Prologue - The Mission

The cloaked figure ran swiftly along the city’s darkened cobbled streets, the shadows passing over his dark clothing as if they could not see him in the black night. He stumbled over the crumbling path and cursed quietly under his breath. He hated being back here. The memories, the way everything seemed as familiar as if it were a part of him. It was never in his plan to come back, but he forced himself on, his resolve growing stronger.

There was only one thing on his mind- the mission. It had to be completed no matter what the cost. He would be rewarded extravagantly for his efforts if he were to succeed…

No! He thought, When, I succeed. He knew only too well where failure would lead, and it wouldn’t be pleasant.

His mind faltered a moment at the thought, sending a shiver down along his spine. The horror that would follow failure was far too much for him to even bear the thought of.

He stopped when he heard the soft tap of approaching footsteps. Quickly, he stepped into the shadows that the light could not reach – a small crevice where he would not be seen and held still. He shuddered at the thought of being caught and peered out from his hiding spot, confirming the source of the fading noise.

A young child was walking alone: her clothes were rags and her hair a dark tumbling mess of knots and dirt that clung to her scalp. She dragged the remnants of what looked like a small toy rabbit in her clenched fist as she waddled away, chattering quietly to herself. His head tilted in curiosity.

She could have only been four or five and yet she wandered the street at this time of night; so young.

But if he was being honest with himself, he too was very young. His appearance was deceptive, most thinking him to be a man. Yet no one ever realised that he was still some time away from being a teen. His height and sharp, chiselled features from his work in the last few years had helped to deter people from thinking he was still a child. He had been forced to grow up quicker than any child should, but he wasn’t angry at the thought. There was no point in being angry. It was just how his life was.

He frowned, frustrated with himself. He had allowed himself to be distracted. There was no room for distraction, not tonight.

He cleared his mind of the wandering little girl and thought of another. Her beauty always stunned him. Her face was picturesque and had no apparent flaw with eyes as blue as the ocean and full, pink lips that were curled up in a small smile. Dark hair curtained her face and was long enough to reach the middle of her back. He had seen her picture many times before, memorizing her face so that at one glance he would recognise her. He remembered how he had clutched the photograph tightly until his knuckles had whitened. She reminded him of his mother.

A tingle of old pain ran along his hand. He didn’t have to look to know it was the scar that ran along the length of his knuckles. It was faded now, but the pain and the memory, still fresh. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“Grow up,” he muttered softly to himself, his voice barely a whisper. His master had already warned him to leave childish fantasies behind. It didn’t matter if he wanted to desperately hold onto his old life, it was gone, and so was his mother.

He set forward again keeping his eyes trained on the dark buildings that lined the streets. Each seemed to be one piece of an entire set that made up the city, identical to match.

He stopped at a tall, dark building, which loomed high above him and reached for the night sky desperately. Its dark bricks made it different to all the rest he had seen, but similar in many ways. The windows showed that all the lamps and candles had been blown out for the night, a good sign for him.

He cursed himself for not being more cautious when he heard another noise, this time from the side of the building.

He stepped out of sight just as the door to the building was thrown open. A young woman walked out from the shadow of the doorway and into the lights cast from the lamps lining the streets. Her face was partly hidden by the dark shawl she had wrapped around her slim shoulders, but he could still see the worried look etched into it.

She was so small, barely taller than him, which was saying something.

Recognition tingled in his bones and muscles and filled his heart with elation at the same time as dread.

Magic lingering on her skin, like the scarf that had been wrapped around her, and the force of it almost stopped him in his tracks. It seemed like a protective barrier but that didn’t matter now. He didn’t intend to use magic.

He could not believe his luck. The woman he had been searching for was coming to him. She seemed so small and fragile in the darkness, something he could not allow himself to think of, for fear his resolve would disappear. He had to do this; he mustdo this. In his mind, he had no choice. But now he was glad. There would be no need to search the building for a many possible hours to find her.

He knew this was his moment, that this would be his only opportunity to make his master proud, his moment to become a man. After tonight, there would be nothing of a childhood left for him.

He stepped out – careful so as not to make a sound – and moved behind her. In one swift movement she was falling. Dead before she had even hit the ground.