"We weren't meant to be good. We were meant to survive."
Zerlinda has had a sword hanging over her head ever since her father's disappearance.
With her cowardly mother good as dead, Zerlinda is forced to accept a bargain with Hades, the God of Deat...
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The last time Zerlinda had stepped foot in the capital had been three years ago. Back when the streets bustled with life and people could roam the streets freely.
That wasn't to say it had changed all that much. Yet, something she couldn't quite put the finger on felt different.
Statues of Zeus and the other Gods appeared to almost look down at the chains binding her wrists. She kept her gaze down to the pavement. Her feet were bruised and blistered from all the walking.
Everything felt faint. Her muscles. Her head. It wouldn't take long now before the exhaustion knocked her out.
Maybe, with a hint of luck, it would keep her asleep.
It was strange, seeing her birth city again after so long. Everything was where it was supposed to be, like a carefully crafted map.
Yet, everything also looked and felt older. Stone walls showed cracks where she'd never noticed them before. Buildings - like the Academy - appeared to have been entirely abandoned.
School wasn't an option formost people. Not since Magellan's law pulling young girls from class to assist in the home until they were old enough to be married off and contribute to restoring Nerissan society to its pre-war greatness of centuries before.
She'd never particularly cared that much about school. She was illiterate to everything save what she needed to know, and learning had never been a particular priority. But Adalia, the smarter of the two of them, definitively had, even if she never let it show. For that reason alone, Zerlinda resented it.
Memories of all the dusty books they'd left behind in the caravan, three years ago, came back to mind. But Adalia hadn't minded, so she claimed. No matter where they went, she'd always found a way to get her hands on a new book. If she wasn't covered in paint of all colours from whatever masterpiece she could think up, locked up inside, she'd have her nose buried in a book.
Thoughts of Adalia made her heavy, cold heart feel lighter, just a bit. But old, distant memories was all she had. If Adalia wasn't yet dead, she would be soon. Zerlinda would never again see her sister. And one day, if she didn't die at the hands of the man who'd all but ripped her father away and torn her life to shreds, those memories would crinkle up and fade away.
Her heart felt heavier than the chains at her hands again.
They walked on for what felt like an eternity. The blisters at her feet bled red against the stone paths of Meridea. It was as though she walked on literal swords, every step an excruciating betrayal of the strength she didn't have.
Then, The Palace of Ourania came into view. It stood proud at the top of a rocky cliff, emerging right out of the water. Tall spires seemed to slice into the blue sky, much like a crown of daggers.
It was said to be impenetrable from the miles of water surrounding it. She embarked aboard a gondola alongside five other guards, but to call her transportation a mere boat would have been a mistake. With its curved ends, plush red seats and swirling golden embossments, it was clear the boat had been cut out for the richest of guests. To say she felt out of place in it would have been an understatement, and the cold glare the gondolier cut her agreed. Not a word was spoken as they rowed to The Palace.
