"It is pointless to believe what you see, if you only see what you believe."
- Marie Lu
"Everyone has darkness inside them, however hidden."
- Unknown
OOC
Chapter One:
Awakening
For many generations, Kenettra had been peaceful. It was a shining gem of trade and wealth, a place to attract wealthy merchants, ruled by kings and queens with a fair and steady hand. Then a king had two children: Enzo Valenciano, the crown prince, and Giulietta Valenciano, the princess. Enzo was to grow up and rule Kenettra with a queen of noble birth, while his sister would become a noblewoman, or perhaps an arranged marriage for alliances.
However, it was not to be. The blood fever appeared from nowhere, striking hard and coursing through all countries. All above the age of twenty who caught it died, while the young ones were spared. Yet even they were not left without scars. All who caught it and survived were deemed malfettos, creatures lower than dogs who had no status. Anyone who dare take a malfetto wife would drop out of the hierarchy, and those with malfetto children a bad omen of the gods.
Even the royal family was not spared. The queen died, and the crown prince left scarred. Since malfettos were seen as creatures, animals, monsters, Enzo was suddenly unfit for the throne. Giulietta took his place instead. She married a powerful duke, and when her father died she became second in command of Kenettra, subordinate only to her husband, the king.
That's when things became dangerous. Malfettos began developing powers. Wind, rain, fire, illusions - anything imaginable. They were connected to the strings of energy that bind everything together more than the average human, and could manipulate it according to each their abilities. Malfettos were now feared. Angry mobs began hunting them, and Prince Enzo vanished without a trace.
After the fever itself died down, societies rose out of the ashes and into the light. The mostly noble Dagger Society, meant to save and recruit as many powered malfettos as they could. The Inquisition Axis, a force created to exterminate these powered abominations, or "Young Elites", as they were now called. Each was lead by someone chosen - the Daggers by the enigmatic Reaper, and the Inquisition by Teren Santoro, who was a malfetto himself.
Throughout the land, malfettos were suddenly known. In Kenettra, feared and hated. In the Skylands, revered and even worshipped. In Tamoura, treated as the humans they truly were. However, the climax was in the first, where forces clashed to discover who lived and who died. It was man versus man, brother versus brother. No malfetto was safe. Sides were taken, loyalties made, oaths sworn.
The war for freedom in Kenettra had begun.
It has been twelve years since the plague broke out in my hometown in Kenettra. I was seven at the time. Back then, I had everything a girl could ever want; a home, a family, beauty, riches, suitors, power. I lived in a three story mansion, decorated with polished marble and solemn statues. The gardens were beyond extensive; even I didn't know how far they went. We made our money in various ways, my mother dealing in the clothing industry and my father a wealthy banker. My brother earned money at fairs, where he would preform "magic" tricks for kids that were really just slight of hand.
Of course, when the plague struck, everything changed. My brother's heart swelled from the fever so much it burst, and the doctors debated on removing my tongue due to swelling. However, it died down, and I made it out alive, albeit scarred. I was no longer the pretty girl with hair like golden sunlight and eyes the color of a summer meadow; I was a malfetto. No longer would young men say I would make a fine wife in the future, and soon my father stopped caring about me. He would've been okay if I starved to death.
My mother was the reason I'm here today. She was the buffer between my father's wrath of having a malfetto daughter and myself. She cared for me, and bought me Tamouran silks to cover my hair and lavish makeup to disguise my paleness. My eyes she left, for she said they were something that would catch the attention of young men. I trusted her judgement, as I still do.
The best thing that happened to me was probably when my father died of a balira accident when down at the pier. He was always cruel to me, and I'm surprised he didn't kill me before this point. However, I do believe some of his untamed fury passed down to me, something I wish I didn't have of his.
I don't quite remember exactly when I discovered my powers, but my mother knew the entire time and said nothing to the Inquisition. She had powerful business allies, and soon found connections to the Dagger Society and had me put with them. Although they did train me to become more powerful in my arts than I would on my own, I must say it's a little odd to be taking orders from those younger than I, albeit a very short amount. I was mainly trained by the Reaper himself, for my powers were the exact contrast to his and we made a deadly combo. He was fire, I was ice. Still am, actually.
At this moment, I'm wandering through the catacombs beneath Kenettra to find the arena, for my next training session. Most Dagger gathering places are in the tunnels and catacombs that lie forgotten beneath the city. I stumble and place a hand on the wall to steady myself, only to reel back in disgust. It's covered in layers of slime and moss, although thankfully it's too dark for me to see the details. Grimacing, I continue on my way.
The approaching sound of clashing metal tells me I'm nearing the arena. I take a couple more turns and find myself in an open area, one that could fit hundreds with stone seats ringing around the central area. Only two people are in the seats - Star Thief and Windwalker, from what I see - and two are fighting in the main area. Both are male. The fire surrounding one's palms is the calling card that he's the Reaper, and based on how the other doesn't use a light has me guess he's Spider. I know the Messenger or Architect couldn't fight like that, anyway.
"Good evening," I say loudly, announcing my early arrival. Although the two fighting don't even look up, the Star Thief waves at me and gestures for me to sit next to her for the battle. I do as she says. While I align with wisdom and fury, she is aligned with joy. Her presence helps keep my temper in check. A red falcon sits on her right shoulder, crowing as I approach. I nod peace to it as I stroke its neck.
The clang of a fallen sword heralds the end of the battle. I look up to see Spider has lost - no surprise there. Reaper keeps his sword pointed at his chest for a moment before sheathing it and stepping back. Spider leans down and grabs his weapon, sheathing it as well. Reaper nods to me. "Winter," he says as a brisk greeting.
"Reaper," I reply, standing up. I pull my sword out of its sheath and tap into my powers, so that they may be accessible when needed. He takes another step back and readies into a fighting stance, as do I. His blood red hair is visible behind his mask, and his dark eyes search me, waiting for me to be fully prepared. I pull my mask down as well - the masks and robes we wear are customary Dagger attire, although I know my mother would rather I wear something more appealing for hopes of finding a husband. I don't really know why; we don't wear this in public, otherwise the Inquisition would know we were Daggers and swarm to us like flies to carrion.
He strikes first. It's fast, fast as a viper, and flames spring from his palms and towards me. I dodge and parry the blow, striking back and chilling the air to make it harder for fire to form. He grimaces as I nearly hit him, and I yelp in surprise when he does hit me. The battle continues, both of us gritting our teeth and pulling forward with all we have to win this battle as if it were real.