Emica Kana is 18 years old. She has always loved writing stories., They were her escape from reality. She always wished that a man would come and save her like they always do in the stories.
Well, she got her wish.
Emica entered a small writing school that was near a river. Her friend had joined her. But, the teacher had an odd vibe around him. Emica became a little scared of him. She especially became scared when the teacher started to pay more attention to her. One day, when she runs from him, she falls into a world of adventure, risk, and abnormalities. 
But, her teacher is what scares her more than this new world. What secrets and schemes did he use to get her here?

I'll be redoing this journal once I find a way to make it more interesting! For now, it'll be a blank slate.

(Ivan Radcliffe)

When someone is intimidated by your presence, they get nervous around you. There are small signs you got to pick up, signs they don't even realize they're showing. 

Sofia Malitz was pretty easy to read. When she was surprised, her eyes widened and her cheeks rose, her eyebrows move up as well. But that expression of hers is not something that one would come by rarely. 
Intimidation, on the other hand, is rare. It really is something if you manage to intimidate Ms. Malitz. She is one hard girl to please and from what I noticed; her instincts are pretty strong. She's always defensive about things. It was very difficult to get through her but me coming close to her, caught her by surprise. For a while, I began to doubt myself. If she even thought I looked good. Nobody had ever made me feel this way, like I was normal. It did feel good, to be myself with her. It felt good to be with someone who wasn't trying to impress me but things were about to change now. I had gotten her trust and it was time to make my move.

Despite being drunk, she hardly spoke about herself. She was a very curious person and her questions were something you'd never expect; it makes me think and sometimes question myself. But hanging out with her, I hadn't felt this in ages. She knew how to have a good time if she let loose. I made mental notes of all this. It would help make the story more real.

We enter her apartment that's on the fourth floor. Her dog comes running to us once we enter in. Adorable.

"What's his name?" I ask as I try to pet him.

"Poirot" she says as she goes in.

She comes out with a glass of water, "Sorry the house is a mess right now" she says sheepishly. 

Wrong. It was sparkling clean, except for a few books lying around. My eyes tour the room as I see a small tent, something that looks like a blanket fort. Wow, this girl was creative.

"Is that a blanket fort?" I ask as I walk towards it. I was impressed with the details.

"Um, yeah. Sort of" she says.

I take the glass off her hands and drink water. I place the glass on the table and look at her. She looked distracted. Had my charms not worked?

"Um, where's the bathroom?" I ask.

"Oh yes, of course, there" she points towards her room. 

"Sof. Where were you?" I hear a guy's voice and turn behind. He was standing at the door. 

"Victor, hey" Sofia says as she approaches. What was he doing here? 

"You didn't respond to my texts or calls, I wasn't sure if you had made it home. You weren't at Absolem either" he says eyeing me.

"You went to Absolem?" Sofia asks him, looking shocked.

"Yeah! I was worried about you" he says sounding concerned. 

"Thanks Victor. I'm home now. We'll talk tomorrow." Sofia smiles at him. I hoped he had got the hint that she was safe and that I wanted him to leave. 

"Who is he, Sof? What is he doing here?" Victor asks her looking suspicious. 

"He's a friend, Victor" she says sternly, "Let me escort you downstairs" she adds and throws a look towards me, that said, 'be right back.'

'She could take as long as she wanted', I thought as she closed the door.

I quickly go to her room and go through the books on her table. Simon had asked her to keep a journal, explaining what she was going through. I just needed to take pictures of it. Things from her perspective would be way better than me imagining it and writing it on my own. All her books were neatly arranged, her diary wouldn't just be lying around. It had to be more discrete, maybe a pen beside it. I would usually keep a pen near mine. I found a book on her bed, beside her laptop. It looked old and was made out of something that looked like recycled paper. Sofia Malitz continued to surprise me even when she wasn't here. 

Click, click, click. I take pictures of her journal from the last few days. This felt so wrong. 'For the story' I kept telling myself. I hear footsteps when I close the book and quickly get into the bathroom. 

Sofia opens the door and gets in. I come out of the room and look at her. She was looking outside the window, she looked tired and sad. It didn't feel good, to see her that way. 

"Thanks for tonight, Ivan. I'm sorry you had to see that." She says.

"Oh no worries." I assure her. "If anything, I'm sorry to impose." I add. 

"Are you alright though?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." she nods.

"I better get going then" I say and walk towards the door.

"See you at the book launch" I say and look at her. Had she been crying? Her face looked a little puffy. 

"See you" she smiles. 

I walk down and dial Catherine's number.

I wanted to tell her about my progress, but she doesn't pick the call. I walk towards my car, slowly. 

Sofia's face kept flashing in my mind. I somehow couldn't take her being sad, what was I doing? 

I quickly take out my phone and delete all the photographs. They weren't mine to see. I look up, towards her apartment. Her lights were still on. 

I walked back to the car thinking to myself. I had a wonderful night in a long time. That girl was something.

Sofia, an aspiring writer, suddenly discovers a secret that changes her life because of a tragic incident. 

Ivan, a young, popular producer, is living a perfect life and is in search of a story while possibly hiding a secret of his own.

What happens when Ivan finds his story through Sofia's secret. Would he use it for his own good and lose her? Or would he help her find herself again and in return discover who he is? 


Disclaimer : This is my first novel and is very close to my heart. Do give it a read and let me know if you like it. 

xx.

Charlie, the other board member, made a simpler comment, "This creative paper has proved that human body electric current and brain waves can cause illusions. It is for sure a breakthrough. However, the paper still lacks solid support for wider application to cover more illusionary spells. Therefore, the importance of the paper remains to be further proved in the future. Twenty-five arcana credits and three hundred points are recommended to be given."
In the end, the document concluded, "Creative and groundbreaking. Worthy of detailed discussion. Well-organized and clearly presented. However, the application of the paper is relatively limited as it currently cannot cover the entire field of Illusion, and many key parts remain ambiguous. Twenty-eight credits and three hundred points are given as the award."
A smile appeared on Lucien's face. Although it seemed that those board members did not really like his paper, as they did not give him many credits, the comments given by them were not bad. Lucien had found the right research direction, thus his paper was, of course, creative and was a breakthrough.
Eric slightly shook his head and said, "Those board members are just fusty. They don't like yours and Ms. Isabella's paper. They gave you the least credits within the standard. Normally speaking, your paper deserves at least forty to fifty arcana credits, but Ms. Isabella's paper should get at least eighty."
"How many credits did Ms. Isabella get in the end?" asked Lucien. As he was prepared, Lucien was not angry. He was looking at getting more credits by other sorcerers' future citation.
"Fifty… Those guys…" Eric lowered his voice, looking the same serious, "If Ms. Isabella wasn't a senior-rank mage, probably they would give her forty."
Ms. Isabella was a member of Tower, a level six arcanist, and a seventh-circle sorcerer. Although Isabella specialized in Astrology and Illusion, she was still outside of the core group of Tower and had not been selected into Arcana Review Board. Rachel was her student.
"I see… It would be hard for Ms. Isabella to win the Laurel, then," Lucien commented casually.
Eric stared at Lucien with his light gray eyes and said to Lucien after making sure that he was not expecting to win the laurel, "So the number of Sorcerer Laurel winners have always been fewer than that of other awards. And most of the Laurel winners are the members from Family of Sorcerer, and their findings were all related to the three schools of magic from the ancient magic empire. But Ms. Isabella's experiment is very well designed and sufficiently proved. If the Laurel is not going to be given to Ms. Isabella, this honor would become a joke."
Lucien realized that who could win the award was also of political concern. He could not help thinking how he could win the Laurel.
...
When Lucien got back home, he was told by Leo that he had a guest.
"Mr… Drummond?" Lucien was a bit confused. He could not remember the name.
Leo hurriedly reminded him in the low vice, "Mr. Drummond's the chief editor of Arcana."
That was right. Lucien clapped his hands. As for every single arcanist who worked hard to publish his or her paper on Arcana, Drummond was a name that they had to remember. But Lucien was an exception. He did not have to worry about where to publish his papers.
"Why is he here? And Leo, how do you know him?" asked Lucien confused. Drummond was a level seven arcanist and an eighth-circle sorcerer, the chief editor of the famous journal, the winner of Arcana Sceptre prize. Why did Drummond come to visit him in person?
Leo answered as a very decent butler, "When I was working for Ivanovszki, I had to remember the names of all the important people to handle all kinds of stuff. So after I came to Allyn, I've collected some names, just in case."
"Thank you." Lucien was very satisfied.
When Lucien saw the chief editor, Drummond was wearing a dark vest and suit, holding a black stick. His black eyes were sharp and serious like the eyes of an eagle.
"The Lord of Storm once gave me some very useful suggestions in the field of Force Field, and his achievement in many arcana fields is incomparable. I'm sincerely glad for you that you can become his student, Lucien." Drummond tried to be closer to Lucien.
Lucien greeted Drummond and said, "Every morning I have to go through Mr. Fernando's brainstorm. Every morning time seems to pass by very slowly."
It took Drummond a few seconds to figure out what brainstorm was. He smiled, "Not many people are willing to stay beside the Lord of Storm when discussing arcana and magic questions."
Lucien and Drummond walked into the living room. Lucien asked politely, "Mr. Drummond, it's my great honor having you here. Honestly speaking, I did not recognize your name immediately as I never expected you to come and visit my place in person. I should be the one visiting you, sir."
Holding the stick, Drummond said, "I just got the news from the board that you've got a breakthrough in studying the factors affecting hormone secretion, and you've introduced Electromagnetic Theory into the field of Illusion. By the way, hormone is the term put forward by Ms. Isabella to call the certain human body alchemical substances. I've read your paper, and I think your paper is of great value. I am here to invite you to publish your paper in our journal. The theme of our next month issue accords with your topic well. I think it's better than sending you an invitation letter to express my sincerity, and also to apologize for what happened to your previous paper. I've fired the editor who rejected your contribution."
Arcana was the most well-known and reputed journal in the world of magic, and its chief editor came to Lucien in person for his paper! Drummond was treating Lucien like a grand arcanist or a legendary sorcerer! But, of course, apologizing for what happened last time was also part of the reason.
"No worries. Thank you very much, Mr. Drummond." Lucien and Drummond sat down on the couch in the living room. Lucien asked, "You mentioned the theme of the next month issue… Does Arcana have a theme?"
Before getting more information, Lucien would not say yes casually. Not to mention that Mr. Woods from Common Arcana was an old friend of his.
"Since Ms. Isabella's paper passed the review, great controversy has been caused. In the past week, many senior-rank arcanists have developed papers or designed experiments to refute Ms. Isabella's theory. So, in the next month's issue, we have decided to give the most space to these papers. This was the theme. We're hoping that your paper can achieve the expected outcome as your paper is the best support to Ms. Isabella's theory," said Drummond sincerely.
"To achieve the expected outcome…" murmured Lucien. He soon realized what Drummond was talking about.
Lucien guessed that most members in the Highest Council were not happy with the fact that Illusion and some other schools of magic had never belonged to the system of arcana, which caused the barrier between the sorcerers from Family of Sorcerer and most arcanists. So they were using this as an opportunity to let Lucien's paper become the solid support of Ms. Isabella's theory, thus the conservatives could feel the pressure. If Isabella won the Laurel, arcana would win, as the sorcerers from Family of Sorcerer had to admit the fact that the arcana system could at least explain part of the school of Illusion.
Of course, Isabella's paper itself was good enough to win the Laurel. This was the premise.
Lucien crossed his fingers and said in a low voice, "Mr. Drummond, Mr. Woods from Common Arcana has helped me a lot, and I've promised that I would first consider publishing my papers on Common Arcana first. I keep my words."
Lucien was expecting a better offer.
"Evans, Arcana Review Board is discussing something recently. It is totally unfair that publishing a paper on different levels of journals gives a sorcerer the same credits. Therefore, they are going to give each journal a corresponding coefficient. When deciding on future citation credits, a sorcerer can get more credits by weighting the base credit by the corresponding coefficient," answered Drummond, well prepared. "They've decided to evaluate each journal every five years based on the influence of all the papers published previously. The coefficient varies from one to three. Common Arcana is doing a good job these years, so the coefficient Common Arcana deserves shouldn't be bad. But I have to say that Arcana currently still enjoys a higher reputation. Arcana credits are very important to sorcerers, and this is also the will of the highest council. I am sure that Mr. Woods will understand. Also, if you support us this time, we will always reserve a place on Arcana for you and your paper. We can negotiate the schedule."
Arcana only did this for people who were at least members of Arcana Review Board!
Lucien nodded. After all, this was part of the plan of the highest council. He smiled, "If Mr. Woods won't blame me, I'm willing to publish my paper on Arcana."
Later, in Lucien and Drummond's casual talk, Drummond said with pity, "If Ms. Isabella did not publish her paper before you, and if your paper was more precise, your paper would be the focus. If that was the case, you probably would become the second arcanist in the past hundred years who could win two highest prizes before reaching senior-rank. But you're still young, so you still have a lot of potential, especially as the Lord of Storm's student."
After Drummond left, Lucien went back to his study and continued to work on analyzing the fifth circle spell.


"A falling star has brought the chaos. The throne of fate has lost its master. The nonbeliever who walks in light and darkness will make his debut."
In this magic world, knowledge is power.

*****

Eden just lies down on her sleeping bag inside her tent, a flickering candle providing a dim light beside her as she flipped the pages of her journal in the beginning first pages to where she had written her first entries from when the zombie apocalypse began, how it started and when it started.

Eden's gaze was almost distant as she read the written entries again as she remembered those dark horrific time that happened so suddenly a year before.

She decided to write another entry to her recent one, reached for her pen that was there beside the candle, and despite the low dim light, she can see very well to read and write even in the dark.

*****

JOURNAL ENTRY: DAY UNKNOWN, 8TH MONTH AUGUST, 2XXX

Hey, it's me again, Eden.

I had to write this down just so you can get the idea of how long has it been since I had remembered on when, where, and how this apocalypse all began.

It had all happened and started so suddenly that anyone including me wouldn't have expected it at all or was even prepared for it.

It was just a year ago that it all began.

Starting the first days when I first moved into this city, thinking that this place might be the chance I'm looking to have a normal life.  Me finding and living a simple apartment, searching and working in a normal job and so on as normal and simple like that.

But I didn't know that everything was going to change.

Just go to the beginning.

And you'll understand.

*****

Eden finished writing, put her pen aside and then flipped to the first pages again, reading the first entries once more before the candle goes out and she goes to sleep peacefully for another night.

Her mind wandered off as she read her first written entries again, remembering those times.

*****

A YEAR AGO BEFORE APOCALYPSE

Eden was so happy that she felt like screaming with joy as she finally putting the last storage box into the storage room inside her new and cheap apartment she's now living in, after moving into the metropolitan city.

She looked around at her space which is already filled with furniture and stuff and decently made up in a simple homely appearance.

She was happy at this kind of simple set-up for she isn't like most people who wanted to decorate in a fancy or messy way.

Once she double-checks everything and saw that everything is all fixed up and fitted to her satisfaction, she went straight towards her desk where a newly-bought big book is at the top and a new pen is there beside it.

She opened it, almost caressing her new personal item like it's a treasure and then started writing on the first blank page.

*****

JOURNAL ENTRY: 1ST DAY, 1ST MONTH JANUARY, 2XXX

Hi! This is Eden, the new owner, and writer of this new journal.

I just moved here into the metropolitan city.  But I will not write here exactly where and who I am, because if ever I lost this book somewhere in the city whenever and wherever I bring it along, I'd rather not have some stranger find out even if it's a kind Samaritan one or something.

There are plenty of other journals in the world obviously, so it's not a loss that I lost this one, even if it's like a diary to me.

It's not like I don't care if someone did read what's inside it since it's just some random stuff I write in here about what I'm doing in my life, what my thoughts are and venting out my frustrations.

Anyway, I'm getting a little sidetracked.

I just found and moved into a new apartment, it's simple and luckily cheap.  And it's in a good neighborhood where I don't have to worry about coming home late at night and worry about some gangsters that are going to be roaming about the streets.

Not that I don't know whether there are in this city I moved in.  But I hope there aren't some here.

Seriously, all I want and wish for in my life is a quiet and peaceful normal life for once.

Since the beginning when I was a kid, my whole life has been noisy, hectic and a complete mess with me being someone used something like a punching bag verbally or used as an outlet from my own family's frustrations.

Don't get me wrong. I love my family and I do really.

But for once in the former past of my life, would it be nice for them to at least not try to use me as a verbal punching bag for almost all my life?

I have ignored them or tuned them out whenever they talked bad to me as if I didn't do anything good in my life, since my high school, college and now my first ex-job days.

Hey, all I want is just normal life.  That's it.

Simply put, it's not like I want to go anywhere if I had super-high grades or anything.

I don't want to be one of those people looking for supreme and high-end rich jobs that will provide so much for me and my family.

That's not me at all.

Sure, my whole family has been medium-poor in a way of sorts.  But it's not like we're about to go homeless so soon.

That's just me sounding a bit selfish for myself but I'm telling the truth here.

Anyway, I finally had enough and when I secretly saved enough money for myself, I left my family behind without looking back except leaving a simple note and then moved away to this city so that I can firmly become a sole independent.

Most of my life, I have been doing something for my life, it's just that my family didn't even consider listening to me or giving me a chance to show it.

Well, who cares about them?

As the saying goes, they'll reap what they sow when the time comes.

So right now, before I finish writing this entry.  I'm about to go to my new job, which it's only a part-time job as an office assistant in a small firm during the day and cashier at a small grocery store during the night.

Though it's part-time, I'm just content with that. I have enough money saved up for myself that's with me kept safe and hidden in cash and the one in my bank account.

I'm off to bath and get ready for work.

So stay tuned for more! (smiles, laughter)

I'm writing this in my journal to liven it up and lighten up a little.

I'll be writing my next entry and tell you how my first days go here in my new normal life at this new place.

*****

After Eden finished writing her first entry in her new book journal, she stopped and put down her pen and sighed and stretched her arms up high as if instantly tired from writing and then rotated her neck around to heal the strain she's feeling inside.

Then she turned her head to look at the curtained windows beside her and the desk she's sitting next to and slowly stood from her chair and went over to it.

Eden moved the curtains a bit, staring at the grand and beautiful view before her which is going to be usual and normal in her new life.

She wouldn't trade it for anything and if ever in the future that something goes wrong, she won't go back to her life before and keep on trying and moving forward to stay and live in the city.

Then she let the curtains fall back into covering her windows and she walked to her bathroom to shower and prepare herself for her new part-time jobs and start working in her first days living and working in the city.

Little did Eden know, it is that her whole life is going to change.

In an unexpected way that she had never expected and wasn't prepared for it.

*****

It was exactly 7 days later, right there in the same apartment at the same city Eden is living in for only a week now.

Eden came bursting through the door like a bomb just exploded from outside and she ran for cover in her apartment instantly.

She quickly slammed shut and locked the door with the double locks latched as well and she panted heavily as if she was running a long marathon.

Then Eden seemed urgent and panicked and felt like she had to write in her journal to calm herself down from what she seemed to saw or witnessed before.

*****

JOURNAL ENTRY: 7TH DAY, 1ST MONTH JANUARY, YEAR 2XXX

Holy Mary Mother herself and Jesus Christ himself too!

Sorry, I wrote this so suddenly that I couldn't help but do it.

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm suddenly writing and looking a bit frantic in this entry.

Well, something happened that I didn't expect it at all and I'm pretty sure that the people aren't as well when they saw the news and heard stories and rumors about it.

I don't exactly know when, where and how it happened.

But it did so suddenly that I wasn't even prepared for it.

This is how it all started in the beginning.

I'm writing it all here in my journal.

The first days of the apocalypse.

*****

*****

I am alone.
In a Zombie Apocalypse.
I'm on a self-journey to find more survivors or trying to find a safe place.
Or I'm just living through it and surviving all by myself.
Listen to my story.
Listen or read about my survival.
It is all here in my SURVIVOR'S JOURNAL

*****

A lone survivor.
Since the beginning of the Apocalypse.
She survives through a hellish fallen world.
With nothing but her wits and a few skills that she has from her former normal life and learned throughout the apocalypse.
Listen to her tale.
Listen to what she has gone through in her survival through everything and how she managed to stay alive.
Listen or Read her SURVIVOR'S JOURNAL.

*****

"How long have you been alone?"

"Since the very beginning."

"How did you survive by yourself?"

"Nothing.  Nothing but with just my wits and a few skills and smarts that I have learned throughout everything."

"I'm surprised you're even sane and alive for so long and being alone."

"Oh, I'm not alone.  I have my journal."

*****
(Author's Note: This is a fictional story.  It is not based in real life at all.)

We're down to half the number of people we started with.

I know, I said I'd stop writing in this diary. But, I couldn't keep away. This journal has become a part of me.

Despite the few entries, I've poured my heart and soul into this. I've put down as many feelings as I could jam into these few vague pages of writing. It's the one place where I feel like I can truly express myself, where I can lay down my burdens and be myself. No one will judge me, no one will feel pressured or try to reassure me with words they themselves don't believe.

And more importantly, it's one of my only sources of hope.

I know I sound like a broken record. I've already said this, several times. But it is really something I treasure. It's my light in all of this darkness. I hold onto this hope that someone will read this and remember me, maybe not for what I am, but for who I am. I don't want to end up like all of those others who can only be remembered through their numbers. I have hope that someone will find this, and they will come to know me, the real me. 

Sometimes, this hope is all I have left. Little as it is, it keeps me afloat. I want to continue living so that I can continue writing my story. 

I don't know if this journal will survive my deletion. I don't know if anybody will find it. I don't know if it will just be found and thrown away or disregarded. But I do know that there's a chance, albeit a small one, that this writing could become the only proof of my existence. This may seem sad, but actually, I'm not all that upset at that thought. I have already learned to accept the fact that I will eventually be deleted.

But maybe, just maybe, this journal could help me survive even past my deletion.

This diary is the journal of a person involved in the incident known as Deleted 700. From the style and hints given in this diary, experts say that the victim was likely a young female. There is no solid way to verify this though, as the author and all 700 other people have seemingly vanished. Experts also claim that the conjecture that they were all deleted, based on the description of deletion in the text, is most likely wrong. This diary has been vital in our attempt to educate ourselves on Deleted 700 and has provided much of the current knowledge we have.

We are sharing with you so that we may honor her final wish. That everybody who reads this may know that she existed and that she meant something.

I went to therapy today and told her my embarrassing issues that I am having with my life. She told me that I should be writing in this journal so I went and bought a nice journal that could last me a while. So here I am writing in this journal. I have been trying to figure out why she that. It just confuses me. Like I am just a sixteen-year-old girl named Naomi Tanaka, form the middle of nowhere to here, Los Angeles, the second largest cities in the United States. I think I might drop out of therapy because she said this journal can be like my therapy season. So I finally leave therapy. 
A little about me my name is Naomi Tanaka, I am usually with my friends. I went to therapy because people said I seemed alone and depressed. So then I moved to Los Angeles and I was forced to make friends. They seemed to like me, but I don't know if I like them. So I just fake liking them and started being someone else because they would never like the real me. No one notices me. I was bullied when I was younger by my friends in my old school, so that headed me towards going to everything.

She gets a boyfriend and goes through her life. Not knowing she is loved, but loved. She can only look forward and not the past waiting for someone with a history like hers.

my name is Tessa Davidson... a student at SkyFantasia Academy... I plan in my future to become a great scientist or maybe a mage if I'm lucky, it's hard to pass in the exams but it'll be easy if you listen to the teachers carefully, everything they say is a clue to an answer... and every answer is a key to move forward to the future... hahaha that's what my parents say after they finished studying here.... I still don't get it though

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"hey Tes!" Corey shouted making me stop writing... "what is it?" I asked wanting to just keep writing "it's time to pass the journal, oh god... don't tell me you fell in love with the journal already!!! I haven't even confessed my love to you yet...." Corey said... Corey is very flirty, I get it that it's part of his ego, but still... why practice the lines on me? I passed my journal to our teacher so Corey would stop saying that I was in love with the journal... "you happy?" he hugged me as for response... he stopped hugging me and wrote something in his..... journal.....
...
...
...
"why are you aloud to write in your journal and I can't?!" I asked... "because you know I'll love you more than a silly object ♥" he said said smirking.... ugh...

"listen up class, today we have a very important thing to discuss... we'll be going to travel in the past... were magic and some creatures had never existed yet..." she explained more... and I couldn't believe if she was saying the truth 

 "are you all ready...?" she asked... Corey looked at me, he wants to know my answer... I stepped back, when my teacher noticed she told me to go outside with the rest of the students who stepped back, Corey followed me... I didn't know if he wanted to step back, but he followed me anyways... since we didn't get to do that class it technically mean it's lunchtime already... Corey's mood brightened and we ate lunch together with lily, lily was his little sister... smart and innocent... lily's dream is to become the ruler of earth...

"you guys wanna go ride one of the dragons?" Corey said... lily agreed while I refuse... I texted Leon to give him a sign
---------
Tessa: good luck!
Leon:????
------------
even if I refuse, I followed them to go to Leon... Leon seemed confuse on why the three of us went to him, but when he realized why where there, he was about flee and run for it, Corey grabbed him by the shoulder before Leon could've ran "one more time for my sister Leon" Leon didn't want to turn into a dragon and give the two a joyride, but he managed to agree and gave them a ride... I went to the balcony to see them go.. and looked at the view.... 'i wonder how life could've been if magic and spells didn't exist....' i mumbled

A high school with all types of students....

My fists were still balled, to keep my hands from shaking, as the heavy metal doors of the breakfast room closed behind me. I paused just outside the doorway, ignoring the guards who cautiously watched me out of the corner of their eyes.

Breath.

I repeated the word, chanting it as I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. I had not missed the way the Prince had studied me. Seen me, not the facade I clung to. The King had not noticed the clarity of my eyes or how I bristled at his every word.

Slowly I felt my body begin to relax. It had been almost a week since the King sent me on the last mission, a week since my memories had slowly begun to return. Each morning the King had me eat breakfast with him and his son. Each morning I kept my face blank and emotionless as the King searched for any weakness in his control over me. He saw none.

My plan was working. It was less of a plan than a simple idea. Regain control over my thoughts and actions without the King realizing what I was doing. That was the extent of my plan. I was not even sure who I was. As long as the King believed I was under his control, he would have no reason to put that awful fog back into my head.

Each time I closed my eyes, bits and pieces of a stranger's life floated through my dreams. Not dreams but memories. Memories of who I once was. Ever since I was a child, I had dreams of leathery black wings and beautiful amber eyes. Dreams of fairies and pixies and trolls. Now they were no longer these brief, seemingly meaningless dreams, but elaborate memories. Memories of people and places I had somehow forgotten. Some of it did not make sense. Since age 10, I had lived in the palace, yet I was having dreams of myself marrying the male with amber eyes as a full-grown adult. It was like I was starting to remember events and people from a past life. A life where I was not even a human.

The possibility that I was simply going mad had crossed my mind more than once. All I knew for certain was that I could trust no one. Not the Prince, though I saw how he looked at his father. Not the servants, even though the King regularly tortured and killed them for his own entertainment. I could easily make allies, but those allies could just as easily report me to the King for their own selfish desires. 

As I burst into my room I snatched a small journal from my desk. I had never had a need for a journal, or books, or apparently pens. The thought of living for so long without reading a book saddened me more than I could explain. The small wooden writing desk, that had sat untouched since I completed my schooling as a child, was empty. As I rummaged through the desk looking for something to write with, I did not hear the door to my room click open. The light tune the maid, an older woman with greying hair and beautiful bright green eyes, made me jump. I cursed as my knee slammed into the underside of an open drawer. 

The woman's eyes grew wide as she stared at me, catching me rifling through my desk like a madwoman.

"Lady Selene," she shook her head in confusion. Glancing between me and the desk. Unlike most servants, she did not lower her gaze but stared into my eyes. She took a cautious step forward as she studied my face. What did she see?

I straightened my body and slammed the drawer I was looking through closed. 

"Go get me a pen," I commanded her in the most uninterested and bored voice I could muster. Hesitantly, the old woman bowed her head and hurried from the room, leaving the laundry she had been carrying on the floor. My laundry. 

This human had probably cleaned my rooms and taken care of me for years, and I did not even know her name. How had I lived for so long without actually living at all? Magic was outlawed and banished, yet the King's hold on me screamed of magic in every way. However, he was human.

The elderly woman interrupted my thoughts as she quickly returned. I heard the door to my rooms open and close followed by her hurried footsteps. The woman held out her hands, presenting me with not one, but three different types of pens. I did not bother to thank her as I snatched the pens form her hands and waved her away in dismissal. 

I left her to her work, as I sat down at my desk. I stared at my old journal for a moment before opening it to the first page. I had not written in the small book since I was a child. My blood ran cold at the sight of the strange word sprawled on the first page. It was written over and over again in a language I never studied, yet I knew it as if it had been a part of me my entire life.

Azriel.

The name pulled at something inside of me. Calling to a part of me that had been asleep for so long. The name was written in varying sizes and directions. As if I had tried to fit it as many times as possible onto the page. The beautiful characters that made up the name curled into one another, like decorative design. To the untrained eye, it looked like nothing more than a doodled design. 

I slowly flipped through the small journal. I did not remember writing or drawing anything inside of it, but it was unmistakably written in my handwriting. I had drawn beautiful amber-colored eyes and large wings, like those of a bat. Some of the pages had dates, others just drawings. All the dates were from the first year I had spent in the palace. There was nothing from any of the later years.

I blinked away tears as I dated the top of the first empty page. My hand scratched out the stories and memories that had been floating in my mind for the last few days. I wrote every detail I could recall. I was halfway through when I realized I was not writing in the human language. 

I wanted to slam the journal closed. To burn it, to throw it away. Panic welled up in me. What if someone found it? If they did find it, it would require someone to translate it. If this was some made-up language it would be impossible. If it was the language of the fae, it would still be impossible. They could prove nothing. It would be seen as nothing more than a book filled with drawings and doodles. Taking a calming breath, I put my pen to paper and continued to write.

As I closed the journal, I rubbed my thumb over the soft leather binding. I stood from my desk, leaving the journal where it had sat undisturbed for years. I could leave it there, but something inside me wanted to hide it. 

Reluctantly I grabbed the journal and crossed the room to my large four-poster bed. Laying on my back, I scooted under the bed. Carefully tucking the journal into the space between the mattress and frame.

"Sometimes I can not remember my name. Not until the large man I call King tells me it. Even then, I am not sure if it is my name or someone else's name. In the city, with the crowded streets and houses stacked atop one another, it is hard to breathe. Hard to think. It is always so hard to think. I know I must remember something but I can not. I am not allowed to remember. The King will be angry if I remember. I don't want to make the King angry."

Selene is the King's personal assassin. And in a world where magic is outlawed, she is cursed. Unable to defy the King's orders and unable to remember anything about herself, how could she ever escape?

When Selene starts dreaming about a male with amber eyes, and her memories start returning piece by piece, will it be enough to reclaim her freedom?

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