Prologue
When Azalea came to, the first thing she noticed was the smell of some sort of freshly baked grub. Then, was the burning sensation of light reflection through her lids.
Weakly, she moaned and grasped at the depth of her mind, trying, to remember where she was and what had happened. Slowly, like a fog, the details sipped in. The banishment, the inauguration, the portal...
With a gasp she sat up. The princess!!
The dizziness of the travel made her head ache somewhat and her vision dance with black spots. She cursed.
A minute later, after she had sat for a while, the spots cleared and her sight returned. Opposite of her was the world. Down below and full of movement.
She quickly moved to access her situation. Letting out a sliver of magic from her bank, she gained all the information she needed on anything and everything within range. By her left was a wooden table holding a glass vase and fake flowers in water. Her nose wrinkled at the artificial beauty. To her right was a wide space filled with two long soft mocha colored sofas. In their middle sat a little round table on which a cigarette tray sat. In front of everything hung as huge Television. She didn’t bother knowing what the television was.
Further west there was a wooden door with a metal handle, to it’s left an opening leading to a corridor.
She got all this without even turning around. Something felt off, but she couldn’t place her finger on exactly what.
The soft padding of feet on the carpet floor alerted her of an approach. With a grimace she stood up. The last thing she wanted was to be in this world, stuck looking for a freaking royal-
“What the fuck...” the voice was deep, and purely male.
Her muscles tensed, she didn’t sense any magik, in-fact the air smelled strongly of human. With a gasp she realized what was wrong.
And slowly, in dread, she turned around. At the sight of him her mouth fell open in horror.
This tall dark human was definitely not Agatha!!
~
I sit in perfect silence. It’s expected of me to stay perfectly solemn and quiet in every situation. Even this.
The little pew I sit on is anything but comfortable. Wood from the miserable trees are used for this special purpose. To make people like me feel ten times worse for sitting on it. And with no choice in the matter.
The room is still, quiet. I can close my eyes and think I’m the only one in the room, but of course I know better. Even with my eyes closed I’d be able to smell the scent of different magik users. The different Magiks leave crackling trails in the air that are almost taste able. There are more than twelve hundred magik welders in the congregation. All their eyes are trained on the head mistress Oslah.
I take a glance at her. Bright Red hair in a very high twist adorned with charms and trinkets, green eyes shiny and twinkling in that wise way only known to the head Magiks.
My eyes dart back to my hands. Clasped together and trembling slightly. Immediately, I will them to be still. The biggest mistake one can make when being judged is to show fear.
Finally, Mistress Oslah stands.
If it was quiet before, now it’s deathly still.
My breathe is caught in my throat and my palms involuntarily start sweating. I can’t help the sharp fear that grips my heart. It’s quietly audible, how everyone is on edge. Waiting for the verdict.
I shut my eyes.
“We the counsel, therefore, find Azalea the Weaver........”
Breathes are held, the seconds loudly tick away, the air and all the magik in it stills as if in fear of the next words to be uttered.....
“Guilty of misuse and selfishness. She is therefore banished from the Spades for fifty years to the kingdom of Audrah. To return thereafter, hopefully, changed and repented.”
Just like that, my heart shatters.
