Kingdom of Crows

Chapter One

She was just on the edge of 16 when she was caught by the men who had, inadvertently, changed her life. Rather, that's what she had assumed as it had been five years since she'd left the city of Akrosm, forever leaving behind the closest thing to home she'd experienced in her entire life. Then again, she could only trust so many things she had been told at that place as it had proven many times that it did not care about the well being of those who lived within it's walls. For five years she had been running, gradually becoming a soft whisper of curious citizens. She had become known as the "ghost of death" as, where ever she went, a trail of bodies followed.

Her most recognisable feature were her odd, deep green eyes that looked much brighter against her dark, messy hair. And it was said that her skin was as pale as the swords with hilts and handles made of bone that she carried on either one of her hips. There were murmurs that her cheeks were so sunken in, her eyes so filled with exhaustion, that one would believe she was that of a walking corpse. Thus, giving her the variations of her title of "ghost."

The girl was always careful, and the fact that her frame was so small from malnutrition worked in her favour as it allowed her to move quickly on her feet. Though her skin was as pale as snow, she worked in the shadows. Stealing what she could and living off of whatever she found laying around. The swords she kept on her at all times were all she owned that were truly hers. Even down to the skin tight, deep red clothing she wore, and the black coat draped over it, had been stolen. She had taken the red garnet from an acrobat just hours before their performance, and had always felt a deep sense of guilt for it as it was one of the first times she had stolen from a person that did her no wrong. It was now her life's work to do just that.  The coat; however, had been stolen from a swindler who had been just unlucky enough to cross her path. She felt no guilt for taking all that he owned from him.

Despite her careful nature, she was still a child, which meant mistakes were bound to happen at some point. She had no room for mistakes, especially ones as big as this. The monster hunters of Jursaim were notorious for their inhumanly strong builds and their tall frames that left them resembling that of giants compared to the starving people they often encountered. Their entire lives were devoted to hunting down those who were gifted with powers and slaughtering them to extinction as well as whatever creations they had made. It was said their most recent work was Far East in a place known as Hwa Tsong, and there was only one survivor who lived long enough to tell the tales of their massacre before succumbing to his wounds and dying in the arms of a stranger far from his home.

The young woman should have known better than to try and swipe a small bag of food from a sleeping hunter, but she couldn't help it. Descriptions of her were beginning to spread, even here, hours from her hometown, and it was beginning to grow difficult for her to steal any sort of food without being recognised and followed. Her first mistake was not scoping the silent cabin for any signs of others. And her second was that she was unaware of how trained the hunters' ears were to hear even the smallest of sounds. The large man had captured her before she had even been in his grasp.

She fought back at first. Flipping over and slicing through the men with her sharp blades that left dangerous wounds in their wake, but it was no use. There were three of them, and she was but a child with no prior training in combat, only what she had taught herself.

The rest was a haze, and all she remembered were small grumbles of a man named "Kaz" and a trip just two hours away to a place called Ketterdam on a rocky mound of wood.

-

Kaz Brekker was a tall, dark haired man with sharp eyes that were tinted with a deep green that resembled that of a gem. His skin was as pale as the moon, and his curly hair was always unkempt and falling into his eyes despite his best attempts to tame it. Though he was a young man, no older than 23, he was feared in his home of Ketterdam. He walked with a dark, wooden cane, decorated with a crow at the top, and leather gloves covering his hands. If he was not seen in a formal button up shirt, he was often in a large, black coat that covered his entire body as there were rumours that the slightest touch would infuriate him. It was said he was a ruthless killer, with an assassin as fast as the wind and a shooter with such a sharp eye he would kill you without looking, at his side. And he was known for having been such a good thief as a child that he had grown to take over the gang, who had taken him in, known as the Crows.