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Description
This is Saira, who, as a child, was once apprenticed to the Master Assassin Cody. It's been years since Saira returned to the Castle where her life changed forever.
Cody is the Third Bearer of the Glyph that the Fayne Storyline has been following. She is Hal'ciem's former wife, and hates Fayne with unbridled fury.
This story focuses on Saira, and how she met Cody.
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Saira listened intently, her face scrunching as she concentrated. She remained hidden, waiting for her trap to spring. Saira was a young fearless girl, no more than ten winters in age. Her long brunette hair lay loose and unkempt with a few twigs and leaves thrown in for good measure. Her dress, bright and new just that morning was now stained and tattered beyond repair, result of escaping the manor yet again and exploring the old ruined castle nearby.

She couldn’t say why, but she liked the old castle. She liked to explore on her own, to imagine what life was like here so long ago. It had to be better than her own life now. Most did not enter the castle as the walls were unstable, upset from when the ground shook nearly a hundred years ago. Saira didn’t see the walls move, tried many times to imagine what it looked like when they did. Certainly, there were some areas that collapsed, but most of the castle was still intact. It was rare to find anyone else here now, for there was nothing of worth, just a maze of rooms and corridors. The old castle was also a haven for the rats that plagued the castle so, and the perfect place for her to escape to.

Here, she was queen, with an empire to rule, subjects to lord over. Of course her subjects were simple rats, but she could use her imagination. And her imagination was filled with the sort of things that did not befit a young girl of noble birth.

Despite her angelic looks, dark things dwelled in Saira’s mind. There was something dark in her bright gold flecked eyes, something others found unsettling and sinister. Many frightened servants whispered that she had her father’s eyes, and it was not meant as a compliment. She may not have appeared the daughter of one of the most feared nobles in Wabic, but she was, in every way, her father’s daughter. She especially enjoyed catching and torturing whatever animals she could trap.

This day was no exception.

She could heart the rat scuttling nearby, enticed by the bait set in the trap. It was a cautious rat, patient and ever so wily. With breathless anticipation she waited. Then the loud snap as the trap was sprung.

“I’ve got you!” Saira exclaimed loudly, hearing the rat’s alarmed squeal. She sprung up and rushed to her trap, only to see the trap empty. Motion from the corner of her eye and she saw a rat she recognized fleeing into the darkened corridor.

“Lord Grendal!” She exclaimed in disappointment and anger.

Lord Grendal was a large rat, all black in color, and the only one that continually vexed her attempts at capture. The wily bastard easily defeated the trap again. She frowned, for the scuttling noise of the rat was now some distance away. Lord Grendal had gotten away.
She looked down at her trap. Not only had the rat escaped, but it had taken the bait as well.

“Damn!” She swore, using the word with practiced ease as she held her unsheathed dagger. She didn’t even get the chance to wound Lord Grendal. She liked the way the rats bled to death as they ran, their struggles weakening until all life ran from them. And more than any other rat, she wanted to see this one die. They were getting smarter, avoiding her traps now. She would have to devise a better trap.

Saira sighed, looking into the darkened corridor that Lord Grendal fled into. The long corridor looked empty, save for gathering debris and growing decay. But the light of day, even as bright as it was like today, did not penetrate far through the rotted roof and broken beams overhead. This was the only part of the castle she dare not enter. Her mother had been quite clear on that. She claimed, in her usual incoherent manner, that the old castle was haunted, and that the spirits would love nothing more then to dine on the flesh of a young girl.
So far Saira had not found anything even remotely terrifying in this old castle. Well, other than this old hallway. It beckoned like a mouth to hell. Deep into the rotting castle it plunged, into the very mountain itself from which the castle had been hewn.

She stood in the safety of daylight, peering into the yawning chasm of darkness, rocking softly on her toes, wondering if she should dare to enter. She wondered what secrets lie within its stygian depths? She could well imagine vast mounds of treasure hidden there, of a world where she could be queen. Ruler of a vast land where her word was the law, and she could punish those that would harm her. How she would love to punish!

She came here nearly every day to stand at this spot, trying to gather the nerve to enter. And each time her courage would fail her, and she would return to the safety of daylight. Nearby, a lantern waited, stolen some time ago just in case she should decide to enter the corridor. She held her dagger tightly, waiting, and dreaming.

Then she heard a voice call her name.

Saira turned slightly, listening for her name to be called again.

Perhaps a guardsman sent to fetch her. She was not supposed to be here today. Several days ago, her mother, in a rare lucid moment, had shown concern for her youngest daughter, forbidding her to come to this castle at all.

No, Saira shook her head, it couldn’t have been mother, for she was still sleeping off the effects of the Black Lotus from the night before. She wouldn’t waken for hours yet. Once she did, she would climb right back into the blossom of the Black Lotus.

“Saira!” A voice called clearly, drawing closer. “Come out where ever you are.”

Saira wrinkled her nose in distaste, a tremor of fear worming its way into her. The handle of the dagger in her hand suddenly slick in her small hand It was her older brother Grendal, and there could only be one reason he would be bothered to come looking for her.

Saira considered quickly. Grendal knew the old castle almost as well as she did. It was he that had first enticed the girl into the old castle to play. But his idea of play was too painful and traumatizing. Afterwards she cried to her mother, but the woman was too drugged to care, nor did her father seemed to take the accusation seriously, and none of the servants dare take her side. For Grendal was father’s chosen one, as the guards would say. He could do no wrong, the apple of their father’s eye.
Since that day, Grendal would seek out Saira from time to time, cornering her and then forcing her to ‘lay’ with him.

Today would be such a day.

If he could catch her. Panic welled up within her. She could hear him only several rooms away. He knew where she was. He would be here in moments. She glanced to the rooms around her. They were all traps, there would be no escape. Then she slowly turned to the unknown darkness that had enticed her for so long.

“Saira.” Grendal taunted. “Time to play!”

Saira grabbed the lantern, set it upon the floor and tried several times to light it, using the stone and the back of the dagger as she seen the guards do. But there were no sparks. Frustrated, she nearly tossed the lantern aside, but knew Grendal would hear the noise. She rose, clutching the dagger and looked into the darkness.

Then she set forth on a path of no return. Just as the rat named after her brother had fled into darkness, so too would Saira escape.

Saira looked back to the end of the corridor, where the light filled the room through the rotted roof and broken beams. She had gone in as far as she dared, the fear of the darkness only outweighed by the fear of her brother. The shadowy form of her brother stood there, peering into the darkness. She crouched near the wall, behind a rotting piece of furniture, willing herself to be invisible.

“Saira!” His mocking voice called, echoing into the corridor. The echoes seemed to go on forever, becoming ever more shrill. He couldn’t see her, but she could see him there, his shape monstrous. She waited, fearing that he would see her.

But the darkness seemed to affect him as well, and he would not enter the old hall way of darkness. Grendal turned away, picked up the lantern and gazed at it thoughtfully for a moment. He opened the shutter, felt the wick of the candle. It was cold. Then he called for her again, this time into the rooms still in the light. He moved on, back into the maze of rooms that was the ruined castle.
Saira waited, ensuring he was truly gone. Once before he caught her when she moved from her hiding place. He beat her then, for daring to thwart his ‘lay’. It was a mistake she was not going to repeat.

Eventually her heart slowed, and she relaxed minutely, releasing her pent up breath.

Then she heard the muffled moan in the darkness behind her. She nearly screamed, but a part of her mind knew that Grendal would hear her. Instead she waited, closing her eyes.

Another moan. Soft and barely audible.

Stories of ghost and diabolical spirits sprinted through her mind, nearly chasing reason from her. But she held still, pushing the growing panic within away.

She rose and with utmost care, started to creep back to the opening, and into the light. Her heart beat fiercely, knowing she would feel the icy hand of death on her shoulder. The ghosts would surely find her.

“Saira!” Grendal called, somewhere close at hand. He was angry now. He knew she was here, but could not find her.

Saira stopped. Fear of her brother still strong with her. She turned and slowly slipped into the darkness. She was lost, but there could be no going back, not while he was still looking for her. Tears in her eyes, she willed herself to think of the lost treasure, of the crown that would be hers. She thought of anything other than what was in the darkness with her.

A gasp, followed by another moan sounded closer. But it was not a moan of pain that was all too common in father’s Manor House. It was a moan she had not heard before. An animal perhaps? She shook her head. No animal made a sound such as this. Even the loose dog she killed several months ago did not make a sound like this.
Like a moth to the flame, she was drawn further into the darkness, carefully sliding her feet forward lest she trip over something. She could well imagine a cavernous opening in the hallway, where a section of floor collapsed.
But her feet found sure footing amid the debris. She looked back once to see the opening as a small white button so far away now. Even as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, there was precious little to see. The looting of the castle had continued unabated for over one hundred years. Everything of value had long ago been stripped.

Again the moan, a sigh of sorts.

Saira hesitated, for the sound was near. To the left. She turned, felt for the wall, and found the distinct touch of a massive iron studded door. She leaned forward, listening.

A soft whimper from beyond the door.

Saira doubted such a great door would even open, locked these many years. She wondered what was locked beyond. A great beast perhaps? A lost tortured soul? A dragon? The thought frightened her, but also filled her with excitement.

She felt for and found the great handle, knowing that it would never budge. She pushed down on it, and was surprised to feel it move quietly. It was well oiled.
She waited a moment, and then pushed against the door.
Despite its ponderous size, it moved effortlessly under her touch. Faint light, bright as day blinded her as the door silently opened.

Again she waited, this time for her eyes to adjust, wiping at the tears the light drew.

Saira opened her mouth in surprise. Highly decorative fabrics shimmered, flowing like water under the slightest breath. Fiery reds, golden yellows, dark forest green, and ocean blues hung everywhere. Flickering candles abounded beyond the curtains of flowing silk, shadows dancing amid the exotic fabrics adding to the illusion of a fantasy world. It took her a moment to realize that it was warm here. And there was a smell she knew but could not identify.

She stepped into the room, and saw that the floor was likewise decorated with all manner of rugs from the furthest reaches of all the known lands. Beyond the dancing wall of fabrics she caught momentary glimpses of a prone figure upon a disheveled bed.

Although there was no wind, the fabric continued to move, almost as if there were a breeze she could not feel. No dream had ever been like this, and Saira found herself wonderstruck.

Again a moan, and the figure squirmed as if enduring the worst manner of torture.

Heart in her throat, Saira was unable to look away, to escape back to the pitch darkness of the hallway. With trembling hand she reached outward, touching the fabrics. As if in a dream, the fabric parted before her, its cool touch upon her hand like flowing water. She stepped forward, knowing that she would be forever trapped by whatever tortured soul existed here.

Saira stood before the great bed, and gazed upon the nude figure writhing upon it. There was a woman there, a woman in a desperate struggle with what looked at first to be green snakes wrapping her in a deadly embrace. But that image vanished a moment later when Saira realized that the snakes were vines moving across the woman’s skin. Vines that could not possibly be, vines that were inside her skin, a part of her skin. A tattoo come to life. The dark vines raced, growing rapidly, twining upon itself, reaching up her sweaty glistening body. The woman moaned softly, her eyes squeezed tightly closed as she endured whatever terrible agony the vines did to her. She tossed her head, the sweat drenched locks of straw gold hair thrumming against the thick ticking of the bed. Then the vines would relent, fading away like retreating waves upon a beach. The woman would collapse, her breathing ragged. But the moment of rest would not last. The woman shuddered, and another vine would appear, snaking its way from between her legs and across her body. Again the woman would shake, toss her head, her breath catching. Again the vine would become too much and the woman made a shuddering sound, the sound that had drawn Saira here. Her body thrashed against invisible restraints, her hands gripping the fabric she lay upon so strongly that cloth tore.

Saira would never be certain why she did what she did next. The surreal nature of the moment became a dream to her, and she saw herself as if from a great distance. She could see herself moving forward, coming now to the edge of the bed. There was a sound in her mind, a thousand voices singing a single note. She became part of the dream.

She felt no fear, felt nothing.

She reached out to touch the apparition. She would later wonder why she had done so, but would never be able to answer that question.

The moment her hand touched the arm of the tortured woman, her life would be forever transformed. The woman screamed, her eyes nearly bulging from her head, her body growing rigid. Saira reeled backwards, a scream of her own joining the other.

The great volumes of fabric around them exploded brightly, torn from their hangings, the breeze now a violent wind. Cloth spun wildly in the tempest, lost souls begging for release. Candles were snuffed out, plunging the room into darkness.

Visions, images of others, emotions never felt before flooded her young mind. Sensations so strong inundated her as to make her lose control of her body, Saira fell, collapsing on the floor. Overwhelmed by thoughts not her own, Saira fell unconscious.

She awoke later to comforting darkness, thoughts slowly beginning to filter into her mind. She was stunned by what happened to her. But she felt no alarm. Indeed, she felt something that she had not known before, and could only dream of.

She felt safe.

There was a presence beside her, around her, in her. A presence that was warm, comforting. The faint sound of breathing, of someone in a deep sleep. She could hear a heartbeat, slow and measured. It was not her own. Slowly she realized that there were arms around her. Fear rose, for had her brother found her once more? But as quickly as the fear came, it was washed away. These were comforting arms, arms of safety and security. Both something foreign to her and so desperately yearned for. With a smile, she rested her head against the body beside her and drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, there was light from a single candle. She was alone on the bed, the warmth and safety gone, but not forgotten. She looked to see that the once colorful and dreamlike world of the room was now in shambles. Shredded fabric lay everywhere.

“Who might you be?” A voice asked wearily as she sat up on the destroyed bed.

Saira looked to see a woman sitting at a table, a single candle placed before her. Her hair was a mess, her face tired. But the eyes were captivating, dark and intelligent.

“I-“ Saira had to think for a moment, searching her memory. She frowned, for there were many names spinning in her head. “I am Saira.”

“Ah.” The woman nodded in understanding. She was now dressed, wearing clothes more befitting a peasant. Simple durable trousers and an oversized shirt. “Daughter of Baron Tibias the Younger and his sister-wife Rose. You are betrothed to your brother Lord Grendal as I recall.” She sighed, pushed herself away from the table and rose.

Saira stretched her arms. “Have I been asleep long?”

It was curious she felt no fear.

“Do you know who I am?” The woman asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, gazing at her with quiet intensity.

Saira looked for, but could find no sign now of the vines upon the woman’s skin. A name came to her. “You are Cody.” Memories bubbled up. “Father’s assassin. The White Lotus. Wife- no, ex-wife of Hal’ciem the warrior. Bearer of the Glyph.”

“Indeed.” Cody said with a bit of surprise. She considered for a moment. “How do you know these things? Or do you remember them?” It was an odd question to ask.

“I-“ Saira hesitated. She shook her head. “I remember them, but do not know why I remember them. They are not mine.”

“What should I do with you?” Cody asked.

“You can kill me for I know who you are. All know that the White Lotus does not suffer any to know who he- she is.” Saira said without trace of fear. “Or you can make me your own.”

“It would be easier for me to kill you.” Cody replied, her eyes studying Saira’s own with a deep intensity.

“Then who would help you when the others do as they did?” Saira asked with a shrug. There would be no begging, no pleading for her life. She knew Cody would kill her without any pang of remorse.

“Others?” Cody asked

“The other Bearers.” Saira nodded, the memories still filtering in her mind. Much was becoming lost, but she remembered details she could not possibly know. Memories that were not her own. “The power you share with them troubles you greatly. When they are together or with others, they torment you to no end.”

Cody said nothing, her eyes hard.

“I can help you.” Saira said.

“How can you possibly help me?” Cody scoffed. “You are but a child.”

In answer, Saira held up her hand.

Cody frowned, a questioningly look in her face.

“My touch freed you, did it not? It gave you the release you could not find on your own. I can temper the hunger the other Bearers create within you.” Saira said with uncharacteristic comprehension of Cody’s plight. The child that came into this room earlier was no more. Whatever happened to her with that single touch earlier had stolen what remained of her childhood. She would never mourn its passing.

“What do you know of the ways of adults laying together?”

“I will learn. You will teach me.”

Cody stared at the offered hand for a time. “And what do you want in return?”

“To be as you are.” Saira replied unwaveringly.

“Why?”

“I want to kill my brother.”

“Because he forces himself upon you?”

“Is that not reason enough?” Saira replied. “He is to be my husband, and I would sooner die than have that day come. Better still is if he were to die.”

“I admit I do not understand the ways of your people. Brothers marrying sisters.” Cody shook her head. “You are an odd one. I like you Saira, daughter of Baron Tibias the Younger.”

Cody negligently tossed the dagger she held. It landed squarely in the center of the wooden table with an audible thunk, the blade sinking deep. “I will let you live for now. Very well, Saira, you shall become my apprentice. Never had an apprentice before. But know that if you ever speak of my secrets, there are things far worse than death.”

“As my brother will come to learn.” Saira said, knowing that Cody fully intended to slit her throat with the dagger only a moment ago.

“I will tend to your brother. He will not harm you again.” Cody promised.

“No!” Saira shook her head. “His death will be at my hands!”

Cody smiled. “Very well, Saira. I will have a –um, ‘talk’ with him. When you are ready, you may kill him if you like. Or you can let him live in unending pain. ”

“You promise?”

Cody laughed. “If you are to be my apprentice, there will be much I will teach you. I will test you time and again. There is more to being an assassin than killing rats. If you fail me, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Saira nodded gravely.

“The first thing you must learn is your place.”

“Yes.” Saira nodded happily.

Cody slapped Saira hard, sending her tumbling from the bed. Saira yelped, looked up at the woman. She held her sudden tears in check.

“You may not lay upon my bed unless I invite you.” Cody said darkly. “You will sit at my feet when I teach you. You will do everything I say, and you will do it when I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Saira nodded, rubbing her cheek.

“Yes, yes what?” Cody rumbled dangerously.

“Yes, master.” Saira blurted.

“Good enough. Master will suffice.” Cody nodded. “It is late, and they may be looking for you. You are to return to your home, and speak nothing of what you have seen here this day. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master.” Saira said subserviently, lowering her eyes as she seen servants do.

Cody kicked her hard. Again Saira yelped.

“Never take your eyes off of me! You are apprentice of the The White Lotus, the most feared assassin in all of the lands! Never will you bow as a slave, is that understood?”

“Yes Master!” Saira uttered. Her ribs really hurt. She bowed again, this time careful to keep her eyes on Cody.

It was late, the sun near the horizon when Saira emerged from the brambles along the road leading back to the Manor home of her father. Her once beautiful dress was stained and torn, but she did not care. Mother would simply get her a new one after chastising her about playing in the mud. If anyone were to ask about her bruises she would tell them that she tripped down the stairs. Saira looked back at the ruined castle atop the hill a distance away. Somewhere within those ruins lay her future, a future she could not have imagined just that morning. An odd sensation welled up within her, and she found that she liked it. Just that morning she was fated to marry her brother, a fate worse than death. There had been no escape, her future set. Now, a feeling of freedom, of knowing she was now in control her future and her life was a gift she could not have ever envisioned.

Smiling broadly, she made her way home.

Description
This is Saira, who, as a child, was once apprenticed to the Master Assassin Cody. It's been years since Saira returned to the Castle where her life changed forever.
Cody is the Third Bearer of the Glyph that the Fayne Storyline has been following. She is Hal'ciem's former wife, and hates Fayne with unbridled fury.
This story focuses on Saira, and how she met Cody.
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Saira listened intently, her face scrunching as she concentrated. She remained hidden, waiting for her trap to spring. Saira was a young fearless girl, no more than ten winters in age. Her long brunette hair lay loose and unkempt with a few twigs and leaves thrown in for good measure. Her dress, bright and new just that morning was now stained and tattered beyond repair, result of escaping the manor yet again and exploring the old ruined castle nearby.

She couldn’t say why, but she liked the old castle. She liked to explore on her own, to imagine what life was like here so long ago. It had to be better than her own life now. Most did not enter the castle as the walls were unstable, upset from when the ground shook nearly a hundred years ago. Saira didn’t see the walls move, tried many times to imagine what it looked like when they did. Certainly, there were some areas that collapsed, but most of the castle was still intact. It was rare to find anyone else here now, for there was nothing of worth, just a maze of rooms and corridors. The old castle was also a haven for the rats that plagued the castle so, and the perfect place for her to escape to.

Here, she was queen, with an empire to rule, subjects to lord over. Of course her subjects were simple rats, but she could use her imagination. And her imagination was filled with the sort of things that did not befit a young girl of noble birth.

Despite her angelic looks, dark things dwelled in Saira’s mind. There was something dark in her bright gold flecked eyes, something others found unsettling and sinister. Many frightened servants whispered that she had her father’s eyes, and it was not meant as a compliment. She may not have appeared the daughter of one of the most feared nobles in Wabic, but she was, in every way, her father’s daughter. She especially enjoyed catching and torturing whatever animals she could trap.

This day was no exception.

She could heart the rat scuttling nearby, enticed by the bait set in the trap. It was a cautious rat, patient and ever so wily. With breathless anticipation she waited. Then the loud snap as the trap was sprung.

“I’ve got you!” Saira exclaimed loudly, hearing the rat’s alarmed squeal. She sprung up and rushed to her trap, only to see the trap empty. Motion from the corner of her eye and she saw a rat she recognized fleeing into the darkened corridor.

“Lord Grendal!” She exclaimed in disappointment and anger.

Lord Grendal was a large rat, all black in color, and the only one that continually vexed her attempts at capture. The wily bastard easily defeated the trap again. She frowned, for the scuttling noise of the rat was now some distance away. Lord Grendal had gotten away.
She looked down at her trap. Not only had the rat escaped, but it had taken the bait as well.

“Damn!” She swore, using the word with practiced ease as she held her unsheathed dagger. She didn’t even get the chance to wound Lord Grendal. She liked the way the rats bled to death as they ran, their struggles weakening until all life ran from them. And more than any other rat, she wanted to see this one die. They were getting smarter, avoiding her traps now. She would have to devise a better trap.

Saira sighed, looking into the darkened corridor that Lord Grendal fled into. The long corridor looked empty, save for gathering debris and growing decay. But the light of day, even as bright as it was like today, did not penetrate far through the rotted roof and broken beams overhead. This was the only part of the castle she dare not enter. Her mother had been quite clear on that. She claimed, in her usual incoherent manner, that the old castle was haunted, and that the spirits would love nothing more then to dine on the flesh of a young girl.
So far Saira had not found anything even remotely terrifying in this old castle. Well, other than this old hallway. It beckoned like a mouth to hell. Deep into the rotting castle it plunged, into the very mountain itself from which the castle had been hewn.

She stood in the safety of daylight, peering into the yawning chasm of darkness, rocking softly on her toes, wondering if she should dare to enter. She wondered what secrets lie within its stygian depths? She could well imagine vast mounds of treasure hidden there, of a world where she could be queen. Ruler of a vast land where her word was the law, and she could punish those that would harm her. How she would love to punish!

She came here nearly every day to stand at this spot, trying to gather the nerve to enter. And each time her courage would fail her, and she would return to the safety of daylight. Nearby, a lantern waited, stolen some time ago just in case she should decide to enter the corridor. She held her dagger tightly, waiting, and dreaming.

Then she heard a voice call her name.

Saira turned slightly, listening for her name to be called again.

Perhaps a guardsman sent to fetch her. She was not supposed to be here today. Several days ago, her mother, in a rare lucid moment, had shown concern for her youngest daughter, forbidding her to come to this castle at all.

No, Saira shook her head, it couldn’t have been mother, for she was still sleeping off the effects of the Black Lotus from the night before. She wouldn’t waken for hours yet. Once she did, she would climb right back into the blossom of the Black Lotus.

“Saira!” A voice called clearly, drawing closer. “Come out where ever you are.”

Saira wrinkled her nose in distaste, a tremor of fear worming its way into her. The handle of the dagger in her hand suddenly slick in her small hand It was her older brother Grendal, and there could only be one reason he would be bothered to come looking for her.

Saira considered quickly. Grendal knew the old castle almost as well as she did. It was he that had first enticed the girl into the old castle to play. But his idea of play was too painful and traumatizing. Afterwards she cried to her mother, but the woman was too drugged to care, nor did her father seemed to take the accusation seriously, and none of the servants dare take her side. For Grendal was father’s chosen one, as the guards would say. He could do no wrong, the apple of their father’s eye.
Since that day, Grendal would seek out Saira from time to time, cornering her and then forcing her to ‘lay’ with him.

Today would be such a day.

If he could catch her. Panic welled up within her. She could hear him only several rooms away. He knew where she was. He would be here in moments. She glanced to the rooms around her. They were all traps, there would be no escape. Then she slowly turned to the unknown darkness that had enticed her for so long.

“Saira.” Grendal taunted. “Time to play!”

Saira grabbed the lantern, set it upon the floor and tried several times to light it, using the stone and the back of the dagger as she seen the guards do. But there were no sparks. Frustrated, she nearly tossed the lantern aside, but knew Grendal would hear the noise. She rose, clutching the dagger and looked into the darkness.

Then she set forth on a path of no return. Just as the rat named after her brother had fled into darkness, so too would Saira escape.

Saira looked back to the end of the corridor, where the light filled the room through the rotted roof and broken beams. She had gone in as far as she dared, the fear of the darkness only outweighed by the fear of her brother. The shadowy form of her brother stood there, peering into the darkness. She crouched near the wall, behind a rotting piece of furniture, willing herself to be invisible.

“Saira!” His mocking voice called, echoing into the corridor. The echoes seemed to go on forever, becoming ever more shrill. He couldn’t see her, but she could see him there, his shape monstrous. She waited, fearing that he would see her.

But the darkness seemed to affect him as well, and he would not enter the old hall way of darkness. Grendal turned away, picked up the lantern and gazed at it thoughtfully for a moment. He opened the shutter, felt the wick of the candle. It was cold. Then he called for her again, this time into the rooms still in the light. He moved on, back into the maze of rooms that was the ruined castle.
Saira waited, ensuring he was truly gone. Once before he caught her when she moved from her hiding place. He beat her then, for daring to thwart his ‘lay’. It was a mistake she was not going to repeat.

Eventually her heart slowed, and she relaxed minutely, releasing her pent up breath.

Then she heard the muffled moan in the darkness behind her. She nearly screamed, but a part of her mind knew that Grendal would hear her. Instead she waited, closing her eyes.

Another moan. Soft and barely audible.

Stories of ghost and diabolical spirits sprinted through her mind, nearly chasing reason from her. But she held still, pushing the growing panic within away.

She rose and with utmost care, started to creep back to the opening, and into the light. Her heart beat fiercely, knowing she would feel the icy hand of death on her shoulder. The ghosts would surely find her.

“Saira!” Grendal called, somewhere close at hand. He was angry now. He knew she was here, but could not find her.

Saira stopped. Fear of her brother still strong with her. She turned and slowly slipped into the darkness. She was lost, but there could be no going back, not while he was still looking for her. Tears in her eyes, she willed herself to think of the lost treasure, of the crown that would be hers. She thought of anything other than what was in the darkness with her.

A gasp, followed by another moan sounded closer. But it was not a moan of pain that was all too common in father’s Manor House. It was a moan she had not heard before. An animal perhaps? She shook her head. No animal made a sound such as this. Even the loose dog she killed several months ago did not make a sound like this.
Like a moth to the flame, she was drawn further into the darkness, carefully sliding her feet forward lest she trip over something. She could well imagine a cavernous opening in the hallway, where a section of floor collapsed.
But her feet found sure footing amid the debris. She looked back once to see the opening as a small white button so far away now. Even as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, there was precious little to see. The looting of the castle had continued unabated for over one hundred years. Everything of value had long ago been stripped.

Again the moan, a sigh of sorts.

Saira hesitated, for the sound was near. To the left. She turned, felt for the wall, and found the distinct touch of a massive iron studded door. She leaned forward, listening.

A soft whimper from beyond the door.

Saira doubted such a great door would even open, locked these many years. She wondered what was locked beyond. A great beast perhaps? A lost tortured soul? A dragon? The thought frightened her, but also filled her with excitement.

She felt for and found the great handle, knowing that it would never budge. She pushed down on it, and was surprised to feel it move quietly. It was well oiled.
She waited a moment, and then pushed against the door.
Despite its ponderous size, it moved effortlessly under her touch. Faint light, bright as day blinded her as the door silently opened.

Again she waited, this time for her eyes to adjust, wiping at the tears the light drew.

Saira opened her mouth in surprise. Highly decorative fabrics shimmered, flowing like water under the slightest breath. Fiery reds, golden yellows, dark forest green, and ocean blues hung everywhere. Flickering candles abounded beyond the curtains of flowing silk, shadows dancing amid the exotic fabrics adding to the illusion of a fantasy world. It took her a moment to realize that it was warm here. And there was a smell she knew but could not identify.

She stepped into the room, and saw that the floor was likewise decorated with all manner of rugs from the furthest reaches of all the known lands. Beyond the dancing wall of fabrics she caught momentary glimpses of a prone figure upon a disheveled bed.

Although there was no wind, the fabric continued to move, almost as if there were a breeze she could not feel. No dream had ever been like this, and Saira found herself wonderstruck.

Again a moan, and the figure squirmed as if enduring the worst manner of torture.

Heart in her throat, Saira was unable to look away, to escape back to the pitch darkness of the hallway. With trembling hand she reached outward, touching the fabrics. As if in a dream, the fabric parted before her, its cool touch upon her hand like flowing water. She stepped forward, knowing that she would be forever trapped by whatever tortured soul existed here.

Saira stood before the great bed, and gazed upon the nude figure writhing upon it. There was a woman there, a woman in a desperate struggle with what looked at first to be green snakes wrapping her in a deadly embrace. But that image vanished a moment later when Saira realized that the snakes were vines moving across the woman’s skin. Vines that could not possibly be, vines that were inside her skin, a part of her skin. A tattoo come to life. The dark vines raced, growing rapidly, twining upon itself, reaching up her sweaty glistening body. The woman moaned softly, her eyes squeezed tightly closed as she endured whatever terrible agony the vines did to her. She tossed her head, the sweat drenched locks of straw gold hair thrumming against the thick ticking of the bed. Then the vines would relent, fading away like retreating waves upon a beach. The woman would collapse, her breathing ragged. But the moment of rest would not last. The woman shuddered, and another vine would appear, snaking its way from between her legs and across her body. Again the woman would shake, toss her head, her breath catching. Again the vine would become too much and the woman made a shuddering sound, the sound that had drawn Saira here. Her body thrashed against invisible restraints, her hands gripping the fabric she lay upon so strongly that cloth tore.

Saira would never be certain why she did what she did next. The surreal nature of the moment became a dream to her, and she saw herself as if from a great distance. She could see herself moving forward, coming now to the edge of the bed. There was a sound in her mind, a thousand voices singing a single note. She became part of the dream.

She felt no fear, felt nothing.

She reached out to touch the apparition. She would later wonder why she had done so, but would never be able to answer that question.

The moment her hand touched the arm of the tortured woman, her life would be forever transformed. The woman screamed, her eyes nearly bulging from her head, her body growing rigid. Saira reeled backwards, a scream of her own joining the other.

The great volumes of fabric around them exploded brightly, torn from their hangings, the breeze now a violent wind. Cloth spun wildly in the tempest, lost souls begging for release. Candles were snuffed out, plunging the room into darkness.

Visions, images of others, emotions never felt before flooded her young mind. Sensations so strong inundated her as to make her lose control of her body, Saira fell, collapsing on the floor. Overwhelmed by thoughts not her own, Saira fell unconscious.

She awoke later to comforting darkness, thoughts slowly beginning to filter into her mind. She was stunned by what happened to her. But she felt no alarm. Indeed, she felt something that she had not known before, and could only dream of.

She felt safe.

There was a presence beside her, around her, in her. A presence that was warm, comforting. The faint sound of breathing, of someone in a deep sleep. She could hear a heartbeat, slow and measured. It was not her own. Slowly she realized that there were arms around her. Fear rose, for had her brother found her once more? But as quickly as the fear came, it was washed away. These were comforting arms, arms of safety and security. Both something foreign to her and so desperately yearned for. With a smile, she rested her head against the body beside her and drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, there was light from a single candle. She was alone on the bed, the warmth and safety gone, but not forgotten. She looked to see that the once colorful and dreamlike world of the room was now in shambles. Shredded fabric lay everywhere.

“Who might you be?” A voice asked wearily as she sat up on the destroyed bed.

Saira looked to see a woman sitting at a table, a single candle placed before her. Her hair was a mess, her face tired. But the eyes were captivating, dark and intelligent.

“I-“ Saira had to think for a moment, searching her memory. She frowned, for there were many names spinning in her head. “I am Saira.”

“Ah.” The woman nodded in understanding. She was now dressed, wearing clothes more befitting a peasant. Simple durable trousers and an oversized shirt. “Daughter of Baron Tibias the Younger and his sister-wife Rose. You are betrothed to your brother Lord Grendal as I recall.” She sighed, pushed herself away from the table and rose.

Saira stretched her arms. “Have I been asleep long?”

It was curious she felt no fear.

“Do you know who I am?” The woman asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, gazing at her with quiet intensity.

Saira looked for, but could find no sign now of the vines upon the woman’s skin. A name came to her. “You are Cody.” Memories bubbled up. “Father’s assassin. The White Lotus. Wife- no, ex-wife of Hal’ciem the warrior. Bearer of the Glyph.”

“Indeed.” Cody said with a bit of surprise. She considered for a moment. “How do you know these things? Or do you remember them?” It was an odd question to ask.

“I-“ Saira hesitated. She shook her head. “I remember them, but do not know why I remember them. They are not mine.”

“What should I do with you?” Cody asked.

“You can kill me for I know who you are. All know that the White Lotus does not suffer any to know who he- she is.” Saira said without trace of fear. “Or you can make me your own.”

“It would be easier for me to kill you.” Cody replied, her eyes studying Saira’s own with a deep intensity.

“Then who would help you when the others do as they did?” Saira asked with a shrug. There would be no begging, no pleading for her life. She knew Cody would kill her without any pang of remorse.

“Others?” Cody asked

“The other Bearers.” Saira nodded, the memories still filtering in her mind. Much was becoming lost, but she remembered details she could not possibly know. Memories that were not her own. “The power you share with them troubles you greatly. When they are together or with others, they torment you to no end.”

Cody said nothing, her eyes hard.

“I can help you.” Saira said.

“How can you possibly help me?” Cody scoffed. “You are but a child.”

In answer, Saira held up her hand.

Cody frowned, a questioningly look in her face.

“My touch freed you, did it not? It gave you the release you could not find on your own. I can temper the hunger the other Bearers create within you.” Saira said with uncharacteristic comprehension of Cody’s plight. The child that came into this room earlier was no more. Whatever happened to her with that single touch earlier had stolen what remained of her childhood. She would never mourn its passing.

“What do you know of the ways of adults laying together?”

“I will learn. You will teach me.”

Cody stared at the offered hand for a time. “And what do you want in return?”

“To be as you are.” Saira replied unwaveringly.

“Why?”

“I want to kill my brother.”

“Because he forces himself upon you?”

“Is that not reason enough?” Saira replied. “He is to be my husband, and I would sooner die than have that day come. Better still is if he were to die.”

“I admit I do not understand the ways of your people. Brothers marrying sisters.” Cody shook her head. “You are an odd one. I like you Saira, daughter of Baron Tibias the Younger.”

Cody negligently tossed the dagger she held. It landed squarely in the center of the wooden table with an audible thunk, the blade sinking deep. “I will let you live for now. Very well, Saira, you shall become my apprentice. Never had an apprentice before. But know that if you ever speak of my secrets, there are things far worse than death.”

“As my brother will come to learn.” Saira said, knowing that Cody fully intended to slit her throat with the dagger only a moment ago.

“I will tend to your brother. He will not harm you again.” Cody promised.

“No!” Saira shook her head. “His death will be at my hands!”

Cody smiled. “Very well, Saira. I will have a –um, ‘talk’ with him. When you are ready, you may kill him if you like. Or you can let him live in unending pain. ”

“You promise?”

Cody laughed. “If you are to be my apprentice, there will be much I will teach you. I will test you time and again. There is more to being an assassin than killing rats. If you fail me, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Saira nodded gravely.

“The first thing you must learn is your place.”

“Yes.” Saira nodded happily.

Cody slapped Saira hard, sending her tumbling from the bed. Saira yelped, looked up at the woman. She held her sudden tears in check.

“You may not lay upon my bed unless I invite you.” Cody said darkly. “You will sit at my feet when I teach you. You will do everything I say, and you will do it when I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Saira nodded, rubbing her cheek.

“Yes, yes what?” Cody rumbled dangerously.

“Yes, master.” Saira blurted.

“Good enough. Master will suffice.” Cody nodded. “It is late, and they may be looking for you. You are to return to your home, and speak nothing of what you have seen here this day. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master.” Saira said subserviently, lowering her eyes as she seen servants do.

Cody kicked her hard. Again Saira yelped.

“Never take your eyes off of me! You are apprentice of the The White Lotus, the most feared assassin in all of the lands! Never will you bow as a slave, is that understood?”

“Yes Master!” Saira uttered. Her ribs really hurt. She bowed again, this time careful to keep her eyes on Cody.

It was late, the sun near the horizon when Saira emerged from the brambles along the road leading back to the Manor home of her father. Her once beautiful dress was stained and torn, but she did not care. Mother would simply get her a new one after chastising her about playing in the mud. If anyone were to ask about her bruises she would tell them that she tripped down the stairs. Saira looked back at the ruined castle atop the hill a distance away. Somewhere within those ruins lay her future, a future she could not have imagined just that morning. An odd sensation welled up within her, and she found that she liked it. Just that morning she was fated to marry her brother, a fate worse than death. There had been no escape, her future set. Now, a feeling of freedom, of knowing she was now in control her future and her life was a gift she could not have ever envisioned.

Smiling broadly, she made her way home.