Inside the hut was warmer than it looked from outside, making it somehow livable. Sylvester and I, to save energy and not to die from cold or hunger, had decided to stay until the snowstorm calmed down.
We would take the road the moment we had the possibility to. But until then, we were ought to do our best to survive, all alone in a deserted land, delivered to ourselves.
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"I have some blankets; do you need one?"
"Yes, thank you, Georgia." Replied Sylvester with a small smile as I gave him a blanket,
"I think, seeing how violent it looks out there, we will have no choice but to stay here for some time…" He continued gloomily as he looked out the window, where the windy snow was still ragging.
"You are right. I still have supplies with me, but I do not know if it will be enough. It will last at best two to three days."
"Don't worry, you can have it. I don't necessarily need to eat every day as my knighthood training needs me to."
"Oh? There is such a thing? How come?"
"Well, I am the heir of one of the few ducal families of the Gefya Empire. And my family specializes itself in a family heritage descending from the gods."
"The god of sun?"
"No, the first gods. Those who used to reign above the sky but mysteriously disappeared thousands of years ago."
"There were gods ruling over the human race before?"
"Not really. It's a lot more complicated. Did you never hear of them?"
"No, as you know, I only began attending the academy until recently... I still have a whole lot to learn." I said as I laughed, somehow awkwardly.
We were discussing as we were sitting on the floor, not caring about etiquette. Sylvester and I were facing the window, closed to each other, as we talked to pass the horribly long time.
"And before that? Did you never have personal instructors?"
"Well, no. My family's upbringing is complicated."
"Oh, right... I see. You are from the Permeson family."
"Yes, I am the youngest daughter. But I do have a younger cousin, Estia Permeson."
"Yes, I do now your family members. They are quite...well known. I hope you don't take offense."
I didn't look at Sylvester, as it was already usual for me to hear those kinds of remarks.
Notorious, infamous, villainous... I have heard them all. Some liked to use certain adjectives better than others, but ultimately, they all thought and meant the same exact things: I was the daughter of a family as scarred and hated as it was revered.
Nevertheless, everybody could say whatever they wanted, me first, but the Permeson family gained his power not only because they had the skills but also because the empire allowed them to.
In the end, they also took part in the atrocities committed.
They were no better.
"Don't worry, I am already used to it. Taking offenses, I mean."
I didn't know why I was saying that to him.
I wasn't searching for any type of reaction, nor was I angry, sad, or just simply upset.
Maybe it was the weather. The fact that we were all alone in a tiny hut—barely fit for two—without no eyes to pray.
Or the fact that somehow, without knowing when or how, I found myself trusting in that young man that made me want to let go of my mask.
Maybe I was just trying to be a normal person for one time.
But those were all maybes, and I had only one role to play. The weak and vulnerable mage who had the chance to gain her powers miraculously at fourteen years old.
"Don't mind what I said. I am a little tired; I think I am going to sleep." I continued right after, shifting my sitting position to the side.
"Okay, rest well."
Then, closing my eyes, I ignored him for the rest of the morning.
And without knowing, I naturally felt asleep for true at some time, getting into a deep slumber.
As I delved into a river of dreams, time altered to make me come back to the rudest year of my life—at nine years old.
One year had passed since I had killed for the first time, and since then my father, finding some kind of utility in me, had entrusted me with all kinds of perilous missions.
It was the beginning of January, and it was still snowing profusely, making the weather cold and damp.
It was the perfect time for crimes. Traces could be easily dissimulated under the huge piles of thick snow.
And since few people went out under such weather, screams or cries could be silenced with no problem.
"My dear daughter, see how proud I am of you." My father uttered in a whisper as he grabbed my shoulders from behind, forcing me to face the spectacle before me: "Look at the gift I prepared for you to show my love for you. Look. Look longer."
Before me stood a man of around twenty years old, half kneeling and half lying as he was pinned to the wall by nails, blood profusely flowing on the dirty ground of the basement.
He was barely awake, his eyes half closed, and silently crying.
He couldn't talk nor scream, not only because he had no energy left after those daily sessions of tortures but also because he had bitten his tongue off under the pain.
The man looked as miserable as it was possible. He didn't even get the slightest of dignity or respect, as he was famished and unclothed, staying naked in the cold.
"That's your gift for your good work. Finish him now, and do not repeat the same error or he will suffer even more." He continued to whisper in my ears, gripping my trembling shoulders even tighter, his gaze focused on the dying prisoner.
"Go ahead. Kill him."
Trembling as my tears fell on my cheeks, I struggled to move forward under the menacing gaze of my progenitor. I walked step by step, stumbling as I did so.
When I was less than an arm's reach from him, the man who had become my target, I took out a knife from my back pockets and closed my eyes.
"I am so sorry, Damian. Please forgive me." I whispered in a cry as I caressed his hair, my left hand on his hair and my right, holding the weapon—my head in the hollow of his neck.
Then, without hesitation as to not make him suffer more, I plunged the knife into his heart. Immediately after, the man coughed blood as he fell forward—directly into my arms.
"Shh-shh- It's alright; everything will be alright. Sleep tight, Damian."
"Good work. I will go now; I have an important appointment. Take care of the body."
After saying that, my father went away without waiting, letting me alone with the dead body of my previous target.
That was the result of the actions I took when I was acting rebellious towards my father.
Damian was a man that I had previously refused to kill and helped run away, not resigning to kill a healthy young man with a full life ahead of himself.
But that decision, considered an act of stupidity in my line of work, had made him the subject of multiple and various atrocities.
My father had made his goal to find Damian and make him suffer personally before forcing me to kill him with my own hands.
That was his way of warning me. His commands were king, and I had no right to ever oppose. As long as he was the family head and stronger than me, I was in no way to defy his authority.
Because if I didn't comply, the price would be bitter to swallow.
My "father" was a monster with no heart.
"Goodbye, Damian." I said as I kissed his forehead, staining my lips with his fresh blood, before laying him on the floor.
Then I continued to caress his head for a few more minutes, observing his older but still juvenile face before getting up, taking the nearest torch, and burning his body with it.
I stood before his cell, distancing myself, and looked at his burning corpse turning into ashes. Soon only the smells of burnt remained.
And my tears had long dried, only their trails on my face left.
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"Aahh..Aaah...Ah!"
I woke up in a jolt, struggling to breathe normally.
Once again, I had a nightmare. One of the too many I had. With another face I could never forget.
"Georgia?"
Sylvester, who also had fallen asleep at some point, woke up under the noise, startled upon seeing me. He approached me, with a worried expression plastered on his face, before putting his hands on my shoulders and turning my face toward his. "Georgia, look at me. Look!"
'Ah, the same words as that man.' I thought as I continued to struggle to breathe, turning my face the other way.
I didn't want to hear those words right now. I was suffocating. And those words were the reason.
"Aaah…!"
"Georgia, I am here. It'll be alright; look in my eyes. Only in my eyes, nowhere else." He continued to say, trying to make me calm down.
Under his guiding words, I turned back my head toward his, my eyes locked in his black orbs.
"Aah, hmph, hmph…"
Little by little, my mind stabilized, and I regained control over my body.