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@ariella-newheart – Cool idea! This is looking so fun. I’m going to bring in Racleva, one of my antagonists, because I need to get to know her better and it’d be cool to have a bad guy. A little bit about her…

Racleva Khimelin is a hardened fourteen-year old with fire powers who’s faced more struggles in her short life than most by the time they die. She has copper red hair, bronze skin, and silver eyes. She’s been working for an evil emperor since her mother was killed when she was eight. She doesn’t trust anyone, especially people who seem good and kind. She hates talking to people, especially cheerful people.

Also, I’ve never done anything like this before, so I kind of played it safe here, just to get a feel for things. 🙂

…

Racleva pressed her hand to the back of her throbbing head, eyes straining in the darkness. The throne room was always dark, but this was different. It was lighter, less threatening. In fact, as Racleva got to her feet, she saw purple strands of twilight weaving into the hall she was in through a narrow window in the stone wall.

The throne room didn’t have any windows. How had she gotten to that place?

Keeping her hand pressed to her hand, she edged to the window, peering out into the world beyond. Nothing but trees that weren’t of the type she’d ever seen.

As Racleva turned back, she lowered the hand that was on her head. It burst into golden flames, allowing her to scan with the detail the hall she was in. There wasn’t much to scan. It was small and insignificant, except for a round table with an equally round map on it. A map of Dione, exactly like the one she’d spent the last few hours poring over. She was sick of it, so she scanned the room for some signs of where she was.

A green door looked promising, but it was, as she soon found out, locked. Many of her fellow agents would find picking a lock trivial work, but since Racleva had grown so used to using her fire powers, she’d never learned. She threw a fireball at the wooden door, expecting it to catch fire, obviously, and allow her to pass through. To her shock, it stayed solid, the fireball doused on impact. Some strange magic must have been at work.

Swallowing, Racleva turned around. Corridors branched off of the hall, thick with darkness, but Racleva was used to shadows, even without her flaming hand to guide her. Which corridor should she try? Summoning her will, she reached out to each one, feeling if there was a source of fire. There, past the plain, unpainted door. Candles, and a fireplace. She’d head there.

Hopefully there were no people. She hated associating with people unnecessarily. And even if there were, in the presence of fire, she’d have the upper hand.

Racleva doused the flames in her hand so that no one would see her coming. She opened the wooden door and marched down the corridor, not flinching against the burst of cold air. It was far better than the palace’s halls.

Eventually she saw light bathing the walls of the corridor from an open door. Voices were murmuring from inside. Racleva slowed, keeping to the wall and drawing the hood of her cloak, listening as she laid a hand on the hilt of her sword.