Raven stared as one of her fellow laundry workers was approached by a fully qualified Assassin. She had been here for just over a week now and had noticed that her colleagues – though not naked like she was – were not wearing the metal head-protectors that the majority of people wore. From this, and the fact that they were constantly carrying out the same menial task as she was, Raven gathered that they were untrained and unworthy of the title Assassin yet.
The young woman was led away by her senior without any attention being paid by the others, who were all, as ever, consumed by their work.
Frowning slightly, Raven returned to the trousers she was currently washing. Why were the others so focussed on washing clothes? Would they be punished for allowing their attention to wander, even for a second? Maybe she'd been lucky not to be caught so far.
No! She couldn't allow herself to start thinking like that; as soon as she began worrying about pleasing the League of Assassins she would be lost and this world – this Universe – would be at an end.
Angry at herself and determined to re-assert her defiance, Raven flung the washing paddle into the murky depths of the washing basin. Or at least, she had wanted to see it sink, but instead it bobbed mockingly to the surface. Raven glared at it for a moment. Couldn't she do anything right? And why did she feel a bizarre urge to begin laughing?
Raven snapped her head up quickly, her eyes meeting a pair of startled brown ones. One of her fellow laundry workers had been watching her. Or rather, she realised as she sensed amusement from the others who all had their heads bowed to their tasks, they had all been watching.
She frowned slightly. How had they seen? They were all bent over the water. Surely, she would have noticed them looking.
Heaving a sigh, Raven decided to put them out of her mind and to take her rebellion further. Turning, she stalked through the permeating steam and made her way through the door. Once alone, she felt oddly lost. What should she do now? She couldn't leave the compound as she had come to call it.
Dithering, Raven chewed her bottom lip in thought as she glanced up and down the condensation filled hall way. Her eyes settled on the right-hand passage, the one that lead to the food hall. Maybe she would go there, even though there would be no food she was a little thirsty and that fountain was just beyond the mess. Outside.
Her heart gave a small flutter at the thought. She relished every moment of being outside so much that she would take as long as possible to collect her water at meal times, which was the only chance she had at escaping the indoors. Until now.
Raven walked briskly along the labyrinth of corridors and, even though it was impossible, she felt as though the air was getting clearer and crisper with every step she took.
Eventually, she stepped into the empty food hall. It was almost spooky winding her way between the deserted tables and passing the three stout platforms that usually held the vats of food.
By this time, Raven had become accustomed to the schedule of meals. It reminded her of Azarath where the consuming of food was carried out five times a day at consistent times. In her father's realm, she had eaten whenever she was hungry, which at first corresponded to her old schedule but diverged over the years. The re-introduction of a strict regime had her feeling ravenous for the first couple of weeks, until her body acclimatised.
Learning to eat in three set meals however, was nothing compared to sleeping in consistently short bursts. Every night she would collapse onto the bare floor of her room and fall instantly asleep but she was still being woken every morning by a deluge of freezing water. Tiredness is an ever-present companion, but she is learning to cram deeper relaxation into the short few hours of sleep allotted to her which is obviously the point. This morning, she swore she woke a second before the water hit her, perhaps her body's clock was finally synchronising with the tempo of life here.
Stepping out into the courtyard, Raven took a moment – as she always did – to bask in the sunlight. The skies where a pale blue, the air clear of the snow-laden clouds that had been plaguing the compound for the past week. The courtyard was so high in the air that the clouds actually passed through it, shrouding it in a freezing damp mist. It had been snowing so heavily in fact that the mountains looming around them seemed larger than usual, their bulk inflated by the extra layers of frozen water.
Raven bit her lip; she knew what she wanted to do while out here. Something she had wanted to do ever since her father had informed her of where she would be living for the foreseeable future.
Glancing around to confirm that no one was watching her, Raven cautiously levitated herself an inch from the ground. After waiting for a minute, convinced that she was about to be punished for her use of magic, Raven decided that she truly was alone. So, she rose higher into the air.
Once she was level with the tall walls of the courtyard, she realised that she had never seen the complex in its entirety and – ruefully thinking that she was already in trouble for using unwarranted magic – she shot higher, higher, higher. Above the complex, which reminded Raven of one of the more medium sized temples in Azarath, but she knew that it's sprawling underground tunnels made it vast. Up she went, until the wind was howling around her and she could barely breathe.
It was worth it though. Looking around herself, Raven saw Earth sprawling around her, as far as she could see. Mountains, ancient and majestic; lowlands barely visible despite the lack of cloud coverage that day; Raven could almost swear that she could see a faint sparkling strip on the horizon. Was that a sea? An ocean?
On Azarath, Raven had lived near the harbour. If she thought about her old home, she remembered the salty tang in the air, the loud birds that fished in the water, the lapping of the waves. It had been her favourite spot, meditating on the cliffs that overlooked the water. There had been something so pure and natural that her heart gave a great pang of longing as she contemplated the distant shimmer of light. She could almost taste the salt in the air.
A surge of emotion welled in her chest and she gasped at the suddenness and violence of the onslaught. Loneliness and loss and grief and longing attempted to crush her spirit. Tears froze, icicles clinging to her eyelashes, as Raven felt the familiar stirrings within her. A dangerous beast uncurling from sleep to rise its monstrous head.
Quickly, Raven gulped down deep breaths but the thinness of the atmosphere and the panic in the back of her mind as the corrupting tentacles of Hell caressed her mind and soul, prevented any semblance of calm.
Eyes stinging, Raven knew what she had to do. Light-headed and desperate, she opened a glowing purple portal and sped through it.
xxx
Raven spent the rest of the morning meditating beside the sea. It might have been an ocean for all she knew or cared. Whatever the body of water was, it was immensely calming.
The brief loss of control mere hours ago was like a distant nightmare as the sound of rolling waves running up the sand and warmth of the breeze gently ruffling her hair gave her a sense of home. She was safe here. She didn't ever want to go back. Back to the League of Assassins, back to her father. If only she were a normal human, a human allowed to feel. Raven fought every minute of every day to remain calm, unfeeling, blank. But there was always a sense of emptiness that accompanied this state. It gaped inside her like a fathomless pit, wanting to be filled.
The monks of Azarath had entreated her to accept this sensation as a consequence of serenity. It is not the natural state of any sentient being, they had said, to be devoid of emotion and this feeling of loss was to be expected. But a small part of Raven, even after she had been violently shown why she could not allow herself to feel, resented the coldness; whished she were allowed to laugh and love and live as she knew other humans did.
Most humans.
The upper echelon of the League of Assassins didn't feel or rather – Raven amended, remembering that first morning when the woman had shot her with an arrow and had only let a trickle of fear be felt by Raven's demon-self – shielded their feelings.
Trigon would have hated that, she certainly had at the time; she and her father fed of the negative emotions of others. The more those around them were suffering, the stronger they were. It was the primary reason her father had taken over so many Universe's, not because he wanted to rule – Trigon the Terrible was a conqueror not a leader – but because with every new world he decimated, with every new soul he trapped in his eternal Hell, he grew stronger.
Raven caught her breath.
She stared ahead of her, unseeing, at the pregnant sun disappearing beyond the horizon, its golden rays reflecting sporadically on the choppy waters.
Was this the key to overcoming Trigon?
The monks of Azarath had taught her to not feel, but the Assassins definitely experienced emotion; she could feel it, only it was muted, diluted. If she learnt how they did that then maybe, maybe she would be able to face Trigon on an equal footing.
And more than that – Raven's heart was starting to race now, her pulse quickened and she felt a stirring deep within her as though a demon was slowly uncoiling in her stomach – she had been overcome by one of them. A mere mortal had felled her when she had lost control, and she had done it without using magic. The Assassins knew nothing about magic, whereas her father knew of nothing but magic. If Raven was able to master both magical and physical combat, she might, just might, have a chance of imprisoning her father forever.
A delighted smile slowly spread across her face. Yes, this was it; this was the key, the weapon she had been seeking for years and her father had sent her to be taught by them!
She hesitated at that. Why would Trigon have sent her to be taught the skills needed to defeat him?
Raven frowned, pondering this, barely noticing the darkness of the night closing in around her, or the sudden chill of the air on her exposed flesh; her body was producing enough heat to keep her warm, her red skin hard as diamonds against the slight breeze.
Her father had sent her here to learn discipline and so she could acclimatise herself to this realm; if Raven were to open a portal for him, she would first need to assimilate the magic of this Universe. She doubted he had thought any further than that. Her father was arrogant and powerful and believed himself nigh on invincible.
Well, Raven couldn't argue with that; he was evil incarnate, almost one of the eternals in nature. She had no illusions that she would be able to kill him or even destroy him, no he could only be trapped, imprisoned, contained. And that is what she would do.
So, no more running away, no more skipping training. Raven would learn everything she could from the League of Assassins and use those skills to take them and their patron down!
xxx
Raven arrived back at the compound to find a few people queuing before the fountain. It must be time for the afternoon meal and she was relieved that she hadn't missed it for her stomach was gnawing at her.
Heads looked up sharply as she alighted in the courtyard. She had the decency to look abashed by her blatant disregard for the rules that had been lain down for her, but she brushed that aside; she was ready to learn now that there was a goal in mind.
Straightening her back and keeping her hands determinedly at her sides to stop herself from being tempted to pull her cloak closed around her naked body, she swept down the stone steps and into the food hall.
Raven could hear her own heavy breathing as she threaded her way through the various tables until she reached the one holding the bowls before taking one and joining the end of the shortest line. It felt like the gaze of every person was on her and the urge to hide herself was strong, but her resolve held.
She reached the front of the queue and dutifully held her bowl out to the scarred, one-eyed man serving this evening's meal. But instead of ladling a steaming pile of rice and soup into her dish, he stared blankly at her, his hand unmoving on the ladle's handle.
Raven remained frozen for a while until it became apparent that she was not going to be served. Eventually she gave a small nod of understanding before lowering her bowl. Her stomach gave an audible growl, but she held her head high as she turned away from the food. If this was her punishment for using magic or leaving her laundry duties then so be it; it wouldn't happen again. Though, she hoped they'd resume feeding her tomorrow.
xxx
Raven concentrated determinedly on the task at hand, every time she felt her mind or eyes wondering, she would give herself a little shake. It had been like this for the past few weeks, ever since she had fully immersed herself into training; she wanted to prove her new-found commitment and progress quickly, but still she hadn't even been promoted to wearing clothes.
Still, Raven had to admit that she had changed drastically in the month that she had been here. She no longer attempted to hide any part of herself from the eyes of others and had actually found the new found unconcern for her physical appearance liberating. She had noticed herself walking straight backed, with her eyes fixed ahead of her rather than her previous slightly hunched posture, her eyes trained on the ground before her.
Despite herself, Raven almost felt grateful for her father sending her here; manual labour was something she had never experienced before but it gave her great pride. Every night she found herself able to sleep without any effort, unplagued by the screams and horrors of her memories.
By the time the midday gong was struck, she was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Her arms were aching and the skin of her hands were wrinkled and prune-like.
She cast her eyes over the others as she turned towards the exit, quick enough to notice two of her colleagues exchanging a glance. Their eyes seemed to communicate more than passing curiosity. One of the many gifts she had inherited from her father was an empathic ability, and she sensed, out of the corners of her mind, that the two were communicating a sense of relief.
Raven pondered this exchange as she made her way towards the food hall, as she remembered the covert glance another memory stirred in her mind, a memory of her arrival in this universe when she had caught a meaningful look exchanged between a boy and a woman. It had stuck with Raven because her empathic senses told her that they were judging her and her pride had been wounded.
Maybe that was just how these Assassins behaved, communicating with looks rather than words. It made sense now that she thought about it; assassins had to be stealthy, and talking was such a noisy business, why not develop a silent form of communication? Raven determined to keep her eyes open for more evidence of her theory.
That afternoon, as she resumed her work, she tried casting sneaky looks at her fellow workers. It took quite a few failures until she saw something that made her heart flutter with pride: one of the others was quickly casting his eyes around the room, as soon as he realised Raven had spotted him, he dropped his eyes instantly to the dirtied water in front of him. So, she was right; they weren't uninterested in their surroundings, they were just observing the others covertly.
For the rest of her shift in the laundry room, Raven practised her new-found skills. She found that it was much harder than she had originally thought; if she looked around too quickly, she wasn't able to actually process the information her eyes had taken in, but if she was too slowly, she wouldn't be covert. Furthermore, she found that her multitasking skills were nothing to be desired; often she found herself gaining covert information, only to discover that her hands had remained idle for a time, either that or she had been washing the same article of clothing for half an hour. There was a fine balance that needed to be struck, and she had not found it yet.
That evening she was served her food by the Arrogant Midget again. As she didn't know the names of anyone but Nyssa, she had created nicknames for the members of the upper echelon of the League of Assassins. The Arrogant Midget was the name she gave to the prepubescent boy who seemed to think so much of himself and so little of her. She had named his mother – for mother she was if the small interactions Raven had seen between the two of them were read correctly – The Greedy Temptress; it had not taken Raven long to see how much the woman craved power over the organisation and the way she dressed left little doubt in how she intended to get it. The old man who had greeted her upon her arrival was Old Man Assassin, the short man with a scar running down his face was Scar Face and the old man with skin as pale and thin as paper and snow-white hair she had named White-Haired Assassin she was disappointed in her imagination with these last three, but it was accurate. And the tall woman in red with the pony-tail who hardly ever spoke she had named The Silent Lady. All in all, she felt proud of her little private joke names; they were useful to her, but would be despised by their owners if they ever found out.
While she ate, she continued with her undercover practise. It was easier to do this while eating, as people naturally paused all hand movements in order to chew and swallow their food, so multitasking was less of a challenge. By the end of the meal, she had satisfied herself that the inhabitants of the food hall were also communicating secretly to one and other. Once or twice, she had even caught little hand gestures, so maybe there was more to it than looking significantly at each other.
After she had finished eating, she made her way to her meditation room. This was a space that had been given to her specifically so that she could communicate with her father and learn to master her magical skills.
It was a large room, mostly bare apart from the intricate magic circle scrawled on the floor. Raven had drawn it herself; the configuration created a safe environment for her to use her demonic powers without the effects applying to the world outside of the outermost ring. There were many kinds of magic circles, all for different purposes and to accommodate different types of magic. One incorrectly drawn symbol or smudge and all Hell could break loose on this dimension as soon as a spell was cast inside, literally.
Once she was satisfied that the configuration of the circle had remained untouched since her last session, Raven closed the door to the hallway, plunging the room into absolute darkness. She stepped into the centre of the ring and took up her meditative pose. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing technique. As she had been taught from a young age how to do this, the self-awareness came almost instantly. Her chest was filled with fast flutters, caused by both nervousness and excitement, this was her usual state before opening communications with her father; her pacifist and violent sides opposing each other.
Once she was satisfied that her body was in the correct state, Raven opened a connection between her mind and her father's.
One moment she was herself; Raven, a young girl alone in a cold, empty room. The next, she was consumed with Trigon; she felt his dark aura filling her up and spilling into the space around her. Raven's heart beat faster as a shudder of dark delight ran down her spine; this was the most dangerous thing about opening herself up to her father, the fact that it was so exhilarating. The temptation to just let go of all control the monks had taught her completely, and revel in the world of pain and pleasure was almost too much to contain. If she hadn't taken the time to meditate into a state of utter peace and calm before forming the connection, she might have let herself be consumed by her demonic half completely, and probably would have gorged on the torment of others.
These feelings were not new to her; she had allowed it once, had given into the sheer freedom of evil. It had been one of the most thrilling experiences of her life, until she had done something so horrific that her conscience had re-asserted itself firmly. The glorious callous disregard for others had been lost, and she was left staring at the price of her reckless abandon. Her father had been so impressed with her imaginative cruelty that day that he had declared her his favourite child. Raven had never truly come to terms with what she had done. She doubted she ever would.
As the first wave of power settled into a constant chaotic twirl, Raven looked past the raw energy to the will behind it. Trigon the Terrible greeted his daughter with an air of pleasure. The strange form of affection he had for her filled her with both extreme pride and disgust.
Her training began.
Communicating through demonic magic was an abstract experience, the actual communication so conceptual that it was impossible for beings who only knew how to communicate physically to comprehend.
When conversing through physical means, no matter what they may be, including noise, scent, gesture, or even telepathy, there were always distinct individuals. Two or more independent agents with autonomy, expressing a single idea with limited resources.
The link between Raven and Trigon was absolute; in that state they were not two beings, but one entity, with one mind; it would be so easy for two beings to become so entwined that their individuality would be lost forever. So, both Raven and her father only exposed a small portion of themselves to the amalgamation, and only allowed the concepts they wished to communicate through the divide. As soon as either of them introduced an idea to their entwined selves, it was understood in its entirety.
In this way, Trigon learnt of all that had happened to Raven since they had last communicated; not just an overview of events, but Raven's experience of them, everything she had felt, thought, or sensed. Of course, she made sure not to include her revelations or plans of betrayal, but posed her newly-found determination to comply with the League's teachings as a resignation to inevitability.
He processed the information with humour; he found the archaic notions of detecting other's intentions only through words to be laughable. Once he was on Earth, he would teach the League of Assassins how little their paltry silence meant to a being such as him.
In return for the news, her father imparted his understanding of a new spell to Raven.
After expressing her understanding, Raven terminated the connection.
It was disconcerting, after being tied so tightly to another, to suddenly find one's self alone; the agony that the emptiness created was almost unbearable. But again, this was a normal reaction, and Raven, still in a meditative state, was able to regain her individuality quickly.
Once fully recovered, she set to work mastering the new spell. With demonic magic, it was not only the mind that had to be trained, but one's emotions; demonic magic was fuelled by emotion and the right amount of all feelings had to be present in order for a spell to work correctly. Training oneself to switch between such states took many hours of practice, and by the end of her four-hour allowance, Raven was not even part-way to mastering her objective.
When the door to the room was opened, and a shard of dim candlelight illuminated her, Raven slowly brought herself out of her meditative state.
Stretching her cramped muscles, she walked alongside Nyssa – who had been waiting for her – to the shower room. The showers were the most modern accoutrements in the entire building, being only about fifty years old.
Raven neatly folded her cloak and placed it on a wooden shelf alongside the clothes of the Assassins who were allowed garments.
As she stepped under the scalding hot spray next to Nyssa, she reflected on how embarrassed she had been the first few weeks of using the facility. But now, she had absolutely no qualms about bathing alongside the men and women of the League of Assassins; they were all in the same position and they were so used to each other's state of undress that any curiosity they may have experienced at first had long since died away into normalcy.
As she scrubbed at her skin, attempting to expel the deep-set dust and grime from her body, Raven allowed a slight lament for her father's realm; a long soak in a pool of lava would have instantly cleansed her of all contaminants.
When she was as clean as mere water could make her, Raven dried herself off with one of the itchy towels, and made her way out of the shower room. Just as she reached the door, the Arrogant Midget blocked her way momentarily as he entered. For a second they looked at each other before the boy continued past her and into the room. Raven frowned at his back momentarily, before collecting her cloak and making her way to her room. That boy confused her; sometimes he was as expressive as his brethren with his emotions – she had discovered early on how difficult it was for her to read the members of the League of Assassins with her empathic abilities – but at others, like just now, she couldn't sense an iota of his feelings, which she had never experienced with any other being.
When she got back to her room, she was greeted with a surprise: a small pile of clothes was lying on top of the thin blanket she slept under. She was so used to being naked by now, that she had stopped noticing all together which was, she assumed, the whole point of the exercise.
Satisfied that she had made progress, and too exhausted to think, Raven curled up on the stone floor under the blanket and fell into a deep sleep.
xxx
Over the next few weeks, several more of Raven's companions were selected to leave the laundry room. Soon, only she and three others remained of the original group of them, and she had managed to develop a kinship of sorts with the others. Through observation, she had learnt the meaning of some of the gestures and had used her newfound skills to converse with the others. They didn't talk about much other than work and how hungry they were, but through the way the others interacted, along with her own empathic senses, Raven gleaned some of the others personalities. Of the two men, one was highly talkative for a trainee Assassin, always ready to communicate and initiating more conversations than the rest of his fellows combined; while the other was determined to impress his superiors, giving short, concise answers only when he was queried, and working twice as hard as anyone else. As for Raven's fellow female, she was the least communicative at all, Raven constantly sensed a swirl of anger and grief around her, making her think that the woman was here to gain revenge.
A mere week after Raven had graduated to clothing, a new initiate had joined them; a man in his late teens to early twenties. Raven instantly knew he was a new initiate because he was being phased in the exact same way she had been. He walked around naked, blushing profusely whenever he caught the eye of either women he worked alongside. She sensed an embarrassment that went beyond normal shyness, especially when he was around women. Perhaps he was not used to women, or the society he came from was extremely reserved. Either way, Raven could not see him lasting long; in the weeks since he had arrived, he was concentrating so much on keeping his eyes down, that he had completely missed the point of the training here – which was, of course, to learn how to observe and communicate covertly.
About to begin another day of monotonous labour, Raven greeted her fellows mechanically and took the first garment from the rack, when she was approached by a fully-qualified Assassin. The headband bearer caught her eye before walking away meaningfully.
Without hesitation, Raven followed him, not even pausing to signal a goodbye to her fellows; she could not let this opportunity to advance pass her by.
The Assassin led her up through the labyrinth, until she was higher in the structure than she had ever been. At the point where they passed the level where the food hall was, the floor became wooden planks, and the walls made of either painted brick, or a thin, paper-like material. Eventually, she was left in front of a sliding door. She could make out a shadowy silhouette behind it, kneeling on the ground.
Unsure of what to do, and not wanting to blow her chances by barging into a room she had not been invited into, Raven remained standing outside until she was summoned. This happened after about five minutes, by which time, she was fairly certain who the silhouette belonged to.
When she entered and dropped onto one knee before the occupant, her suspicions were confirmed; sitting at the head of the room was Old Man Assassin, the leader of the League. Once again, she was hit with the feeling that he was not entirely human.
"Congratulations girl," he said, "you are ready to begin your combat training. Do not forget the lessons learnt in the past few weeks however, you wouldn't be the first trainee we revert back to being a new initiate.
"Now, due to your unique requirements, we will not put you in a class with your fellow trainees. Instead, you will be given private tuition. Do not think that this means we are being lenient; the training you will receive under Lady Shiva will not be easy or pleasant, she is notorious as being a particularly tough teacher."
Raven chanced a quick glance at the woman standing just behind Ra's, it was the woman she had come to calling The Silent Lady. Lady Shiva was staring blankly ahead of herself, betraying nothing of her emotions in her face, but Raven was able to sense a vague kind of boredom emanating from her.
Though Raven perceived nothing, the old man must have given some sort of signal, because Lady Shiva started leading her out of the room.
They came to a stop in the middle of one of the courtyards. As usual when she was in the open air, Raven breathed in deeply for a moment, relishing the crisp, clean air filling her lungs. Before it was knocked out of her as Lady Shiva's foot slammed painfully into her stomach.
Raven flew back several meters before hitting the floor. Utterly winded, she gasped desperately for breath as she fought her every instinct, which were telling her to get angry and use magic.
"Up." Snapped the other woman.
Choking and spluttering, Raven slowly rolled onto her hands and knees, before shakily pushing herself onto her feet. No sooner had she risen into a standing position Lady Shiva attacked her again. This time, she grabbed Raven's hair and slammed her face into her knee. Raven cried out as she fell; her nose broken. Holding her hand to her face, she attempted to stem the flow of hot, gushing blood.
"Up." Commanded the woman again.
This time, Raven was ready when she stood again, and managed to evade most of the next blow. Her opponent was too fast for her however, and the incoming fist collided with her arm rather than her throat. With a completely dead arm, Raven began running away from the other woman.
When she had reached the maximum distance she was able, Raven turned. Lady Shiva was where she had left her.
"Smart," called the woman, "you hold no delusions over who will be the victor in the fight. However, just as you are admirably fighting your instinct to use magic, you must squash the urge to run. Members of the League of Assassins do not give up until their objective is complete or they lie dead on the ground."
As the woman spoke, Raven took the moment of relief to regain her senses. Her stomach was throbbing a dull ache that wouldn't stay dull for long; her arm, though completely numb, was not broken; her nose was however, and the blood flowing from it was covering her face, she could feel where the chill air attempted to freeze it on her cheeks and chin.
Shivering, and aware that faintness over the blood loss would soon hit her, Raven decided that she would at least throw one punch at Lady Shiva before this bout was over.
At least her legs were still functioning, she thought, as she sprinted towards her opponent. Lady Shiva gave no outwards signs of shock, but Raven sensed a feint air of surprise emanated from her, and a small twinge of something akin to respect.
Unsurprisingly, none of her blows landed. Neither did they for the rest of the training session, but Raven felt oddly pleased with herself as Lady Shiva helped her limp back to the main building that evening; she had not used magic, and she had refused to give up. She had just proved her resilience.