Dawn of Destiny (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 1)

Chapter One

It was a race against time.

Ashton Ward concluded this as he furiously sketched out the sight of the tiny finch sitting atop the three-tier fountain. It could fly away at any moment, and he would have to draw it from memory; and his memory was awful.

While the other children in the market chased each other around, Ashton stayed kneeled in front of a bench with his large drawing pad awkwardly placed in his lap. He couldn't care much for play when there was much to be drawn before he had to return home. He kept his tongue stuck out in concentration as he continued. His fingers were stained black with all the charcoal he'd used, but his best drawings were always the messiest ones.

Almost finished. He worked on sketching the fluffy cloud that perfectly outlined the finch.

"Big brother!" a young girl squealed into his right ear.

Ashton fumbled with his drawing pad, dropping the piece of charcoal in the process. Then he clutched his chest and took a deep breath.

He stretched to retrieve his things, and he gasped as a small group of children trampled over it, blissfully unaware of what they were doing. Once they were gone, Ashton quickly crawled over and examined the damages. The charcoal had been smashed and smothered over his drawing, covering what he'd just done.

"They ruined it!" his sister cried. Then she stomped her foot and shouted at the children, ordering them to come back and apologize. Of course, the children were already halfway gone and couldn't hear her over the ruckus of the town's musicians.

"It is alright, Amity," Ashton told her, ducking his head.

"No. They ruined your hard work!"

"I can draw another." He chanced a glance upwards, and his frown deepened. The bird was gone, and the cloud had already passed on.

"Mother wants you back home," said Amity, already forgetting his woes. "She needs help with supper."

"Oh... yes." Ashton gathered his belongings and stood. She led the way through the market as he trailed behind.

"Don't be sad, Ashy," Amity said to him over her shoulder. "Remember that we are celebrating you tomorrow! Are you excited about turning eleven-years-old?"

"Yes," he lied. What was there to be ecstatic about? He was finally—unfortunately—going to be of age to begin his knight-training. That was nothing to celebrate.

"Then smile!" Amity threw up her hands. "You look better when you smile!"

"Fine." But he still did not smile.

The adults were bustling about, gathering their unsold items from their shops. Most had to make various trips since not everything could be carried in their baskets. That was a mistake, Ashton concluded once he noticed a small boy sneak up to one of the tables and snatch something off it. The boy then stuffed the item inside his vest and scurried away from the stand before anyone else could catch what he'd done.

Ashton halted in his tracks, gaping at the boy running toward in his direction. The boy locked eyes with him and held his forefinger up to his lips. Then he carried on as if he hadn't done anything. Ashton blinked a few times, coming back to his senses. That wouldn't have been the first time he had witnessed thievery. However, it was the first he'd seen someone so young committing the act.

He looked ahead, spotting Amity beyond the crowd in the alleyway. He couldn't imagine her—or any of his sisters for that matter—having no choice but to steal to survive. His family was fortunate enough to not have to, and he suddenly felt guilty that not everyone could relate.