Cross the Line

Stirring slowly in my bed, I sighed and pulled my pale comforter closer to my body. The sun shone brightly through my open window, hitting me square in the face, and I chided my self for not closing it last night before I went to sleep. Pulling the blanket up past my head to shield my eyes for a moment, I caught a second or two more of rest before flinging the entire cover off of my body. It in turn was met with the brisk morning air that chose that exact moment to plow through my window. I shivered slightly as I stretched and sat up slowly.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror hung on the surface of my wall as I moved to shut myself out from the outside. My hair was strewn about—looking a bit as if I had just come through a storm—and my Marks reflected brighter than the day before. Perhaps, though, it is just an echo of the sun or my mind playing tricks.

I looked up—well, to the side really—at the clock embedded in my far wall to see that it was nearly 1:30 in the afternoon. I had slept longer that I thought I would, which is understandable since I didn’t arrive back at my home until early morning. Not wanting to face my father just yet, I decided that now would be a perfect time for me to take a nice, long shower. Just thinking about the feeling made the corners of my mouth rise ever so slightly.

Quietly, I slid open my door and poked my head out of the crevice—looking both ways to make sure that no one stood waiting in the hallway. My room was the only occupied room on the third floor. I swiftly crept to the bathroom, which was opposite me and a little ways down the hall. I tried to be as sneaky as possible so I couldn’t be heard by someone who would stall me from my shower and thrust me into another lecture all too quickly. I wanted some peace before facing the cool wrath I was sure to meet up with some time today.

Once inside the bathroom, I closed the door and locked it tight so I wouldn’t be disturbed easily. I turned on the water and stripped down. As I waited for the shower to heat, I examined myself for any injuries from the previous night. I could see nothing more than a few scrapes from the tree I had perched myself in.

The sizzling drips felt excruciatingly good as they dripped down my skin. I inhaled deeply, relaxing myself, and let the steam seem through my pores and warm my core. Usually when I shower, I spend more time just standing under the water than I do actually washing my body. I care more about being one with myself and being undisturbed within my own mind than I care about getting clean.

Once I had finished, I dried myself and threw on a tight, black, long-sleeve shirt that buttoned up, but wasn’t too nice. The collar came down into one point on my left side and the buttons were white. I accompanied this with a pair of fitted pants that were tied with dark rope all the way down the leg. They were comfortable, but not so much so that I would like to sleep in them. I brushed my hair and made sure I was presentable before proceeding out of my room and down the stairs.

I heard the sink running in the kitchen off to my right—presumably the maid cleaning up from lunch. I headed in the direction of the noise only to find the maid lying on the floor. There was a knife sticking out of her back, slicing her aorta from behind. The blood flowed out of her quickly, creating a puddle that mixed with the overflowing sink water. She had yet to bleed out, meaning that this was a recent development in my household. The room smelled like rust, salt, and lemon dish soap.

I shook my head, trying to rush out the demented thoughts and rounded the corner in real time. I didn’t want there to be a murder in my house, but it certainly would have made for a more interesting day.

“Morning sir,” the maid greeted as I walked towards the refrigerator to grab something to snack on. She was alive and well as far as I could see.

“Good morning,” I mumbled in return. It’s not that I think I’m better than her, I’m just not used to making conversation with strangers. Or most people, for that matter.

“Zealie!” My mother’s call echoed off the walls and beat my ears. “Is that you I hear?” I nodded and rolled my eyes—not that she could see me—and watched as she stood in the doorway. I grabbed myself a large apple.

“There you are. Your father has been waiting for you to get up; he wishes to speak to you in his office.” Of course he does.

“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”

“No, he wants to see you now”

I grimaced slightly and set my apple on the counter where it will be waiting when I am through being talked at. Not talked to; that would imply that he allows me to respond to him in any way shape or form. I am to just stand there and take it like a man.

Just as my mother said, my father was seated in his favorite chair—the comfiest one in the entire house—in his office, waiting for me to arrive. It was difficult to see what he wore behind the stacks of paperwork on his elaborate wooden desk. He spoke with white heat radiating from his words and cool anger penetrating my skin through his eyes.

“I hear that someone stole an important journal from an Ira snack company last night, but there was no trace of them left behind.” I stood motionless and silent with a fixed look on my face. “What have I told you about going on frivolous missions? You are only to do missions that are worthy of your time. This, son, is not one of them. Why do you constantly disobey me?”

Silence.

“Why can’t you get it through your head that you’re not just some peasant? You’re the Sorcerer’s son, my son. You are to do what I say, when I say it, and only fulfill the wishes of someone as long as I approve of you to do so. The other Iedas’ may not know that you are the Ghost, and I intend to keep it that way. Going on silly expeditions such as this is a waste of my time, and your safety.”

Silence.

“Are you just going to stand there? Are you not going to answer me? Well then, you will do as I say. Answer me, right now.”

I hesitated, weighing my options. “Father, I just wante-“

“I don’t care what you wanted! This is certainly not about what you want. This is about what this family needs, what the Iedas community needs! They need you to be strong and powerful, not the weak, pathetic thing you are. Get out of my sight.”

I turned my back to him and calmly sauntered out of my father’s office, my mouth set in a tight line and my piercing eyes hard. I left through the front door—I was no longer hungry—and headed towards the Borderlands. I needed to get out of the house and far away from my father. The farther away from my house I was, the more my pace quickened. Soon enough, I had broken into a full out sprint and was dashing my way through the city and dodging trees. I hopped over roots and rocks and pushed myself to run even faster.

I had a secret hideout in the woods of the Borderlands. It used to be someone’s home—people used to actually live in the Borderlands—but I could tell it had been unoccupied for years before I had found it. I left it looking old and deteriorating on the outside—so no one would suspect that the house is being used—and cleaned up the inside. There I stashed non-perishable food and extra clothes for when I decide to go to the Middle World without my father knowing and to hide out from my real self; or show my real self, depending on the way you look at it.

I didn’t slow down as I approached the house with peeling yellow paint, but a the last minute I strayed from my course and ran towards the edges of the wood—closer to the dirt road—and rammed my right fist into the bark of a tree. Pain seared through my hand and I felt warm blood seeping from fresh wounds. My hand, though, wasn’t as harmed as it could have been. I attempted to regain my composure from my outburst; I just needed to let off a bit of steam.

I inspected the tree. It was then I noticed that this was a Ceair tree; a magical tree that is able to suck water out of just about anything, though when it comes to living things it can only take so much. It is unable to kill anything by taking its water. Being a high-ranking Iedas, I naturally have the ability to manipulate water—and it runs through my veins. The blood that had seeped through the bark of the tree was now within, pulsing through its system and giving it nutrients. All evidence of the incident was gone, except for a burning red stain that will forever be.

Calm once again, I walked to my Safe House. Inside there were two bedrooms, a kitchen, a small living room, and a bathroom. Wanting to get to the Middle World quickly, before the evidence of my unacceptable lashing out can be discovered, I went into the room on the left. In it is where I kept my spare clothing and Sand Dust—the only thing that can conceal Marks. Clothes just hide them. It blends itself in with your natural skin and adheres to your body. The only thing that can wash it off is a special kind of soap.

After picking out the splinters and wrapping my hand in a bandage, I traded my pants for my favorite pair of black jeans. I carefully hung my shirt on a hanger so it didn’t wrinkle and hung it in the large compartment behind my closet along with my folded pants—if anyone were to find this home and come inside I can’t have them finding anything belonging to an Iedas. With my torso exposed and my hair in a ponytail, I grabbed a purple velvet bag from the compartment and took from it a pinch of Sand Dust. I spread the Dust over my Marks, watching it cause my Marks disappear. A little goes a long way—the Dust extends itself out more than one would think—and I was almost common looking in no time. I threw on a grey wife beater and melted my eyes to a misleading chocolate brown. I locked the door and enjoyed the rest of a peaceful walk to the Middle World.

Once I reached the quaint, little house near the river—which had been my destination all along—I knocked hard on the door. When no one answered, I knocked once more, only a bit harder. Again, there was no answer. Finally, I reached atop the doorframe—where only someone as tall as I could reach—and removed the spare key from where it was wedged between boards of wood. I let myself in and headed towards the room in the back, where I knew the person I was looking for would be.

Sure enough, a beautiful girl with short brown hair slept peacefully in her pink, bunny pajamas. She surrounded herself with pillows and had her body tangled up in her blanket. She mumbled a bit in her sleep and I couldn’t help but to smile slightly before puling the blanket off her forcefully.

“Azhia, get up!” She groaned and curled herself into a ball to try and retrieve back the warmth I had taken from her.

“Go away Zealie, I’m sleeping.”

“I see that, and that’s why I’m trying to wake you up.” I sat down forcefully on the bed and she tried to push me off. When unsuccessful, she uncovered her head slightly. Her eyes rested upon the clock beside her, and then she once again dropped her head into the comfort of her arms.

“Zealie, leave me be. I’m tired. And besides, aren’t you supposed to be in the western woods of Ira right now?” The timepiece flashed 4:32.

“Shit, I’m late!” I kissed Azhia’s head, noticing her smirk at the win she had received. Just because of that smirk I didn’t throw her blanket back on the bed before returning the spare key and running towards Ira territory.

When I finally arrived, I was out of breath. I supported myself on a nearby tree—trying to catch my breath—and heard a small “ahem” a short distance away from me. The little girl with sparkling green eyes had a forced look of anger plastered on her face. I tried to hold in my laughter at her cuteness and look genuinely afraid.

“I’m sorry Lear, I got caught up. Forgive my tardiness?” I asked, extending my arms. She smiled and rolled her eyes. Miss Attitude today, I see.

“Of course I forgive you Zee!” She giggled before jumping into my waiting arms for a bear hug.