Chapter 1 - The Girl with a Brand (1)

Act 1: The Girl and the Wizard

It is common for people not to remember events from when they were younger, but Azriel Esthera’s childhood memories were crystal clear. She could recall what her mother used to say to her while she was barely learning how to crawl.

“Twins! How ominous! If only Benhiram was born alone… Why was this thing born?”

The memory of her mother’s eyes, which seemed to convey disgust for the filth clinging to her son, was vivid enough for her to draw them.

She could also clearly remember the expression her father made when he would kick her.

“This thing needs to die quickly. You are a parasite sucking up your brother’s luck.”

Azriel had an unnecessarily good memory. In the village in the northern, minor territories where she was born, twins were considered sinister beings who shared one another’s luck. Since she was born after her twin brother, she was considered nothing more than a curse that would bring him misfortune. For that reason, her parents had not even wanted to name her.

“I don’t believe in such things.”

Benhiram, her twin, was the only one who was kind to her.

“You are nothing like a curse,” her brother would say, with the same golden eyes and the same black hair as her. “You are my sister—the sister I should protect. So, I’ll give you a name.” 

Then, there was a war. Their village was burned to the ground, and their parents perished. Only the twins survived, and they fled. Even though everyone else had died, Azriel was fine because she was with Benhiram. Her brother was her only family anyway.

Not too long after, however, he pa*sed as well. The name he had given her also died with him. She was only seven years old and completely alone, roaming around as an orphan without a name.

She had become accustomed to sleeping in a corner in a back alley when, one day, she suddenly woke up in a huge, soft bed.

“You are ten years old, Miss. The person who named you appointed us as your guardians.”

A couple with friendly smiles introduced themselves as her new guardians.

“I am ten… years old? And there is a person who… named me?” asked Azriel.

“Oh my, don’t you remember?”

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She could not remember a single thing. Her memories from between ages seven and ten had disappeared. Even though she normally had an unnecessarily clear memory, she could not remember the past three years of her life—as if they had been painted black.

“You don’t even know your name?” the couple asked.

“My name…”

There was only one thing she did remember: a man’s low and soft voice ringing in her ears like a tune.

“Azriel Esthera,” the voice sang as a dazzling and peaceful light covered her, “let this be your name.” 

Her new guardians had no knowledge of what transpired during the three, lost years in her memory. They did not answer her no matter how many times she asked. Nevertheless, they were very kind to her. At their mansion, Azriel enjoyed a luxurious life unlike anything she had experienced before, but this lasted for only one year.

“This child, she must’ve been abandoned for sure.”

The couple was after Azriel’s enormous wealth. She was only 11 and unable to protect herself from her guardians who were blinded by greed. Despite the various safeguards that had been put in place to protect her, it did not take long for the couple to take over her wealth and sell her into slavery.

As a slave, Azriel was sold and traded to and fro. The top of her foot was branded by fire. She tried to run several times, only to be caught and whipped. Around the time she learned to give up, a merchant purchased her. He noticed that her appearance was quite outstanding, so he washed and dressed her well and taught her basic etiquette. Then he sold her to the family of Count Colte in the Kingdom of Aucandor to be used as a whipping child. She was 12 at the time.

When a child of high esteem would misbehave or neglect his studies, a whipping child would be subjected to receive whippings in his place. Royalty normally selected whipping children from the aristocracy while ordinary aristocratic families used commoners or slaves.

Count Colte had a daughter around Azriel’s age whom he bought her for. His daughter, Deborah Colte, was a beautiful girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, but she was stupid and arrogant. She would sleep during her lessons, neglect her work, and mock and insult her tutors. Sometimes, she would even throw her ink bottle at them. Not a single tutor lasted more than half a year with the Colte family.

The Count’s cherished daughter took her whipping child for granted, though she would feel embarra*sed whenever the girl was shown to others. The scars on her whipping child exposed evidence of her stupidity and laziness, so Deborah started to work a little harder than before and ordered them not to beat her whipping child on her face, arms, and legs—any place that would be visible to others.

Nonetheless, not a day would pa*s without red welts and bruises covering the skin of Azriel’s back beneath her shirt. She was forced to endure and hide her pain since Deborah would starve her if she displayed her suffering because it would embarra*s her. Whenever she was in pain, Azriel would turn to her thoughts.

‘The person who named me will come to find me someday,’ she believed. ‘He must be a very strong and tender person. He must have been upset that I lost my memory and left for a little while. He didn’t abandon me. He should be worried sick about me and might even be anxiously looking for me by now. He will find me and rescue me from here.’

Those were difficult days. Every time Deborah had a cla*s, Azriel was whipped. Other times, she was made to run small errands and do chores. She had become a whipping child with slave origins whose hands were always rough and back constantly coarse with scars. Four years pa*sed like that. The once enduring feeling of being someday saved by the light slowly faded. Nobody came to rescue the girl.

In the spring of the Iskam Calendar year 996, the girl turned 16. She had long abandoned her faith by then, but the hope she had let go of came true in a way different from what she had ever imagined.

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