Young Writers Society

Prologue

It was the silence in the room that woke him up. Deep, oppressive silence that pressed against his ears and filled his head and chest. His head and body were aching painfully. Shivering, he rolled onto his side and moaned softly.

“Open your eyes, you idiot.” The voice was cold and sharp enough to dispel the dazed feeling in the boy's head, and he opened his eyes. A young woman of about sixteen was standing by his bed, one knee crooked, thin arms folded, head cocked to one side in idle interest. The girl had a mane of long, dark red hair, a pale, merciless face, and narrow, bright green eyes to charm the devil.

“Jasmine? What happened to me?” the boy said in a weak voice. Clutching his single blanket close to his body, he struggled to remember. Suddenly he stiffened.

“You tried to attack me, didn't you?” he said, lifting a shaking hand to point accusingly at the girl. “You knocked me to the ground and hurt me!”

“Oh, Jed.” The girl, Jasmine, sighed. She spoke in a calming, soft voice. “Please don't point fingers at me. You wouldn't want to offend a girl, would you?” Smiling alluringly at the boy, she reached out and touched his face with a pale, icy hand. Jed shuddered and pulled away, completely repulsed, and yet somehow strangely thrilled.

“D-don't touch me.”

“Shh, it's okay, Jed. Just relax. You look so tired.” Jasmine's green eyes sparkled with false earnestness. “You're safe with me, okay?”

Those last words broke the spell. Jed reached up and with as much force as he could muster seized Jasmine's wrist and thrust it away from him.

“I remember. You did attack me!” Jed squeaked. “Yesterday just after dinner! I called you a bad name and you threw a plate at me! And then –”

“Jed! I won't have my servant boy talking like this!" But Jed wasn't listening. Jasmine wasn't going to charm him any longer, now that he had his memory and free will back. He was not, as he had been told, a servant or an attendant or a playmate for Jasmine; he was a slave and a prisoner, and jasmine was the haughtiest, most careless keeper in the world. Panic and anger flared in his chest; his heart racing, he gathered all of his strength and smacked Jasmine across the face.

Her icy composure lost for a second, Jasmine struck like a snake attacking its prey, belting the side of his head. Jed yelped and clutched at the spot, dizzy from the force of the attack. Jasmine surveyed her handiwork with a bit of regret; she hadn't meant to strike the boy, much less hit him so hard. But she couldn't apologize for it, of course. The very idea was ludicrous. So instead she spoke in a cold voice:

“Let that be a lesson to you.”

And she left with a swagger.

Jed, now alone in the darkened room, lay completely silent and still on his back. He was completely stunned by shock and pain. He lay for a full ten minutes until he was sure his tormentor would not be coming back.

He could feel his heart leaping in his chest and feel the goosebumps erupting all over his skin. He was both terrified and fascinated by Jasmine. Although he knew for sure now that he was being treated like a slave, he could not help from admiring the girl's charm. She was so fierce, so dangerous – and yet so beautiful!

After a while, Jed heard voices coming from downstairs. Angry voices. Getting out of bed, he pressed an ear to the wooden floor and listened intently.

“You hit him again?” Jed recognized the creaky, angry voice of Yana, an older witch, and Jasmine's mentor.

“Yes, I did.” Jasmine's reply was indifferent.

“Apologize!"

“I won't.”

“We can't let you have that child if you're going to treat him like this.”

“But he's mine, Yana. Didn't you say I'm an adult now? You can't just take my servant boy away from me. I hit him because he hit me first, not to mention he's a brat.”

“I'm sure that child couldn't have hit you that hard. You probably knocked the living senses out of him! You're the one who's a brat, Jasmine, you ungrateful horror!”

Someone threw something that shattered against the wall with a loud crash. Jed winced and shuddered, thankful for once that he was up here in this cold, dark room, where he was at least safe from whatever was taking place downstairs.

“Always cheating your elders,” Yana ranted on, “taking more than your share, and berating others. Not to mention treating that boy like some trivial plaything! I will not tolerate this low behavior any longer!”

“What are you going to do?” Jasmine said, in a mocking, low, quiet voice. “Send me to my room? Wave a magic stick and turn me into a tadpole? You seem to forget who's really in power around here. You're nothing but an old witch, Yana! Can an old witch stand before a sorceress?”

Jasmine's voice was growing in volume now, and rising in pitch. Jed pictured her dark red hair flying, her green eyes blazing as she stormed around the kitchen, glowing with pride and wildness and ambition. “A sorceress! A true master of the shadows! That's what I'm going to be, Yana, and no old witch is going to stop me! And the boy is going to help me, so there!”

There was more incoherent yelling, more throwing of projectiles, more shattering dishes. Jed could hear Yana cursing loudly and someone storming up the stairs. Jasmine barged into his room and put her face up to his, practically pinning him to the bed.

“Tomorrow,” she breathed, staring daggers into his eyes, “we are leaving. Dawn. You will wake and be ready to leave with me. Don't let me see your miserable face again until then!”

She left, slamming the door behind her, leaving Jed breathing hard in the oppressing darkness. He shivered again, his eyes wide, his heart racing as he stared at the spot where Jasmine had stood a second before. Jasmine, the young sorceress, the terror and the fire of his life. And now he was going to be living with her, alone, as a slave, without Yana or any of the other witches to protect him. Jed squeezed his eyes shut, a tear trickling out from behind the lids, and tried to forget the ache and the cold and the dark, and the shadow of the difficult future that surely lay ahead of him.