Chapter 1
At this point in the world, we are in chaos. Constant massacres, battles and fighting. The Singularity craves more bodies to fuel the fire of war, more souls to waste away at the wrong end of a bullet. I will be one of these tireless sacrifices, forced to put blood on my hands for a world that will keep killing, and keep destroying until there is nothing left to destroy. I will die, I have known I will die since the age of 7, the age where I was sent to live in the barracks.
The kingdom of Vorelle used to be peaceful and prosperous under the rule of King Bartholomew the Wise. He stopped many wars with his peaceful words and his kind heart. He would never put the lives of his people at risk without much consideration. His people were the most important thing to him, more important than his wife Isabel and his only son Harry. As Harry got older the neglect from his father forced him to become much different from the noble king.
One fateful morning when King Bartholomew drank his morning tea, he collapsed from the acrid taste of cyanide on his lips. The fast acting poison made sure he was dead where he stood. He was cold in a matter of seconds and the taste of cyanide was hastily replaced by the sweet silence of death.
Many speculated that it could have been the work of the king’s very blood, his own son. Queen Isabel had always thought the reign of the king was puny to say the least. Instead of kindness, reason, and forgiveness she taught her son to rule out of hatred, ruthlessness and his own interest. His mission was simple, kill the king and rule over Vorelle with an iron fist. Harry’s motive was there and the opportunity arose, but he was never convicted.
Harry swiftly took over and erased any trace of the previous king’s kindness. King Harry was the most tyrannical, overbearing ruler Vorelle had seen to date, later becoming known as King Harry the Dreadful. He decreased the living standard for the middle and lower class and raised taxes on the already poor. The people were struck into poverty while the upper class and government officials got richer and richer. When King Harry felt as if this wasn’t enough, he forced the people into slavery to make him grand palaces and cathedrals. Eventually one brave soul, Elena Miller, stood up to the terrible king. She was killed on sight for her actions to scare the others into submission. This had the opposite effect on the people, this made them more determined to put an end to his reign. Thus began the new order, The Singularity. They fight for justice and freedom in this cruel world. They fight for the future and the generations of people to come. Or so they did for 5 years. As time went on they lost sight of what they were fighting for. They became just as brutal as the Dark Army and King Harry.
As the Singularity gained more and more power, King Harry was forced to join the fight as General Reynales, leader of the Dark Army. This left his wife Queen Ismelda in charge of Vorelle, she was just as evil as King Harry. She kept prisoners of war as trophies of her triumphs.
You may be wondering where I fit into all of this. I am Blaire Miller, daughter of the woman who started it all. After my mother died my father started the Mother’s of War, for the children who were left orphans during the war. Fathers and Mothers left their children in order to fight. The children were sent to the mothers of war to be raised. When you fall into the hands of your new mother, they give you a new last name for safety precautions. Smith was the last name I was granted with. I am not quite sure who Blaire Smith is, but I didn’t believe in her. She was no longer the daughter of the brave woman who stood up to the most powerful man in the world, no, she was no one. I was no one.
After spending six years with my new mother I was sent to the barracks to learn the ways of the warrior. I had to learn to kill at the age of seven.
Life at the barracks was constant. There was always stealth training, wound healing and target practice. You spend 10 years of your life doing this every day. During this time you develop your skills while under constant watch of the generals. On the day you turn 17 years old they assign you a job. You could end up being something like a nurse or Mother of War. The most gruesome and relentless job would be a warrior itself. Becoming a warrior is signing your own death certificate. It’s not like any of us have a choice, we are marked by a job and forced to live it’s lifestyle. I have one more day until my fate is sealed, and I have no idea what I will be chosen for. I mostly excelled in most areas, except for combat. I knew how to defend myself, but it was hard for me to hurt people. I never asked for this life, it was forced upon me. I cannot wait for the day all of the killing is finally put to an end, where my mother’s death will finally be avenged.
