Chapter One

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Media: Hall of Games character cast banner. From the left: Khazaria, Ales, Cadence, Cole

Music: Way of the Monk, World of Warcraft OST

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This story is dedicated to Jess. You know why. <3

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CHAPTER ONE

Cadence never liked washing silk. They were easy to tear and heavy to lift. The dress she was rinsing, albeit weighing a ton, was a blessing to the eyes—a whorl of cloth kissed by the winter and adorned with pearls as luminous as the moon—exclusively designed for the young Mistress of House Orelik to wear during Sahorr.

Like water, the silk slid from Cadence's fingers as she dropped the dress into a wicker basket. She stared at the pile, wondering what it would feel like to wear such an exquisite garment. White went well with stark colors, like red, for example, her favorite color. She could wear a ruby necklace or wear a crown of garnet. A small smile formed on her lips as she imagined herself dancing with a young nobleman on the polished floor of the grand hall, her golden hair falling from her bun as the noble twirled her around, laughing as the music hit a merrier note, going faster and faster...

Nonsense, her inner voice shattered the images in her head. To the nobility, we're nothing but rats. It's best if you kept such thoughts from your mind. It only makes your task harder.

Cadence pushed back a thin strand of hair that hung over her face and sighed.

You're right. These are only just fantasies. I should focus on what's truly important.

Struggling with the laundry basket, she dragged it up to the drying room. In the summer, the servants hung the washing outside, letting the strong sun and soft breeze do the drying. But during the winter, they placed them in a spacious, heated room.

The drying room had huge glass windows, giving a generous view of the courtyard. While pegging the dress onto a metal line, Cadence watched her Mistress train with a Kesatria in the snow. Even with the internal heating system of the mansion, the chill of winter crept through the window slits. The sudden draft and her wet dress made Cadence shiver. Rubbing her hands together, she shuffled toward the steaming pipe beside the window.

She held her hands up against rising steam, letting the heat sooth her cold muscles, and stared at the training yard below.

Tall, muscular, and hollow-eyed, Khazaria Orelik circled Kesatria Vasiliev, hands raised to face level. Her oval face was exposed to the elements, stray brown curls struggling against the wind, lips curled into a vicious snarl. She held no weapons, but Cadence wasn't surprised. Khazaria was Varya.

She watched as Khazaria thrust out her hands, weaving the winter wind and blasting it at the Kesatria in a heavy swirl of snowflakes. The Kesatria slid out of the way, body twisting, dark robes fluttering.

Under the glint of the lamps, the Kesatria's silver mask shone like a polished coin. A dark shadow passed his bear-shaped mask as he leaped forward and smashed into Khazaria, knocking her off her feet. Cadence winced as the Kesatria landed another heavy blow, this time in Khazaria's face.

That's going to leave a mark, Cadence thought.

Khazaria tried to rise, but the Kesatria pointed his sword at her throat. The Kesatria's lips moved—it's over.

The lady of House Orelik howled, threw her gauntlets against the snow and stormed into the mansion. Cadence couldn't hear the door bang, but she was certain Khazaria flung it shut.

Snow continued falling from the sky, drifting apart freely before they settled onto the trimmed grass. Cadence pressed a hand against the cold glass. If only she could be as carefree as the snowflakes, falling wherever she liked without worrying about the rife between Varya and Murka, or the struggle to put food on the table.

If I was Varya, I wouldn't be here working for a spoiled girl, she thought bitterly. I would be leading my own House of War.

Her inner voice snorted. It's impossible. You're just the daughter of a bastard. You're nothing, absolutely nothing. Even the Dewas wouldn't glance at you twice.

The rope bracelet around her right wrist burned. A Predikar gave it to her after her family had completed their pilgrimage up Ledang Mountain for Dewa Radek's blessings. Her father lost his in the mines shortly after, but she and Cole never took theirs off. It made them feel closer to the Dewas, getting that bit of much-needed blessing from the divine.

Cadence shook the voice from her head and returned to Khazaria's room. Her Mistress was sitting in front of the dresser. Snow from her boots covered the carpets. Cadence's face burned. She had just beaten those yesterday.

Yet, she bowed.

"My lady."

Khazaria turned around. There was a large, ugly bruise on the right cheek of her lovely oval face where the Kesatria's fist had connected.

"What are you doing here?" Khazaria spat. "I thought you were supposed to wash my ball dress?"

"It's been done, my lady." Cadence bowed her head. "I've hung it up to dry."

Her Mistress snorted. "If I find any stains on it, it'll be coming out of your pay."

Cadence blanched. She knew Khazaria could easily pick out an imaginary stain and she wouldn't have the power to say otherwise.

Think about the pay. You're going to pay for Papa's medicine. Papa needs you, Cole needs you. Don't risk anything. Even if she did cut your pay, at least it's better than having to work in a whorehouse.

"Yes, my lady."

Khazaria returned her focus to the mirror, stroking the blemish on her face with her long, slender fingers.

Seeing Cadence was still standing there, Khazaria whipped out a piece of paper from her drawer and thrust it at her.

"Get me the books on this list, churl. I need those later. You are not allowed to ask for any help. No librarian, no other servants. I will know otherwise."

Cadence clutched the paper against her chest. "My lady, you know I cannot read."

Khazaria glared at her. She seemed to grow even taller, fiercer, more terrifying. Her eyes darkened, and she clenched her jaw. "Are you defying me?"

"No, my lady." Cadence dropped to her knees, placing her hands flat on the ground and resting her forehead on the carpet, the smell of wet dirt from Khazaria's boots hitting her like a fist to the face. "I would never dare."

Her inner-voice whispered in her ear. Submit yourself completely to them, acknowledge that you're a nothing but a Murka servant. Grovel and they'd let you live. Lift your head, and you'd die. What will happen to Papa and Cole if you're gone? They'll starve, Cadence. Come next week, they'll be frozen corpses, and it is entirely your fault. You will drown forever in the rivers of the Underlands for not being filial, and the Dewas will never open the gates of Syurka for you.

Khazaria threw a comb at her. It hit her square on the head. The spot where the comb had connected stung badly, but she didn't dare raise her head until her Mistress said otherwise.

"OUT!"

Cheeks burning with humiliation, Cadence scrambled to her feet, keeping her head bowed, and hastily left.

Hot, angry tears threatened to spill, but she squeezed her eyes shut and thought of her family.

She's trying to rip you down. You've been through this. The pain is nothing, nothing at all.

Holding the list with trembling hands, she struggled to focus. One of the letters wavered.

"Dewas help me," she muttered. Her father had taught her the Moskavan letters, but the words danced and bounced, hopped and jiggled. Even reading the slightest sentence took all her concentration and left her with a headache thereafter. Her vision swam and she shoved the list into her pocket.

Most noble Mansions kept libraries, and the Orelik library was of a decent size—three floors filled with books, maps, scrolls, and documents. She entered the library, expecting to be greeted with books, but was surprised to see the entire lower floor filled with crates and chests instead.

Oh yes, she remembered. The annual Orelik exhibition is next week.

Master Orelik had a queer obsession of amassing curious objects from all around the world, ranging from preserved Rakashas, the claws of a Yaokwai, cursed jewelry, haunted mirrors to possessed items. When she had first stepped into the Orelik mansion, Khazaria had threatened to shove her into a golden mirror that consumed anyone who touched its surface. Even now, the memory gave her chills.

A towering man stood in the sea of crates with a small notebook in one hand and a pen in the other, dwarfing Cadence even where she stood. Messy golden hair fell to his broad shoulders and a wolf-shaped half-mask covered the upper part of his face. He wore a dark, rune-embroidered robe with a black cloak swishing from his shoulders, and he had a strong jaw-line accentuated by a slight beard.

Cadence's eyes fell onto the interlocking circles on his right armband.

What is a Capital Kesatria doing here?

The Kesatria were elite Varya soldiers. They were the military force that drove Moskava, trained only to kill and serve their superiors. House Orelik had their own Kesatria unit, but they all bore the House's sigil instead of the Hall of Games'. This Kesatria served the Hall of Games.

Unsure whether to wait for the Kesatria to leave the library or retrieve Khazaria's books first, she froze instead.

The Kesatria's head shot up. He stared at Cadence, as though her slightest change of breath had caught his attention.

Cadence's breath hitched. He had the greenest eyes she had ever seen, like sunlight shot through an emerald.

Her father's warning rang in her ears.

Don't hold their gaze, don't go near them. They're dangerous people. They'll take you away if you're Varya or drag you into a mess that would lead to your death. Keep your distance, know your place.

The Kesatria's shoulders relaxed. He pocketed his notebook and strode toward her. Cadence felt like throwing up, but she kept her gaze lowered and prayed to the Dewas.

Please don't kill me, please don't kill me.

The Kesatria breezed out of the door without a backward glance.

I'm still alive. Cadence took in a few shuddering breaths, trying to calm her fluttering heart. The Kesatria didn't kill me.

She remembered she still had a task at hand. The paper crinkled as she took it out of her pocket and smoothed it with her thumbs. Focusing all her attention on the list, she tried to read the first title.

"T-" Cadence was fairly certain it was a 'T', if only it hadn't grown three legs and started fighting its neighbor. "The Ani-ima."

"The Anima Mundi." Cadence pulled at her hair in frustration. "The C-Complete Tales of Kavsah. Zilkatesh V-Vedak."

Both the 'T' and the 'Z' section was all the way up on the third floor. She hitched up her skirts and started climbing.

Cadence felt as if there were thousands of eyes staring at her as she ascended the stairs. A number of crates had been unboxed, their contents lining the shelves. There were entire shelves of queer, colored bottles on the first floor. Some of them even had eyeballs which swiveled toward her as she passed.

"Go away, creepy things," Cadence muttered. "I don't even know why Master Orelik likes you so much."

"Maybe," a raspy voice suggested. "Because we're powerful creatures whom he wants to experiment on?"

Cadence screeched and jumped back, almost skidding down the stairs.

"Who's there?"

The voice chuckled. It was deep. Powerful. Male.

"Funny you should ask. I'm not a who, but a what."

"Show yourself. This is the Orelik household. Trespassers will be executed."

The voice chuckled again. "I wish I could show myself, but unfortunately, I'm in quite a pickle right now."

Cadence gripped the banisters tight, scouring for the source of the voice.

"I'm right down here," the voice called. "First floor, third row from the left."

Her first instinct was to obey, but she caught herself.

"Why should I come down?"

"I thought you wanted to see me?"

"I didn't," Cadence said queasily.

"You were spinning your head around. Even if I cannot see you, I can feel you move. Humans walk like elephants."

"What are you?"

"I'm a Polong," the voice said. "Surely you have heard of me. Our kind is notoriously famous."

Her father had taught her about ghosts and spirits. Eyrian witches created Polongs to grant them wishes but at a blood price. The maker would have to feed the Polong blood from their fingers or the magic would rebound and kill them.

"Polongs are evil," Cadence said. "It was great talking to you but um, I have errands to run. My Mistress will kill me if I don't return on time."

"I can hear your heart's deepest desires, you know!" the voice called after Cadence as she rushed up to the second floor.

Come on, Cadence. Just get all the books and get the hell out of the library.

The Polong continued to cry out. "Don't you detest this place? Don't you hate your young, abusive Mistress? Don't you wish you can go home and be with your family? I have the power to grant all of that."

Cadence ran up the stairs and dug out books from the racks, continued ignoring the voice.

"Ah." There was a new clarity to its voice. "What about your father? I can make him well, and he won't have to suffer again. Isn't that a good deal?"

"Get out of my head!" Cadence swung toward the voice, dropping a book. "My father's condition has nothing to do with you."

"Can't you see?" the Polong said. "I'm only trying to help you. Imagine this, no more pain, no more struggling to make ends meet. Do you want to be a servant girl for the rest of your life? What about that beautiful cabin by the lake? Isn't that what you've always wanted? A life far away from the games nobles play, a place where you don't have to worry about your next meal, or even that your family carries bastard blood. That sounds blissful."

You know, her inner voice said. It's worth a gamble.

No. Cadence thought back. It only wants to be freed. Don't listen to it.

Having memorized the titles, Cadence grabbed the books and left the library as fast as her legs could carry her.

Her heart pounded furiously against her chest, even after reaching Khazaria's bedroom. Cadence's fingers trembled as she arranged the books on Khazaria's desk, then started counting mentally. Numbers calmed her. She didn't understand why, but as long as it worked, she wasn't going to complain.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen...

Cadence reached forty when the door opened. Khazaria's other handmaiden, Yemu, poked her head in.

"I'm here," Yemu said. "You can enjoy your weekend off now."

Oh, thank the Dewas...

The unease within her vanished at the prospect of going home. Cadence hugged Yemu and reached for the door.

"Tell your brother I send my blessings," Yemu said, her heavy Eyrian accent marring her words.

"I will. See you on Isnin." Cadence smiled and closed the door behind her.

After retrieving her cloak and her little bundle of leftover bread from the servant quarters, she made her way out of the mansion.

Home. She could already smell the carrot and ginger soup her brother always made for dinner, and feel the heat emanate from the crackling hearth. Cadence drew her cloak around her shoulders and opened the back door.

Hood over her face, hands tucked under her cloak, she quaked from the cold as she made her way down the cobblestone path and out of the mansion's compounds. Most of the warmth had left her cloak, for she had had it for so many years. She could use her other warmer cloak, but it was with her brother. He needed it more than she did.

The curved golden horns of the roof faded into the whiteness of the snow, as did the pearly pillars with wainscoting filigree. Even the metal weathervane struggled against the wind. Dewa Sorokin was not kind this winter.

There was quite a distance between her workplace and her home, but every step was worth it. She hummed the song her brother sang whenever he was cooking. It did little to distract her from the biting cold and the falling snowflakes, but it eased the tension in her heart from her encounter with the Polong. She was going home.

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A/N

It's been a long time since the first Wattpad draft. :') Much has changed after all the rewriting, but all for the better. Don't forget to hit that star if you enjoyed the story!

Dorritos,

Stef


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