Astra Chronicles

Chapter 1: Snow White

¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤

"Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair black as ebony," ―The Brothers Grimm

Year 2109. 6:00 AM. V City.

¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤▪¤

I remember the first time I saw a miracle.

That day, white specs of moist dust fell from the skies for the first time since the previous world ended.

They glistened like tiny sparkles, drifting around me while they reflected the rays of the subtle sunlight.

Somehow it made me feel better amidst the tragedy surrounding me and my family.

They named these pretty floating things 'snow'.

The princess in a famous fairytale was named Snow White.

We shared the same hair and eye colors but my cracked lips weren't as red as blood and my skin was nothing as white as snow.

My life was utterly far from the happily ever after in children's books.

I remember how a stout man clad in a dark leather trench coat and dirty clanking boots stepped out from a luxurious-looking black car.

He had messy brown hair and unkempt stubble on the lower half of his face.

His voice was gruff when he muttered incoherent words which I reckoned were a string of curses as he ended them with a spit on the damp soil.

Then, he stared at me. Like a hawk eyeing his defenseless prey.

The green in his irises somewhat reminded me of fairytale book vicious snakes. Full of deadly poison.

The ominous impression was enough to cause an internal meltdown beneath my worn out sweater that shielded me from the cold.

I could still feel the tension that built up on my shoulders, how I felt my breath hitched when his eyes narrowed slightly, or how my stomach churned in horror and sank with indescribable weight.

For a jiffy, I considered backing out the last minute and running to escape elsewhere.

However, I knew it was futile because the vieux are powerful and I would definitely be found probably even if I hid in caves or mountains.

I guessed I made the worst possible choice.

My life took a turn for the worst.

I made a deal, gambling with someone unknown and using my life as my token.

There were likely other selections to reach a happy ever after, if this was an RPG game. I could just try them all and replay again and again till I get the best ending.

But my life did not have a save button and there was no trial game.

In this world, the pauvre played the role of chess pawns and the vieux were the kings and queens.

When harsher and colder winds whipped against my pale cheeks, my eyes reflexively squinted. I battled the urge to shudder in the chilly weather and hoped to feign courage.

I shouldn't show any sign of weakness.

The deal has been sealed and there was no turning back.

I stood straight with my feet firmly rooted to the ground.

I fought against the sudden powerful pull of gravity from the earth and resisted with every fiber of my fragile body.

The stout man strode towards me.

His wicked eyes never left contact with mine as the bulging of his tummy bounced obnoxiously with each of his step.

He stopped in front of me, close enough so that I could smell the vile fragrance he was wearing mixed with a strong body odor.

It was suffocating. The contents of my stomach were conspiring for an upheaval.

"So, ya are It?" he asked pointedly but did not wait for me to answer.

"Uncanny semblance ya are," he commented and nodded approvingly as if confirming his own query.

The corners of his mouth curled upwards revealing yellowish teeth and unsightly cavities as he inspected me up and down malevolently in an uneven grin.

Before I could respond, his stubby gloved hand yanked my thin arms and dragged me to the car.

He unceremoniously threw me inside, slamming the door loudly behind him as he snorted beside me while I shook from fear.

"Careful on the package, aye?" the driver called out to him and the stout man grunted in response, a menacing smile stayed on his oversized mouth.

My tiny body hurt from colliding with the other door but I dared not make any sound as I clutched tightly on my threadbare backpack.

I focused on controlling my tears in dread that one wrong move would justify for a damaged package.

I dared not make this stranger mad.

In my quiet little town far from the capital city, we had rarely seen interesting events and even experienced fewer encounters in receiving visitors.

As much as I hated attracting attention to myself, the lavish vehicle was already more than capable of evoking a fuss in our town.

Even with the humiliation I felt, I chose to stare back at everyone and every detail in my field of vision.

I wanted to imprint the not-so-scenic view of my impoverished hometown to my memory.

The mismatched roofs on makeshift houses, galvanized iron sheets covered with rust and holes from wear and tear, and the unpaved roads between the expansive rice fields.

Despite the simplicity and lack of industrialization in V City, I had loved it with my whole heart.

Outside the car was the growing number of onlookers, my neighbors, who stood nailed to their spots murmuring amongst themselves and watching my cinema-worthy story unfold before them.

I could bet that this was going to be their entertainment for the whole afternoon and for the next two or three weeks later.

Their faces, I noticed, were painted with two contrasting expressions that I knew too well.

Pity and envy.

And maybe I must thank them for the sympathy or the resentment even when they couldn't do anything.

Because they possibly thought I would live a better life with the vieux or they commiserated with me, a scrawny six-year old child torn away from her family-and frankly, those stares were more than enough.

Enough to encourage me to bear a goal.

The engine roared in anger as it started. It emitted thick dark smoke of pollution as the car drove through the austere streets of my birthplace.

They were taking me faraway to a city I had not much of an idea about.

It seemed like I was kidnapped or forced to this fate. And it might have been better if I was.

Because that would have given a valid excuse-for maybe a nonexistent hero-to stop the impending doom.

Except I get that no hero could save me. You see if they asked me if I was coerced, my answer would surely fail me.

Because, sadly, I was not.