17-year-old Avera Ibori is a girl who has always longed for a life of adventure, but when her father mysteriously vanishes, she gets more of it than she can stand. Thrown into a hidden world of magic, intrigue, corruption, and kings, Avera must choo...
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Dorothy had come and greeted her that morning, bringing her out to breakfast and fulfilling the role of host which Benjamin had so faithfully executed at prior times. Now, she sat in her bed, reading Benjamin's green covered book and thinking it much later in the day than she had expected him returning. In fact, everyone seemed to have expected him sooner, and breakfast had held an unspoken tension which caused her to feel slightly out of place. She thought of Benjamin, considering his continued absence, and becoming concerned.
'The day is half over, and Dorothy said his meeting was at dawn... no wonder they were all so tense, they probably don't know what's happened to him, either.'
At last, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of a familiar voice which caused her some relief.
"Avera, are you there?" Benjamin asked politely.
"Yes, come in please," she replied sweetly.
"Good morning, or... afternoon, I suppose," he greeted cheerfully, though somewhat bashfully. His face wore a friendly smile as he entered through the door, and her heart sunk as she saw his arm wrapped in bandages. The cuff of his bright white tunic was spattered with bloody crimson, as was the left hand side of it.
"Benjamin, you're hurt!" she exclaimed, her face stained with unwanted surprise and fearful horror.
"Ah, yes..." he said awkwardly, "the bandages."
"Yes, Ben!" she said, thoroughly disturbed by it. "Blood and bandages!"
"Well, it's... all right, now," he told her, assuring her of his wellness. "It's been attended. I am... sorry that I was delayed in my returning. I didn't wish to concern you."
"Concern..?" she replied in dramatic disbelief.
'Does he think this is normal?'
"Ben, what happened?" she asked, suddenly noting the dried blood trapped around the edge of his fingernails.
He leaned back against the door, pushing it closed with a sigh. "We had a correspondent, a ranking official in the army. He had helped us gather necessary information and countless resources. He was also a go-between to pass messages between us and our contact in the capital. It went several days, then weeks, almost a month, and we hadn't heard from him. There was no communication at all. We were all very concerned. Then, we received a message, but... something seemed wrong about it. Still, I believed it necessary to go to this meeting and see for myself what had happened. I thought, perhaps, he was in some sort of danger or under suspicion. This morning, I followed the letter. When I went to meet him, I found myself in the midst of an ambush. Whether you might say by fortune or providence, I escaped with only the loss of some blood, and for that, I am very grateful. Still, I am sorry you must be witness to this. I would have spared you from it all."
Avera looked away, but it was difficult for her to keep herself from staring. The blood stains on the pristine gold and white of the shirt sleeve captured her view. She couldn't say why, but the blood terrified her. Then a voice came back to her, the voice from a dream. No, a terrifying nightmare. There was blood and terror. Shouts were heard in the streets. People were dying, and she was left, totally incapable of escaping the horror as the buildings burned around her and the people were devoured by darkness.
