Free Ascension by Hannah Youngwirth

mane,
weaving his strands of hair in and out in an effort to distract
myself. There ’ s
no use worrying about the future, I told myself, whatever happens,
there is nothing you can do but go on.
    Ξ
    Entering
Stonewall was no easy task. There was a crowd of people at the
entrance, each one being checked by a guard for papers and weapons.
I had hoped that Croxley, being the King ’ s messenger, would be able to
bypass the crowd, but one glance at his concerned expression told
me otherwise. We dismounted and waited in line, moving at an
agonizingly slow pace. Although the day was cool enough, I was
quickly sweating amongst the crowd of people. Croxley
didn ’ t fare
much better. I could see his blond hair plastered down on his
forehead, and he growled at a passerby who stepped on his foot.
Looking around, I was surprised at how many stunning faces I saw.
Croxley was right. Here, I was no longer extraordinary. I was just
another pretty face.
    I
didn ’ t know how
I felt about that. On one hand, I have always wanted to be like
everyone else, no longer singled out for my looks, no longer
imprisoned by my appearance. On the other, I had little more to
offer other than my fair face. What else would I bargain
with?
    When we finally
made it up to the guards, they began to search our bags and our
persons. Croxley showed them his papers from the King, and
explained to them that I was up for evaluation. Once the guards had
heard I was from Cethin, I noticed that they handled me much more
roughly and with much less respect. When one guard let a hand
linger too close to my chest while searching my person, Croxley
grabbed his hand and stood in front of me, blocking me from the
guard ’ s
reach.
    Shocked, I looked
at the guard ’ s
cross expression, his hand in Croxley ’ s grip, and then at Croxley.
Turning his head to look behind at me, he held my gaze as he shoved
the guard ’ s
hand down.
    “ I think
you ’ ve searched
enough. Are we good to go on? ” His voice
held a threat, implying that there would be a problem if they held
us any longer. Luckily, things didn ’ t escalate, as the large crowd
demanded the guards ’ attention. We walked through the entrance and I was
relieved to find it much calmer than our previous
setting.
    Wagons were being pulled in the
street by the most elegant horses, some so large that their nose
alone was the size of my head. Maidens strolled the city in
extravagant dresses, and merchants had stands set up on every
corner. But most incredible were the buildings. In Cethin, we slept
in dens, with only the most necessary pieces of furniture. We had
no use for walls of wood or stone because the earth provided us
with everything we needed. But here, the buildings were at least
three horses high, packed together so tightly that, had they been
people, would have been standing shoulder to shoulder. Each
building was made of its own material, as they were all in
competition be the most original structure.
    Some were made of wood, with
intricate carvings over the doorways, different stains coloring the
wood with unnatural shades of blues and reds. Others were made of
bricks, with shackled roofs that promised a dry head when the rain
came. There were even some buildings made of granite and marble,
most likely mined in Cethin. The marble had been transformed into
pillars and statues, while the granite floors had been polished to
make every individual speck shine.
    In awe, I
couldn ’ t help
but wonder how everything was kept so clean. That was, until I saw
a horse relieve itself. From an alley in the building, a manservant
dressed in very plain garb came out unnoticed by everyone, save me.
He quickly scooped up the waste, brushed the area clean, and
returned back to the alleyway. This entire scene played out in less
than a minute, and try as I might, I couldn ’ t keep track of the man after he
walked more than a few steps.
    Is this my future, I thought to
myself, to become invisible?
    “ When do we