Read Ascension Online

Authors: Hannah Youngwirth

Tags: #Romance, #Adventure, #ascension, #Middle Ages, #hannah, #distopia, #ahrenia, #cethin, #croxley, #fara

Ascension (3 page)

Another reason I loved history was
that we studied independently. When we had practical lessons,
everyone had to partner up, but I always seemed to be singled out.
It was only much later, looking back on it, that I found out it was
because all of my classmates were warned by their families to stay
away from me, as I could only bring trouble to them. I was not only
a hazard to myself, it seemed, but to anyone who knew me. I would
always beg my mother to let me do it on my own, but she would scold
me and say that everyone needed a partner. So I would end up being
paired with the boy or girl everyone decided to avoid that day. The
sick one, the rude one, the slow one, and even they treated me
coldly.

This cycle
continued until Conor started to attend class. His mother and mine
were good friends, so we grew up together. When his father passed
away during a mining accident, we adopted their family, helping in
any way we could until they got their feet back on the ground.
Although Conor

s older brothers avoided me, he didn

t seem to care much, and despite
being four years younger than me, he was mature enough for us to
relate. Tall and skinny for his age, he was nearly as conspicuous
as myself, which, when paired with his mischievousness, always
seemed to lead to interesting stories. He never failed to come by
my den afterwards and relay to me his latest adventures. It soon
became my favorite part of the day, and I would eagerly wait for
him to come and break the monotony of my life.

As the years went
on, I found myself the eldest in the class by 2 years. I became
uncomfortably aware of how much older I was once my body started
changing, and finally asked my mom why she hadn

t let me go work like all the
other youths that had been in my class before. My mother had sighed
and sat me down, explaining to me that I was different, that she
and father needed to protect me. To do that, I
couldn

t work
like everyone else. Naively, I asked them what I needed protection
from. Their answer was simply

the
King
”.

That was when I
learned that the King instructs the guards to send him notice every
time someone extraordinary is born in Cethin. If the King finds
them worthy, they are brought to work as slaves in Ahrenia. I
couldn

t
understand why they had to protect me from a future in the light.
From all that I had learned in the history lessons, the surface was
a beautiful place. For one thing, there were colors all around.
Here in Cethin, the only colors are the dyed cloaks that have been
passed on through generations, some brought down by the original
Nethers, others obtained from the King along with their
name.


So let me into
the light! I can always come back, right?

I had asked them. My mother and father looked at each
other, and my father released a heavy sigh.

Even though they let you into the light, it
doesn

t mean
you are free to enjoy it. You are a slave to their demand, and you
have no family to protect you. And a girl as beautiful as you would
be taken advantage of far too quickly. I can

t allow anything like that to
happen to you. So, you must hide your face from the guards. Only
let them know you as another number. Never let them know just how
beautiful you are.

After that day,
my mother didn

t make me go to class. Instead, I was forced to do chores
in the safety of our den. Occasionally, when my mother
wasn

t teaching
the children, she would give me more history lessons, science
lessons, and even taught me how to read and write, an impractical
skill unless you are a member of the council. In these dark
tunnels, nobody cares if you know how to spell your name, but for
me, it was one of my only respites. My father would often come home
with scrolls that the guards discarded so that I had something of
interest to read. But the scrolls rarely contained anything
significant; the majority dressed the population of our community,
requests for more supplies, reports on births and deaths. Any
letters of actual importance were burned before anyone ever got to
them.

The only other respite from my
prison was if I was needed to help with outside chores. These came
very rarely, and my mother always treated them with the utmost
caution. If I ever had to leave the den, she would put dirt on my
face and dress me in our dirtiest tunics in order to disguise my
appearance. It was almost as if my looks were a crime, and I was
forced to hide them should the guards find out that I was guilty. I
quickly began to see my appearance as a curse, responsible for my
detainment.

Coming back to
the present, I traced the rose vein running through the cool
marble. In a sudden act of fury, I smacked the smooth plane,
wincing as the pain traveled up my hand and into my arm. The jolt
of pain triggered an idea, and suddenly, I knew what I wanted to
do. Like the marble, I could be both beautiful and strong. I
wouldn

t let
anyone hit me without hitting back. With a plan forming in my head,
I made my way back to our den, taking more caution than I did on my
way here. I didn

t want to run into a guard just quite
yet.

 

Chapter
4

I slowly crept up
to my family

s
den, hoping that they would be asleep, but the flicker of
candlelight indicated otherwise. As I crept closer, I heard the
soft murmur of voices. Dashing to the wall, I leaned against the
dirt and listened in.


We can

t let her run around, Anso.
It

s too
dangerous.

My mother

s tight voice was all too
familiar.


But we
can

t lock her
up in here either. She

s right. She needs something to do. Maybe she could help in
another way. The council and I were talking about it, and,

My mother cut him off.


No. The fact
that you even considered involving her in the
council

s
business is unbelievable. It is too risky, no matter your plan. I
won

t allow her
to get hurt.


But all we need
is one person to go above, one person to get close to the King, and
maybe we can change something. Faradene certainly is beautiful
enough to reach the surface, and if we plan right, she could make
it out safely. Listen, Miriam. A messenger just came in a few hours
ago. Surely he would deliver Faradene to the King.

I pressed my ear to the wall, hoping to hear
more, but it was silent. Eventually, I heard a slight sniffle as my
mother began to cry. The sound was muffled, as if she were crying
into my father

s shirt.


I know
it

s hard,
Miriam. I

m not
saying it has to be Faradene. Maybe we will be able to find someone
else. But we must do what is best for the whole colony, even if
it

s at the
expense of an individual. But enough talk for now.
Let

s get to
rest. I

ll go
out and look for Faradene while you sleep.

Quickly, I snuck
around the corner into the neighboring den, lucky to find everyone
asleep. I peered through the crack in the cloak, watching and
waiting until my father walked down the trail and out of sight. I
turned back to my den, with my father

s blue cloak covering the door,
a symbol of his power, protecting us from the rest of the world,
sealing us together as a family. I slowly walked towards it, my
hand extended to meet it

s coarse, but well-worn, wool.
With tears in my eyes, I bunched it into my fist, taking it all the
stains that it had accumulated throughout its history. I ripped a
small strip off the bottom and tied it around my wrist. As I
released it, I watched it sway gently in front of the opening,
providing a final glimpse into my den. I now had an answer, a way
to help everyone in the only way I could. Kissing my hand, I placed
it on the wall and turned around. It was time to get myself into
trouble.

Ξ

As a child, I was
always curious about sunlight. My mother told me that it's like a
giant ball of fire, lighting up the entire world until it leaves
the sky and darkness resumes. I used to tell her that I thought it
was sad how the setting sun leaves everyone in darkness, but then
she told me about the moon. Something like the sun, but not so
bright. And around the moon are specks of light called stars that
fill the darkness. I could only imagine what a world full of
colors, light, and darkness would look like. Before all the
students began avoiding me, we would draw pictures during breaks in
my mother

s
class about what we thought was on the surface. Sometimes my mother
would join us and draw pictures while telling stories that have
been passed down through generations about the world above, always
sure to draw a sun shining in the sky over the land and animals she
had created in the dirt.

Here in Cethin,
everything is lit by lamplight. All the fuel for our lamps is mined
down here. Our eyes are used to the dim yellow light, having never
seen the sunlight. It takes the guards a bit longer to adapt to the
change; consequently, for the first few days of their service, they
are tasked with no other duty than to walk around the tunnels. A
few have gotten lost, wandering in the outskirts of the network.
Some were lucky enough to be stumbled upon by a Cethin, but the
majority were lost forever, most likely having run out of fuel for
their lantern and wandered deeper into the earth, where they may
have fallen into a crevice, a hot underground stream, or any of the
other risks that come with living underground. Mother says that the
men used to the sun can go insane if they have to stay underground
for too long. That

s why the King switches them out every few years, but with
some, even a few years can be too much. That

s what the sunroom is for. When
my mother was a child, she had heard news of a sunroom being
constructed in the guards

quarters, which would open a hole large enough
in the ceiling for the sunlight to come through and fill the room
with natural light. Unsurprisingly, this room was made to be off
limits from all Nethers, and as such, my mother absolutely forbade
me from trying to get a glimpse of it. Every child is warned to
stay away from the sunroom, mainly out of fear of what the guards
might do to a lost child. But, of course, as with all children, as
soon as my mother said it was off limits, I was immediately
entranced with the idea of an adventure to the sunroom, and for a
long time, I couldn

t think of anything but trying to find a way into the
room.

As time went on,
thoughts of sunlight became rarer and rarer, replaced by
preoccupations with chores and other duties, and soon the forbidden
room was forced into a small corner in the back of my mind. I
forgot about my desire to see the sunroom, just like my ancestors.
The first ones exiled down here were too busy trying to establish a
way to survive to worry about things like sunlight. By the second
generation, we didn

t know any different. And so the cycle
continued.

Tonight, I was going to break the
cycle. Approaching this very room, I wiped the grime off my face
with the sleeve of my tunic, let my hair down, combed it with my
fingers, and stepped through the entryway. Not knowing what to
expect, I put my hands over my eyes and looked around through the
cracks in my fingers.

The first thing I noticed was that
there were many shirtless guards sleeping on raised mats. There
were whips, clubs, and swords hanging from racks along the walls.
From what I hear, these weapons are used in abundance by the guards
who watch over the mines. There was also strong odor in the air,
which I attributed to the fact that the guards find themselves too
high of rank to share a latrine with us. They must have one dug
somewhere nearby. Sweeping the room with my eyes, it occurred to me
that the room was lit by candles as well. I looked for the telltale
crack in the wall, and saw just a faint blue glow coming through
the ceiling. I wondered if this was what the sun looked like, or if
I was seeing the moon. Puzzled, I dropped my hands and looked
around for a brighter light. As I turned to search, I saw a group
of men sitting around a table, all looking at me with wide eyes. I
took a few steps back into the shadow of the opening.


Oy! What are you
doing in here? I thought this room was off limits to you
people.

A large-bellied man about my
father

s age
spoke to me, his voice shaking me out of my startled
paralysis.

Other books

Loss by Tom Piccirilli
Branded as Trouble by James, Lorelei
The Song is You (2009) by Arthur Phillips
Branndon Jr. by Vanessa Devereaux


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024