Will of a Citatus

Chapter 1

        The warm breeze ran through my hair cooling my face only slightly. The sun blazed on me from the side as, one by one, I reached into the cool water of the river for the stones that lay hidden. But not just any stone. I wanted rocks which held fragments of small animals or something that shined. I was, honestly, the local jeweler’s best friend in a sense. We had a barter where I would give him my stones and he would try to satisfy my need for knowledge of the gods. He says that his father was a scholar who made sure his son knew everything there was to know about the gods. I would have loved to learn more about the gods than just small tidbits. I would dedicate my life to the study of the gods. But my parents refused my need for knowledge of the gods. They believe that the gods have abandoned us to face Death himself. I know better.

        I am citatus, meaning that I have been summoned by the gods at birth, a rare thing to happen now a days. Few know how this affects my daily life for the personal accounts of the citatus were burned during throughout the two great wars. What pitiful amount was salvaged stated that no two citatus had the same abilities.

        Despite the lack of knowledge still around, I heard my people’s name whispered through the village. Citatus. They blamed those of us who were left for the rising of the dead, for the uncountable amount of those who have lost their lives to them because, with the handful of us left, we wanted to have vengeance for the loss of our brother’s and sister’s. But no one actually knows what provokes the dead into waking and walking among the living. Our lack of knowledge didn’t change the carnage they inflicted on us though. I could sense them coming closer. Every time I did I prayed that the gods would save my village and my family.

        I glanced at the sinking sun. I found nothing today of any worth. As I dried my hands on my skirt I ran towards my house, the bakery. I couldn’t be late to finish off my chores or else I would face the wrath of my mother. As I rounded the corner and skidded to a stop I saw my mother scowl at me.

        “How will you ever find a suitable man or so much as to have one to look your way if you’re running around like a child”, she demanded.

        I avoided her almond eyes. Though we shared the same color I could never make my eyes look as deadly as hers.

        I followed her into the house to sweep the floors. A seemingly dull task and it was. The smell of burnt bread curdled my stomach. It was all we could manage to eat; the food no one else wanted. I ate a piece before going back to my work. My dinner was done. My siblings ran through the door giggling dragging even more dirt into the house.

        “Wipe your feet off!” I shouted frantically. No good in making the chore last longer than it had to. I could already feel my intelligence slipping away from trying to complete this task. Eleanor and Jerrold stuck their tongue at me. It hurt the amount of uncaring    

        The night quickly slipped away and I found myself dozing off in my cot. I slipped away into the darkness.

        Little did I know that as my consciousness slipped away so did the life I once knew.

        I was shook awake with such violence I thought my neck would snap. “Skye! Wake up right now!” my father roared.

        I groaned, it couldn’t be morning already. I looked out the small window to be met with a dark sky. The moment I got out of bed my mother pulled clothes on me and my father gave me a bag of bread.

        “W-what’s going on?” I sputtered in utter confusion.

        “The dead are coming” my mother said breathlessly.  “Its you they want. You need to leave.”