Runaway
The journey of thieves
Summary (for plot purposes only)
Was there ever a time you wanted something you knew you could never have? Did you ever wish that for once in your sad life that you could do as you pleased and get what you wanted?
Well for Arion and her band of clever thieves, there was a time...
Join young and mischievous witches Arion, Rosalina, Sapphire, and as they journey through mystical worlds to escape the punishment and curse of thieves in Runaway : The journey of thieves...
~Preface~
The sound of treading black stallions on the rocky paths chased us everywhere we went. We could never escape the haunting sound; it was like a curse unable to be dispelled . We've traveled so far and so long to runaway; but the sound would continue to prevail. Just as we felt comfortable and secure, the sound would devour the shining moment. How did we get ourselves into this tricky situation? How did we put this unspeakably horrid curse on ourselves? We were running heavily, trying to escape our certain doom; the terrible punishment of thieves.
Chapter 1: The beginning
I barely remember what started this whole disaster. I was just a mere child trying to get by in life.
Now I remember. I had nothing.
A simple child born with not a single penny to her name, belonging and beholden to no one. I was an abandoned child left to live on the dark and gloomy streets of Castle, the capital city of the Magical World. My parents, my family… The whole Mystique clan was forever petrified into cold stone in a battle against the, against the…. treacherous One. We are not supposed to speak of he who commits violence, he who tortures, he who kills. For the simple call of his name will summon the beast.
Since I belonged to nobody, where was I to live? Who was to take care of me while I was just an infant? If it weren’t for Mrs. Marseille, my whole childhood history would’ve taken place in the hopeless dungeons of the city’s orphanage. A dark haired, fair skinned old widow with a twinkling set of emeralds for eyes. Before she died, she taught me just about everything she knew. Her knowledge spanned from forbidden spells, mystic trances, wicked hexes, magic charms, and deceptive enchantments. She had no children, so I became the sponge that absorbed all her wisdom. She had but one request before she died, and that was for her to forever live through the lives of others. I became the holder of the broken record known as her life.
While learning these enchantments in her sinister lair of a home, she found that I was gifted. Rarely a gift is ever bestowed upon the children of the Magical World, so my special powers raised my personal value. Common things like mind reading, future sight, and shape shifting were the usual gifts bestowed upon the few fortunate, but I was like nothing the world had ever seen before. I was able to see any place or any object at any given moment in time. My powerful mind could even travel through the borders and into other worlds and dimensions if I concentrated hard enough.
When I was thirteen, Mrs. Marseille eventually withered away into nothing but pixie dust. Her due time was supposed to be much earlier than it had been. However, someone told me that she survived all those extra years because she had something to live for again, me. Witches don’t like hearing icky love stories and sensitive things, so I had to pretend I didn’t hear that one. Witches do fall in love though, like Mrs. Marseille. In fact love was the exact reason she was able to die in the first place. You see, a witches’ death can only come from a few methods. You can either turn them into solid stone, burn their torn remains, or kill their significant other. The reason killing their significant other can kill the witch can be explained using some simple science. When a witch falls in love with a wizard, and the wizard falls in love with a witch, they exchange hearts. One heart for one heart. So the wizard holds and owns the heart of the witch while the witch holds and owns the heart of the sorcerer. Fair trade. Well if one of them were to be destroyed, then it would only seem right if their lover died also. The science is hard to explain though. If the wizard were to die, then the heart he possessed was the one belonging to his lover, so his lovers heart died. The heart held by his witch would have no body to belong to, so it would have to wither away into dust. That’s what happened to Mrs. Marseille, she withered away into dust.
Due to the lame and stupid rules of our monarchy government, her house and items would all belong to them. Bloody leeches, taking what doesn’t belong to them. But who am I to say something like that? I’m a thief also, but I only did for survival, and because I didn’t think the rules that applied were fair. In the Magical World, the strongest players play by their own rules. Even the lame monarchy don’t play by the rules they try to pass on their own people.
Mrs. Marseille’s side request was to “Never let their bloody paws touch a single page of this book! Get their hands on this and the rebellion our world has worked so hard on building will be down for.”
When a witch or wizard dies, the authorities are most likely to follow. The absence of their power notifies the authorities, so they immediately come to take their claim. The second I noticed her death I had a list of things to do before the law enforcements came. Before burning the house into flames, I had to pick up a few things in my rucksack. A cauldron full of treasures and gold coins, her fortune card, a travel sized magic mirror, a crystal ball, my wand, my enchanted key necklace, the book, an invisibility cloak, and a pouch full of magic charms. Talk about traveling light! Lucky for me that in the Magical World, enchanted bags could hope as much as you pleased without growing in size or weight.
Blazing flames devoured the old house slowly into dust. The flames were controlled by the traveling wind, flickering silently through the foggy air. Gray clouds of smoke arose into the sky, taunting the foul system we call a government. Then I was off.
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Greusome. 
