CLASH OF THE BATTLE VALLEY EMPIRES

Vivienne sat up slowly on her narrow small bed, pulling her thin blanket closer before letting it go. She listened to the familiar sounds of her mother's soft coughing and restless shifting in her small bed as well.

The thin blanket fell off her shoulders, showing skin that was far too pale. It was light, almost ghostly, standing out painfully among the other slaves. Her Dark red hair fell loosely around her shoulders, always messy no matter how tightly she braided it. Her eyes were grey almost silver. They were too expressive for someone who had learned young to stay invisible.They were eyes that noticed too much, felt too deeply. Eyes that had gotten her into trouble more times than she could count.

In the morning light, her arms looked almost transparent, veins faintly visible under the surface. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing warmth into body that always felt cold, no matter the season.

She swung her legs down​ bare feet meeting the cold floor. She stood and moved quietly toward the small metal basin by the wall. Her reflection looked back at her. The reflection that met her gaze made her chest tighten.

Too pale. Too strange. That was what they always said. And, somehow, it was true, she was strange.

She sighed softly and walked towards her mother's bed to wake her up. She always allowed her mother sleep some more.

She had been told to work in the castle again the next day.

Vivienne still didn’t understand why. She was clumsy with fine things, slow with words, awkward when walking on polished floors and noble glances scared her. The kitchens were safer. Predictable. But orders were orders and she had to obey.She put on her black dress and apron, smoothing the cloth nervously.

The slave quarters were built far from the royal castle, hidden behind the kitchens and storehouses, where stone walls were bare and the air smelled of ash, sweat, and boiled meals. Narrow windows let in Little light, never enough to warm the cold stone floors. The rooms were small and the corridors were narrow. Honestly, the place was congested but clean.

As she stepped outside, the place was busy with early morning activity. Some slaves prepared to head to the fields, others to the stables, a few to the palace halls.Men pulling crates. Women carrying baskets. Children hiding between their mother's legs, laughter died down the moment a guard passed.

Vivienne walked along the stone pathway with her hands in her pockets to attract some warmth. She met Cecilia. Hurriedly, Cecilia ran past her without sparing her a glance. She didn't pay much attention.

That was when she had the laughter. It was so loud she could not have missed it. Her heart skipped a bit. The laugh was sharp, cruel and familiar.

Vivienne froze. The hair on her body stood up preparing itself for the worst. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Her steps slowed before she could stop herself. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. When she opened them, Gwen, Penelope, and Rosalie stood directly in her path, dressed in silk dresses and fine leather boots, their presence like a stain on the stone around them.

“Is that her again?” Gwen's voice was out loud, so sharp like a broken glass. “I thought ghosts weren’t meant to walk in daylight.”

Gwen stood with her arms crossed, her dark brown hair pulled back neatly. Beside her was Penelope Ashcroft, delicate and sharp-eyed, her smile thin and knowing.

Rosalie Manning stood lazily behind Penelope, blonde curls falling effortlessly, her expression bored but eager.They blocked the path.

“Look at her,” Penelope's voice came out next, filled with amusement. “Still walking like she doesn’t belong anywhere.”

“Well?” Gwen stepped closer. “Aren’t you going to bow?”

Vivienne lowered her head immediately.

“My lady.”

Gwen stepped forward, her fine leather boots clicking on the stone ground. “You did not bow properly.”

Vivienne bent lower, her forehead nearly touching her knees.

Rosalie laughed softly. “Look at her. Always shrinking. You’d think she’d disappear eventually.”

Gwen tilted her head. “Maybe she’s trying.”

Vivienne didn't raise her head the entire time.

Penelope clicked her tongue. “How polite. Funny how manners don’t make you any less of a slave.”

Rosalie laughed softly. “She looks like she hasn’t slept. Or maybe that’s just how ghosts look.”

Gwen circled Vivienne slowly, eyes scanning her like an object. “Tell me, Vivienne, what were you doing in the castle halls yesterday?”

Vivienne’s fingers curled tightly into her apron.

“I was assigned there,” she said quietly.

“Assigned?” Gwen scoffed. “By who? Your dead imagination?”

“S. Honoria,” Vivienne replied. “She said there were many guests arriving for the Transformation Night and they needed more hands.”

Penelope leaned in closer, her voice sharp. “You expect us to believe that someone like you was allowed near royalty? More hands I see, your hands?”

“I didn’t go near them,” Vivienne said softly. “I was cleaning.”

Rosalie tilted her head. “Funny. I heard you were staring at Lady Ravenhall.”

“I didn’t look,” Vivienne whispered. “I did not...” her breath caught.

Rosalie interrupted with a laugh. “But you did look. Lady Ravenhall noticed you.”

“I didn’t mean to be noticed,” she whispered.

Gwen’s eyes flashed. “Slaves don’t mean anything. Do they?

"No, my lady."she replied slowly

"What do they do, sweetheart?." Rosalie taunted further

"They obey.” she replied

Gwen pushed Vivienne lightly, but it was enough to make her stumble.

“Tell me,” Gwen continued cruelly, “have you ever seen your father? Or was he too ashamed to claim you?”

Penelope laughed. “Maybe that’s why she’s so pale. No proper blood. I heard he was a wizard, You know Gwen's father is good at taking out such trash from this beautiful kingdom”

Vivienne swallowed hard, eyes burning, but she said nothing.

“Pathetic,” Rosalie spat. She crossed her arms. “Honestly, Gwen, why waste time? She won’t even cry. That’s the boring part.”

Gwen stepped back with a smirk. “True. Go back to your kitchen, ghost. Before you forget your place.”

They walked away laughing. Their backs straight. Their postures showing pride. They were daughters to some of the greatest men of Bolivia. They had the reason to be proud.

Only when they were gone did Vivienne allow herself to breathe.

Her knees felt weak.

“Vivienne.”

She turned.

Cecilia hurried toward her, eyes wide with concern. Cecilia was beautiful in a way that felt unfair. Warm brown skin, expressive eyes, a smile that lit even the dullest corners of the quarters. She had no family, yet she carried herself like she expected more from life.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, holding Vivienne’s hands.

Vivienne shook her head. “No. Just words.”

Cecilia frowned. “Words cut deeper sometimes.”

“They always leave,” Vivienne murmured.

Cecilia pulled her into a brief hug. “I wonder what they could be looking for in the slaves’ quarters this early morning! One day, they’ll die in a bad painful way.”

Vivienne smiled faintly. “You shouldn’t say that Ceci.”

“I shouldn’t,” Cecilia agreed. “But I believe it. I just wish they die”

They walked together for a while but Vivienne seemed a little worried. So down, not from her earlier encounter, but from something else.

“Are you still excited?” Cecilia asked quietly. “About the Transformation Night?”

Vivienne hesitated before answering, “Yes. And no.”

Cecilia laughed softly. “You should be worried. That place will be chaos. I can’t wait.”

Vivienne's faced changed. “And we have to be naked.”

Cecilia shrugged. “Ha ha! We all start the same. Fur or flesh. Imagine, Oliver is going to have to see you naked. I’m excited for the Transformation Night,” Cecilia added, grinning from ear to ear. “Even if it’s humiliating, I want to see what you will become.”

Vivienne’s voice dropped. “ Don't make it worse than it already sounds Ceci. I can't imagine myself being naked before everyone, but again I just want to see myself as a wolf too. I wanna see if it will be normal not like me. I just hope… something happens." She pressed her lips into a thin line."

Cecilia stopped walking and looked at her seriously. “Something will.”

Vivienne nodded, though she wasn’t sure she believed it. They parted ways near the kitchens. Cecilia headed to the fields, and Vivienne to the kitchen.

Vivienne turned a corner too quickly and collided with something solid, Strong, she cried softly as she stumbled back, eyes flying up.

Alpha Almond Rudieloff.

Her blood froze.