Conscription Day also known hell on earth
Conscription Day, a day synonymous with dread and despair, where the weight of uncertainty hangs heavy in the air, suffocating any semblance of hope. As I carefully dress myself, each movement laden with purpose, I find my thoughts consumed by a singular determination—I refuse to become just another name etched upon a cold stone monument, forgotten amidst the annals of history.
Yet, amidst the bleakness, there is a glimmer of anticipation tinged with apprehension. Today, I will have the chance to reunite with him, my closest companion and confidant. It has been an eternity since our paths last crossed, and I cannot help but wonder how time has sculpted him. As I glance at my reflection, I am struck by the changes within myself—I stand taller now, my form fully developed, my resolve stronger than ever before.
With deliberate intent, I don my flight leathers, a silent testament to the battles I have fought and the trials I have overcome. Though they were meant to be earned through rigorous training, I have pulled every string available to claim them as my own. My hair, meticulously braided, cascades down my shoulders in a silent proclamation of defiance against the impending chaos.
As I make my way towards Basgiath War College, its imposing silhouette looms on the horizon like a sentinel guarding the secrets within. The winding road leading to its gates serves as a harbinger of the challenges that await beyond.
Arriving at the main entrance, I am greeted by a scene of heart-wrenching farewells as families bid adieu to their loved ones. The air is thick with unshed tears and whispered prayers—a solemn reminder of the sacrifices demanded by duty.
"Ridiculous," I mutter under my breath, a bitter edge creeping into my voice.
"Pathetic, weak, ridiculous," I repeat, each word laced with disdain for the inevitable tragedy unfolding before me.
As I navigate the line, my senses are acutely attuned to the weight of the daggers strapped to my thigh and the row of blades adorning my chest—a silent arsenal poised to defend against the encroaching darkness. Each blade, honed to perfection, serves as a reminder of the blood that courses through my veins, the legacy of warriors who came before me.
"Nora Freysson," I declare to the weary-eyed scribe tasked with collecting names.
His gaze meets mine, and I see a glimmer of recognition flicker in his tired eyes as they linger on the relic winding around my arm—a tangible link to a past shrouded in legend and myth.
"As in Cade Freysson," he murmurs, his voice tinged with reverence as he traces the intricate patterns etched into the metal.
"He was my father," I reply, my tone devoid of emotion.
"Wasn't he Fen Riorson's right-hand man?" the scribe inquires, his curiosity piqued by the echoes of a bygone era.
"Key word: was," I retort, a flicker of defiance sparking within me as I push past him, unwilling to dwell on the ghosts of the past.
Ascending the stairs that lead to the heart of the fortress, my gaze falls upon Violet Sorrengail—a familiar figure amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces. She stands with a trembling grace, a silent testament to the weight of the burden she carries.
"Pathetic," I murmur under my breath, my voice barely above a whisper.
As I observe the interactions unfolding before me, my attention is drawn to a pair of piercing black onyx eyes—their gaze, unwavering and intense, sends a shiver down my spine. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, and I nod in silent acknowledgement, a silent vow to stand steadfast against the tide of uncertainty.
Moving forward in line, I find myself positioned behind Violet, a silent witness to the turmoil raging within her. With each passing moment, the air grows thick with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between us.
"Are you ready, Violet?" a girl named Rhiannon inquires, her voice tinged with concern.
Both Xaden's and my gaze snap to her, our attention drawn by the familiarity of her voice.
I hear the voice I have longed to hear—a voice filled with echoes of a past I hold dear.
"You're General Sorengail's daughter," Xaden's voice rumbles, his gaze fixed on Violet with an intensity that borders on possessive.
"And you're Fen Riorson's son," Violet counters, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within her.
Xaden takes a deep breath, his muscles tensing beneath the surface as he braces himself for the storm that threatens to consume us all.
"Your mother captured my father and killed him," he declares, his words a stark reminder of the blood that stains our shared history.
I feel the familiar surge of defiance rising within me, a silent vow to stand firm against the tide of injustice that threatens to engulf us all.
"Wait, Riorson, don't leave me out of the kill party. Her mom did the same thing to my father," I interject, my voice laced with a bitter edge as I refuse to remain silent in the face of injustice.
His smirk widens, a silent acknowledgment of the shared pain that binds us together.
But Violet, ever perceptive, notices the relic winding around my arm—a silent testament to the legacy I carry within me.
"You're the daughter of Cade Freysson," she realizes, her voice tinged with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
I offer no words in response, only a silent nod—a silent affirmation of the truths that lie buried within me.
Turning back to Xaden, she delivers her final blow—a reminder of the sins of our fathers, a testament to the blood that stains our shared history.
"Your father captured and killed my brother. I think that calls it even," she declares, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her.
But before she can blink, before she can utter another word, I am upon her—a silent specter emerging from the shadows, a reminder of the darkness that lurks within us all.
My dagger is at her throat, its edge biting into her skin—a silent warning of the consequences of her words.
"I dare you to say that again," I hiss, my voice low and menacing as I refuse to back down in the face of adversity.
But before I can press further, before I can deliver the final blow, a firm hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me away from the precipice.
"Sorengail, you might want to leave before I release her. I won't be held responsible for her actions," Xaden's voice cuts through the tension, his words a stark reminder of the dangers that lie ahead.
She looks at him, uncertainty flickering in her eyes—a silent plea for mercy amidst the chaos that threatens to consume us all.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
He chuckles softly, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Why would I kill you when the parapet will do it for me?" he replies, his words a chilling reminder of the fate that awaits us all.
She nods, her gaze drifting towards the door—a silent acknowledgment of the truth that lies buried within her heart.
But before she can take another step, before she can leave this place forever, Xaden delivers
" and if that doesn't kill you, the girl I'm restraining will"
As she walks out on the parapet Xaden doesn't let me go rather he lets a guy behind me go.
Xaden turns me around and says " you really want to put a target on your back, don't you?"
I respond snarky with " the relic on my arm does that for me"
"Remember what I taught you and whatever you do, don't die. I need you on the other side with me" he says in a quiet voice.
I nod and smile as I step out on the Parapet.
I hear him mumble "A pain in my ass"
I just chuckle
*** Hi guys this is just a little Authors note, Please let me know how you are liking the story so far and if you guys want to see anything happen. I would love to hear your guys thoughts and ideas.****