Grisha
The old coach wheels rattled on the gravel. Katya Garin was traveling to the Little Palace in Os Alta to live with others like her.
Her kind. Her fellow Grisha.
How did it come to this? She had managed to hide her ability for so long. But perhaps that was why… she had become careless, thinking she was safe now.
All her life Katya had known she was different. She loved fire, and somehow it seemed to love her back; obeying her. Torches and lamps never burned out around her, for she could almost subconsciously summon fuel from her surroundings, and even ignite the air itself with just a flint and steel.
As she grew older, she learned two things: That people with her talent were witches known as Grisha, and that she had better hide her ability. For in her village, the Grisha were the most hated and feared of all people. If her friends knew she was one, they would chase her away without a second thought.
To forestall this fate, she had carefully avoided getting tested by the traveling examiners, finding excuses each time, until she was old enough for them to assume she had already failed the test.
Over the years she had successfully managed to stay undercover. Until yesterday…
Katya leaned her head into her hands, tiredly rubbing her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? She had thought she was alone and created just a tiny fireball to warm herself… And of course, her snoopy neighbor had seen it, and in no time everyone knew.
One mistake was all it took for the world as she knew it to be gone. Her friends, family and neighbors would never look at her the same way; from one day to the other she had become a pariah and an outcast, and the familiar and safe life she had led was over.
Katya didn’t want to go to the Little Palace. What if they hated her there too? Maybe they would be cruel, and perhaps punish her for hiding her ability for so long.
All she wanted was to turn back time and be her old self again, back with her family.
Biting her lip to refrain from crying, Katya looked out through the window and caught a first glimpse of her new home. It was a wide building with many onion domed towers, and looked very luxurious. She would be living in style; that was something, at least.
The coach came to a stop before the entrance. When she gave the driver his coin, he snatched it from her hand and spat on the ground right by her feet. “Off with you. And don’t come back. Ever.”
With a lump in her throat, she watched him steer the horses around and drive away. His name was Ivan. They had played together when they were children; even danced a few times in the summer festival. But Katya would never attend a summer festival again.
Trying to shake off her dismay, she squared her shoulders and walked up to the entrance.
