Alisha Ashryver isn't here right now. Her body may have made it to the Red Desert and trekked halfway through the middle of nowhere. But her mind was elsewhere, with overturned carriages and screaming mothers. Her soul cried out for the family who helped her as her homeland burned, the family she will probably never see again.
Her instincts are what drove a ten year old girl to sell all of her things on her person and travel down the east coast of Erilea. She made it to the port Bellhaven from Orthryn by blending in with different groups that made a mass exodus out of Terrasen.
The young girl's instincts also told her to pose as a cabin boy to get passage from Bellhaven to Xandria. All the stories retold by her brother in the dead of night stolen from the mouths of the palace guards were her guides.
Oh how she miss Aedion. Strong Aedion who wouldn't have left mother just because her magic faltered.
The story that pushed her forward were the tales of assassins, people as quiet as a ghost, people who could blend into the night, the people who could have save mother and made it to her sweet little cousin Aelin.
So here she is. Fighting off the urge to faint because the guide said only a little farther. The wraps around her wrists and ankles kept the invading sand at bay, but her heavy cloak threaten to suffocate her.
But not-Alisha could care less just as long as she became stronger, strong enough to protect. Her eyes weighted with exhaustion and desperation, she had to make it one more step. One more step in a never-ending sea of sand. "Just keep following him," Not-Alisha told herself, "it will all be worth it."
The world blurred at the edges, "One more step." She urged herself.
But she only made it one last step before she faltered, the world fading into black.
…
Not-Alisha was regaining consciousness, her vision was still black, but she could feel bodies moving around her.
Her skin burned and chapped. Her skin felt like her insides after she went to deep into the magic. Like she was on fire.
Non-Alisha throat was closing in on itself, her eyes were welded shut. But a cough forced itself the remaining gap in her windpipe. Immediately one of the bodies helped her into a sitting position. The glue on her eye lost purchase and she finally forced them open.
The room she found was beautiful: Arabic architecture, white walls, and beautiful mosaics. In the room holding the young princess was a young woman who was tan and willowy with work. A bed underneath her was simple matching the small room. There was a matching dresser with water jug above it on the other side.
But what concerned Non-Alisha was the man sitting in the chair at the foot of the bed by the door. He looked to be about forty, permanently tan and had a strong face that still retained some of the handsomeness of his youth. But the sharpness in his green eyes told her that he was a warrior, like her father and other men of the court. The man waved his hand, too much movement in his wrist to just mean "Leave."
The woman released Non-Alisha and gave her a reassuring smile as she left the room. The man focused on her, Non-Alisha was feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Was it normal for people not to speak? What did they want? Is this the Keep of the Silent Assassins?
Her ten year old mind couldn't stand the silence any longer, "Hello." Non-Alisha voice wavered with effort, tearing with each dehydrated breath, "I am…" She wasn't Alisha since she did not have family anymore, "I… I come from Terrasen." The man did not look surprised at the omission of a name, he just tilted his head for her to continue.
And Non-Alisha told him everything.
…
After what could have been hours or minutes Non-Alisha finished the tale of her homeland. Once she had finished the man stared at her, studying her.
"If you wish," the man voice sounded like sandpaper, "my lady, you could train here under me. I am the Mute Master you seek and you can relearn to live here." His accent she couldn't place but his voice was kind.
Wide eyed from tears and fear Non-Alisha whispered, "I can be anyone?" The Mute Master nodded. Non-Alisha wiped her tears, "Can I have a new name?" He nodded again. Non-Alisha fear melted and was reforming into awe for the master.
While very reserved in nature she was also curious, it's how her cousin and brother got her to do "anything fun" as they called it. Slightly louder than before she asked, "If you are the Mute Master then why do you speak?"
The master smiled rising from the chair to sit next to her, "That is because sometimes words are needed. You will probably never hear me speak again after today." He patted Non-Alisha head, "But we will still be able to communicate."
Non-Alisha snuggled into the contact she didn't even realize she craved, "Then why do you normally not speak?"
"Because words are powerful, but so is the silence." The master paused looking off, "It can help focus people, some people take vows of silence as a way to re-center themselves."
Non-Alisha pulled away from the master, "Then that's what I'll do." The master pulled his hand back, quizzically looking at the young royal. "I will not talk or be Alisha again until I can find my cousin." Shyly she looked to the master. Realizing that she was probably being rude assuming, "If you'll have me?"
The master stared at the young refuge for what felt like forever. Then quietly he spoke the last words the either of them would speak for ten years, "Emilea Sephim, the Silent Assassins will take you as an acolyte."