Awkwardly shifting in the leather seat, I gripped the black strap placed on my bodice, the sheer force of the acceleration forcing me back. I gulped nervously, turning to look out the window.

It was impossible to make out the view. Seeing how quickly we were going, it was not a surprise. I frowned as I watched the trees blur in the distance. The speed too fast for my taste.

"I understand that we are off schedule, but must you hurry like so?" I asked, my knuckles turning white. Just as quickly as I had finished asking, Warren turned a right.

The action threw me the other way and I gripped the seat for dear life, a yelp escaping my lips. As we've reached a straighter, calmer path, I readjusted myself and unclasped my pale shaking hands from the seat, its strength sapped.

"Please do understand. You can't go to class late on your first day. It will give a bad impression." The villainous man stated as he continued to turn a few more corners. I murmured foul words under my breath as my head bumped the window at the last turn.

Alas, a ray of hope beamed at the distance as an old bricked building came into view. This miserable experience was about to end.

"This." I started. "This monstrosity is not a carriage. It is a torture chamber." We wheeled to a stop and I quickly faced to the door, trying to escape the grips of this freakish atrocity. The heinous metal shuttle Warren called a 'car'.

At first, I was intrigued. Intrigued by its smooth curves and slick black color. By the lights that shone even brighter than the sun. By the beauty and magnificence of this man made transporter. Never did I realize that looks could be deceiving. Staring at the complexity of its 'door' - if it even is one - I sat there frozen, unable to locate the doorknob.

Must this machine trouble my until the end. What on earth drove humanity to create such a thing?

In the midst of my psychological struggle, the door opened as if it had read my own mind. Thinking that the powers of my mind had completed the task, a small smile graced my lips. The dream was quickly shattered when my eyes met Warren's green ones.

He had circled the car and opened the door. I frowned in defeat as I held a hand, waiting for Warren to assist me. Taking his hand, I hurriedly slid my foot out, taking in the view.

The building looked quite old. Seeing the familiar structure, it seemed to be built around a hundred years back.

Once I fully exited, I peered through Warren's back, seeing the trees that littered the premises of this edifice. Its tall, large structured design, intimidating.

The air around it felt odd. Cold. Silent. My eyes then trailed to ivy that had started to crawl up its red brick walls. Its leaves looking more like an ornament than a living plant.

What on earth had Warren gotten me into.

I breathed a sigh as we entered through the weathered stone arch of the building, my hand on Warren's as he escorted me to the building. Not a single soul in sight.

I shivered as my bare legs felt the rise of a cold breeze. Immediately, I regretted the simple black dress I had worn. Though the long sleeves were paired with a thick blue coat that cut at my waist, its short knee length design did not help at all.

Why must I be intrigued by the oddest things? Had I not been interested by this short length, I would've worn those warm trousers Warren had recommended.

The gust of wind blew past me as the doors opened. My long silken hair followed, dancing in the wind. As my other hand shielded my face, the glass doors moved behind us. Once the entryway shut, the wind's movements stopped, leaving us both disheveled and disgruntled.

"Ah, Warren Arshawl. You've come just on time." A female voice echoed the halls. I turned to see a woman, perhaps in her seventies. Whites littered her beautiful short blond hair.

Underneath all the cosmetics she had worn, one could see the small wrinkles that adorned her elegant face. I stared at the sun kissed freckles on her cheeks. Then to the thin bags positioned under her eyes, possibly from worry.

"I'm Abigail. We talked on the phone." She extended a hand, inviting Warren for a handshake. Her hands were thin. Crooked. Yet, it seemed so warm. Slipping my hand from his, my eyes followed Warren has he walked towards the woman. I eyed him warily as he grasped the delicate hand tightly.

Not so rough, boy. You might break it.

"This must be your daughter!" The woman exclaimed abruptly without warning. I blinked once. Twice. Unable to process what she had just said.

I couldn't help but freeze as the woman approached me, pulling me in a tight hug. Not knowing where to go, my arms flailed helplessly behind the woman.

Seeing the forty year old stifle a laugh, I turned to glare at the forty year old. How happy he must be to see that the woman's arms restricted me from properly thwacking the back of his head.

You best be careful, Warren Arshawl.

'What is this child on about.' I hastily whispered, glaring at him from behind. Sensing my malice, Warren stopped laughing and cleared his throat with a cough, turning to face me still in the woman's deathly grasp.

'I told you as we left the estate. You were registered as my daughter.' He mouthed from behind the woman. I furrowed my brows, not remembering the exchange Warren spoke of.

No. Wait.

I paled, remembering the events that transpired this morning. I may have been too engrossed by that dreadful carriage to hear anything Warren had said. A light sigh escaped my lips, realizing that it had been my own fault for not listening.

Still, how long is this child going to squeeze me for? Her strength is beyond her years.

Finally, I felt her grip release. Taking in a breathe of fresh air, I took a full step back, almost tripping on my laced granny boots. The familiar boots did give me a sense of comfort, but was mostly worn for its four inch high heels.

Gratefully, the boost to my height was enough to match an average eighteen year old woman in this period. It would be troublesome should they mistake me for a sixteen year old.

"Beautiful hazel eyes you have there." Abigail said, holding me at arm's length. I forced a friendly smile, remembering the charm I casted on a silver bracelet. The accessory I had worn on my right wrist. It was an elegant silver chain that embellished a single amethyst stone in its center.

Not wanting to spark unpleasant chatter, I casted a simple charm on the stone to cloak my unique eye color. A spell that was effective so long as the bracelet was on my bodice.

A downside to charmed objects. While it did not constantly consume my powers like ordinary spells did, it can be quickly dispelled by the removal of the item.

Which is quite displeasing, considering that I spent the whole night casting this intricate spell. The real reason why we were off schedule today.

"I feared that you'd be late since I received a phone call from Mr. Arshawl here, saying that you had overslept." Abigail said as she turned to Warren. As she did, I dropped my crooked smile, sending daggers at Warren's direction.

Warren. Arshawl. You-

Just as quickly as I dropped my smile, Abigail faced me, making me force another grin. "You must be Eir! Eir Arshawl." Abigail grinned as she clapped her hands together.

Almost instantly, anger sparked from within as my stiff grin disappeared. Noticing the change in my mood, Warren immediately called out to Abigail just as my powers bubbled up, forcing my eyes to glow its bright amethyst color.

Eir Arshawl. That horrid name pierced my ears. Eir. The birth name I had wanted to forget. Norse for 'peacefulness'. It seemed to mock me. My name, the very thing take from me. 

What a distasteful joke I must be in your eyes, Hecate.

—————

Hello,

Thank you for reading! I appreciate that you've gone this far.

Please do tell me how the book is so far though. I am mainly concerned at the pacing, since it is written bit by bit.

Besides that, I am also open to any concerns or comments. Especially, the flow of the chapter. It may have been choppy, and I apologize for that.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,
Titania