Note: I do not own this work. Some characters/plot ideas are my own however the entire fanfic is dedicated to the world/characters of The Old Kingdom Trilogy – Garth Nix. For educational/self improvement purposes only.
*This is the first story I have ever attempted so please review and help me become better
The seven bells. Glistening silver bells, bound with rich mahogany handles, so highly polished that the charter marks on their surface almost seem alive. Whilst the look of them is intimidating to most, for an Abhorsen-in-Waiting their iridescent surface speaks of a birth right. Their melodic voices sing the wishes of the Abhorsen, sending the Dead where they should have remained all along. But where there is an Abhorsen righting this imbalance of the world, there is a Necromancer; enslaving the services of those who have long left this physical plane, but have yet to delve into the depths of Death past the Ninth Gate.
After reading the first, of many last pages of The Book of the Dead, a young woman of seventeen sat silent, pondering her future. It was a birthright, there was no doubt, but could she fulfil it? Did she have what it takes to become the Abhorsen that she aspired to be? Her slender, petite frame gave no indication of what she would accomplish in the future, what she would not only face but also what she would overcome.
To say that her hair was dark would be an understatement. A trait that spread through her family line – along with the blood of the Charter - her hair was the darkest shade ever to frame a person. Physically, she was a mirror image of her mother. Her intense passion and confidence, attributes received by her father. One common trait that she shared with both her parents was her thirst for knowledge.
She sat, staring, contemplating her future. To the unknowing eye it seemed as though Katriel were simply staring at the wall in her chamber, yet she did not see the cold grey slate of the palace walls. Instead, she saw Death. The sinister, black water of the ever present current that seizes one from the first precinct and carries them into the depths of the Ninth Gate. Katriel's eyes, usually warm, the colour of the rich earth, were now only reflecting the shadows of Death. A cool breeze swept into the chamber. Rather than providing relief from the summer heat, it only accentuated Katriel's sense of death, of the cold desolate waters.
As the sun shone through the window of her chamber-illuminating the now golden hue of Belisaere-Katriel drew a long, deep breath, tasting the air of freedom, the air of Belisaere under the rule of her Uncle, King Touchstone the first. Exhaling, Katriel pondered her future. She was now old enough to begin working as the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Her mother had taught her as much as can be taught. All that remained were lessons that can only be learned through experience.