INDIGO

The Raven base was a maze.

Cree and I walked through hallway after hallway, each one of them consisted of the same dark metal and weak, flickering overhead lights. Occasionally, a few steel doors would appear in the hallways. We would test them, carefully twisting the knobs and peering inside. We didn't bother picking the locked ones as that would've taken too long, but the ones that were open were mostly storage closets or abandoned rooms filled with tables and chairs, most likely where the Ravens worked and collaborated, drawing up schemes and monitoring their success.

Once, one of the doors opened out to reveal only a wall. We pushed at it, thinking it was a covered passage, but we didn't find anything indicating it wasn't more than a regular steel wall. An error in the planning of the building.

We managed to find a stairwell, though it only went up two floors before being blocked off. Now wandered, trying to find another way up from the floor which we must've swept through at least five times. There were no prison cells here, and I was starting to think they kept them at the top of the building.

With the lack of windows anywhere, I couldn't figure out how high up we were, nor could I navigate the floor we were on with its identical hallways. I hoped Cree would have a sense of direction, but he didn't seem to be faring much better. Still, we couldn't just stand still. We needed to find my mom and Nydia and leave.

We just rounded another corner when a group of seven Ravens appeared, raising their guns. I only hesitated for a moment before running forward, propelling myself into the air and kicking the gun out of the first Raven's hand while kicking another in the face.

There were shouts as they reared back, the others lifting their guns to take aim again. They were too late. Cree already lifted his own gun and was shooting them down. They ducked for cover and I rolled to the side into a doorway, trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Unfortunately, one particularly relentless Raven followed my example, ducking to the right side of the hallway as they pointed a gun at my face.

I kicked it away and flicked out a knife, ready to throw it at my opponent, but he lashed his arm out, grabbing my wrist and twisting. Wincing I dropped the knife and kicked him in the face, but he blocked again. As he raised his foot, ready to kick, I took a page from his book and grabbed his foot, forcing him down. Sure enough, he tripped, crashing through the door. It swung open, revealing another hallway.

Brief confusion flashed through my mind as I realized the door had been locked before, but I didn't have time to dwell.

My opponent dragged me into the hallway, trying to land a punch, but I kicked him in the gut, pushing him off me. He staggered back and I got to my feet, running straight at him, still vaguely aware of the gunshots ringing behind me. I kicked him again in the face before he could gain his bearings. He stumbled to the ground and I flicked out another knife, slitting his throat.

I took a deep breath, the sound breaking through the silent hallway. I paused.

Why is it silent?

I turned around to find the door shut. I scanned the door, but there was no knob. There wasn't a way out. I banged on the door with all of my strength. No sound came from the other side. The door must've been bulletproof. Or Cree was dead.

Either way, it meant he couldn't help me. I turned back around. The hallway was long and empty, no other doors or diverging paths in sight.

I furrowed my brow. Why would the Ravens lock me in this hallway? Was it to separate me from Cree? Or something else?

And then all of the lights turned off.

I stood still, not daring to even breathe, as I listened in the silence. Was I about to be ambushed in the dark?

My ears perked up as I picked up a small noise. A slight trickling echoing through the hallway, emerging from all around me, like the dead winter of the woods of Evandor Prep. And then there was a cold filling my shoes, soaking my feet. I looked down, though I couldn't see it.

It could've been any liquid. It could've been blood or acid for all I knew. But as it drenched my feet, sending shivers down my back, I knew what it was.

Water.

I'm going to drown.

A light flickered in the distance and I couldn't breathe. I took a step forward, only to stumble over a body, the body of the Raven opponent, collapsing into the water, my skin brushing against the corpse's flesh. It was just like in my dreams, like the blood soaked water frathing against my father's body. I gasped and crawled back, water splashing against me as I shook.

I grasped the wall, trying to stand as corpses flashed through my mind. Father, Echo, Axe, Chance, the Dayholts—all dead. Even the Rebel, the man with two children who was killed in his own base, was my fault. The Raven mole never would've killed him if they weren't trying to instigate me, trying to purge out my secrets.

My hands were soaked in blood and no matter how hard I tried to wash it all off, the stain would always remain.

And the water would always be there, tantalizing me, reminding me that perhaps in another life the waves would've been clear, but in mine, they would always be tainted with blood.

I staggered to my feet. My breaths fell short first, coming out in pants, as I felt the cold water trickle up, climbing higher and higher, embracing my ankle in its sickly grasp. I shuddered and blinked, and then a shout tore from my throat. I wasn't even sure what I was trying to shout, to whom I was calling out for. But it came over me and I turned, pounding on the door harder and harder, screaming and shouting.

At last, I collapsed, my arms worn out, tears falling down my cheeks. I couldn't breath, couldn't think. Only flashes of my nightmares played over and over again—a long hallway, rising water, drowning, my mother's voice.

My mother's voice.

My mother's voice.

A stream of memories flowed through my mind, flashing before my eyes. I couldn't control it. Waves upon waves of happy memories, of sad ones, of a mother embracing her laughing child, of a father catching a little girl as she fell out of the tree the very first time. A girl with red hair and a mischievous smile playing with a quiet girl. A boy with dark eyes teasing a shy girl and a boy with grey eyes telling him to stop. A mother reading a book to her daughter and teaching her of the demons which were very real. A father handing his daughter a dagger with sharp edges that glistened in the light.

The mother taught her daughter about death. The father handed his daughter the dagger.

They taught me blood and violence because that was the world I lived in. And I learned it well because that was what I needed to survive. I needed to make myself useful, irreplaceable. I needed to live and I needed to grow. I didn't fight back.

But did that make me inherently evil?

I closed my eyes, my head hanging down. My mother's words echoed through my mind.

Everyone has demons. Demons that haunt them, demons that destroy them, demons they embrace.

Yes, I am blind. Yes, I am obsessive. Yes, I am a killer. But if I hadn't been, would I be here today? Would I have the high training of an Alpha? Would I be able to stand up for myself, be able to fight against the Crowns?

If I didn't do what I did, I would be insignificant. I would be a meek little girl wasting away her life, spending every day thinking of how much the world tore her apart when her mother killed her father.

And so what if I had blood on my hands? It's because of the blood that I knew what violence truly meant. It's because of all of the heinous acts I caused that I knew the consequences of them. It's because of my experiences with the Crowns, my impulsive friendship with them, that I knew they weren't fit for a crown.

And, it was because of my experiences that I knew how to fight and how to do it well.

I was born with daggers in my hands. Why shouldn't I use them?

I opened my eyes. There was silence all around me. Peace. The demons haunting my mind were quiet, falling asleep until their next adventure. The world reemerged, my mind focused for the first time in years.

I had one task—find my mother and Nydia. I rose, eyes set on the passage ahead. I would find the way up. There was no other choice.

Water lapped quietly against my feet. The sensation still sent shivers down my spine, but it was insignificant, a mere hindrance.

After all, I'm an Assassin, and I sure as hell am going to act like one.

They better be ready.

So, I was writing in school when a friend asked if he could write a sentence (he ended up writing two) and I was like, "Sure, why not." And then he wrote the line and I realized that I couldn't include the line in a scene that was such a major turning point for the character that started the series, so I decided to hold off on when and where the line would be posted.

But of course, the line contained such great sophistication and wrought on great thought and inquisition to the deepest of philosophies that I considered it a crime to not share with the rest of you. So, the line is written below, word for word, as he had dictated:

I hear a ghost screaming my name. I turn around and see a pile of peeled bananas.

Fear not, I may use the line in future chapters. I believe it would fit in quite nicely with a Nydia or Damien-when-he's-in-a-Nydia-mood chapter, so keep your eyes peeled (like the bananas).

That is all, fellow Wattpaders. I hope this author's note was very insightful.

I now forbade you goodbye,
Sreenija Paruchuri, Resident Idiot and Friend of a Great Philosopher