Forgotten Prophecies: Prologue

You’ve done a lot of terrible things since you came here, but this… I can’t believe you did this." She wiped a tear from her cheek as it fell from her eye. "They’ll try you as an adult for this, I hope, and maybe I’ll even be so lucky that they’ll let me watch when they put you to death." Another tear fell from her right eye, and this time Jamis did laugh slightly. He knew she didn’t mean what she said. As much as she might like to, she could never wish harm on another person, no matter what they had done. The foolish woman had wasted her life caring for people that had no chance of making it in society, and he had no respect for that, or for her. He knew what she wouldn’t admit. He knew what kind of chance orphans had in today’s society.

The world was set up in a way that only people with great connections had a chance of making a decent life for themselves, and when you were an orphan you had no connections, because you had no one at all. The day you celebrated your eighteenth year you stepped out into the world as nobody, and that’s what and who you were till the end of your life. Especially when you were the type of orphan that had just been dropped off on the front doorstep, with no explanation, no paperwork, just simply unwanted. Most of the other children that lived with Jamis in the school-turned-orphanage carried heavy weights from their abandonment, having at least known their parents for a brief time, either losing them to death or imprisonment. They would cry themselves to sleep and whine so often that Jamis had a hard time controlling the urges he had to put them out of their misery.

The door swung open suddenly, allowing the entry of three men, all clad in black. Two of them were obviously Sentries- the police force of Cairpahtria- as they were dressed in black, padded armor with red highlights along the ribs and under the arms. Their matching black helmets were made from smooth, featureless metal so polished that they acted as highly reflective mirrors. The third man that entered behind them was not a Sentry, but he was obviously in charge.

Dressed in a black suit, an obviously expensive cut, the man was relatively young- no more than thirty-four, by Jamis’s reckoning- yet he reeked of confidence. His pale, almost-white hair, was cut neatly and styled to perfection in the slightly spiked manner that had become the most recent fad in men’s fashion. A pair of round glasses, tinted a pale gray color, framed his dark eyes and added a sense of foreboding to his countenance. The man glared coolly at Jamis, causing the smile to melt from the youth’s face quickly, as a deep sense of dread replaced smug pleasure.

Jamis was pulled to his feet roughly, and the faceless soldiers escorted him forcefully into the hall, shutting the door behind them. He watched them warily as they stood before him. With his back pressed firmly against the wall, their ominous, black masks peered down at him, expressionless. The white-haired man had obviously not had much to say to Ms. Johanneson, as he stepped back into the hall after only a few brief moments and motioned for the Sentries to follow him.

Jamis found himself walking between the two heavily armed men as the halls of the orphanage echoed to their footsteps.