A/N: I can't believe I'm saying this but... Ashes to Ashes hit 50k reads! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying my story! I can't express this enough but it really does mean so, so much to me. To celebrate, I thought I would do a couple things: first, share the brand new chapter one from the rewritten draft (which I haven't posted on Wattpad yet)--that's this! Second, I'll be sharing a bonus chapter/oneshot. When it's ready, I'll post that in a part two.
So without further ado, please enjoy this sneak peek at the rewritten version of AtA and the brand new first chapter!
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1 || An Invitation
Nobles favored anyone willing to get their hands dirty. This was one of the first lessons ingrained in Felix's mind by his master.
As long as greed exists in this world, you will never run out of work, the old man used to reason. Despite that twinge of humor in his voice, the light never quite reached his eyes. Even as a child, this never came as a surprise to Felix. His hands were steeped in blood, so stained that his pale skin might as well have turned crimson permanently.
Like him, Felix found that nothing filled his pockets the way that feuds between kingdoms, nobles, wealthy subjects, and desperate schemers did. Anyone could turn to spilling blood if pushed too far into a corner.
It was for this twisted ideal that Felix had stuffed himself into a dark corner of an alley where he could watch the bustling street. The sun had just begun to set, dusting the cobblestone in a warm golden light. Many lamps were still unlit in the town center; the lamplighters always started out by the lord's estate and made their way into the rest of the town. Unlike the Furvus's capital city, Dena, the rural settlement of Illee was slower to ease into the night activities. All except for Felix's target, who seemed impatient for the cover of dark to hide his lustful sins. Or so Felix was told by the lord of Illee who hired him.
"I will not have my daughter taken from me by that low class drunkard," Lord Dominick had sneered. "Kill him. I do not care what you have to do. Get rid of him."
Felix shrank back into the folds of his cloak, hiding his pale skin from the fading rays of light that fluttered over him. He could not afford to be spotted. It would be all over the moment someone recognized him. He knew that, he didn't need to be told, yet he kept repeating the warning in his mind. As it knitted with the tangled web of his thoughts, it echoed in his late master's voice.
Two minutes. He yanked his hood down over his head to conceal the upper half of his face. The lower half he covered with a mask pulled up to his nose. The scent of bitter herbs overtook his senses. These days, he couldn't afford to be spotted. After his screw up as a kid, too many knew his face. The goal of an assassin is not to be seen, his master used to say. It was yet another one of his teachings that Felix had botched in a fit of blind rage, his carefully constructed blank shattered as his emotions spilled over like a flood.
The reminder sank its teeth into his flesh and bit down until he could almost feel it draw forth blood. Never again would he lose himself that way. Never again would he find himself so closely attached to another that his mask could be broken.
His finger tapped the hilt of his dagger, the only show of nervousness that gave away the anxious buzz in his mind. The sound was muted. No one could hear it. Yet it rattled in his ears along with each breath he took.
One minute.
A couple passed the entrance to the alley, their long shadows trailing lazily across the cobblestone. Felix shrank back into the corner to avoid their prying eyes. They never once looked his way, their gazes locked on each other and their hands intertwined. Laughter rang through the air behind them as they disappeared from view.
Thirty seconds. Felix tensed, eyes fixed on the opening to the street. One by one, the seconds ticked past him, each an eternity that slogged by at its own agonizing pace. His lip twitched. He gripped the knife tighter. Ten seconds.
Precisely three seconds ahead of schedule, a young man dipped into the alley with his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture lax, and his face graced with a lazy smile. Silver adorned the edges of his suit collar, a small pin of a raven in flight proudly displayed in the corner. Black hair hung in his eyes and he quickly pushed it back as he leaned casually against the wall. He never once checked the street to see if he was being followed, nor did his gaze sweep the alley for any figures waiting to pounce on him. It was the same routine Felix had observed countless times before. There were only a few short minutes before the lord's daughter would slip into the dark and join him.
Slinking out of the corner, Felix crept toward the oblivious man, knife at the ready. His steps were silent, light as a feather as they touched the ground. He clung to the shadows, sliding in and out of them like a ghost. His breathing came in measured breaths, body tense, every inch of him focused solely on creeping toward his target. Just like his master taught him. Just like he had done many times before.
Lithe and quick, he leapt from the dark and wrapped a hand around the man's mouth, pulling him away from the streets. A startled gasp puffed against his palm. He jerked his blade across the man's neck before he could cry out. It connected with flesh, dragged across arteries and sliced his Adam's apple. Blood spurted from the wound. The man gurgled unintelligibly, eyes fluttering as he slumped back into Felix's arms. With a grunt, Felix shifted and dragged the limp body into the alley where it would be hidden from sight. Certain he hadn't caught the attention of the passersby, he dropped the body unceremoniously against the cobblestone. Already, a dark stain dampened the royal blue of the man's rich collar. Crimson swallowed the silver raven. It pooled beneath his throat, spreading through the cracks in the stone.
A flicker of distaste wriggled to life in the pit of Felix's stomach, writhing and squirming like a corpse full of maggots. Thirty-four, he noted, pulse thundering. Thirty-four kills.
Felix wiped his knife clean, stuffed it back into its sheath, and stepped out into the streets. Only a handful of people still lingered out in the town square. Don't look back, his master would say. Keep your gaze ahead. Follow the group. No one should have any reason to believe you are not like them. Rigid, fingers curled so tightly that he could feel his nails digging into his skin, Felix left the scene behind him. He pulled his mask down to breathe in the crisp air as he walked. The breeze caressed his cheek as he pushed his hood back.
Night blanketed the world in the thick cover of darkness; the first couple of stars winked into view over the distant spires of Furvus's mighty royal palace. Felix stuffed his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched as he quickened his steps. A scream echoed behind him, piercing the stillness with a haunting cry of despair and anguish. Some passersby halted, whispering to each other as they glanced around for the source of such pain. Felix ducked his head and kept walking. He already knew.
The lord's daughter had found the body of her once-secret lover.
⇠⭑⭒⭑⇢
Chaos had consumed the streets by the time Felix escaped to the lord's estate. Soldiers bearing the queen's sigil as well as that of Illee's resident lord bustled in and fought for order, but there was little to be had in the face of a murder. The lord's daughter was in tears, hysterical with her grief. She had yet to return home and all of the estate staff took to gossiping about it in her absence. Felix strolled in with his head high, displaying the lord's crest to the guards that tried to stop him. The chaos of the town so far beyond the gated walls of the manor was shut out. It could no longer flood his mind with its accusing, ghostly whispers.
He was escorted in by a servant girl who seemed blissfully ignorant of the blood on his hands—though each time he looked down at them, they were clean, save for the old scars that zigzagged across his palms. The servant girl bowed to him, lashes fluttering as she cast one last look at him before departing. She had left him in front of a set of lavish double doors, decorated with ornate silver swirls. A stiff-backed guard was placed on either side, chin high and eyes steely. They opened the doors for him. They, too, were likely oblivious. He kept his hands buried in his pockets, away from their watchful stares. They bored into his back as he made his way into the room, certain to leave burning holes behind.
Beyond the double doors, Felix found himself in a quaint sitting room. Three chairs were set out, each turned inward toward the other two. A rich blue carpet spilled across the floor, decorated with delicate swirling patterns and silver tassels common in decorative trends found in the nation of Kileus. Windows lined the entirety of the wall to his left. The town sprawled beyond the gates of the lord's manor, kept alight by the many lanterns that lined the street. Moonlight broke through the clouds, settling upon the earth in a faint glow. From so far away, he couldn't see the chaos. He could be unaware of the chaos permeating the air below. If he were a noble, he could sip his wine in peace and spiral into a drunken stupor, forever aware of the pain left in the wake of his selfish deeds. His lip twitched.
Calm, he reminded himself, drawing in a deep breath as he faced the three chairs. Keep your face blank. You are only a tool. As he exhaled and flattened his expression, the tiny stirring of emotion within his chest winked out and slithered away.
The lord lounged in the chair with the most elaborate high backed seat, a glass in hand. His gaze was pinned on the wall opposite the windows, where a large painting of the turbulent oceans bordering the cliffs of Ienaeus swallowed the whole space. Felix's fingers curled against his palms beneath his cloak.
"Lord Dominick," Felix said. As the lord jolted to attention, splashing wine on his black suit, Felix dipped his head politely.
Dominick gave a dissatisfied huff as he shifted in his seat and set the glass on the low table beside his chair. "I trust the job is done?"
"Of course, my lord. I never leave a job unfinished."
"So they say." With great effort, he hauled himself out of his seat. Felix had seen his share of middle-aged lords, rounded by their greedy, gluttonous banquets, but Dominick was one of the most unflattering by far. His dark hair had thinned so much that the shine of his bald head was visible beneath. The jacket of his shiny black suit seemed to be a size too small, as if he refused to acknowledge the obvious bulge in his belly. He reeked of alcohol on both occasions in which Felix had met with him, and his words always slurred in a grumbled, disoriented rush as they fell from his greased lips. He was the picture of greed. And now, he was pushed so far into a corner by a young man only half his age that he thought it fit to commission a murder. Caged, he reached for a weapon—or rather, the money that could pay someone else to take one up.
It took all of Felix's control not to wrinkle his nose at the sight of this man. This was the picture of Furvus's corruption. This was the kind of person that filled Felix's pockets and kept his hands drenched in rivers of blood. The blight that Felix's master found so amusing, that he cultivated, that he raised Felix in the midst of.
The echo of Dominick's daughter's scream played again in his mind, over and over. Killing had brought him nothing but pain.
Dominick's beady eyes looked him up and down, his lip curling in distaste. "Yes." He sniffed, moving on. "What proof is there? I will not pay until I know for certain he is dead."
"I'm sure you will hear reports from Illee soon enough. The body of young Richard Garell was found in a tiny dead-end backstreet off the town square—the very place he used to frequent to meet with Lord Dominick Venyir's only daughter, Maria." Felix lifted his cloak and rested his hand against the hilt of one knife, narrowed eyes fixed on the pudgy lord. He tapped his finger against the butt of the hilt. Dominick flinched.
"I don't fail," Felix added in a murmur. "But if you're so full of doubt, I can show you the knife with which I slit his throat."
Dominick swallowed, eyes wide like a frightened beast. "N–no, that is quite alright, actually. I have changed my mind. Rethought my earlier condition. Here is your money, boy. Take it and get out of my sight." With trembling hands, he fished for a pouch tucked in the inner pocket of his suit. It clinked against his palm as he settled it in his hand. He tossed it at Felix's feet as if it burned him.
Felix gave another subtle dip of his head and let go of the knife, letting his cloak fall back over it. "As you wish, my lord." He bent down to scoop up the pouch, testing its weight in his hand. He didn't care much if he was slighted. Money meant little in the grand scheme of things, and he always seemed to have more than he knew what to do with. He tucked it away inside his cloak and turned to leave.
"Ah, one more thing," Lord Dominick said. There came the rustle of clothes as he fished for something else in his jacket.
Felix turned to find a silver envelope in his hand, closed by a midnight blue seal. It glistened in the light from the chandelier overhead. A frown creased Felix's brow. "What's this?"
"I was told to give this to you." The smile that graced Dominick's face oozed with false pleasantry. "It's a summoning from Her Majesty, Queen Dinah Sylva herself. Tell her Lord Dominick is the one who sent you."
"The queen, huh?" Felix snatched the letter and examined it. The queen's royal sigil of the raven was stamped into the wax, still unbroken and free of tampering. His vision flicked, painting the raven in a sheen of crimson. A shiver trailed down his spine and he shook his head to clear the illusion. Shoving it into a pocket in his cloak, he whirled toward the door and stalked out without another word.
A summons from the queen was not to be ignored, but he couldn't shake the prickle of wrongness that crawled beneath his skin. Queen Dinah was no stranger to his skill. If she had summoned him, it was only to be the pawn in another one of her foul games. No matter how much he hated it, he would never be free as long as greed existed in the world. There would always be someone who craved the power he held over life and death.
If you enjoyed this updated version of the story, please let me know! I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Again, thank you all so much for reading! As always, it's a pleasure to write for you guys and I hope to share more stuff in the future. Be on the lookout for part two of the 50k special!
-Turtle