Equilibrium

The Mask

Renn, 1174

It was a bright, sunny, spring afternoon. I was basking in the delightful warmth of the rays, seated on a stone bench in the Naga compound's garden. The garden, as always, was well tended, and filled with beautifully growing plants. My favorite spot, the bench where I was sitting, allowed me to see the whole expanse of the arrays of vegetation. The manor was to my back, but as it was on a slight hill, I could see the gentle rolling hills for miles and miles. It reminded me of my childhood home; and in fact, I could see far off in the distance the dense forest beyond where my old home village lay. Now, home was this garden, and my newfound friends.

My best friend and I, Dean, had been selling Spate for several years now, which was effectively bottled happiness, to the underground community to supplement our financial resources. Kane Marsa, the leader of our gang, had been very pleased with our efforts. We'd been rewarded with increased responsibilities, further trust, and he often came to us for counsel. He'd been coming around less and less though, and I told myself he was just busy.

I sat on the bench, plucked a nearby flower, and turned it in my fingers. I was careful not to focus my magic and drain it, and the stem remained bright green and sturdy. I was getting better and better at controlling my magic every day that I practiced it.

I knew that the stronger I got, the more control I needed, so I'd taken to practicing on the plants in the garden. It was a peaceful, yet productive, hobby. The stronger I'd gotten since discovering my talent was alarming. I was afraid, deathly afraid, that I would hurt somebody if I lost focus. I was seventeen now, practically an adult, and I'd never had an intimate relationship with anyone for fear of hurting them.

I shook my head, physically removing the thoughts from my brain. I didn't have time for romance, not when I had responsibilities to tend to. Love was just a complication, even if I had met anyone I wanted to be with – which I had yet to do.

Usually, I was quite busy. Marsa had been consulting us, and including us – especially me, for whatever reason – in the daily business of the Naga. I wondered if he was grooming Dean for leadership. He was a natural. He inspired loyalty and genuine compassion from everybody he was around, although he hid a dark side of himself, a torrent of anger, a result from some kind of trauma in his past. He'd only alluded it to me, and I doubted he'd even mentioned it to anyone else.

But he concealed it so well, only I was really aware of it. It didn't bother me. I had just as much darkness in me as he did. Though Marsa usually had us working with him, lately, he hadn't been calling on us. I had heard the rumor that he'd fallen ill, although the details were all wildly different. It depended on who you asked. Some said that he'd gotten a cold, others said he was poisoned, and some even said he'd just found a woman he liked and refused to leave her bed. Whatever the story, I selfishly didn't mind the bit of peace I received from not tending to his business.

Not that I didn't like Marsa – quite the opposite, actually. He was my savior as well. I knew that in order for me to join the Naga, Dean had struck some sort of deal with him. I didn't know what exactly, but I knew that it must have been an expensive sort of agreement. I'd been granted immediate induction into his gang, been given food, lodging, and effectively, a new family. I'd been given a home. I was so grateful, to both of them, for taking me in when I was abandoned. Although, I didn't blame my sister for leaving; at least, not anymore. When she'd first left, I'd blamed everything on her. If she hadn't been so powerful, then the King wouldn't have wanted her, and she wouldn't have left. Father wouldn't have spiraled downwards, a vicious cycle in his drinking and gambling that led to his death and my life as a thief and drug dealer.

However, I was still thankful. The flower that I had been turning in my fingers, absentmindedly playing with while lost in thought, had started to wilt. I sighed. There was still a lot of work for me to do.