Hey! You didn't see this going to be up, now did you? Yes, I'm continuing it. The last chapter was a prank and I'm surprised that I fooled all of you! It wasn't my idea, though. It was my brother, RuneCasterwill's. He's formally known as BloodRune559 or BloodRuneCaster. Okay, so it wasn't all my idea.
I want to thank Emyy250, Maryamdxz, guest, guest, Irene Rays, F, and guuest. So, thanks to F and guuest for flaming me. I have a speech for you.
Alright, this is for everyone who reads my book.
Listen. You don't have to like my story. You don't have to like my characters. And you definitely don't have to like my form of writing. BUT, this is my story and I can writemy story how ever I want. I can portray my characters how ever I want. And I can write my story how I want. You don't have to like it. Of course, Emyy250, I'll try to make Zhalia be her sarcastic self, but I'm bad at it.
So, basically, what I'm telling you is; if you don't like my book, than leave.
*everyone leaves my book* I rest my case.
Okay, I feel like posting the second chapter anyone, but I won't have any reads.
Dante
After dinner, I left the castle. I needed to go there and see it happening once again, even thought it was too painful to watch. After a while, as I was walking, I passed hill, I found it, the slave trade. I stood and watched for a while with a heavy heart. My cape fluttered and my hair flowed in my face.
Down at the slave trade, there was the scene from 20 years ago all over again, like every day was repentance of it. I could remember every detail. There was a little girl about 6 or 7 fighting to stay with her family. The whole thing replayed and before I knew it, the slave trade ended. Everyone left. I went down where the little girl was standing. After roaming around for a while, my amber eyes caught a leather string on the ground, under a few piles of dirt. I picked it up and examined it. It turned out to be a necklace which looked exactly like the other necklace I had found in exact same place, the necklace of the midnight blue haired girl, the one from 20 years ago.
"For the love of Casterwill, two of them in the same place after all these years…I reckon there must be more." I said. I investigated the necklace a bit more carefully. Something seemed different about it. I pulled out the other one, which I had in my pocket. Sure enough, I was right.
The first one was a gold, thin, swirly shape. It had a midnight blue gem in it and a little leather string. The second one was in the same shape, but it was silver instead of gold. Like the first one, it had it an auburn gem in the middle of it and instead of a leather string, it had a metal chain. I put the gold one back in my pocket and put the silver one around my neck. That way, I felt closer to the girl, closer to my purpose. This necklace will remind me of what I have started and what I am bound to finish. I promised.
"It is about to get dark soon." I said, "I better get going." And I continued on my way.
Zhalia
I cried out as the dagger got deeper into my leg. He always did this to me. It hurt so much.
"You know, my dear," my master, Rassimov, said, "if you didn't try to run away so much, we would not be here doing this and you would not be feeling this pain. But you have not learned your lesson. If you would not run away, I would not inflict this pain on you." I screamed out loud as he continued to draw lines on my leg. Pain shot up my leg and I screamed again.
"Yeah, right." I muttered, low enough so he didn't hear, "You would do this to me no matter what I did. Only in your dreams would I stop running away! I am not like your other perfect brainless obedient pets. I WILL escape your shadow." He raised his eyebrows and pressed the dagger harder in my leg. I screamed. Tears welled up in my eyes but I won't cry. Never again would I satisfy him by crying. I will never be weak in front of him or drop my level.
He had been doing this to me ever since I was eight. The first two years I was here, when I was six and seven, he used a whip. There are still scars on my back from it. I guess he figured the whip didn't work. Ever since then, he's been using a dagger. I am surprised of how stupid he is to see it doesn't work either. Nothing will ever work! I will always try to escape! My legs, all the way up to the start of my chest, were covered in scars, scars from him. And he never stopped. Only when he felt like it would he stop.
"Zhalia," Rassimov called, "you are mine. You always have been and you always will be." He said that every time. I knew where this was going.
After he was done toying with me, he would leave to do other things, leaving me nearly unconscious in a pool of my own blood. Then, when I had enough strength to move, I would get up and leave with my dress bloodied. After that, I would clean and bandage my wounds, change my dress, and wash the bloodied dress. That action would repeat just about every day. It wasn't heathy and I was surprised that I had lived this long. I would die soon. He was cruel, vicious, and cold-hearted.
"Zhalia," Rassimov asked, "What do you accomplish from running away? You know what will happen then. You will be caught. You will be chained, tight. And you will be brought before me. And you know what will happen then, don't you?"
Yes, I knew. He would have someone chain me to a bed and Rassimov would torture me with the dagger. Every day, he would draw new lines on me. Just to hear my screams. Every day, I would slowly die of the pain, of the blood loss, of the infection. Yes, I knew what would happen. He had reminded me a lot.
"What do you accomplish from running away?" Rassimov asked again.
"I accomplish getting away from you." I said, "Getting away from the life where you treat me like I'm an object, to not spend another day having to see your stupid face!" Woops. That wasn't the smart thing to say. Rassimov's eyes flashed murderous. He moved over to my right arm and I screamed as I felt him slowly and carefully carve the letter O in my arm. A V followed and that fate I just mentioned was mine. One letter every time I got too far… and now he had baptized my arm with his stupid name.
Carter
After Dante left, Den got up and dragged me to his room.
"What is the meaning of this?" I asked. Den shot a playful glance my way.
"Help!" I playfully shouted, "Den's kidnapping me!" Den put his hand over my mouth.
"Shhh," Den said, "come quietly and you won't get hurt." I smiled and played along with him.
He led me to his room. I sat on his bed. He went over to his desk. He then opened a drawer.
"Close your eyes." Den instructed. I did. A minute later, he told me to open them again.
"Happy birthday!" He said. I gasped. In Den's hand was a sketch book and a package of charcoal.
"Oh, Den!" I said as he sat them next to me, "I love it!" I got up and hugged him.
"I know how much you love art and I noticed you did not have your stuff with you this time. So, I bought you some for your birthday." Den said. I kissed him on the cheek.
"I think it is simply lovely." I said, "Thank you." He smiled.
"Will you teach me something?" Den asked. I nodded.
"Gladly." I said. We sat down and I began to play art mentor.
Dante
I walked into Rassimov's house. It was huge, but not as big as the castle. As I looked around, I saw lots of slaves all around, which made me glad I had dismissed mine. There were people my age. There were little kids and adults. They looked up at me as I passed. Again, I felt great sorrow for one of them, I felt a great pity.
I walked into the huge meeting room. Rassimov stood in the middle of the room, with his back to me. But what really caught my eye was the figure in the shadows.
In the far right corner, stood a woman about my age. She had long midnight blue hair that I could only assume hit her middle back, and one strand seemed to stay in her face. She was wearing a long, sky blue dress with a leather belt and a leather coller holding the dress up. One side of the dress, the right side, was alot darker than the left side, but since she was in the shadows, I couldn't see why. She kept huffing and folding her arms over her chest, while turning her head or turning all the way around, so I could assume she was talking to someone.
Rassimov, just then, turned around.
"Checking out my slave, I see." He said with an evil glint in his eyes. I blushed a light shade of pink and turned to face him.
"I have a letter for you." I said. He nodded and I gave it to him.
Just then, the woman stepped out of the shadows. She had pale skin and hazel eyes. Her dak side of her dress was blood. She was a slave. An abused one, from the looks of her.
Jerking my eyes away from the slave, I knew I shouldn't. It wasn't my business, but still. Like everyone else who was a slave, I pitied her.
I looked back at Rassimov, relieved to see that he wasn't looking at me, but at the slave.
"How much for two month's time of her service?" I blurted out. Rassimov snapped his head back around. He had a surprised look on his face. Glancing over, the slave did too.
"Oh," Rassimov said, waving his hand, "You shallnt want her. Troublesome girl, she is. Gives enough trouble on her own. I'll spare you the trouble."
"You just want to toy with me some more." The slave said, surprising both me and Rassimov.
"I'm a person, you know." She continued, putting her hands on her hips, "I'm not your personal play thing." She had an angry glare in her eyes. Rassimov returned her glare with one of his own.
"You are already in deep trouble, my dear." He said, her face scrunched up when her when he said, my dear, "Let us not make it worse." She huffed.
"Who cares?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest, "Let's see you shut me up."
"You would not want me to do that." Rassimov replied.
"Try me." She retorted. Rassimov waved his hand.
"I'll deal with you later." He said. Then, he turned to me.
"What did I tell you?" He asked, "Troublesome. I am unable to barely keep her under control. I have a right mind to put her under. That troublesome girl." I glanced at the slave. Her eyes were wide in surprise. Apparently, this was new news to her.
As he spoke, I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. To me, killing a slave was just as bad as killing a noble, a lord or lady. It wasn't right. I, though, seemed to be the only one who knew that.
"How much?" I asked again, determined to get my way. Not to let her be killed in the hands of Rassimov. In the mercy of an abusive man. In my opinion, he was the troublesome one.
Hello my lovely hot dogs! How are you today?
I wouldlike to thanks my awesome, new beta-reader, Irene Rays! She helped me alot with Zhalia's point of view. I wrote it, and she added somethings to it. Thanks, Irene!
Okay, also, I would like to thank all my awesome readers here! Thank you for reading this and commenting. Everyone has been a blessing to me on here and I'm glad I found a found a place where I fit in. Thanks for telling me how awesome my work is, even though I think it's rubbish. But, that's what a fanfiction family is for!
See you all in my next update!
*smile* say awesome!
With all Huntik and awesomeness,
-Carter Casterwill
