from where I'm hiding. Although the balcony doesn't face me, I flatten myself lower along the top of the wall anyway.

Shouts from servants begin to sound as they rush upstairs to their distressed mistress.

Lady Ceair turns away from the balcony. Seeing servants enter the room she begins shouting, "Get the guards, there's an intruder! Find it!" Her last words coming out as a furious squeal.