The Last Healer

Prologue

Author's note: This is an original story and I am full aware that my story is different then some others that you may have read. So I have some advice for you. Since the story is different it's best to be open minded. The society in my story is not based off of any known society. I am in college and one of my classes has given me ideas of how politicis could be handled and I incorporated it into my story. There are things that I learned in college, in life, and talked to my friends about that I have tied together into it. To truly enjoy the story, do not try to look for your society in my story, there might be a few bits in it, but it isn't based off of any one society. 

Throught the story I will be making random dedications to avid readers and/or people who makes covers and trailers for the story. If I like the cover better than the one I have as the main cover, I'll use that one, otherwise, it will be posted somewhere in the story with the creator's name. This is just my way of saying thank you for being dedicated readers and/or participating with the story. It warms my heart.

I've posted a link to a song that fits The Last Healer perfectly! I really love this song and it really describes how Ariella feels throughout the story~ 

I hope you enjoy the story~

Sincerely: WishingStar01

Prolog

                                            

                All my life I knew pain. I was told that I was a mistake; my family was humiliated by me. That was why they left on that quest, the one that they never returned from. They hated me.

I am Ariella; I was born three weeks too early. I was a frail child that would easily succumb to sickness and got hurt a lot. Even as a young child it was apparent that I would never fight. As a baby, many thought I wouldn't survive to be able to walk and talk, let alone of being any use to the troupe. But, against all odds, I survived. I grew up and lived, if you can say that this was living. I was too weak to be able to fight; I could never join the other kids in training and games. I was not strong enough to keep up with them, I was too weak. And, when I was four, my Power came out and I could Heal. I remember being so excited thinking that I could help my parents who were always getting hurt. The troupe member who was watching me punished me for being a bad girl and told me to never mention it again. That she would tell my parents what had happened but I was never supposed to talk about it. I was never allowed to use my Power.

I have a few memories of my parents, what they looked like, what they sounded like, and their smiling faces. I remember how my mother would play with my hair and my father would take time to read to me. They would take turns every night to sing me to sleep and I would always sleep in the middle, both of them close to me. I loved them and I thought they loved me. But that wasn't the case. They hated me; they were ashamed of me; they wished that I never existed. I never knew that they hated me so much. I never knew they were disappointed in me. My troupe leader never lets me forget it.

Their hatred of me is what led them to take the quest that led to their deaths. If I had never existed then they would never have died. I knew it was my fault and I only wished that there was something that I could do. My parents knew what I could do, they knew my Power, and they hated me for it. If I could have fought then none of this would have happened. But I couldn't fight, no matter how hard I tried, I wasn't able to fight.

When my parents left on the quest, shortly after my fourth birthday, which was when the beatings really began. The women would slap me, kick me, burn me, cut me; they would beat me for everything I did or didn't do. They would yell and scream at me, call me a freak, a mistake, a piece of trash. I hated it and every night I hoped that my parents would return and the beatings would stop. About three months later, a troupe member went to look for them, when she returned, she announced that my parents were dead. My only hope for escape was ripped away from me. I was left in the custody of the troupe, where its members wanted to beat me and watch me suffer.

The troupe is basically like a group of nomads. We've traveled far and wide, migrating with the weather and the animals. The troupe kept to itself, they never wanted to help outsiders and rarely did, especially men.  The troupe is mostly made of women, fighters who cared very little for others. The men that were in troupe were married to one of the women or a child of one, but they were not important. They were able to fight but they had no control of the proceedings of the troupe, of the rules and regulations. They had no right to stop the women from beating me, some of them even contributed to the abuse. None of them knew what I could do and none of them knew who I was.

I lived my life being beaten by them, suffering from their cruel words, and the physical pain that started fresh every day. I wanted to get out of this, I wanted to stop hurting, stop hating myself. I wanted to know what it meant be loved and wanted by people, to have someone care about me and my wellbeing. I wanted that more than anything. But I knew that would never happen. I knew I would never know what it was like. This was the life I deserved. This was the life I was meant to have. My Power was a curse, something horrible that I was to be ashamed of. And I was. I was ashamed of my Power, I hated it, and I hated myself. Perhaps even more than they hate me. I knew I was lucky to be fed and clothed what I am every day. Even if I wasn't fed every meal, they were generous to even think of giving me anything.

            They were right. I was a mistake and I should be grateful for even being allowed to live.