The Shadow

o n e

The knife struck in the middle. The target was warped, scarred with the blows she had catapulted. A turbulent manifestation of her fury. She sighed, her hands feeling strained. Rage was a dangerous thing. If not liberated expediently, it could scourge out unanticipated. But it is most menacing when it grows like a tempestuous storm within oneself. Eating away one and one's identity. Saerah put her knives back in the duffel and left the guild. There were scarcely any people when she was there. Probably because she came in the afternoon, after institution, while everyone else was usually working or resting.

She returned to her room The Phrontistery. She had always wanted to come to this institution. The most prestigious in all of Trousse. After her mother's death, she didn't leave her house for months. . But then The Phrontistery contacted her. Her application had been accepted. But the unanswered questions still swarmed her mind like flies on a sultry summer afternoon. There was a lot she needed to figure out. Her mother and her had never been close. They rarely spoke other than general, clipped exchanges about food and other necessities. One could say their relationship was sour. She wasn't as shaken up by her mothers death as she was by it's circumstance. Her mother had been murdered in cold blood. The body had been taken away and Saerah had not seen it. But she had been told enough. How her mother had been stabbed, how their house overturned in the search of something. Saerah was afraid that the person or people who had killed her mother would come after her. She needed answers.The how, the when, the why, the who.  Most of all the why. She was scared of what she may discover. Perhaps something about her father. She knew only what her mother had told her. That he had been a nice man and he loved her. What happened to him she didn't know. She had searched the house for anything important. And had found something surprising in the fridge. A necklace. And she had an inkling it was more than just that.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Pitch black hair that reached her waist in gentle waves. Unlike the tsunami that had hit her life. Her eyes a soft honeydew, like her mother's. Her pale lips pressed into a thin line. She was thin, no curves at all. And her hands were scarred due to the use of weapons. She wore the standard regalia Troussians wore while wielding weapons. Neixan tights and vest. Neixan was a fabric that was as gentle on the skin as cotton, as tensile as spider silk and as strong as steel. Saerah's whole outfit was grey.

Her room was organized. Saerah hated disorder. But lately, that was all her world had been. After her mother's death, her world had turned upside down. She hadn't known what to do. She needed something to keep her busy. At first, The Phrontistery was enough. She learnt Conspiracy, Mythology, Use of Weapons and Strategy. Trousse was an ancient nation. And so were its studies. And it's Mafia. Assassins, more like. The Divalledir family were the rulers of the Mafia. Decades ago, Crescent Divalledir was the Mafia Queen. The deadliest woman in whole of Trousse. Some called her a witch. Some said she was a Clair, one of those who could see the future. Her legacy was continued by her three sons, the current Mafia lords. No one knew their really names. They were the Arrow, the Sword, and the Spear. The Deadly Divalledir Trio. That was what they were called by children. Deadly was a kind word for them. And death was a kind word for what they had done to Saerah's mother. The Sentinels weren't sure a Divalledir was the culprit. They usually indulged in higher levels of crime. Why would they stoop low and kill someone without any known connections to them?

The Tewagi were the Warriors of Trousse. They were the rulers, the guardians. There were two High Tewagi, the rulers. Tethys and Keiyli Gehzi. Wives. They were warriors. The lived in cabanas by the Great River Teleki. Teleki was an Ancient Deity, an Amilaki. When she was tired of being one, she transformed into a river. Some say those who lived by the river had access to boundless knowledge. Thus the Tewagi were regarded as wise warriors. Saerah loved reading about the culture of her nation. The Tewagi had often had conflicts with the Divalledirs. But the Divalledirs operated mostly in the underworld, The Betachi. They didn't really try to harm any of the citizens. They were like criminal lords, who just enjoyed having control, power and fear over the people. The dealt drugs in the Betachi and had conflicts with other, smaller crime lords. The Tewagi stayed out of their matters as long as the Divalledirs did the same.

Saerah sighed. Would she ever figure out the tenebrous secrets that lay beneath her mother's murder? Crei and Meane were the two sectors of Trousse. Crei was where the Divalledirs had their head quarters. And she and her mother had been living in Meane. But now, living in the Phrontistery Dorm, she was in the territory of the Mafia. But nothing had happened so far. No unknown stalker. No one had tried to contact her. Not even her friends, who all drifted away after her mother's demise. How does one define a 'friend'? Saerah didn't know anything anymore. But she did know she could trust no one.

A sapphire necklace lay in embedded in a block of ice in her refrigerator, the note placed atop it.

***
Okay, before you form a judgement, I realise this chapter is very small. I have decided to write this book in a different style than my previous book. The chapters are likely to remain small, about 1000 words at maximum. But this doesn't at all mean that the size of the book will be reduced. Small chapters just mean more chapters in number. To maintain the essence of this story, I don't want to unnecessarily elongate chapters. The plot will not be shortened and neither will the story.
This will also mean that I will be able to update more frequently.

Love,
Aarna.