Spoiler
Light and dark, good and evil, those terms define two extremes that determine a person’s identity. In a perfect world, the light would prevail. In a perfect world, evil wouldn’t exist.
In my world, your alignment is not something you can choose. When a child is born he or she is automatically either light—good—or dark—evil. There is no in between. At least, there isn’t supposed to be.
I didn’t say my world was perfect.
The Leaders of the two Clans, Aurelians and Dorchans (light and dark respectively), emphatically deny that anyone can be born differently and even more emphatically enforce the inter-determining law that an individual that is Aurelian cannot marry and produce offspring with a Dorchan.
Anyone caught trying to flout that law is sentenced to death and the offspring, if produced, is never seen again. Some of the bravest souls claim that the products of the unions of Aurelians and Dorchans are monstrous creatures. Some of the wisest say that the mixture is impossible. Some of the stupidest say nothing.
Me? I’m very, very stupid. I would never talk about the Durelians or even mention their existence in a secret prison deep in the heart of the Aorchan Mountain range. Or tell complete strangers that I had seen a Durelian and they weren’t monsters, but were actually far superior to plain Aurelians and Dorchans. Or that they are more stable.
No. I wouldn’t dare whisper those things. That wouldn’t be safe.
In my world, your alignment is not something you can choose. When a child is born he or she is automatically either light—good—or dark—evil. There is no in between. At least, there isn’t supposed to be.
I didn’t say my world was perfect.
The Leaders of the two Clans, Aurelians and Dorchans (light and dark respectively), emphatically deny that anyone can be born differently and even more emphatically enforce the inter-determining law that an individual that is Aurelian cannot marry and produce offspring with a Dorchan.
Anyone caught trying to flout that law is sentenced to death and the offspring, if produced, is never seen again. Some of the bravest souls claim that the products of the unions of Aurelians and Dorchans are monstrous creatures. Some of the wisest say that the mixture is impossible. Some of the stupidest say nothing.
Me? I’m very, very stupid. I would never talk about the Durelians or even mention their existence in a secret prison deep in the heart of the Aorchan Mountain range. Or tell complete strangers that I had seen a Durelian and they weren’t monsters, but were actually far superior to plain Aurelians and Dorchans. Or that they are more stable.
No. I wouldn’t dare whisper those things. That wouldn’t be safe.
Chapter 1: Trina
The sky was dark with rain that night. Thunder could be heard in the distance along with the faint flash of lightning somewhere in the looming mountains. It wasn’t yet windy enough to signal the arrival of the rainy season, but the inhabitants of the small castle could feel the change coming and were hurrying to prepare for the torrential downpour that would arrive soon and not stop until late spring. By that time, the farmers, servants, stable hands, and masters of the castle would be sick of water and dark skies.
In the top room of the only tower, looking out to the west and the faraway plains where the rainy season lasted only so long as a summer storm, was the only daughter of Duke Heruil Terun and his wife the Duchess Bryr formally of Veritia, a province outside of the Aurelian capital. Bryrtrina Heruilia Terun, called Trina, watched the gathering storm clouds and slowly tapped her fingers along the mortar crevice of her window. She couldn’t feel the shifting winds spiraling outside of her tower through the thick glass panes, but her imagination was enough.
In her mind, she pictured herself as light as a cloud and floating far away across the mountains. She didn’t know what lay outside of Aurelia except that it was there that the Dorchans had control and that nothing good happened out there. But she was so bored that even the unknown dangers outside of her homeland would have been welcome respite.
“So, it’s come down to this,” she remarked to no one in particular. Earlier she had dismissed her maid for the evening. “I’m all alone in my room and I’m watching the seasons change. If Greti could see me now she’d have a cow. Great, I’m rhyming.” Trina sighed and set her forehead on the glass as fat raindrops began to wind their way down the surface making her reflection ripple.
Greti was the youngest daughter of Duke Revery and lived in the next duchy within riding distance. She was the closest thing to a best-friend that Trina had. She was also an Aurelian and her family was in good standing with the capital, as were the Teruns. Trina wished that she could return to boarding school (which she called boring school), if only to escape from the clutches of her well-meaning yet annoying parents. Since she was technically of age at seventeen, the Duke of Terun was determined to find his only daughter a suitable husband.
With her looks—matching brown eyes and brown hair—she was easily attractive. Her features were even and she had good teeth. Trina’s only physical quirk was a slight dimple in one cheek that tended to show up when she was feeling especially ill-mannered or devious.
Whenever she acted out, or “acted Durelian” as her father once famously put it, the dimple would appear and anyone in eyeshot knew to disappear. Her antics immediately swept herself and her unwilling conspirators into some kind of trouble. In fact, the only reason she was in her room at that moment instead of prowling the castle was because of her latest misbehavior at school.
Trina laughed aloud as she remembered the look of horror on her Headmistress’s face once she had seen the statue of the first Leader covered in chicken feathers and a top hat. It hadn’t taken Madame Heedman very long to find out the culprit, and while she couldn’t expel Trina because of her bloodline, she could send her home to “rest.”
So there she was, at home during the rainy season when all of her friends were at school, and she was consigned to solitude and a tutor.
A knock on her chamber door jerked Trina out of her humbug thoughts and she scowled at the dark wooden door as if it had caused her to be in that situation.
“Who is it?” she asked after a moment of mental cursing. Most Aurelian girls did not put up as much of a fuss as Trina and she often wondered why they were so...faint. She bustled through the halls and threw open doors, but her age-mates glided from place to place and waited for a servant or a man to open the door for them.
The voice of her long-time maid, Ceri, replied timidly, “It’s me, Milady. I’ve come to tell you that your tutor has arrived.”
The door crept open and Ceri’s kindly face peeked around the edge ready to draw back if any projectiles were thrown her direction.
Trina grunted a noncommittal acknowledgement. “Is he ugly?” she asked.
“Oh, I couldn’t say, Milady, not having seen him myself and he being a lord and all, but—“
“But what?” Trina asked curiously as she drew away from the window and sat on a divan next to her bed. Her wide brown eyes fastened themselves on her maid and oft-times friend.
Ceri giggled and opened the door wider in order to walk into the room. She immediately began to straighten the furniture, pick up clothes and sort them, and to tidy Trina’s unmade king size bed.
“I heard the serving girls talking about how he’s quite the charmer. I think your father might have…ideas about him, if you get my meaning.”
Trina frowned. She knew exactly what Ceri had meant and didn’t like the idea. “Yes, I’m sure my father has lots of ideas about many things he knows nothing about. We’ll just have to see about this charmer.”
Ceri shook her head as she glanced at Trina’s intent face. On her right cheek, a perfect dimple had formed. It was the exact shape and size of a rain drop, and most certainly spelled something along the lines of an impending storm.
