Chapter 1

This is the only actual part of the book I will posting on here for a while. But here is Chapter 1! I hope you guys like it - leave some comments if you want. Feedback is always welcome :)

Chapter 1 (Mara’s POV)

“Bring us to Freedom, bring us to Salvation. Bring us to Astoren, land of no destruction. Give us reason; give us peace. Standing side by side in comfort, you and me.”

I sit with my family at the kitchen table for breakfast. We clasp our hands, forming one ring, and say the words of the city prayer. We eat biscuits and jam prepared by my mother and sip on coffee freshly roasted by my father. Our kitchen is quaint. There are tall windows letting more than enough light in to illuminate the crystal figurines my mother has dangling from the ceiling.

Jack, my father, rises slowly. It’s not like him to get up early from breakfast. “I have gifts for you two.” He says. He pats my sister Case’s head lightly, and then disappears up the stairs.

Today is the first Sunday of the April, which means its Mass Day. The entire city of Astoren attends a grand service led by the High Priest of Galena. He is a peculiarly short man with a white pointy hat and gold robes. I often think he’s going to drop dead on the podium each year. It became a game between my sister and I, to see who would guess the curious short man’s death.

My sister and I race up the stairs, tripping each other as we go. Entering our room, we spot new clothing. Case squeaks with delight. She dances around the room with her new dress pressed up against her body. In contrast, my interest carries to the window. Or really, what I see through the glass. The cherry blossom trees are in full bloom today. I can’t help but smile.

I dress myself in the nice clothes my father gave my sister and me for Mass Day. My dress is white with gold patters on the sleeves ending right above my knees. It makes me look even more pale than usual; I often wish my mother had done the shopping, but it wasn’t my place to ask. My father hardly gives gifts; so when he does, you take them. My younger sister Case is dressed in a pale pink dress, the color of the cherry blossoms swirling in the wind outside the door. The color pairs well with her light blonde curls that I so envy. They fall so delicately over her shoulders, like a princess – the princess I could never be.

My mother pulls my charcoal black hair into a long ponytail that rests on my upper back. She secures it with a gold ribbon made of silk. I find myself touching the ribbon, fingering it lightly between my forefinger and my thumb. It’s soft like the dress I am wearing. Not like me at all.

            I leave to wash my face. Somewhere inside me, I hope if I rinse my body enough times later I can get rid of the other person my parents want me to be. The water burns against my face; so cold and alive. I find myself staring into the mirror; looking for something. Looking for me, perhaps?

“Mara, are you coming?” My mother shouts from downstairs; I can hear the tapping from her foot on the bottom-most stare, something she only does when she’s nervous.

“Yes, Mother!” I call bitterly, trying to mask how upset I am for today. Mass Day is my least favorite day of the season. We have a Mass Day once per season; one in Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer.

Spring Mass is renowned as the best mass to attend because of the scenery to the Chapel. Astoren now has very few trees because of the clearing, which initiated the building of the Chapel and the Great Museum. The Great Museum contains the history of Astoren. We’re required to visit at least twice between the ages of ten and sixteen to better educate ourselves on our past. I’ve been twice, but to me the past is in the past. Life is all about the future; something Astoren doesn’t seem to understand.

Our streets are paved in a tan concrete, smooth as can be even though people walk on them every day. I admire the stands in the street of people selling papers; the hard workers of Astoren never get enough credit. Everything here revolves around The Four, the men and women who run the government. They tell us what we can and cannot do, what we can and cannot think. The Four are chosen for the four qualities of an Astoren citizen: a strong man for Defense, a brave woman for Foreign Diplomacy, a cunning woman for Intelligence, and a man with endurance for Discipline. The people elect them; a rule kept from the Old Age. Unless, they become unfit for office. Then they will be publically executed to prove to all the younger citizens what the life of being one of The Four is like. Of course these were only facts learned from my teachers over the years; yet I still questioned the authority of this city when our past seemed way too good to be true. Astoren saved itself from chaos; Astoren came out victorious. Somehow I think it was the other way around.

I curse to myself as we approach The Chapel. It’s a magnificent building; similar to the Gothic Architecture we have studied in school. There is one giant turret in the center with a large, overbearing cross on the top; the other sides are paneled with stain glass windows of the Great Revival, the pain the citizens of Astoren endured before rising to become fruitful. Or, in my opinion, false advertising.

As I climb the stairs to the chapel, Case in front of me, we stop to shake the hand of Diego Johnson: The Everlasting, The Man of Endurance, the youngest member of The Four.  He isn’t as foreboding as his counterparts, but he is just as impressive within himself. He is the only member of The Four I respect. His claim to fame is his cross-country trek of Russia in the winter; everyone in Astoren was surprised he was alive, the city celebrated for weeks upon his return.

Today he is dressed in a gold, floor length robe with The Man of Endurance’s symbol emblazoned on the front, left side: a crest with an Arabian Horse and gold leaves around the outside. It is a symbol of resilience, of a never-ending fight for victory. His hair is a coffee black, much like my own, and his eyes much resemble my own as well, a striking grey. He is hardly frightening, but quite formidable nonetheless.

His grip is firm and his stare hard. Most people look down when shaking hands with one of The Four; instead, I meet his gaze straight on, my eyes not wavering. He releases my hand, his face ghosting the hint of a smile. I ignore it, The Four never sit well with me, and they’re far too suspicious, I try to stay as far away from them as possible.

We pass through the massive double doors and file into our appropriate seats. No one changes seats from year to year; therefore, things move a lot smoother and there aren’t any interruptions. I find my family’s place in the fourth row on the left hand side and slide into the middle seat, crossing my legs underneath and preparing myself to stare off into space for two hours. But today is different; I can feel it in the air. The walls of the chapel are lined with guards; of course there usually are guards due to sudden outbursts, but never this many.

The doors bang open and I see Diego Johnson walk down the center aisle, gold cloak billowing in his wake. My eyes follow him as he walks onto the stage and I realize all of the members of The Four are with us today. They are seated on the stage at the very front of the chapel, two to the right of the Priest’s lectern, and two to the left. Diego seats himself on the far right and my eyes travel from his position left, as I have never seen all of them together. As much as supposedly work together for the good of Astoren, they’re hardly friends, especially the boys. Next to Diego Johnson is Kathryn Anderson, the Cunning. Her long blonde hair curls so much like a princess I wonder if she belongs in Galena. She is wearing a navy blue floor length dress with a black jacket. The left lapel of her jacket has the fox pin she always wears to important events. The fox is the symbol of trickery and deceit and she wears it with pride.

“Mom, is this going to be a normal Mass Day?” Case asks lightly, trying not to anger my mother. My mother is not a fan of inconsistency, and this is inconsistency at its finest.

“Yes, dear, it will be fine.” My mother responds, but I see can feel her leg tapping nervously against the side of the chair; today will be far from fine.

My eyes turn back to the stage, taking in the other two members of The Four, of whom I haven’t seen in person before. I recognize woman in the inside, nearest to the lectern, as Rachel Connolly. She has long red hair, like flames, and is entitled as The Brave. Her dress is green, much like her eyes; She resembles grass on fire in my opinion. She also has a lapel pin on her dress, just like Kathryn, except hers is a Tiger: the symbol of bravery in the old texts of Asia. She is easily the biggest threat of The Four. Her initiation consisted of facing the deadliest creatures Astoren could give to her; rumor was that she defeated a dragon. To her left is Jace Watkins, The Strong. His head is close-shaven, which pairs ferociously with his black eyes. He wears a black cloak with the crest of an Eagle on the left side similar to Sir Johnson’s.

The Four merely sit there; they do not say a word the entire service. I’m starting to think this was just a set up, to keep people in line. My father told me this happens occasionally when the city feels a rise up is about to occur. And so, I allowed myself to fall asleep, as usual, staring off into the beautifully painted abyss that is the ceiling of The Chapel.

 Mass passes by quickly and before I knew it Case was ushering me to the side for family pictures. Each year at the Spring Mass, photos are taken in order to keep track of the people in Astoren. A crude way to do it, yes; but the gifts from my father made sense now. It had been a whole year and I had definitely forgotten about the family photos. These family photos are kept in a book and regulated by Kathryn Anderson of The Four. The new pictures every year help figure out who has passed in each family and dictates the amount of family time we get each week. There are no formal burials in Astoren, so this is the best way they have figured to keep track.

Upon leaving the Chapel, I watch Case skip down the street while my mother places her hand on my back. My mother isn’t a very affectionate woman and this was her way of saying, “I love you.” I can’t help but wonder why today of all days. Nevertheless we approach the home and everyone tumbles inside leaving me to stare. I’d never given our home a proper look before. The homes in Astoren are so far apart I often find myself admiring the other homes, but never my own. It is a quaint place with beautiful oak trees in the front yard, one on each side. We have a white wooden fence around the outside, of course it was Case’s idea but I went along with it anyway. I swallow deep, gather myself, and breach the doorway into the house.

Supper will be served in a few hours, which means I still have time to work on my sculpture. I remove the elaborate dress and make up from earlier and put on my day clothes: brown pants that fall to mid calf and my gray woolen shirt. I sit in a wooden chair in the center of a plain room. My hands work the clay in front of me. Back and forth, up and down. The shape is finally taking place; it calms me, as it always has. I dip my fingers in the middle to carve out the basin shape that will eventually hold water.

There is a loud noise in the foyer and my fingers slip, puncturing a hole in the side. I grumble and turn off the wheel and kiln, I will need to start over tomorrow. Hopefully my Skills teacher won’t mind.

I tiptoe into the main hallway only to see two men in black suits arguing over a body on the floor. Mom? Dad? Case? It can’t be –it’s Case. Her blonde hair is strewn behind her, blood rolling from her lips onto the floor. Is she dead? I don’t have time to notice. I see the curtains are torn, chairs broken, and one of the officials is nursing his arm. She must have put up a good fight. Oh, Case. I wish I could’ve saved you. Time is creeping upon me and I know what I must do. I turn to run, spinning on my heels but the guards see me. It’s no use. They are too fast. One grabs my arms behind my back; I can feel his uncanny strength throwing me off balance. I try to scream but something is shoved in my mouth. I bite down and taste blood, hot and metallic, it must have been his hand, I think. I receive a slap to the face for that one. I thrash, I hear voices, and then there is something cold against my neck. I can feel the liquid enter my veins, cold and overwhelming. My arms tingle, I feel my chest raise, my airflow stops, then I feel nothing. Everything is black.