Well, how could I when my knuckles were bleeding raw?
I groaned and sat up in my dormitory bed and went to put some salve on my hand. I had been fighting for five hours straight today . Usually it didn't hurt much after practicing but today I had accidentally come across a hard rock near the forest. Not knowing exactly what to do that day , I had decided to give my punching bad a break and had started beating the slab of hard rock till my hands were a pulp.
Yeah I know freaking idea but I needed to make myself as hard as I could in the time that I had.
I winced as the salve touched my skin . God, it stung like hell, not that I was complaining , I was used to pain much worse than this. You could break my leg with a hammer and I wouldn't make a sound.
Alas, being a smokefighter had its benefits too. I finished with my hand and went to my window. I didn't waste a second as I jumped out .
The freezing air hit my face like a brick but I didn't even give it a second thought as I took off my black jacket leaving me in a sleeveless shirt that fitted me like a second skin. It was made specially for me with hidden places for knives ranging from the length of a knuckle, to an elbow. Knives with such wicked tips that would make even Lucifer curse.
Not wasting another moment I quickly put the black and grey mask on my face melting into the shadows with grace unknown, as the forest's darkness engulfed me.
My life had only one purpose for as long as I remembered: kill.
The last memory from my childhood that I recalled was of a lifeless body as it's cold eyes stared back at me, the blood on my knife still warm. I had somehow managed to roll the body towards the lake nearby and dumped it.
I had walked home as the sky had begun to darken,closing the door behind me slowly as I creeped in my room,aware of the servants and guards patrolling the hallways.
But they could never catch me. It was as if I was attracted to the shadows,as if I knew how to place my body in a corner, behind a vase, under a table so that I was molded in the shadows.
When young,I liked to think that I was gifted. I liked to imagine myself as Death.
I now wish I had never hoped that because out of all my wishes, by some twisted way of faith, only that had been fulfilled.
I had not thrown up that night, even though it was expected by someone who had had her first kill. There had been no tears, no nightmares. It was as if killing was a part of my nature waiting to be discovered. I had slept peacefully that night, dare I say, satisfied.
I had been seven.
The next day the High Coaches had come to claim me.
The years after that had been, a blur of blood and blades.
For ten years now, I had not interacted with any humans except for the servants, guards and tutors at the Headquarters, and the occasional formal parties and events I was supposed to attend. Despite my best attempts, everything was still formal. No one saw me as a lonely girl with a cracked heart. No, for them, I was a warrior, a dangerous pet whom should be stayed away from. Should be feared.
After a month I had stopped trying.
I adapted to my new environment soon afterwards, locking away the only memories that had been holding me back from becoming a creature of the night .
Those bittersweet memories of a feather soft bed, the smell of honeysuckle fresh in the air, a secret stash of chocolates under a loose floorboard, the familiar cologne of a man as he kissed me cheek every night after returning from work. Those memorise were now locked and bolted in some dark part of my mind which slipped further in a dark hole with every stab of my knives, with every bullet through the skull.
With every life I took.
I once wished everything would return to normal, to the way it once was, but I left those wishes in some dark cave, or a lonely desert or in the depth of a freezing ocean, with what was left of my heart.
After three years of numb confusion, a whirl wind of questions and untamable anger, they had finally told me the reason I was kept here.
They told me I was a smoke fighter.
They told me it was my purpose to save the universe. To save this rotten tomato that they had themselves ruined with their greed.
Whatever humanity was left in me, broke that day.
Then came the classes, the lessons and most importantly, the tutors.
The Headquarters, were bigger than a mansion, or you could say that they were a smaller version of a castle. A whole floor had been given to my studies. Teachers, and tutors from all over the world, who were the best to be found out there had been hired for my studies. I had been taught the ten most essential languages in the world, had learned the history of the fae, the witches, the gods, the beginning of the hatred between werewolves and vampires, the beliefs of every race of creatures, their weaknesses, the code words, poisons, astronomy, and finally the process of magic.
The knowledge that I possessed was illegal in every sense of the world. It was illegal to prove it, to learn it, to teach it and mostly to use it.
That was the tricky part. Because there were no teachers who had such dangerous knowledge and even if there were, they were either fae or witches and it was common knowledge that kidnapping of such lethal creatures was unheard of.
My best guess was that the High Coach had something over them. Something that was worth betrayal of their kin. But still I was not taught everything, just the basic illegal knowledge, not the deadly kind, and I would bet my best knife that even, whatever the High Coach was blackmailing them with, was not enough, to make them share it.
Then there were the other classes, by human teachers, who taught me the mortal subjects.
My other studies were now finished and just a few months more if bearing with maths, and physics were left. Then I would only have the training classes.
My schedule was divided into two parts; lessons and combat.
Swordplay, archery, hand-to-hand combat, targets, spying, fighting, shooting and every damn skill that the High Coach , could think of, was taught to me.
They said that I was part of a prophesy; which prophesy, they never told me.
They said that there were eight other people like me. It was little condolence, but it eased my heart to know that I was not the only odd one .
My first visit to the supernatural world had been when I was 13. I had gone to attend a function with some of my teachers, and somehow, word had leaked that there was a smoke fighter in faeri.
I didn't know what happened, but I remember that one of my teachers, Miss Marrow or something, had hurried me in the house and we had stayed there for the whole of our five days' stay.
That week, there had been four times more candles than usual at the Churches.
At the age of 14, I had finally managed to sneak some information. It had been near midnight, and my tutor had fallen asleep while teaching me, in the library. It had been my first time at the library when I had been alone.
The first thing I had done, was go to the restricted section. After that it had been a matter of time before I had gained all the information that would let me sleep at night.
It had not been much though. Just most of the basics that I already knew; nine teenagers part of a prophesy made at the beginning of the world, their supernatural powers and brutal strength and pages and more pages about their skills and powers and inhuman abilities and other utter bullshit. There had been no hint of their purpose, their destiny and most of all, what made them different from others. So it was safe to say that it had been nothing useful but not useless either.
It's true that what we got was deserved by no one. One always saw the popularity and fame a position as honorable as mine bringed but to me, and hopefully the other smoke fighters, it was nothing but a curse in which we were left to suffer.
From what I had heard, we were very much alike in our skills and thinking. We had all been snatched from a perfect childhood and had been introduced to a life of torture, blood and murder. We all had lost our hearts in some lonely place long ago. We were all alone.
To say that we were strong and powerful would be an understatement. We were beyond strong and powerful. We were demons dressed like humans. We had been borned with the feral skills of killing ,spying, hunting, and fighting.
But even starting as late as seven we were brutal. We killed without second thought, and enjoyed the games of blood. Kids played with toys in their early years ,we had played with lives. It wasn't a surprise for anyone who knew about us though. Many knew about the prophesy although rarely anyone knew about what it actually said. They had heard stories and legends of our bravery, and brutality ,of our beauty, and our sharp sences and inhuman strength long before we were even born.
I walked into the dark forest,listening carefully for any sounds, not that anyone would dare to come out here at this time of the night as the forest was known to be the home of some super natural creatures . And even if some had the balls to come I wasn't in any sort of danger.
I laughed at my own thought. Me being in danger was like a wolf afraid of a grain of sand that couldn't even move and it was so hilarious of an idea that I pushed it back in my mind and moved on into the eerie night.