Ever since memory started to serve me, I found myself stuck in the same place.


    The many days spent starving on the side of the road brought me both contempt and perspective.


    There was something wrong with this world.


    The rays of the sun started sneaking through the narrow cracks, it''s starting again.


    I observed the masses slowly rise from their slumber, shuffling onto the cramped streets; like a moth to a flame, they too sought to reach the mesmerizing light.


    Alas, the fickle rays proved aloof and out of reach, and their pursuit was folly. In their frustration they had to settle for lesser things, trying to replicate the golden gleam.


    And so onward they went, from dusk till dawn, toiling the fields and plying their trades. Some peddled exotic wares, while others hunted ferocious beasts.


    So seized by their aims, they were reluctant to even wipe the sweat that streamed across their foreheads, hoping to catch a glimpse of the yellow shine.


    All that effort, just to earn a few shiny pieces that cling.


    The hours passed, and the grip of the sun over them waned as the diarch slowly gave way to his co-ruler and the day drew to a close.


    With the curse now undone, the same thing they so desperately sought started to matter little to them.


    They discarded their tools of trade to a man and went off to squander it all on liquor and women. They exchanged their hard-earned wages for momentary pleasure.


    But I knew for certain.


    The sun will rise again come morning, and they will be hypnotized by it once more...


    "Ugh... my head is killing me."


    The loud racket that snuck into my ears caused me to mutter under my breath, and I shot a glance towards the half-closed window to my right.


    But I was unable to do anything about it, so I went back to examining my book.


    The image of snow is not one that I am thrilled to evoke, but the interest I held at the sight of the pristine thick paper trumped my disdain for times now past.


    Even to my untrained eyes, the value of the gleaming parchments was evident.


    I took care not to repeat the mistake of tugging hard on the shoddy seam, for the will that held it together was gradually vanishing, and I turned the page to the latest entry.


    [


    12th of Scythe''s peak


    The rays of sun crept in through the creaks, and a choir of birds let out a merry song welcoming the new day. But before I even had the chance to enjoy this symphony of nature, an unwelcome guest made himself welcome in my room.


    It was Zelea, my youngest sister, bursting through the door like water from a dam.


    I''m sure I told Miria (our maid) to lock the door tight last night, but when I saw her struggling to stifle a giggle, I knew she must''ve conspired with her.


    Still lying beneath my cotton blanket, my head sunk deeper into the plushy pillows as her rampaging knocked down my hand-crafted marble figurine of The Velvet Prince.


    I''ll never understand how she gets this much energy this early.


    I clenched my fist under the sheets in Anger as I contemplated summoning a tiny cloud over her head to follow her around all day, ruining her hairdo as she ruined my morning.


    Alas, she came prepared. Once she was satisfied with the carnage she caused and had finished fondling all my precious figurines, she turned to Miria who handed her a sealed letter bearing our family''s sigil.


    "In order to celeberate your indu - induc"


    "Induction my lady" Maria had to step in to correct her stutter.


    "Ahem, indeed. Your induction into the Caehdeli Dome. We will be hosting a gathering of your peers in a month''s time, confer with Zelea and Maria about the details of the party and report to me.


    By your father, Zaktel Krosma"


    That''s it? All this was for an invitation to a tea party?


    That cloud is starting to feel like a good idea, maybe even some muddy sand on her white shoes.


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.Alas, I couldn''t. She was well shielded behind a decree from my father.


    After all, the first rule of diplomacy is: Don''t harm the messenger."


    ]


    After reading that, the shred of guilt that lingered in my chest started to lessen. It almost stands to reason that the previous owner of this house met that tragic fate.


    This land is unbound by such rules, and the district of Vagren she had unwittingly strolled into has as much diplomacy as a rabid dog''s bite.


    Her naive remarks reaffirmed my belief that no matter how bad you think things are, they can be a lot worse.


    What if you had no door to close behind you, no siblings to vex you, no mattress to lie atop?


    What an ungrateful bastard.


    To be freely given all the things that I desired so deeply for so long, and still have the nerve to complain about such a trifling matter...


    I rocked back in my chair and stared down at my bruised hands, It would be a lie to say that my previous deeds weighed less on my mind after reading her words.


    My eyes raced across the dimly lit room, as I familiarized myself with the position of the furniture and the general layout.


    In that brief lull, the grip I held over my mind loosened for but a moment. But that''s all it took for the events of the strenuous day to come crashing down on me.


    I squeezed my eyes as the visions streamed to my mind, and I remembered the state of her when she breathed her last.


    It was dark by the time Corlem''s gang was done with her, and I was stumbling in the dark trying to sneak my way into the courtyard.


    It all started around noon, my mind was numbed by the gnawing hunger and my vision was all but blank as I stumbled across the ambush.


    I''m not sure if was rotten luck or a venomous curiosity that led her to hire a local guide to help navigate through the slums, but it wasn''t the only mistake she made that day.


    And as the trap was sprung, her tongue deepened the hole that her feet dug up when she carelessly announced that she was a renewal willer.


    At the time, I thought she was going to get away scot-free. Willers were not to be trifled with, certainly not by the no-name vagrants that were holding her up.


    Not even the four gerents that ruled over the Vagren district dared to break that rule.


    But everything changed when Cromel happened upon the scene. And when he learned of what was happening; he finished with the harlot that had her legs locked around him and tossed her aside while dashing forward to the young willer.


    His gait was light and graceful and a wide grin decorated his face.


    From the tales I had heard of the man, I knew her fate was already sealed.


    "Soooo... You are the renewal willer" He asked, skipping back and forth like a toddler.


    "Tha—" her voice faltered, causing her to clear her throat before continuing "That''s right! So stay out of my way!" the pitch of her voice was still high despite the apparent effort.


    "Hmmm," he said as he scanned her from head to toe "You are younger than I thought"


    "You never know with them freaks" one of his goons commented out loud.


    Cromel didn''t even shift his gaze, but the man who made the remark soon collapsed to the ground. Blood dripped from the dagger that was lodged in his foot.


    "What did I say about interrupting me?"


    His eyes remained locked with hers as the smile persisted on his face. From where I was hiding, I failed to see what expression she had at the sight of the stream of blood that leaked from the dagger that was lodged in his foot.


    The awkward silence persisted for a few moments before the intolerable groaning was silenced as the dagger flew back to his hand as abruptly as it was launched.


    "So back to what I was sa—"


    "How did you do that?"


    Cromel gritted his teeth hard, the squeaky noise as he ground them together caused my stomach to churn


    "It''s rude to interrupt people"


    "Why is that?"


    "Why? You ask..." he replied as he inched forward to the woman he cast aside at first. He pulled her closer, grabbed a handful of her bare chest, and embraced her in a kiss so long that her foot started twitching.


    "What do you think separates the weak from the strong?"


    Cromel was unbothered, His tone showed no sign of fatigue while his partner gasped for air.


    "The answer is: permission."


    "Without the consent of the strong, the weak can''t even draw breath."


    Cromel then slid his hands upwards and squeezed the neck of his partner who still hadn''t caught her breath. Her face reddened and her limbs trembled as she scratched his chest with her nails in desperation.