Mountains are beautiful. Tall and snow-capped, with dark trees surrounding their base in magnificent forests that extend in every direction. Huge lakes lying at their bases, with rivers running off into the distance. The forests populated by deer, wolves, and bears. Foxes chasing rabbits; squirrels and birds chittering in the treetops...
When I was young, my old caretaker told me stories of trees and meadows filled with magic. That was before... before the incident happened. I've never seen trees, well, live ones at least. The only trees I ever saw were dead and dried up. That was all very long ago, when innocence was bliss. Now my mind is filled with blood and filth.
Shaking my head, I sit up against the quarried stone wall, shackles pulling on my painfully blistered ankles. Speaking a few quick words, I attempt to heal my wounds, but to no avail. Magic escapes me. The others in my clan seem to wield it so easily -- a fact that I was teased about in my training as a Nightwalker.
"Get up, filth! Get your pale skins up!" The sound of metal clanging on metal pulls me from my thoughts as the Watcher slams a steel rod on the bars of my cell.
Who ever knew that one word could define their entire existence and shape their future? Only one word... Virtueless. I didn't. At least not till I was five years old.
I was playing outside my parents tent on my birthday, the caretaker was sitting on a mat, moulding a pot with clay. I remember her calling me closer once she finished the pot. She sat me in her lap and poured water into the still wet clay. She threw herbs and magic dusts into the pot and finally spoke some magic over it, turning the mixture into a beautiful shimmering gold substance, reminding me of the paint the warriors used to decorate themselves for battle.
"How old are you now, child?" Her raspy but still soothing voice drew my attention as I looked up at her. Beautiful white hair framed her face, and spatters of golden freckles adorned her nose. As she smiled, her old face seemed to grow youthful with the appearance of two deep-set dimples.
I squeal as she tickles me, giggling as I raise my hand to her, fingers out-spread, "I'm five! I'm a big girl now. Mama says I'll be called to the palace tomorrow." Laughing, she takes my hands, dipping them in the golden paint.
"That's right, my girl. I say it's about time for a big girl like you to find your Virtue." Holding my paint covered hands she places them against my bare chest leaving two small imprints on it. I turn to face her as she dips her fingers in the thick liquid, smiling as she starts painting lines on my face and arms.
The noon sun warms my back, making my drowsy eyes close. "There we go!" She proudly proclaims, scaring me awake from my cozy nap. "Come, we must go to the sparring field. Don't look at me like that! You are a big girl now; no more time for naps." Grabbing my tiny hand in hers she leads me to the field where two warriors were waiting for me.
Smiling I run to the warriors, grabbing hold of the shorter one's leg. "There's the big birthday girl! You ready to find your virtue, little one?" Nodding furiously I run to the old woman begging her to hurry up. "Patience, my child."
Not much is clear to me from that point. All I remember is waking up soaked in blood; the stench of death around me. I remember throwing up at the sight of dead bodies strewn throughout the camp. I walked around for hours crying and gagging at the mutilated corpses. I vaguely remember the caretaker holding my face and making me repeat a mantra to her, "As the desert deceives, I am Virtueless."
The last thing I remember from the outside world was being carried away by guards with a blood-soaked rag tied across my eyes.
I was taken to the castle that evening and stood before the council. Every time they tried to find my virtue, through the means of magic or traditional medicine, they would come up empty. I was told that I was a curse. The only truly Virtueless person to exist. Everyone was born with virtue, no matter how faint it was, it was there. My virtue... my virtue was non-existent.
I got shoved into training with the Faint, the practically virtueless. We were taught to fight using traditional weapons, how to infiltrate the courts of our enemies and carry out assassinations. Because of the faintness of their virtues, the Faint were undetectable by those with the virtues of observation or detection. We were basically invisible. I excelled at all styles of combat and infiltration, but I fell far, far short when it came to the use of magic. Even the weakest of the Faint could wield powerful magic. I couldn't even lift a feather.
This was it. This was the day the Virtueless girl gets to show her worth.
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