One Dark Throne
Welcome! Welcome, all visitors! You have entered the heart of ‘Feyre’. The most malicious, guarded and vicious kingdoms of all to exist.
Ruled under the eye of the most notorious king, the world has ever come across, lays a nation where everyone is divided.
The people distributed into races: The Silver’s and The Red’s.
The Red’s are us! Common people. With jobs and dreams and families to feed. They work their lives away, feeding on the happiness of loved ones to survive .
On the other hand… Are the Silver’s. The anti-heroes of our story. The people who throw money on floor, like it’s mere paper. Who kill these Red’s for power. Who eat food on silver plates. These people are fueled by greed and power. But this is no ordinary power, my friends! They have real powers! To run at the speed of lighting, to control your mind, to lift a car off the ground with one hand, to control fire, water, wind! To control the nature that blooms on the Earth… You name it!
And so… I welcome you, to my world, my nation of Feyre.
This country of division and race. Here, you’ll wonder what’s real and what’s not. Who to trust and who to not? Who’s the killer and who’s the killed? Keep in mind! Don’t be too swept away with the glorious gowns and the exquisite masks. For behind them lie the most sinister monsters you may ever face.
Join our main character as she battles among the evil, and corrupt in a world of betrayal and conspiracy. To play a game that will make you gasp and scream in horror, and also cry tears of joy.
Just remember! It’s not the most powerful one here that’ll win.. But rather the most dark! Because my friends… ‘POWER IS A VERY DANGEROUS GAME’
CHP 1
I despise Fridays! The market is almost too crowded. The air smells of rotten meat and sweat. There are too many flies buzzing around… too many people. But my eyes search for one person only… Warner; my best friend.
Warner… Where do I begin to explain him? We were 10 when we met. I used to be quite that of a pickpocket so I went around snooping near his father’s stall at the market, searching for something to sneak off. As soon as my hand grasped out to an apple, he found his way to me; hurling me on the ground, accusing of stealth. Instinct of the daughter of a soldier, my reflexes intended to throw a punch… And I did. I was even more surprised when he gave one back to me too. And instead of it turning into the most scandalous cat fight, we were laughing like a babbling band of baboons. Next thing you know, we’re hanging out by the fishing site every afternoon.
“What’s up?” A voice comes at me, bursting my bubble of thoughts.
“Your time.. That’s up!” I say, raising my eyebrows.
He looks down at his battered watch, frowning.
“Technically, I’m only 130 seconds late.” He says, goofily.
“Technically, That’s being 2 minutes and 10 seconds late..” I say, linking my arm through his as we walk towards the coliseum.
“I hate watching ‘The Fray.’” He murmurs, his amber eyes, glinting against the scorching sun.
The Fray is a monthly event that takes place at the coliseum. A member of each family is mandatory to attend it. Once a month, two powerful Silver’s will fight each other to death using their powers. The Red’s are required to watch. They do it to show us that we, The Reds, are futile. Wasted, in front of these dominant beings. It’s to put us in our right place.
The horn from the coliseum blows, symbolizing the opening. Warner and I stand in queue and get our ID’s checked. It’s to make sure that everyone’s attending. They can’t have any Red’s missing the so called ‘entertainment’!
We find our seats and as usual, I put my head in my hands. Unwilling to let myself see the bloodshed. The fight had started when we came in.
A Swiftie; speedster was fighting a Metallo; someone who could mend, curve and make any kind of metal act as per their wish. As much as I tried to resist the urge to look at the ferocity, I couldn’t help it.
The swiftie was fast, faster than most others I’ve seen in this very ring, the metallo – unpredictable. However according to the scoreboard, it seemed the swiftie had the upper hand, it was 8 to nil. He was strong, well-built and agile while she was thin, dubious and apprehensive. As he swirled around her in a blur, attempting to perplex her, the metallo raised her hand and curled her fingers. Before we knew it, she had released an army of bullets, carved through the sequins on her dress into the swiftie. They shredded him and he splat on the ground. In a miniscule, the innocent looking metallo, cut through a robust man. His blood drenched the green glass in cold silver, glimmering in the sun. She bowed gracefully, before sneering, a mischievous grin of victory playing on her bony lips.
They are gods who rule us. Gods who come down from the stars. Except these Gods are not kind and they don’t show mercy.
We didn’t say anything as we left. No one said anything. All around; Red’s, their heads down, walking ahead, moving back to work.
Same as everyday, Warner strode to his father’s stall, determined to help and I treaded home. Atleast, Warner didn’t have conscription.
Conscription is another one of our unruly ways to playing games. Once a teenage boy turns 18 and has no employment, he’s sent to war. A useless war where he’s killed and his body is then sent back home to the devastated family whose only ray of hope is destroyed.
Both my brothers – Shade and Cal are at war and everyday I wake up, in fear of finding their bodies on our doorstep. Not like we have a proper doorstep anyway. Our house, more like a shack; is a grimy arrangement of hay and wood assembled by our dad who once was a soldier who made it back home. He’s retired now. The army threw him out when he lost his leg… But atleast he’s not dead.
As I walk home, a familiar scent greets me. Cabbage soup… Again. I can’t complain though. Cabbage is after all the cheapest vegetable at the market.
“I’m home!” I acknowledge.
Dad bestows a smile from his wheelchair, folding the newspaper down. Mom nods her head, stirring the cauldron with the soup and Gisa remains concentrated upon her sewing.
I collapse upon a chair, heaving a breath.
“You haven’t done much and you’re tired?” Mom says uncouthly, her mouth pressed in a straight line.
I sigh… It isn’t usual. I’m the pathetic daughter. Shade and Cal send money home every month from conscription. Gisa is an apprentice to a mistress at a sewing shop and I… Well, I steal of from the streets of the Stilts. Our village.
“Don’t mind her. She’s just upset because Shade hasn’t sent a letter home yet.” Gisa mumbles, still not looking up from her sewing.
“Oh! It should be here by now…” I say, a knowing fear shivering down my spine.
Dad holds my hand firmly, passing a recognizing smile. He understand what I’m feeling, he feels it too.
Dinner said and done, I crawl into my cot with Gisa. My back pressing against hers. The hum of the refrigerator in the soundless night calls out to me.
“Ugghh.. I need to get Warner to fix this wretched refrigerator!” I whisper.
“Again? Honestly Marlee… What’s wrong with you?” Gisa mutters.
“How come you can’t hear the hum of the refrigerator?” I ask, annoyed.
“Because.. There is no hum or weird noise! God, Marlee. You’re mental!” She says, ending the conversation.
Always, I’ve heard the hum of devices around me. Felt electricity running through the wires of the fan above my head. When no one else around feels the same. I leave the thoughts aside and stare at the ceiling above me. When I feel Gisa’s breathing slowing down, I slither off my bed and thrown on my tattered jacket.
As I move out of the house, I hear Gisa’s familiar whisper.
“Don’t get arrested and be careful.”
I smile knowingly. She always knows. I walk off into the night, my breath forming a cool mist. While everybody else sleeps serenely, I clamber into the night like a thief, breaking Feyre curfew on a daily basis. This is my time; The night is for filches like me to fleece off people too drunk to notice. I stop today, beside the pub.
It’s not a regular but it’ll work today.
I rest against the bins, hidden away in the shadows. As drunks go by, I craftily pick out a few pennies. By the end of an hour, I have a handful. .
That’ll be enough for tomorrow’s ration.
One last, one last pick pocket and I’m done for tonight, I tell myself. I don’t think when the next prey comes out. His eyes are on the sky and he doesn’t notice me. It’s too easy to reach out, too easy to hook a finger around the strings of his coins purse.
His hand closes around my wrist. His grip is firm as he pulls me out from the shadows.
“Thief,” he says, a strange surprise in his voice.
I blink at him, fighting the urge to laugh. I don’t even have the strength to protest, “Obviously!”
He stares at me for a long moment, his hazel eyes bearing into mine and then he heaves a breath and lets me go. Stunned, I only stare at him. He spins a silver coin in his hand and then flicks it at me. I only have the wits to catch it. It’s a whole freakin crown! Enough for two days worth of groceries.
“That should be enough to tide you over,” he says before I can respond.
I feel heat, as warm as a bonfire taking over me. It comes from him. His eyes… they are like the colour of warmth. His black hair is too glossy, his skin too pale to be a servant. But his physique seems more like a woodcutter’s, with broad shoulders and strong legs.
I should kiss his boots for letting me go but curiosity gets the better of me. It always does.
“Why?” The word comes out harsh.
The question takes him aback and he shrugs, “You need it more than I do.”
I want to throw the coin in his face, to tell him I can take care of myself but part of me knows better.
“Thank you,” I force out through my gritted teeth.
Somehow, he smirks at my reluctant gratitude. “Don’t beat yourself over it.” Then he shifts, stepping closer. “You live in the Stilts, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I reply, gesturing to myself. With my faded hair, dirty clothes and defeated eyes, what else could I be?
He shifts under my gaze, playing with his collar. I make him nervous.
“Do you… Enjoy? Living, in the Stilts?” He asks.
His question almost makes me laugh, but he doesn’t look amused. “Does anyone?” I finally respond.
But instead of snapping, he falls silent.
“Are you heading back?” He says suddenly.
“Why, scared of the dark?” I drawl, folding my arms. But in the pit of my stomach I wonder if I should be afraid. He’s strong, fast and I’m alone.
His smile returns bringing along a comfort I shouldn’t feel.
“No.. But I can’t have you driving half of the pub empty… I’m Alec, by the way,” he adds, stretching out a shake.
I take it, feeling the blazing heat of his skin.
“Marlee Barrow,” I tell him.
He bows almost instantly and winks.
“Pleasure meeting you… See you around.” He adds.
As I struggle to find words, he smirks and leaves off at the edge, leaving me alone. Disappearing before I get to look back and thank him.
He’s the strangest person I’ve ever met. Yet there’s a weird attraction. It’s almost forbidden and I can’t stop thinking about the twinkle of his eyes or his blazing heat even as I walk back home.
So.. People! What did you think? Did you like it? How’s the concept? More importantly, how much do you like Marlee… More importantly… How is Cal? wink wink… The story is just getting started so keep patient. It’ll get all adventurous and mysterious as we move along. For now, I would love to know your guesses about what you think about Marlee and how will she land among a rebellion?
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