For I am empty I am worth less, or is it worthless?

This is how my life felt so far, worth less in the better days, worthless in the worst.

I stare at the white stone walls again, for the millionth time. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of the red moon or the violet one out the small window of my room. It gives me a vague notion of the time that has passed because I lost count of the days some time ago. The window is too small for me to climb out, so maybe that qualifies the room as a cell, a cell for someone who still holds some importance but still a cell.

My wandering gaze stops on the burn scar on the back of my right hand and tears gather in my eyes. I shall never forget. So I try to recall the steps that led me here. All of them, one by one, so I don't forget; so loneliness doesn't drive me insane.

My name is Zaretha. I am the only daughter of Karim Wayatashir, Alsayid, political leader and grand sorcerer of the Empire of Quomared, and I was born empty. Many are these days, and it is sad and disappointing for most families, but for mine, my father being who he was, it was close to crushing.

My mother died in childbirth and, by some metrics, her death was very much in vain. She was a mage herself, precious and beloved, a healer, ironically, who had saved many lives but couldn't save herself. She died to give birth to me, me who could take the name useless at any point, only by how many times I have been called that.

My father must have loved her very much, because, in the twelve years, we have spent in the same palace, I could count on my fingers how many times I have seen him, and the times I did were only to be looked upon coldly and with openly displayed disdain, as if I chose to be empty... As if I chose to be a disappointment... As if I chose to kill her...

I had the fines tutors, to teach me languages, numbers, dance, and politics, but I never had a father, even though he wasn't the one who died. Maybe out of the blazing wish to prove my worth or sometimes lack of purpose and boredom, I always tried to excel at everything. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I hoped he would see that and tell me that even if empty I am not useless. Everything was wishful thinking in the end because he couldn't care less.

Not even his new wife Imelda, who turned out to be a fairly decent woman, convinced him to build up a relationship with me, after several attempts.

They had married shortly after I had turned five. I remember the day clearly because it was the first time I was allowed out of Seaheaven, my father's palace. It wasn't a grand ceremony and only a few courtiers were present out of which I remember only the Emperor, with his eyes like burning embers. He looked at me and I felt his gaze in my soul. Imelda was younger than my father, 'reasonably commely but not an extraordinary beauty' in Hara's words, and her voice was very calm.

At first she visited my chambers rather often and she brushed my hair or watched my play but her interest in me was also short-lived, and paled in time in front of the pregnancies she carried every year, none of them coming to term.

I think my father was convinced he was cursed because with every miscarriage he became more bitter and resentful of everything around him. But neither the lovers he started taking after I turned ten nor the new wife, gave him the desired magic-bearing child.

In hindsight, I never wished him ill, I just wished for him to see me, to love me, to acknowledge me in some way.

This room is so small. I am used to confinement but not to such small spaces. Seaheaven, the palace of the Alsayid, my home, is enormous by any metric, with gardens that you can barely cross in a day's walk, several docs that extend into the sea enclosing a beach, and too many towers to count. Maybe that's why I didn't find it suffocating, or maybe it was because it was the only thing I knew.

I was raised mostly by servants, and they were quite fond of me, especially Hara, my so-called wet nurse, and Hamad, her younger brother. He was a lanky boy of sixteen star-circles, who used to play with me hide and seek in his spare time. And Hara was the one who comforted me when I hurt myself or after a night of bad dreams, who brushed my hair or who called for the healer when I was sick.

Even if empty, I was still born into a noble and rich family, so at some point, I knew I would be married off to a man from the court. It would be a noble of high enough rank because there was still a big enough chance I would bear a... worthy... child. If I had inherited my father's gift to bend water and fire or craft things from nothing, I would have been the next empress, married to the Emperor's only son, Prince Dair, who is only a few star circles older than me.

I haven't seen him often, maybe only once or twice when the Emperor visited Seaheaven, because my father didn't allow me to go to Windheaven, the imperial palace, where the nobles gathered, neither was I allowed to attend his services as Alsayid, supreme leader of the Faith of Zenith. Every time important people were visiting, I was locked away.

Prince Dair was a sweet boy, with dark locks and honey-coloured eyes, always obedient and quiet, mostly like me. I wonder what he might be doing now. I wonder if my life will change if he becomes emperor.

I knew Seaheaven like the palm of my hand and often wandered alone in search of adventures on the grounds. One day, that started fairly uneventful, with me searching for books in the attic of a tower, ended up being another turning point in my life.
It was the day the northern rebels tried to dethrone the Emperor. They invaded our palace and killed all the magic bearers inside and many of the servants and guards.

I heard the noises of explosions and clicking swords and stood hidden in the attic, where also the heavily pregnant Imelda thought to flee in the end. One of the soldiers spotted her and discovered us both crying and hugging each other among the dust.

"Who is the girl?" I recall the voice of the man. It was deep and unsettling, like thunder. His whole face was covered, similar to the fashion of Imperial Soldiers of high rank just that the cloth was white. Only his eyes were visible, almond-shaped, dark, and frightening, with a hint of red that shone in the dim light of the mansard, showing his magic.

"Only a servant girl. She is empty. Let her be," said Imelda and that is yet another sentence I will remember my whole life.

Dirty as I was, he didn't question her words. The man dragged Imelda out of the room and blocked the door. I thought he was going to set the attic on fire but he didn't, he just let me be, while Imelda screamed excruciatingly for a long time. Then the screams stopped and the silence came. The silence was even more frightening. It made me stop hitting the door with my fist and sag to the floor crying.

When the Imperial Soldiers found me the next day, I was in the same position, my eyes reddened from tears and my voice silenced by screaming.

"What shall we do with her?" asked one of them, eyeing me with pity.

"She is an orphan now. His Highness must decide."

I was too distressed to pay attention to his words. Soon after, two maidservants came and dressed me for the funeral.

My father, the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, had indeed been assassinated, and so were his wife and the unborn child. The rebellion had been stopped but with major sacrifices and casualties.

Dressed in white, as the custom required, I stood at the shore of the grand river Avalach, the river of souls, that crossed the capital and flowed into the ocean under joined arms of the statues of our four main deities: the god Lahab, warden of flames, the goddess Ma, keeper of waters, Hyian master of wind and Arda mistress of earth.

I watched how the Emperor set ablaze the piers of my family and pushed them into the waves to be carried away. Prince Dair was by his side and so were the Empress and his favourite concubine, Jaira.

Most people at the funeral were foreign to me. Everything that had been familiar, perished or was now swept away on the river. I wondered if Hara and Hamad had survived, or the other servants, or my favourite teacher, Raval, and if I would see them ever again. In the depths of my soul, I knew I would miss them most of all.

I didn't expect any of the nobles gathered at the procession to notice me, yet when they walked to the baldachin, the Emperor stopped in front of me. Frightened, I knelt and bowed my head as per custom.

"What shall I do now, your Highness?" I found myself asking, and the tears streamed from my eyes again. It was uncertain how I found my voice at that moment.

He lifted my chin so that I was forced to look him in the eyes. His face was pleasant, even handsome despite the sharp features, and his eyes were a beautiful shade of ember, underlined with charcoal that was making them even more impactful.

"Grow. We will meet again at some point," he said and whispered something to one of his guards.

And just like that, the said guard took my hand, packed me on the back of his horse and we rode off.

To that day, I hadn't seen anything outside the walls of my father's estate. I wasn't allowed to, and even if curious I was raised docile. The thought of angering him even more, made me desist my wish to explore. I had books, after all. They were a fine replacement. So the first time I actually exited the palace was even more impactful for me. The colours, the noises, and the stench of the city made a true impression.

The Miayatma, the capital, is called the city of the hundred waters, because a myriad of lakes, connected by channels, are littered all over the city along the grand river Avalach. Seeing them for the first time was mesmerizing even if it was very fast and from horseback.

There were also images I didn't understand, like an adult male beating a child or a woman with her exposed breasts in the street. Both were forbidden by the Faith of Zenith so I didn't understand how that could happen or how my companion as a believer didn't intervene. When I asked him, he only laughed.

Five or six riding days towards Nadir was the very dry White Desert. We rode along The Stone Road but slept in a tent outside towns, never at inns. I cried myself to sleep all the nights but my companion and guard seemed to be mute outside of his duty.

When the sand dunes replaced vegetation, the soldier tied up his horse and we approached a cue merchant.

The stillness of the desert was in striking contrast with the tumultuous capital. The desert people, also called cues, ride on quors in the desert, giant snakes, white, silver, gold, ember, or sometimes ruby coloured. Reading about them didn't scratch the surface of the impact it had to see one. High as two big persons on top of each other, the quor bowed when the soldier whistled and let us sit on the enlarged part of its neck. I was frightened but didn't want him to notice so I gritted my teeth together and got on the saddle.

He smirked. I think this stout, passive man noticed my distress. He wasn't particularly sensitive to it though, just amused.

"Hold on tight, Alsayida!" he said, and there was something I couldn't place in his voice.

My father was Alsayid, the first lord of the court, the right hand of the Emperor, and the leader of the church. And I was his heir, whether he wanted it or not.
After his death, I didn't think I was anything anymore, so he was mocking me after all. I felt like crying but I tried not to because even if empty, there was still a certain vile pride in me that didn't let me.

My lips trembled but I didn't cry, not then, nor when he laughed at me while I was vomiting in front of our night camps or in front of the gates of the priory, after we got down from the back of the snake, after the twelve tiring days of riding in the desert. Quors never move directly forward, it's always left-right, left-right, till you feel like vomiting your guts out if you are not used to it.

I looked up at that strange gate made of heavy white stone, encrusted with spells and runes in all the languages of the world. I leaned in to touch it and retracted my hand right away. It was burning.

The damn soldier laughed again holding his belly. Someone from inside seemed to have sensed the touch because the gate opened and a woman, about the age of Hara, looked down at me. Her golden eyes had a slit pupil, which meant she must have quita blood in her, and was wearing all white garments covering everything but her face.

I had seen a quita only once before. I think my father didn't like them because he had only one in his service in the palace. Thinking about it, at that point in my life I had seen very little of the world or the creatures in it, and the beginning was frightening.

She said something to the man in a language I didn't understand. He only moved his head in approval and left. Then the woman signaled me to follow her inside. I stepped forward cautiously into a big hall that was open on two sides. Everything was dark and silent. The woman pointed to some narrow stairs that we descended together.

There were pillows on the ground, white like the walls, and a tea kettle of heavy stone in the middle. The woman poured a cup and gestured for me to drink.

I shook my head in denial. My stomach was still feeling strange from the snake ride.

"Drink!" she said imperatively and that time I complied intimidated. The tea tasted bitter and it turned out my intuition was right, drinking it was yet another mistake. My body became limp almost instantly and I fell on the cushions. I was still aware of my surroundings but couldn't move.

The quita woman lifted me up and carried me to another room where chains were hanging from the ceiling. At that point, I was questioned whether it was a nightmare. She bound my wrists with the cuffs and the chains started to lift until I hung a bit above the wooden floor.

Several other women entered the room in the same white attire as the first one. They were carrying sticks of metal and wood.

When the first stick hit my thigh I understood two things: it wasn't a nightmare and my body might have been limp but it was certainly not numb.

Metal sticks were the most painful, but after a while, it didn't make a difference anymore. Similar to night terrors, I couldn't move, scream, or do anything but endure. In the end, I must have fainted because I woke up in a bed. All my clothes had been removed but the pain was still there as were many bruises to remind me it had been very real.

I tried to sit up but felt right back on the pillow and whimpered slowly.

"Shut up, or they will hear and beat you some more," said a squeaky voice in the language of the quizm that I spoke only briefly.

I tried to move my head to see the creature that said that. In the half darkness, I could distinguish long, flowing red hair and the pointy ears and slightly sharp canines of the quizm, features overall slippery and enticing just like the voice.

She pressed a cup to my lips, but I moved my head reluctant after the last experience.

"Drink, you dummy. It's only water. What's your name?" she whispered almost inaudibly.

"Z... Zaretha," I huff.

"Not so loud. I don't want a beating too. No good deed stays unpunished, I guess."

"D... Did I do something bad? ... To punish?"

"No. The first beating everyone gets. It's to teach you that your body is not your own anymore. Now sleep, tomorrow will be hard."

The girl disappeared back in the shadows and my lids fell close soon after.

_______________________________________

I can say I am not quite sure what I'm doing. 😂 There are a few important world-building questions unanswered in this chapter but I will get to them. Be kind and point out what you ask yourself that is not mentioned.

What are your thoughts? Questions? Things you find strange? Speculations?

One request: when and if you DNF(do not finish) the book, stop reading, please drop a note and tell me why. You can be super honest. I would really appreciate that.