Welcome to Gaia! ::

A young girl of twelve shifted restlessly in her sleep, then groaned and opened her eyes. It was not the uncomfortable hard pallet that caused her restless sleep, not the stifling air of a musty room.

Since the accident three days ago, her waking hours had been spent dreading what was to come, and her nights plagued by the same haunting memories. A calm, cool day at the beach after a storm. Snippets of memory, fleeting images. A crying girl rushing to her side, then a man. A tall, dark man with prim dress and a short, cropped black beard. Shadows, then nothing.

She remembered little since that day, only hearing voices as if from a distance, seeing things as if through foggy glass. The past three days had been a blur.

"Gone..."

"Dead..."

"... too late."

People words echoed faintly around her head, bounding off the insides of the dark murk that was her thoughts.

A sharp bang, sudden and clear.

The girl jumped and peering towards a door rubbed dull, nearly grey eyes. Another bang at the door, and she realized someone was knocking, wanting into the dismal, shadowy room. She hadn't even noticed anyone come into the house.

"Come in," she called faintly, drawing a single tattered blanket around her small form, hiding her white shift from view. The same shift she hadn't removed since that day.

The door creaked and was pushed open, and a man stepped into the room.

Through the checkered stream of dusty light, flowing reluctantly into the girl's room through a boarded window she could hardly see the man's face- but she knew it was him. How could she not? He spent every moment of her life now invading her thoughts, making his appearance one she would not soon forget.

"You can't stay here anymore," he said calmly, his words empty.
The girl said nothing. She knew it was true. She knew it from the moment someone came and boarded up the windows, help up three fingers and said, "Three days," that she had to leave. And so, for three days she wandered the house silently, not speaking even to her young sister, who pleaded with her for help, and cried in her sleep. She spent the days collecting that which was worthless and that which was important, putting the latter into a small cloth bag. In the end, it held only three things- a small painting on a scroll of ancient cloth, a pocket watch and a sack of all the money she would find before that too, was taken away. The nights she spent laying in her bed, trying to push everything from her mind; her sister's crying and perhaps her's too, she wasn't sure anymore.

"She's gone, isn't she," was all she said to the man, surprising even herself at how harsh and dry her voice sounded. She nodded slowly and pushed her hair out of her face, hair that was once a fiery red was now like a faded cloth left in the sun too long.

"Yes," he said calmly, removing a black hat, and standing before her where she sat now dangling her legs at the side of the bed.
She knew her sister was gone, she head her leave the day before, sobbing softly and shutting the front door behind her. They had never used the front door because they believe shutting it was like shutting the door on your family and leaving forever, somewhat like saying 'good bye', instead of 'see you soon'. But yesterday the front door slammed shut with a sound that made her bones shake, and she knew she was gone for good.

This same shadowy man told her where to go- a farm in a nearby city where she would live with old friends of her parents. However, her parents had only left somewhere to go for her younger sister, and wherever her sister was going to likely couldn't afford to take care of two more children. No farmer could.

"The storm..."

"...ship sank."

"...drowned."

She heard the words so clearly spoken she wondered if it was the man who said anything. But he did not speak, and did not look up at her expectantly for her response. Then she remembered hearing the words spoken too her when they explained where her parents gone. The harsh whispers and rumors of the crowd when it was said that the Callaway's were dead.

"Camie?" The man's voice broke through her thoughts and for a moment she squeezed her eyes shut before looking up at the man darkly.

"My name isn't Camie," she muttered standing up and hugging the blanket around her as she strode across the room towards a chipped white dresser.

Her legs ached as she rummaged through the drawers from something to wear. Clearly a diet of cold, hard bread wouldn't suffice. She couldn't remember the last time she had clean, decent water, either, and her tongue felt like thick heavy leather in her mouth.

"Of course it isn't..." He paused for a moment and peered around the thoroughly down trodden room. "...Talia," he finished, frowning and hoping he had remembered her name right. It was no matter anyways, she was just a young girl and would likely end up dead in a fortnight anyways.

Talia shook her head. He had gotten her name right in the end, but it disappointed her that some stranger she hardly knew that was in charge of her eight year old sister's fate couldn't even get her name right.

She pulled a russet-orange sarong wrap skirt from her dresser and clutched it in her arms, the tassels gently brushing her arm and sending chills down her spine. The dim light of the bedroom didn't do the skirt justice. In the sunset light it shimmered like a hundred different colours of autumn.

"That's right," she murmured as she drew two more things from the drawer; a white long sleeve shirt made of a light flowing material, and a thicker, narrow strip of white cotton that was quite long.

Talia looked up at the man again and held up her clothes, indicating she meant to get dressed.

"Leave," she said simply and the man did so. It was just before he replaced his hat and closed the door that Talia noticed he carried a plank of wood and a hammer.

She fumed silently as she wrapped the skirt around her slim waist. In her anger at this stupid, heartless man her mind cleared. She was determined now, and what she needed to do was clear.

Talia pulled the shift off over her head and began to wrap the white cloth around her chest and middle as was proper for girls, with renewed vigour. She threaded the thinner material at the end of the cloth through the holes that lined up at the side and tied it tightly. Quickly she donned the light tunic and grabbed her small bag of belonging from the front of her bed. Talia paused in front of the cracked mirror on her vanity. She sighed. At least if I look like death warmed over I could still be dressed as royalty. And it was true. Talia and her sister Camie were both raised extremely well, with a sense of pride and how to present one's self properly.

Before she turned away, Talia noticed one more thing, something she would be bringing with her. She picked up a fine hair comb, one her father had brought back from a trade expedition for her when she was her sister's age. Talia fingered the ivory comb and the small turquoise butterfly before slipping into its dainty leather case and tucking it under her white body wrap where it would be safe.

Talia's wooden sandals clacked as she walked through her door and closed it on the room she had lived in her entire life.

"Where do you intend to go?" The man asked. He fiddled with an ornamental plate on the table.

"Don't touch that. Who are you?" Talia demanded, the stranger in her house raising her mental spines. The man flapped a hand at her and ran his fingers along the brim of his hat.

"Dasura," he grunted. Talia raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Just Dasura?"

"Well, Mr. Dasura, actually, but that isn't a matter. You didn't answer my question." Mr. Dasura gazed calmly at her, his dark eyes hard and emotionless.

"I don't know yet." Talia answered equally coldly, though she knew perfectly well where she was going. "Why are you here? You surely haven't come to take me-"

"Shut up," he snapped, cutting her off, and stood abruptly. He knocked the table and paused the plate on it's stand to fall and shatter. Talia stared at it in disbelief. The plate had been her mother's, and her mother's before that.

"Get out." Talia felt much braver than she should have, knowing fair well that she shouldn't have spoken to him like that. But he did exactly as she said and turned to leave. Talia followed him out the front door, and paused before she shut it, breathing out slowly, but not looking back.

Mr. Dasura faced her door now, and began to nail the board across her front door. Again Talia questioned him, though she knew very well what he was doing.

"What are you doing?"

He stopped, reached into his pocket and unfolded a piece of paper with sprawling black writing on it. With a single nail he drove it on top of the wooden board, and Talia had not a chance to see what it was. The man glared at her and struck her across the face with the back of his hand, sending the small girl tumbling backwards off of the front porch and onto the dusty, parched grass. She gasped and wiped blood from her lip, looking up. Talia knew she should have not said anything more, she had a habit of pushing it. Mr. Dasura looked furious.

"Be quiet now girl. I've taken enough from you, and I shouldn't have to listen to some insolent brat bad-talk me." He brushed past her and walked away, a billowing cloud of dust rising from his feet. Talia looked up, and she would likely remember the next thing she saw for the rest of her life- whatever it turned out to be.

Vacant.

She crawled to her feet and sighed, wiping the blood from her nose on the back of her hand. So much for looking like royalty. Talia kicked at the dirt angrily as she watched Mr. Dasura's shoulders descend over the ridge, and finally the edge of his hat. The sun was hardly half way through the sky, and it would not be noon yet for another few hours. Talia had plenty of time to get herself in order, but for now she decided the best thing to do was to go clean.

"Tal!" A voice shouted from behind her. Talia spun around, recognising the voice instantly and anxious to see someone who might understand her predicament better than Mr. Dasura, who Talia thought wouldn't be any kinder if the sun shone out of his bottom.

"Beck!" Talia grinned and threw herself into her friend's arms, patting her on the shoulder happily. Beck's eyes shone a clear, light green in the morning sunlight.

"Tal, you look horrible," Beck said, in the kindest way possible.

"I know." Talia grabbed Beck's hand and swung it miserably as they walked towards the pond together. Beck knew something was wrong right away, for she rarely got a comment free of sarcasm from Talia.

"Are you alright?" Beck asked, shaking her head, and brushing her chopped brown hair out of her face.

"I suppose I'll get on fine, but I have to leave now, you know. I can't go back." Talia jerked her thumb over her shoulder, but kept walking, determined not to look back. After a moment, she was walking alone. Beck had stopped in disbelief a few paces back, staring at the sign on Talia's boarded up door that's black writing was still legible.

"Oh, Talia. I'm so sorry." Beck caught up with Talia and gave her a sincere hug, brushing her finger's through Talia's scraggly hair.

"I don't know what to do." Talia said finally, after a long silence as they walked towards the pond. Talia didn't often like admitting she was doing something wrong, and she definitely didn't like to admit when she didn't even know what it was that she was doing wrong.

"There's not much you can do," Beck said quietly. She slipped off her sandals and dragged her feet through the cool, refreshing water. Talia nodded solemnly. "Do you even know where you're going?"

"I haven't a clue." Talia hated lying to people who she cared about, and the top of the list now would be Beck, since her parents were gone. However, she found herself in a position where she had no choice. If Beck, or anyone else who cared found out where she was going, they would try to stop her, and Talia couldn't have that happening. She had an entirely different reason for not telling Mr. Dasura, however. Mr. Dasura didn't seem like the type of person Talia wanted to know where she was, she thought this from the moment she met him.

"You could stay with us, you know. For a while at least until you find someplace to go." Beck splashed a nearby lily pad with her foot and watch the small white bud bounce on the water's surface.

"It's alright. I know your family is already in a bad situation right now, you can't afford to take me in. I'll find some place to go."

"Are you sure?" Beck asked, stepping into the water with her clothes on and wading around while her skirts billowed out around her.

"I'm sure," Talia said, and stripped off her skirt. She didn't particularly feel like ruining the expensive material by swimming in pond water with it. She folded it on the bank of the pond and put her shirt with it, but left on her wrap, which was too much of a hassle to try to re-tie.

Talia slipped into the water, and though the day was warm already and it was not yet even noon, the water was cool and sent prickles crawling up Talia's skin.

"Come on! It's nice," Beck dove under the water, spraying small crystal-like droplets on her friend. She shivered. Going under was exactly what she needed right now. Drown away the past, choke it out and suffocate the parts of her that were living on memories. Wash it away, feed the future.

Talia sunk beneath the soft ripples on the water and pushed her hands through her hair. For the few moments she had she opened her eyes underwater and looked around through the murky greenish water. The sunlight shone down through the surface and made the bits of sand and algae shimmer.

Talia hadn't even noticed she was struggling to breathe, the lack of oxygen crushing her chest. She surfaced and pushed her hair off of her face. The red of her hair turned blood blood red when it was wet and she watched the strands swirl around her stomach in the waters. As she drew in a few sharp breaths and felt cold water sting at her insides she realized things were not as clear as they felt with Mr. Dasura. Things were very, very blurry. Talia sighed and hoisted herself onto the grassy bank. The sun already warmed her and she basked in the temporary light.



It was just before sunset when the peaceful reverie was broken- a call from further down the road.

"Beck?" A shrill voice carried out through the air, seeming to hang for a while under the fiery clouds and the blood-shot sun sinking beneath the trees. Beck looked up and groaned, cat stretching against the rough bark of a tree.

"I suppose that means I have to go now-"

"BECK!" The voice called out again, more hysterical than before. Beck grinned and shook her head. She knew fair well her mother was a nut case and alcoholic, and she knew the rest of the town did as well. Beck often took refuge at Talia's place when her mother and started drinking. Ever since a few years ago when her father was killed in a hunting accident Beck's mother began a heavy drinking addiction, going through periods when she wasn't straight for nearly a week. Her mother never adjusted well to the loss of her father, and Beck often feared for her own life and her mother's. During this time Beck would often come to Talia's in the middle of the night, crying and her parent's would let the poor girl in and she would sleep curled at the opposite end of Talia's bed. Occasionally, the two would sleep in the backyard under the stars in a small self made tent of animal skins. Beck and Talia would pretend they were hunters, warriors of the great tribes and hunting huge furry beasts in the night.

These things seemed so childish to Talia. So like a young and naive person to lock out the world and fall into their own life of fallacy. Now, Talia understood there was more to life then games and make-believe. Now, she understood there was death, and hate, and war.

Before her mother had a chance to scream again, and likely anger the neighbours Beck stood and shook her head lightly, spraying droplets of water all over again. Talia stood as well, and together the walked to Beck's small house just at the top of the ridge.

By the time they arrived in front of Beck's poorly constructed log house the sun was sinking quickly. The smattering of stars that graced the sky were beginning to shine brighter against the blossoming endless navy of the early night and night was awakening around them.

"Good night Beck, and good luck." She gave her friend a quick hug at the door and ushered her inside before Beck's mother could anger further. A smash of glass came from inside the cabin and Beck winced.

"Good luck to you, Talia. Heaven knows you need it more than I do." She ducked into the house and smiled through the gauzy material that hung just inside of her door. Talia mouthed good bye and quickly turned away, walking down the few, rotting stairs and onto the dirt road.

Talia suddenly felt very small, and very lost in a town that was much to big for her, let alone what was beyond it. The night's wind was now bitter against her damp skin and hair without the sun to warm her, and she quickly headed away from Beck's house towards the place that would decide her fate.

As she followed the path the horse drawn carriages had made with soft steps she tried to pay attention as much as possible to everything else around her, instead of focusing on the turmoil inside of her that would probably make her cry right her in the middle of the street. Still, even when there were a good few people on the streets who had not yet gone home or to the pubs, Talia still felt nervous, knowing there were many a man who would attack a lone girl. Her stride lengthened.

Pay attention to everything else. Don't focus on your problems right now. Focus on where you're going, what you need to do, and what you need to avoid. She drew in a deep breath and stopped for a minute, looking around.

Fat man. Open tunic. A bottle of whiskey curled in the crook of a fat, hairy armpit. His greasy head lolled over onto his shoulder, crusted spittle on the side of an unshaved face.

Talia shuddered. Payed too much attention to everything else. Focus on where you're going, what you need to do, and what you really need to avoid. She lengthened her stride again and before she had even realized she had broken into a jog, and then a run. Blind panic over took her. Her parents were gone, and she had no place to go. What was she supposed to do?

This was very much unlike her. Talia was usually a level-headed girl, and kept her calm in situations, but now she was panicking. Talia shook her head and stopped for a moment, looking around Where was she? She looked to her left and to her right. The disgusting man was far gone now, and she didn't recognize the roads and buildings. She took another deep breath and pushed her fear and uncertainty deep inside of her. There would be a time to break down later. Talia squinted and peered down the road ahead of her that was shaded by dusk and not lit by the moon which was nestled behind clouds.

When Talia found the place she was looking for, she already had a plan in mind- not the best one, but a plan that would get her in nevertheless.

In front of her now a tall, thin building loomed over the others, casting a massive shadow over the already dark ground. Talia shivered and gazed at the crumbling stone wall that surrounded it.

A wind blew and she shivered, though the shiver had nothing to do with the wind or the tassels of her skirt tickling her legs. Talia knew she could get into this monstrous building, but what would happen to her once inside...

She shuddered, not even wanting to know.

A wooden sign with metal letters nailed to it thrashed to and fro on its post in the wind, but even with the moon's meagre light flashing on its letter she couldn't make out what they said.

Talia crept around the towering stone wall, close to its form and swallowed in the shadows. The sun had completely sunk beneath the horizon, but yet a light was approaching that was not moon light. Dim, orange and flickering it swayed back and forth and closer until Talia could see polished black boots crusted with mud around the edges walking in the pool of light. She looked up at the man's face that was covered in stubble, and illuminated in a gaunt sort of way by the lamp he held in it hand. The man grunted and lifted the lamp higher so the glow nearly touched Talia's feet. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows just in front of the man, but facing away from him. She walked steadily away as though she saw him not walking just behind her, when she heard his footsteps stop.

"Aye, girl!"

Talia sped up and when the man started walking again she broke into a run. She hardly took three steps when the man gained on her. Talia stumbled to her knees, a throbbing pain in her calf. He had kicked the back of her legs and he stood over her now where she lay sprawled on the hard ground.

Talia gasped on the ground and tried to spit out the hard dirt in her mouth. And blood. She tasted blood again where her lip split open.

"Thought you would go for a little stroll, slave girl?" He growled and aimed a particularly hard kick at her head. She wouldn't even bother answering.

"Get up," he said, his words dripping venomously. Talia pushed herself up on to her hands and knees, only to feel his foot crash down on her back. The wind was knocked out of her now. "Properly." He glared down at Talia's small form, face covered in blood, clothes in dirt and tear marks streaking a path of clear through the dirt on her face. She turned and pressed her forehead to the ground, fingertips together out in front of her in the deepest bow possible. She scrambled backwards, keeping her face down and not looking the man in the eyes until she stood.

"S-so sorry, Master," she stammered, fully aware of the blood running to the side of her face.

"You're a new one, aren't you? Thought you'd try and get away?" She snapped. When she didn't answer he snorted and spit on the ground in front of her. "So I'm sure you'll never try running away again."

"Yes, I mean no. Yes I promise I will never try to escape again." He did not flinch at her words, but perhaps his eyebrows moved down and little closer together. "Master," Talia quickly added.

"Good," he huffed, "Now get in."

Talia trailed by him as they walked around to the entrance; still careful to never look him in the face. She caught a glimpse of the words printed on the head of the door before she was shoved, or rather kicked through it.

West Halnien Slave Trade.

Talia sighed with a feeling of sick accomplishment. She had found the place she needed to get into to live.

"You go here, with the new slaves." He grabbed her roughly by the wrist and fished a key from a ring in his pocket.

At least twenty faces looked up at Talia with mixed looks of fear, sadness and apprehension. The state of them terrified Talia, but she swallowed her fear, knowing this was the only way and allowed her self to be locked in the pen with the rest of them.

The ground was hard, packed dirt with a meagre dusting of rotting straw for god knows what. On the other side of the room there were four rows of pens, about the size to fit a very large dog. There was a person in each, some lay curled and sleeping, other sat cross legged and played games in with themselves in the dirt.

The air was hot and damp, the hall poorly lit. In the very further corner a sickly thin man was being removed from his pen and laid on something like a stretcher.

Even though the hall was ghastly silent, Talia still couldn�t hear the hushed conversations. When the second of the two men turned, she began reading lips and caught the dead end of their conversation.

"Dead," the man said in a very strange thick accent, shaking his head. Talia swallowed and leaned against the back of the metal cage. Someone died here. Perhaps this was going to be worse than she thought.

The people around her ranging from dark skin to light- which was unusual for this area- all clamoured to the front of the pen, winding their hands through the bars and pressing their faces against them to get a better look at the man being carried now out of the back door.

Talia, however, was paying more attention to the building and its features. Besides the two slave holding pens there was a large front desk, a back door to its left and a spiraling staircase on its right which led to the second floor where Talia suspected the Master might stay.

Moments later the man came by again and struck the fingers that wee clasping the bars with a metal rod. Talia was grateful now she could control her curiousness.

"You lot," he signaled out half of the group, "Are being branded tomorrow at noon." He sneered and pointed to the clock high away on the adjacent wall. Talia cringed. Branded? She thought, like cattle? Where? She was disgusted and particularly terrified at the idea of hot metal singeing her skin.

"It's not that bad." Talia looked around for the source of new voice. A girl about her age and nursing her own set of small bleeding knuckles knelt in a collection of straw a few paces away from her, and smiling meekly.

"It- what?" Talia's thoughts were a muddle jumble, mixed with the warped sort of fantasies about what her life might be like.

"The brand. It's not as bad as you think." The small girl with caramel-brown hair pulled her closer and held out her wrist. Talia looked closer hesitantly. A thin white scar on the girl's wrist held the shape of an arrow with three lines through the shaft. "Arrowhead Glacier Pass," she explained. "I used to stay there until war caused them to lose so much money they were forced to sell us cheap to other centres or set us free. I came here," she finished bitterly. Talia nodded silently.

"So where're you from" You don't look like from 'round this side." The girl seemed to radiate a gentle pushing energy despite being a slave.

Talia shrugged. "I'm from here. Halnien." The other girl pushed forward, her face inches from Talia's and peered into her eyes. Talia leaned back on her hands and stared down her nose at the girl, eyebrows raised. Talia was beginning to think calling this girl eccentric was putting it lightly. She wondered her name.

"Wow..." the girl said breathily, backing away but keeping her eyes locked on Talia's. "Blue," she whispered almost fearfully. She looked around at the other slaves as if checking if any of them had blue eyes too.

"That's rare you know. Do you know anyone else with blue eyes?" Again Talia shrugged, backing away slightly with every chance she had until her back was ground up against the cold metal rails.

"Erm, my father. My father had blue eyes." The other girl nodded, closing her own hazel eye for a moment, looking as if she was pondering whether it was really true. Talia snapped her away from her thoughts.

"What's your name?" Talia asked. The girl slowly opened her eyes, peering out from under her lashed. Talia found this rather unnerving. The girl thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"I don't know," she said slowly, hesitantly. "I don't know my real name, that is. Over the years people have started calling me Vie." She cat-stretched and smiled while she adjusted her white shirt and sarong. Talia reminisced- something about this girl reminded Talia of Beck, and it was comforting.

"So what's your name�" Vie asked, laying down on her back with her hands linked behind her head as if she wasn't in a slave pen, but away on a luscious vacation.

One where people didn't haunt your every step and threaten with branding and whips.

"Talia." She responded quietly.

"Do you have a last name, Talia?" Vie said with a mocking grin, which Talia found odd because Vie herself didn't remember her first name, let alone her last.

"Talia Callaway."

At least half of the people in their pen and a good portion of the people in the separate pens turned to look at the two girls. Vie had rolled over onto her side and clutching her stomach. Talia crouched over her for a moment, concerned, when she saw Vie was laughing.

"What?" Talia demanded, scowling with her hands on her hips. An elderly man in a corner raised bushy brows in amusement, so high in fact hey seemed to disappear into his white wispy hair.

"Talia Callaway," Vie repeated between gasping breaths when she finally steadied herself. Talia cocked a single eyebrow.

"It rhymes, sort of." Vie smiled weakly and Talia could help but smile and chuckle to herself more than anything.

The sheer ridiculousness and harsh reality of the situation kept coming back to her.

"So tell me about yourself," Vie said, stroking her chin in mock thoughtfulness. Talia grinned. She could get to like this girl.

"Well�" Talia wasn't sure where to begin. "I've lived here all my life with my mother, father and my sister Camie. We lived in a small house built by my father and his brother. My father was into the trades and such- leaving on ships, you know?" As she spoke Vie watched her with such an intensity it mad here nervous, feeling like she had rather large bulbous growth on her face.

"We lived fine that for awhile, even after my sister was born. Just lately things had started becoming scarce. My dad used to ring me home things a lot." Talia added, pulling the butterfly comb out of her wrap, where it was miraculously still in one piece. She passed it to Vie, who looked at it with visible awe while Talia continued her story.

"I've lived a good life until recently. Three days ago my parents were killed." Saying those words was far more difficult than Talia expected. It was like speaking the words aloud affirmed it, made it real. A lump rose in her throat that made it difficult to talk. Vie passed the comb back and Talia tucked it into her wrap and continued, slower this time.

"They both died- drowned. My father's trade ship got caught in a storm and sank just off of the coast. My mother saw him; she was waiting for him. She rushed into the water to save him, and she too drowned." Talia blinked back tears.

"Gone..."

"Dead..."

"...drowned." Words echoed around her head again.
"I suppose lady's fashion isn't made for those who wish to swim." Talia didn't expect then that Vie would tackle her sideways and hug her rather tightly until Talia had to complain she couldn't feel her arms.

"Sorry," Vie said, and wiped her eyes. Talia sat up and brushed dirt and straw off of her clothes.

"It's alright." Vie nodded and for a short while an awkward silence passes between them. Talia guessed she was waiting for her to continue conversation. Talia took out the small comb from her wrap again and began to run it through her hair in an attempt to get rid of the dirt and tangles, though she knew that it was not the comb's purpose.

"Alright, tell me about your life then." As Talia said these words Vie seemed to sit up straighter, her hazel eyes a little, brighter. She leaned forward, propping her elbows on crossed legs.

"When I was just a child, my mother was taken away. She was a fortune teller and for that she was hung. I never even know my father. Most people say my mother impregnated herself with magic, and that her child would of a demon," she paused dramatically ignoring the strongly sceptical look plainly displayed on Talia's face.

"But that's not true. I'm right here, and I don't look or feel like a daughter of a demon. Actually my father was killed fighting a dragon in the far north-west country of Valniti that was casing a problem eaten the farmer's ox..." She paused, again a confused look now on her face.

"No� That's not right. He was a merchant sailor, killed by a kelpie...no that's not right either. By whatever means he's dead and so is my ma and I ended up here somehow..." Vie trailed off completely and rolled over on the hay into a small ball. Talia found it hard not to smile. She had quickly come to the conclusion Vie was a compulsive liar, and a bad one at that, or she really did have no memory of her pas. Talia wondered if that's what would happen to her if she were in this place. She'd forget her name, her past, her history, he sister and Beck...would they all just fade away like ripples on a pond? Smaller and smaller until she could reach them no longer? Talia hoped not. She hoped not with every fibre of help left in her.

When she looked down at Vie again she saw the young girl was asleep, her eyes pressed tightly shut and her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. It was not Talia realized how thin Vie was, and that she could see the outline of the girl's ribs through her white shift.

And she was right on time, for now three minutes later at exactly eleven o' clock the same man who everyone knew as 'Master' returned and kicked the cage, telling them they should all get around to sleeping.

"Tomorrow will be an early morning; and tomorrow you will get your brands." He turned curtly and left, climbing the spiral staircase so noisily it was a wonder Vie was still asleep.

Before long everyone else too was asleep, except for Talia and a single boy who might have been five and was sitting across the room in a pen of his own. His arms were wrapped around painfully thin legs that were tucked into his chest, and in the dark his eyes glittered like a cat's.

Just as Talia lay down she saw a woman, vast and tall sitting at the desk with an oil lamp lit. Her head rested on her hands, which were before her life a steeple. The swaying orange light threw the angles on her face, making her deep wrinkles look like canyons on a plain. There was not kindness in that face, just cold, hard discipline.

Just a few hours ago Talia had done everything in her power to get into this place. But now she didn't realize soon she would be doing everything in her power to get out.

Without that thought playing cat and mouse with the others in her head, Talia feel quickly asleep.