Even though it was raining outside, and very cold inside, a trickle of sweat managed to find its way down Ahelissa’s face. She was sweating, and shivering. It was happening again; the nightmares. It had been so long – four weeks – since it last happened. She quickly woke up with a scream, gasping for air. Slowly, she sat in an upright posture, trying to control her breathing. Thunder struck, and she careened to the wall. Her worn out shirt was soaked by her sweat.

Something was off, she could tell. She stood up and looked around the room. Her parents didn’t come rushing in to check on her. They would have come rushing in to comfort their only child. Maybe I’m still dreaming? The thought crossed her mind and she headed for the door. She stubbed her toe on the door, and cussed in response. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness. The only light was coming from the reflected moonlight on the shattered glass on the floor.

“Mother,” she called out. “Father.”

The only response was the wind entering through the broken windows. She went to their room, adjacent to hers. No luck, it was empty. Their bed was untidy, their closet was open and there were barely any clothes or shoes in it. A feeling of dread occupied her mind as a chill ran down her spine No, they couldn’t have, could they? Hurriedly, she proceeded downstairs. Everything was dark, and empty. It was hard to tell whether or not she was still dreaming. Remember, if it’s hard to tell if you’re dreaming, just count your fingers, a healer had told her when she was little.

Ten. This wasn’t a dream. She checked every single room; the kitchen, empty; the living room, empty; even the washroom, nothing. But where could they have gone? They couldn’t just abandon her, could they? Perhaps they were killed? No, she would have found the bodies somewhere. She ran outside to check if her parents were there. Nothing. The streets were empty, only occupied by small streams of water. Tears started rolling down her pale face, blurring her vision. Nevertheless, she continued searching – calling out their names, hoping for a response. It was all in vain. They were nowhere to be found.

She sat in an alley and brought her knees closer to her chest, contemplating her fate. Just like that, Ahelissa Seraf was now an orphan. The sheer thought of having to face the world alone frightened her. How could they just abandon me like that? What have I done to them? She couldn’t help but cry. The rain persisted, but she didn’t care.

“What are you doing here, child, all alone on the streets?” A stentorian voice spoke. She looked up, and saw a tall, middle aged man dressed in black. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t know,” she replied in between her sobbing.

“Looks like they left you.” The tone in his voice was flat; unemotional. He stretched out a hand to her, “Come, you shouldn’t be out in the rain. Let’s find you something to eat.”

She stopped crying, stood up, and took his hands. They were warm. Ahelissa, an eight-year-old girl at the time – with no parents; no home – was now in the hands of a man she just met; a man she barely knew.

“I’m Canute. What’s your name, child?” The man asked.

“Ahelissa,” she replied.

“Hmm… I’ll call you Ahel; it’s simpler.”

“Okay.”

After walking a few hundred meters, they reached a small wooden house outside the town. Canute took out a key from his pocket and opened the door.

“Sit.” She did, on an old leather couch. She looked around; Canute’s house was small. Smaller than her home, or, at least, the place that was once her home.

Canute went through another door to what seemed like a small kitchen. It was hard to tell in the dim candlelight. He came back with a bowl of soup and handed it to her.

“Eat, and get some sleep. Tomorrow, you start work.”

“Work?” she lifted an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Yes. Nothing in this world is free, child. Everything you see, and everyone you meet either wants to kill you, or use you.”

“And what do you want?”

“To teach you how to survive.”

Canute was the head of the Pelanders, the assassination guild of the Lobel Empire. Besides her, there were plenty of lost, pitiful children taken by the guild. They’d either been abandoned by their parents like Ahel, become orphans due to the war, left to roam the stress penniless and starving. Canute had taken those kids in in exchange for a deadly task: to become an assassin.

Ahel had believed she was to be trained to become an assassin, but she was an exception. Canute had never taught her to become one. He never even showed her affection as a parent would. All he did was provide her meals and a place to sleep. He was always cold. So indifferent.

Under such circumstances, it was natural for Ahel to be blackballed by children her age. Because Ahel, unlike them, wasn’t there to learn how to murder people nor wield a weapon.

“You leech! You don’t even work, and all you do is sit around and eat like a freeloader. What are you even doing here?” They had said numerous times.

Motivated by their hostility, she secretly listened in on their education courses, trained alone, and did all the miscellaneous work in the guild, even though no one had asked her to do so. She didn’t want to sit idle, leeching off of Canute’s resources. She wanted to become someone who had plenty to contribute. Time passed without a hitch along Ahel’s struggles.

Once she became an adult, Canute had come to her and had said, “Leave this place; I’ll find you a home and somewhere to work.”

Such a cold-hearted tone, she had thought. But she didn’t refuse. Her goals had changed; she ought to find her parents who had abandoned her, or precisely, the reason why they’d suddenly disappear. And to do that, she obediently followed Canute’s orders, deciding for herself that it was better to leave his house and be on her own.

However, she would not completely disregard the guild. During the day she worked at the most popular dessert shop in the center of downtown, and at night she carried out peculiar tasks for the Pelanders. She hadn’t forgotten the debt she owed to Canute, for feeding and raising her. She wanted to keep that feeling of belonging.

“A coffee and one slice of cake, please.”

A voice from across the counter interrupted Ahel’s deep trance of her past. Blinking herself to reality, she quickly replied, “Yes. A coffee and one slice of cake. That will be one gold.”

“Here you go.”

“Place this number sign on your table and one of our staff will bring it out to you. Thank you.” She smiled politely as she gestured to the table and greeted the next in line when she saw Jetti coming out in a hurry, wearing an apron. Jetti was the one who would take over her shift.

With a tear-stained face, she put her hands up in front of her face and cried out, “I am so sorry for being late, Ahel. I’m so late… Sorry.”

“It’s fine. At least you’re here. Don’t be late tomorrow.”

“Yep. Thanks, Ahel! Have a good one!”