Illusions

Chapter One

  I stand at the base of a set of stairs, gazing up at the snow covered stone. The brisk wind cuts through my thick cloak, chilling me to the bone. My feet are frozen blocks of ice inside my riding boots. Snow falls fast, blanketing everything in a rapidly growing white layer. The flurries stick to my dark hair and lashes. All the while I can only stair, frozen in my place, clutching a bag tightly in numb hands.

  The events that have lead to this point play through my mind. I have been trying to shut out most of the memory, only allowing glimpses of the horrors that have occurred. Only two week ago before I had been at home with my mother and sister. preparing for dinner. If I had the chance to redo what I did, I would have.

  Magic is vile and sinister. A blight upon our land. My mother had once told me. I never believed her, not until that day.

Once, when I was seven, I saw a man do magic. He pulled the water out of buckets and made it rain down on us in thick flurries, such as the ones surrounding me now. I had been amazed, but my horrified mother had dragged me back to our hut at the edge of the village. The rest of the villages took care of the man. I can still remember his screams as they burned him alive.

They had arrived that day, two weeks ago. Tax collectors were the cruelest of men, taking from the poor, hungry, and dying without mercy or care. I had known my family was behind on their payment, and knew that the group of men came for us. My father had been out hunting game in the frost covered woods nearby, leaving my frail mother, small sister, and me alone to fend for ourselves.

  The rest of the village's inhabitance watched behind closed doors, their eyes peering between drawn curtains. No one dared interfere, in fear of losing their money or lives. There were three men, dressed in black leather, pouches fat with gold. Three bangs sounded heavily on our hut door.

  "Mom." I had protested, snatching the arm that carried the last of their gold. It was enough to keep the demons at bay, but not to feed us the next day. "We can't do this. That is the last of our money. We'll starve."

  "And with it we will lose this house and freeze. We have other means of gathering food." My mother replied sharply. 

  That was how my mother had always been toward me. Cold, dismissive, and indifferent. I had always been just another mouth to feed with bold words that fell upon deaf ears. My sister- Ivy- on the other hand was loved by both my mother and father. She was young, but already filling into her beauty. Her hair was always the palest blond, eyes the emerald of a summer meadow.

  We were exact opposites.

  Were her looks were sharp and pail, mine were soft and dark. My black hair curled to my shoulders and my eyes were the color of the clouds before it began to snow. Cold and gray.

  I had let go of my mother and followed behind, holding Ivy's hand. My expression remained a mask of calm against the burning rage as I watched my mother open the door, allowing the three strangers into our home. They brought in a blast of frigid winter air along with their serene and harsh looks. They all looked the same to me, anyone from our capital,  Stonevale. Their posture and gaze suggested that they viewed themselves higher amongst us peasants, a clouded look of disdain like we were unwanted pest that had scurried by their feet. Their leather clothing was new and fine, their boots polished, their swords sharp and gleaming. The ever present crest of the Namidian Empire was embroidered on their chest: 

  The letter N, curved and slanted, sprouting wings that ended in sharp, razor points.

  The only thought these men and us would ever share was was our hatred for magic.

  "Johnathan and Mary Crest of Knightcross." The tallest of the tax collectors had said. "You are in debt of 15 gold, along with your current payment of 10 gold. You will pay both or summit to arrest and trail in Stonevale."