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A new beginning to my story, sonia you know what this is.

Chapter 1

The forest of dark green pines outside of Castle Stonespire shifted slightly in the wind, needles flying from the branches towards the ground. The sun shone brightly in the clear cloudless sky, casting its never ending light down on the plants and trees below. This sunlight streamed into the window of a sixteen year old, causing him to stir slightly and pull the feather comforter overtop his head, messing his already ruffled hair.

However, the sun would not be denied and continued to shine into the boy’s room. Vann groaned and sat up, his platinum blond hair falling slightly over his eyes. He blinked sleepily, revealing deep cerulean colored eyes. He had a thin, yet muscular build that came from years of training with his master in the art of swordplay. He had a lithe build, devoid of all baby fat.

Vann was not overly muscular like most of the grown men in the castle, and so most people mistook him for weak; it was a thought process most went through after seeing him for the first time, and something he had dealt with for many years. But even so, it still bothered him, although not as much as it once had. However, he was anything other than weak. He was able to fight longer and harder than all of the other trainees whether he was wielding a wooden or steel sword.

His skin was a light tan that looked better on him than it would on most people, but it seemed to bring out the lightness of his hair and the brightness of his eyes, not that he truly cared about his appearance all that much. His skin bore a few scars that crisscrossed his hands and small parts of his back and chest, reminders of the fights he’d been in. He had gained the scars from taking a few hits while he sparred with the occasional trainee that would fight with him. More than one of the scars had been caused by his opponent getting a lucky shot on his fingers or stomach, but he had never lost a fight.

The only scar that was truly noticeable, and also the only one he didn’t have an explanation was the four triangle shaped white patches of scar tissue on his right arm. He had asked Thrallan what they were from but the man had simply shrugged and said that he didn’t know.

He had won every single one of his fights; it was what was expected of him. Any less would shame his master, Thrallan Stoneblade. The man had no family name, nor did he know his father, the name Stoneblade was given to him for his mastery over both the earth and the blade. Vann still had no idea why the Captain of the Guard himself had chosen him for an apprentice, but he enjoyed learning from the man. Winning the fights wasn’t a question or talent or skill, it was that there was no other option open to him than to win them.

Thrallan had taught him to treat every match as if it were a fight to the death, not in the way that he should kill his opponent if he won, but rather in a way that he was to expect death if he lost as his enemy would most likely not be as merciful as the sixteen year old would.

He sighed, throwing back the covers and sliding his feet off the bed. He grimaced slightly as they connected with the cold stone floor but got out of his warm bed anyway. He stumbled tiredly over to the basin of water that was at his bedside, splashing the cool liquid in his face to wake himself up. He allowed the excess water to drip down his face, falling back into the basin the shape of small crowns as they connected with the water. He grabbed the towel that lay on the corner of the table, using it to wipe the excess water from his face and eyes.

The boy gently set the towel back down, wringing the water out into the tub and folding it before he did so. He sat down on the bed for a moment, aimlessly staring out the window and into the sky as he began to wake up a bit more. Soon he got back up, walking over to his dresser and pulling open the drawers to reveal rows of neatly folded clothes.

Vann selected a plain white shirt and a pair of tan canvas pants, staring at them blankly for a moment before realizing what he had brought them out for and pulling them on. He closed that drawer of the dresser before opening the top one and taking out a pair of soft black linen socks. He tugged those on too, dropping his pant legs over them. He turned around, walking to the foot of his bed where he kept his boots. The boots were simple in design, made out of black leather with tougher leather soles an inch thick. There were black laces all the way up the top of the boot.

He slowly undid the laces; his hands fumbling slightly in his now fading tiredness. After a moment he put on those as well, tucking the hems of his pants into the neck of the boot before tying the laces securely. He stood up, the sleepiness of earlier now entirely forgotten after performing his morning routine. He walked over to the door into his room, undoing the latch, pulling open the door, and stepping outside.

The door next to his was ajar and there was no one inside. “Amana’s always up so early.” He muttered to himself. Amana, he’d known her for as long as he could remember. This was still a long time considering he didn’t have any memories from before he showed up at Stonespire at the age of ten. She had always been by his side and they’d had many adventures together as kids, pretending they were warriors. Amana had never been like the other girls; she’d always wanted to fight or play while the other girls were worried about their nails and hair.

Her sister, Rhea, had left Stonespire when Amana was twelve, two years after he had met her, to be a medic. She’d said that she’d always had a desire to help people and that she really felt like she wasn’t able to do that here. He had to be up early because he had sword practice with Thrallan, but he had never understood why she’d always woken up so early when she could have just as easily slept in. He sighed; he really doubted he’d ever completely understand her, no matter how long he knew her.

He continued down the deserted hallway, not many people were up this early in the morning but it just so happened that the dawn sun shined directly into his room as soon as it rose above the rim of the world. “This is why I like the night.” He muttered quietly to himself as he walked towards the staircase that would lead him out of the lodge. All apprentices lived in the lodge while they were being taught their craft; some even came from faraway towns to learn. There were a few other trainees learning there at the moment, but neither Vann nor Amana had taken the time to really get to know them as none of them shared their interest in fighting. Most were simply here to learn to chisel stone or carve wood.

Vann was thrown from his thoughts by a long banging that echoed through the halls. “Oh wonderful breakfast bell,” Vann muttered aloud, “what horrible torture are you to inflict upon me now?” He asked, covering his ears and glaring down the hallway where the breakfast hall was located. Its answer was to continue ringing loudly for the next fifteen seconds. “Ah yes, the torture of noise when normal people are asleep, how could I possibly have forgotten?”

Only once he was absolutely certain the bell had stopped he slowly removed his hands from his ears, as if worried it would begin to ring again. He sighed in relief before continuing his walk down the hall and opening the doors to the dining hall.

The dining hall’s shear size and elegance left Vann breathless every single time he entered it. It was incredibly large, large enough to comfortably seat at least five platoons of soldiers with more than enough room for each. There were six long tables that spanned the entire length of the hall. The tables were set up in two rows with three tables in each row. The tables were made of a rich dark colored wood that never showed wear or tear and were set with stark white tablecloths. There were chandeliers above each of the table, large ornamental things made of a tangle of metal and crystal. There was a lantern mounted on each wall every twelve feet, spaced in regular intervals around the room.

Amana sat alone at one of the long tables and he smiled seeing her. He’d known she’d be here after all. She was sixteen years old and had shoulder length brown hair that framed a delicate face along with a pair of light green eyes. Her eye color almost reminded him of the color of the sunlight filtering down through the canopy of a thick forest. He stumbled forward, clutching his head as a sharp spike of stabbed into his skull. How did he know what the forest light looked like? He’d never even been out of the castle… had he?

He shook his head, clearing away the thoughts before taking a seat next to amana. She turned to look at him as he sat down, a slice of toast hanging from her mouth. He laughed. “Very nice.” He said jokingly. She playfully smacked him on the shoulder, taking the toast from her mouth and setting it down on the plate in front of her.

“Good morning to you too.” She said, her voice soft and lilting, like the chirping of birds or like music. He simply waved. “So what are you doing up so early?” She asked. He turned around, glaring at the window and pointed through it to the sun.
“That.” He spat venomously, as if the bright sun was the source of all his unhappiness, which, in a way, it was. Amana nodded slowly, taking a solemn bite of toast and gesturing towards the window with it as she finished her bite and began to talk.
“As yes, what a horrible and terrible thing the morning sun is.” She said, her voice oozing sarcasm. His glare softened as he looked back at her, soon shifting into a small smile. “What?” She asked, brushing at her face with a hand. Do I have toast crumbs on my face? Is that why he’s smiling? She asked herself.

Vann shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He said, getting up from the table and heading towards the breakfast line.
“You want me to wait in line with you?” Amana called from the table. Vann just waved it off, not even turning around.
“No, I’ll be fine, just eat your toast.” She grinned, though she knew he couldn’t see it, and took a large bite of toast.