Prologue
Love and hate, good and evil, he had always wondered why people had considered those things to be opposites when in fact they were two sides of the same coin. Was hate not just the flower growing from the roots of love? Was good not just as evil in the eyes of another?
He had always been told his mind was twisted, that he was wrong, but wasn't it only natural for humans to crave more than they had been given? Wasn't it only natural to crave power, and if love was hate and good was evil, what difference did the way he obtained that power make?
He had been born gifted, been born strong, but he had learned to hide that too late. People feared the strong, feared the ones who were not bound by rules, so they had pushed him down, tried to hide him away. Now he knew the only way to get people to accept him was through a mask, people wanted a villain, wanted to label him, so he would gladly take on the role, it would not keep him from his goal.
Dusk
Wren sat in front of her small vanity fixing her hair. She was like a doll, going through the same motions everyday, doing exactly what she was told, not complaining, not deviating, barely even breathing. She didn't enjoy it, but she couldn't remember a time when she was free to do what she wished. She had always lived with constant pressure from her father and the expectations from the world around her.
She had never been allowed an innocent childhood where she could run and play like the other children. Her mother had taught her to stay unnoticed, to silently observe and learn, and most of all, to give them nothing to criticize. Her mother had taught her to stay out of the way and she would be left in peace.
Wren's father had taught her to act like she knew nothing, to be useless in his eyes, and he wouldn't bother her. To stay near and to learn any information she could possibly use, the court was like a battlefield, and her only advantage would be the information she could glean. Not that she needed that anymore, her battles were far from the petty arguments and stupidity of the court.
Her mother's advice had worked for a while, but now no matter how much she avoided everyone, they would never forget her existence. In books people smiled when they developed something extraordinary, called them gifts even, but whenever she thought of her own "gift" the only word that came to mind was pain. Every second of everyday all she could feel was agony, but she wasn't allowed to let it stop her, she had to push through, had to ignore it.
She had begun to enjoy her role as assassin, enjoyed the feeling of all her pain rushing into another person, enjoyed stealing life and seeing the looks of horror and fear on their faces before she destroyed them. She would stop at nothing to get rid of it, to feel cool relief, a small pause in the storm constantly raging inside of her. The people had begun to refer to her as Wren, the goddess of death, a name she gladly accepted, her old name forgotten by most. Sometimes she rather liked being feared.
A servant offered her a bottle filled with tiny white pills, ones that she saw often, but usually threw in the trash. They did more than just dull her pain, and she couldn't afford the consequences in the sad world she had been born into, so she didn't take it unless it was completely unbearable. Wren had built up a tolerance to pain as the years had passed, she was in constant agony, but at times being able to feel nothing was worse, at least she knew she was still alive, that she hadn't become a ghost without anyone noticing.
People would whisper as she passed, whisper about the princess of death, she struck fear into the people's hearts, fear that seemed to fuel her sometimes, others it left her completely alone, the only feeling she truly understood.
Alone was a word that she had always known. Wren's mother had whispered it to her since birth, telling her how she was better off with just herself, how it was best to avoid others, to betray them before they thought to do it to you. Everyone betrays everyone in some way, the traitors survived and the victims drowned.
Wren's room was a mess, the bed was unmade and weapons were scattered across every surface. If the servant's didn't come to collect her bloodstained clothes, they would sit in piles on the floor. She was too exhausted from her work and pain to worry about organization.
The servants were careful not to get near her, but she could see their hands shaking every time she passed, they were afraid of the pain she could bring. Wren didn't bother to reassure them, she honestly wanted to touch them just once, to show them what she endured day after day, to feel their fear at something so normal to her.
A smile floated across her face, a creepy unnatural thing. It was twisted to smile at pain and fear, but she had long stopped caring about her soul and what would happen once she died.
Everyone was so caught up in praying to the gods, caught up in begging to be spared after death, but Wren knew no matter how much she pleaded she would end up in hell. That had been her fate since she had killed another person, each death she had caused had solidified her place, she was a horrible person and she deserved to pay for that. If the gods believed in justice, even if only a little, they would send Wren someplace terrible.
"Hurry up, Trinity!" Xavier, the only person she had met in recent years who was unafraid of her, yelled.
Wren pushed to her feet, a small scowl on her face.
"Don't call me that," she replied simply.
Xavier never listened when she told him that. He didn't care about what she had to say, didn't care that her given name caused her so much pain, that it brought up memories of the only person she had ever loved and the only person who had ever loved her.
"Is it bothering you much today?" He asked.
She stayed silent, ignoring him with practiced ease, her face schooled into neutrality.
"You could always ask for the medicine or just grab my arm or something. I don't feel pain so it would only benefit you, and the medicine dulls it a little, right?" Xavier continued, refusing to accept her silence.
"My pain isn't so bad that I should rely on someone like you," Wren responded coolly.
He shrugged, smirking at her, the fact that not a single bit of fear shone in his eyes enraged her. She wanted so badly to show him not to underestimate her, not to mess with her any longer, but her brother wouldn't allow it. He loved Xavier more than he loved her, an incredibly sad fact. All Xavier was after was marriage to a princess, she wouldn't fall for his tricks. He cared only for her status and face, nothing more. Wren didn't understand why her brother even kept him around, he was smart enough to know Xavier was not as blindly loyal as he pretended to be.
"Where have you been? We're leaving to board now and I have someone you need to take care of, an assassin that I've received reports of. He'll be waiting somewhere in the crowds outside the ship," Ptolemus, the king and her only sibling, yelled.
That was her life. Following in her brother's perpetual shadow, doing only what she was told. Her ability had both freed and imprisoned her, she was given the wings to soar only to find herself in a slightly larger cage.
A splitting headache made her want to cry out, but instead she only followed her brother. Xavier fell into step beside him, chatting with him as they walked. They exited the palace and were immediately met with the roars of the crowds. The noise filled her ears and every available space in her mind, only making Wren's head throb more, but she was used to it. Pain was a constant in her life, a small headache was the least of her worries.
She tried to block out the noise and focus, her eyes scanned the crowd as the people cheered for their beloved king. She didn't understand what was so great about a tyrant, if only they could see him through Wren's eyes. Any love she'd ever had for her brother was long destroyed. He had been nothing but cruel to her for as long as she could remember.
Everyone else in the small party of nobles smiled and waved, even touching people's outstretched hands, but she did nothing. People glanced at Wren nervously, unsure how to greet her, she wasn't really a princess anymore, but she wasn't nothing either, some people even made sacrifices to her like she was truly a goddess. They begged her not to curse them, not to kill them. She was the monster mother's told their kids about to make them do as they were told. Of course, none of that would matter, once her brother gave an order to kill, she never failed to catch her prey.
The diplomacy that had once been so important to her no longer mattered, the only thing she bothered to care about was the pain and how to escape it, how to survive when she had been dealt cards full of suffering.
Surviving life had always been her goal. How to survive the king's court, how to survive her father, how to survive the whispers and the glares from other nobles, how to survive being thought of as nothing more than a pawn by her brother. She had never been good at battling with words. Wren was much better suited for surviving the battlefield, surviving a knife being driven towards her cold, unfeeling heart, surviving the waves of pain threatening to wash her away into nothingness.
When she looked at the world she saw a horrible muted thing, painted in shades of the disappointment of everyone who had ever existed. Each blade of grass growing off of the tears and pain of the things before it.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a person neither smiling or standing still, interrupting her thoughts. He was roughly pushing his way through the crowd. When the man locked eyes with her the only thing he did was smile. There was no fear in his eyes, but that would soon change. It wasn't often Wren met someone unafraid of her, someone she could break, he had to be the assassin she was to dispose of.
"Excuse me brother," she said politely.
Wren knew the drill, people mustn't see her get in a fight, it would cause a panic. She slipped away towards the crowd without waiting for her brother's acknowledgement. People barely noticed as she quietly worked her way through them, head down. Finally only the man stood in her path, still smirking, still unafraid of his own death.
"Sir, do you think you could show me the way to the nearest inn, I'm feeling a bit ill," she said, keeping her words polite and unknowing, if he truly was a foreigner he may not know who she was. Wren had always been thought of as modestly pretty and she tried to use that to her advantage.
"I know what you are, witch," the man snapped. There went her theory.
"The lack of fear in your eyes says differently. Why don't we take this somewhere else, wouldn't want to ruin the festivities would we?" Wren responded, still polite, but her words were laced with deadly poison promising only pain. She started to draw a knife, prepared to threaten him until they were away from the crowds.
The man launched himself forward, touching her arm. She felt the familiar feeling of her pain rushing out of her and into someone else, the feeling of relief flooding through her body. Wren smiled wickedly as she did it, relishing every moment of it.
Her brother would be mad about this happening here, but maybe the man's screams wouldn't be heard over the ceremony and cheers, very few people were looking at her, too focused on Wren's sparkling brother to care about the princess with a broken crown and a blackened soul.
To her surprise the familiar screams of pain never came, instead the man threw Wren backwards, right into a metal gate. She groaned, blinking spots from her eyes and slowly pulling herself to her feet. No one in the world could outfight her in an injured state, Wren's teacher had made sure of that. Pain was all she had known for a long time, a little bit more wouldn't hinder her.
When she was little and weak she used to fall over after one hit, she would complain about her vision being clouded by dots, and so her teacher had taught her to fight with her eyes closed. He had beat her everyday so that pain would be just a dull thought in the back of her head.
Wren rushed at the man, knife drawn. She didn't have time to be surprised that her ability had no effect on him.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that, but I guess it's only blind loyalty to that tyrant you call a king. Why don't you run on back to him, little girl? I'm way out of your league," the man sneered, defending against her easily.
She said nothing, not inclined to talk to her prey. He was better trained than most opponents that she faced, but still not good enough. Wren dodged to the side, avoiding a strike from his sword before landing a solid punch right in the man's stomach.
He grunted, thrown off balance. She took the opportunity to slash with her knife, careful not to stab him in any deadly places, but leaving a nasty cut across his arm. Lots of people were watching the fight now, she could practically feel her brother's icy gaze on her, could feel the cold fury hidden behind his practiced smile as he continued his speech.
The man stumbled, falling backwards and slamming to the ground, hard. He wheezed, trying to regain his breath. She smiled watching him scrambling to get up, but she was on top of him in an instant. Wren raised the hilt of her knife, slamming it into his head, her brother would want the man alive.
She ignored the blood smeared on her hand's as she dragged the man through the crowds, seeing no point in trying to hide things now. She had practically ruined the whole ceremony, which meant more pain for her, but she would endure, at least the job was done. There were no longer any loud cheers, only muffled gasps and gaping mouths. People scampered aside, jumping over each other to move out of Wren's way. She was quite a sight, a girl with red droplets splattered across her knife and dripping onto her shoes, dragging an unconscious, slightly bloody man through a sea of people, her head held high as she took in the fear of those surrounding her. She was a queen of destruction and death, a storm that couldn't be stopped.
Wren's brother and the rest of their group boarded the ship in silence and only when they had left the dock and were alone in a room did her brother dare to show any emotion. Wren was the only one who got to see his true feelings, the only way they would ever be close as siblings.
"You ruined the entire thing you stupid girl! You petulant little brat!" Her brother exclaimed.
"I'm sorry Ptolemus, he attacked me unexpectedly," she whispered, bracing herself for impact.
Her brother threw the nearest object, a heavy book, at her head, but she didn't dodge, Wren allowed it to reach its target, barely moving as the book slammed into her. It would probably bruise, but nothing she couldn't handle.
"Do you know how much trouble your little stunt is going to cause me? There were probably hundreds, no, thousands of people there!"
"He attacked me before I could get away from the crowds," she replied.
Ptolemus drew his sword and slashed it across her cheek.
"He was immune to you, we need to find out why and make sure that no one else is. I don't like to leave anything to chance, that fight was too close for comfort," he said.
The fight hadn't been close at all, but she ignored the insult to her skills.
"Of course, Ptolemus," Wren replied calmly.
"At least your obedience is as good as ever, you're dismissed," he muttered.
Wren walked to her private room, where she immediately collapsed to the floor, allowing herself to show her pain. The impact against the gate might have done more damage than she thought. Wren's head gave a violent throb, making her clench her teeth to keep from screaming. Every bone in her body ached.
She sat there for gods know how long, unable to even think coherently. All she could do was curl into a ball, hoping that sleep would claim her and give her the sweet relief of nothingness for a few hours, but she didn't feel physically tired, maybe mentally, but her eyes weren't closing, so all she could do was lay there, trying to hold back tears.
She thought of her mother, of what she would say in this moment. Maybe she would stay by her side, comfort her through the pain. She missed her strong loving mother more than anything. Images of her before death flashed into Wren's mind. She hadn't looked strong at the end, she had been thin and frail, the illness sucking all the life and energy out of her. Neither Ptolemus or their father had been there when she had finally withered away, Wren had sat there alone, crying as she watched the life leave her mother's eyes.
There was a sudden knock on the door, forcing Wren out of her mind and to her feet. She pushed it open, not bothering to mask her pain, already preparing to dismiss whoever it was or scream at Xavier, she didn't feel like dealing with him right now, but instead Wren saw someone she didn't recognize. A boy was holding the disgusting medicine she was supposed to take. He had plain slightly messy chestnut brown hair, and a young face, he was obviously a servant, but not one she had seen before. His eyes were innocent, he had never endured the true horrors of their world.
"Um I was told to deliver this ma-"
"You are dismissed," she interrupted through gritted teeth. She winced as her head throbbed a little, but she tried to mask it. Normal servants seeing her like that was one thing but she didn't trust a stranger. To the boy she probably looked horrendous. Her clothes were still stained with blood, her face blooming with color from the book her brother had thrown. Underneath her clothes there were probably more bruises from the impact with the gate.
"Are you ok?" The boy demanded, concern coloring his face as he rushed towards her.
"I'm fine," she snapped, stepping away.
Wren snatched the medicine from his hands and threw it across the room where the bottle sat in shattered pieces in the corner, pills spilling out across the floor.
"Won't that medicine help you feel better?" The boy asked, horrified.
"Out," she commanded.
"Who are you?" He asked, not budging an inch.
Wren just stared at him, how did he not know who she was? Had he crawled out from under a rock? He had to be a complete idiot.
"My name is Wren," she stated.
The boy paused, she expected recognition and fear to cross his face, but it remained the same, he even had the audacity to smile at her.
Surprise and something a little more dangerous took root in her. Hope was a funny thing, it could both empower and kill a person. Once it started growing it was like a weed, annoying, and almost impossible to destroy.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Adam," the boy stated.
"Do you not know who I am?" She demanded, refusing to acknowledge her emotions.
She was better alone, people would get her killed. Most mothers sang to their children or told them how beautiful and smart they were, but her mother had repeated that like a prayer. She had prepared Wren for the real world, had left no part of her survival to chance, and that was the only thing she had ever had to be grateful for.
"I've heard the stories, but seeing you here in pain makes you seem a lot more…human?" He said, unsure.
"Out!" Wren exclaimed, his words stung, she knew how people thought of her, but it still hurt hearing that she wasn't even human in most people's minds. She was almost as bad as the demons rumored to exist in the shadowy depths of their world, damned for eternity and cursed to burn in the fiery pits of hell. Most people born with abilities were said to have the blood of goddesses running through their veins, but Wren was cursed, maybe she had the blood of a demon.
"You seem like you need a friend," Adam stated.
"If I wanted to, I could force all this pain into you until you die," she threatened.
"You wouldn't do that," Adam said, smiling, remarkably and annoyingly unphased by her threat.
"I've done it to many before you and I'll do it to many more. It won't deter me that you're young. People this naïve need to be taught, I'm already perceived as the villain I might as well play the role," she replied.
"So your ability kills people but you're able to endure it? That's pretty amazing," Adam said.
Everything about him annoyed her, but she still felt that alien feeling bubbling up, the hope she didn't want.
"Get out," Wren whispered.
"C'mon just give me a chance, Wren, or should I say Trinity, that's your real name right?" Adam replied.
She launched forward causing Adam to stumble backwards in surprise. His face hadn't filled with fear yet, but she could make that change. She advanced on him, knife drawn.
"Calm d-" Adam was forced to jump backwards as her knife swung towards him.
He stopped there, staring at her wide eyed. Finally his features were twisted in fear, now he would never bother her with his nonsense again. Lightning fast she reached out a hand and he wasn't quick enough to avoid it. It connected with him for only a few seconds. His eyes filled with shock and pain, but he didn't scream, he just stood there, his eyes burning into hers. A strange feeling jarred her, Wren quickly pushed him out the door, shutting it in his face.
She couldn't help but wonder what type of opponent he would be if he had been trained in combat like her. Adam was the first person in a while who hadn't looked at her with immediate disgust or fear. Pain had twisted his features but he had just stood there until she broke contact. For once, she hadn't enjoyed the pain she had brought, or the surprise on his face, for once she felt the slightest tinge of guilt.