Darksteel

Prologue; How NOT to enroll students.

The sky was as dark as a chunk of onyx, the stars set against it like shards of diamond on black velvet. The moon, a silver disk set in the unforgiving realm of the dark, was like a pale face staring down on the city of Ethera. The wind bit with a relentless Northern chill that cut to the bone.

And Asta relished it.

 To him, the snowy Northernlands had always been home; the chilly summers, the spring that never came, and the winter that stretched into eternity. He had been raised with the howls of the direwolves ringing in his ears. His blood was as cold as the snow around him.

 Laying on his back, he gazed up at the stars, wondering how many there could possibly be in one sky. Asta had been alone since twilight, telling his parents that he would be home before dawn. In truth, he loved the whispered stillness if the night, with only the wind and the beasts of the shadows to keep him company. Out here, he could think and wonder about the world around him. About the world OUTSIDE Ethera. He knew that his chances of leaving his small, village hovel were slim. It wasn't as if his parents had money to spare on such frivolous things like traveling; they had his brothers and sisters to feed, after all.

A sharp snap like a branch breaking sounded in the woods behind him and Asta sat up, straining to see in the pitch blackness.

"H--hello?" He called out hesitantly, his heart beginning to thump wildly in his chest. "Is anyone there?"

Silence answered him.

Thinking that it must have been a direwolf, he leaned back into the snow once more when a cloth bag was suddenly thrust over his head. Asta felt his arms and legs being pinned and he writhed furiously as strong, meaty arms hauled him off the ground. The wind was knocked out of him as he felt himself being flung over his attacker's shoulder as if he were no more than a sack of potatoes. Kicking and clawing seemed to be useless against the man —if he even WAS a man— and Asta soon grew exhausted from the effort and he simply stayed limp as he was jostled about. Finally, it occurred to him to ask one very simple question.

"Where are you taking me?" There. When in doubt, be direct.

The voice that answered him sounded like two rough stones being rubbed together; horrible, grating, and definitely the voice of one of the Monsters.

 "I'm taking you to school." It said.

 The statement was so ridiculous, Asta nearly laughed. "The village school is in the center of town." He offered helpfully instead.

 He felt more than heard the creature grunt. "No, no, young squire. Not 'school'. SCHOOL. The School." 

Oh, well, THAT cleared things up tremendously.

 "Why am I going to school then?" Asta asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

The Monster only laughed, "Why, to be Enrolled, of course! "

How such a simple phrase could sound like a threat, Asta wasn't sure. He huffed; normal schools did not do this sort of thing. This was definitely NOT the way to enroll students.

                              ....................................

"Your mother and I only want what's best for you, whether you like it or not."

Adar Singh rolled his eyes. He had heard his father say that phrase a hundred times before and he was bloody well sick of it. Somehow, his father had got it into his head that if Adar hated to do something (a particular sport, perhaps) then it was automatically 'good' for him. This time, BOTH his parents thought that sending him off to Adalain Academy would be 'good' for him— mostly because his father, grandfather, and great grandfather had all attended the Academy.

"I know the only reason you want me to go there is so you can be rid of me for a year." Adar replied, sneering.

"Manners...." His mother chided from across the breakfast table as she delicately speared another strawberry with the tip of her fork.

Adar's father was not having it, however. His copper- colored face turned red and Adar could almost see the steam coming out from his ears.

It was delightful to watch.

"Listen here, young man, as the Emperor I am ordering you to attend the Academy — even if I have to drag you there myself!"

Prince or no prince, it looked as though he would not be getting out of this one so easily. Pushing back from the table, Adar stalked off to sulk in the palace halls. His father never listened to him! Whether it was about what he wanted to do, what school he wanted to attend, or even who he would like to marry some day, the prince had no say in the matter.

Stopping in front of a window, Adar gazed out at the beautiful, golden sands of his homeland, letting the dry air fill his lungs. He wished he could put the beauty of the desert into music; a soft, lilting tune that brought to mind the endless sea of dunes. Of the spice-filled air. Music, especially on the piano, was the one thing he enjoyed... Well, besides annoying his father. With music he could be lost for hours in the notes, letting his worries leave him. But not even the piano could sooth his troubled soul today. For he knew why his parents wanted to send him to the Academy.

They were hoping that he would not come back.       

                                   ................................ 

The school was bathed in shadow deep as black velvet.

Sprawled across several acres of charming countryside, the stone structure emitted an air of mystery, of prestige, of elegance. Usually. But now, in the dead of night when all the world slept, the windows of Adalain Academy held no light. There was no whisper of sound coming from the slumbering building save for the bubbling of the fountain that lay before the Academy's ornate doors. And all that guarded the entrance were the grotesques that lined the roof, their sharp toothed mouths set in a wicked stone grin. 

But the lone figure standing in the dappled shadows of the trees noted all this with little interest. No, what mattered to Nico was what was INSIDE the school. The secrets, the archaic teachings, the answer as to why the name 'Adalain Academy' was whispered in frightened voices, the reasons why children from all over Tirus were going missing-- ripped from their homes in the middle of the night.

And, most importantly, why so many went in and few ever came back out...

                           ..................................

AUTHOR'S NOTE: *takes deep breath* I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack! And just as a note @SnowyLE0PARD made the awesome cover for this book! Hopefully you guys liked this prologue (after Thieves Game I decided that prologues were, in fact, a good idea) and I am definitely looking forward to writing with these cool new characters! Let me know what you think of this intro to my story and don't forget to leave a vote! Thanks!

the_twilight_writer