I recently found an old spiral from my sophomore year in high school (two years ago), so although I am the same age as at least one of the main characters now, I would like to point out that this was written when I was fifteen, not seventeen. I am unsure why this project was discontinued, as it looks like I was having quite a bit of fun with it at the time. Aside from some slight editing and rearranging of sentences, this piece of the first chapter is copied straight from the spiral. I believe that this was my first project where I actually succeeded in explaining the story's plot with minimal dialogue, which has always been one of the main flaws in my writing.
The chapter flips between the perspective of the three main characters, although this first bit it merely Tari's perspective. I would have added at least Laken's perspective too, as it is quite short compared to Tari's, but I just got off work an hour and a half ago and I have to return there at 7. Any comments or suggestions are welcome, especially for a word replacement for "stunts" in the third paragraph...
The flickering torches thrust their wavering light feebly against the nearly inpenetrable darkness. Ahead, barely visible to even her keen nightsight, Eridel and Laken sharpened their weapons, the sounds echoicing ominously in the dark halls. Just ahead waited their enemy, the cause of all the people's troubles, the murderer who had stolen so much from those who had had so little to give. She wanted to tell the two warriors the whole thing was hopeless, for she knew, better than any of them, how strong the demigod truly was. Theirs was a suicidal errand, an impossibility beyond impossibility; yet she had not run away again. She was still there, but she had not told them. She knew she should have, but why bother, when soon enough it would not even matter?
The original plan, that the other two knew nothing about, had been formulated before she was even born. The sole purpose of her life was to finish what had been started over seventeen years ago. When she had first been told of her role, she had shunned it. She had run away from it all, determined to forger her own existence, and now two foolish humans would pay for her selfishness, by following her to their doom, actually believing they could make a difference in a story with its end already written. Even if they had understood the entirety of the web of intrigue surrounding them, she knew they would have never turned back. It was better they die ignorant, she reminded herself for the hundreth time. It was better that they die without having to know how hopeless everything was, how doomed their world was, tottering precariously on the brink of destruction.
Newly resolved, she stood, ready to face her doom. She moved up the short distance to the others, and together they moved cautiously around the corner and through the next hallway. Suddenly everything shifted, and they found themselves hanging from the ceiling, or rather, standing on it. Even though she had expected something of the sort, it still startled her, a dreary testament to the power behind this magical force that could continue pulling stunts on them, toying with them as they dully carried on.
She looked over at Laken and noticed, as expected, that he was unnerved. Because he did not understand the mystical forces behind magical spells, they always scared him, especially when he could not see the magician behind what he dubbed "unnatural perversions of nature." Although he was trying hard not to show his fear, she noticed he gripped his broadsword all the tighter, even knowing it would do him little good if he could not see the magic user. Eridel, on the other hand, did not seem to be bothered much at all. Then again, he could channel magic to some degree through his spellsword's blade, so he did have at least some meagre working knowledge of the mechanics behind magical energy.
"Illusion?" he asked, voice even. Tari started to respond in the negative, then paused, contemplating the possibility a little more. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward a slight bit, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers into them until spots swam in the darkness of her mind. She opened her eyes, nodding briefly to the spellsword.
"Well?" Laken asked impatiently, but he received his answer not through words, but through the sudden activation of Tari's spell. The room swung around, upending the three companions. Unlike the spell that had caused the illusion, hers was so fast that all three of them were knocked off their feet as the floor and ceiling switched places.
"Well at least there wasn't that much distance between the floor and ceiling," Laken muttered, "although I still cannot decide which is which." Tari laughed aloud, the first time she could remember doing so since... Abruptly she stoped, reminding herself she was supposed to remain detached, apathetic. Her two traveling companions stared at her, shocked.
"I didn't know you could laugh," remarked Eridel. Tari merely nodded his way, struggling hard to maintain some sense of apathy, which was rapidly ripping away into shreds.
"We should continue," was all she said. Laken moved behind the other two by several paces, muttering something about being the rearguard. Eridel glanced her way, then to Laken, then back to her; but Tari could not tell what he was thinking. Without saying a word, Eridel moved in front of Tari, and she fell in step behind, even though there was more ethan enough room for at least ten to comfortably walk abreast. Tari noticed Laken followed more than a few paces behind. No one could call Laken a coward without a challenge, but he technically was to some extent whenever magic was involved. Ant the chance of a magical attack did seem greater from the front.
Something scurried across her mind, and she paused and stiffened. Unabled to speak, she stared ahead in the air, where a lith hovered, about ten feet off the ground. Her mind screamed in agony, and she realized the true purpose of the illusion as the lith targeted her. Eridel had not noticed her sudden stop, nor did he see the danger that waited ahead, lurking just above his field of vision. She tried to convince herself it was fine. The lith would kill him much more rapidly than the demigod Krades would. She tried to relax, at least as much as her conscience and the endless mental pain would allow. Black spots swam in her vision, but not due to misplaced fingers or magical spells this time. Her ears felt deafened. Faintly, she could hear a voice, Laken's she thought, but she couldn't be sure.
And... Surprisingly, I ended up sticking with this project... I guess I like it; I don't know. This became the first part of the Prologue actually, instead of the first chapter. In fact, the first three chapters became the Prologue somehow... I would post the rest of the prologue here, but it's really really long. How about one of the other chapters instead? Hmm... Chapter Seven: Lacking Ethics and Emotion
The forest itself was even darker than the area outside of the inn. She could not believe Jayde had abandoned her. There was nothing to stop the assassin from murdering her as he had the other boy. What was Jayde thinking? And what had the assassin meant by "a wealthy someone." She had so many questions to ask Jayde, but for the first time in her life, she wished that there was someone else she could ask.
Claire realized she had also been wrong about Jayde, very very wrong. Her guardian could truly care less about Claire's well-being and was likely only tolerating her in the first place because she was being paid to do so. But still the nagging question remained, tormenting her thoughts, By who?
The assassin stumbled, and Claire could hear his labored breathing. He was no longer holding her at knifepoint; for as they both knew, Claire had nowhere else to go. She could not see in the dark, and even if she could, she had no idea where she was anyway. Not to mention her staff would not offer much protection should anything attack her.
"Perhaps your guardian overestimated by abilities a bit," the assassin conceded, his first words since they had left the inn's grounds. Claire said nothing. It did not matter to her what this strange boy said. He was a cold-blooded killer, nothing more, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Apparently he sensed her misgivings. He turned and stared at her, his crimson eyes the only thing visible to her human irises in the moonless night.
"You are thinking that I am a heartless murderer. You want nothing to do with me. You, on the other hand, are pure. You have never killed anyone, and you likely never will. No, you have others who stain their hands for you, so there is no call for aggression on your part."
"Killing is wrong, no matter how you look at it!" she could not help but exclaim. The killer laughed, a surprisingly regular sound to come from one who lived by killing, nevermind a vren.
"So if your friend had killed me, would you have cared? Or if I had attacked her, and she killed me in self-defense?" Claire started to protest, but he cut her off. "You heal others for a living; I kill others for a living. We both live off of our own talents, just as the farmer and the blacksmith. Ethics aside, there is no difference in the end result of murder and self-defense. People will die; why should I not make a living off of others' hatred?"
The young girl shouted the only think she could think of to say "Because it's wrong!"
"And there are your ethics again. You forget that I am vren; your ethics and emotions mean nothing to me."
"But..." the words died on her lips. Torches were coming this way. Jayde had come after all! And with help, she dared to hope. But just as soon as she considered the notion, she dismissed it. Jayde needed no assistance, just as she needed no torch.
"I would not make the mistake of expecting aid from those men," the boy commented, pulling her away from the torches. "They are fodder for the other assassins, not a one of whom would hesitate to eliminate an innocent bystander, even considering your beliefs that killing is wrong." He smirked at her as he finished his sentence. His white teeth and red eyes were the type of thing that Claire thought belonged in nightmares.
She started to impart her own retort, but he clamped a hand over her mouth as a voice boomed from somewhere out in the darkness, "You have failed in your mission."
From a different direction came another, "You have failed to take your life." The assassin led her through a winding route; sometimes stopping her midstride to pursue another direction. His hand on her wrist was ice cold; he had to be losing a lot of blood still. Suddenly, he let go of her, reached for his weapon and flung it through the trees. Before any of this could register, he took off after it, leaving Claire standing there by herself. She backed up until she felt the rough bark of a tree behind her. While it really offered her almost no real protection, the thick, sturdy bark at her back was reassuring in the world of shadows that threatened to engulf her.