Prologue

Andrea Milliken had been thirteen when she first learned what her symbol was. Like all mages, she was born with it. But she was a Milliken, a member of an old and well respected military family, so she was raised with the expectation that she too will uphold the most sacred Odenian traditions. So, on her thirteenth birthday, her mother had proudly removed the charm that hid her symbol. The revealing of one's symbol was a part of the coming of age ceremony. It meant she had become a woman and was old enough to find a romantic partner, old enough to learn a little about her soulmate.

Andrea's symbol was written across her wrist. It was more prominent than most symbols, but Andrea took no steps to hide it. She was proud of her symbol, as it was a beautiful shimmering green. It spoke of fulfillment, unlike the red symbols that spoke of tragedy.

Her symbol was the word "power." It was an auspicious word.

Now, at the age of eighteen, Andrea was sure of two things. First, that her soulmate would be a powerful mage. Second, in their generation, there were few military mages stronger than Jacob, who had been one of her classmates back when they attended the Military Academy of Oden. Nowadays, they were in the same field team together.

Andrea had always given Jacob a certain amount of regard, even back in their Academy days. He had always been considered one of the top students, both in academics and in magical fights, though most students had been intimidated by him. He had been cold and aloof to most who approached him, having preferred to work on assignments alone. His very presence was unnerving, though it hadn't kept his peers from admiring him. Even now, he was a beautiful boy. His years at the Academy had ensured that he was athletically built; he was lean and toned. Furthermore, Andrea noted with a nod of approval, he had dark hair and dark eyes befitting of even the most high class Odenians. Though he himself didn't have the heritage that Andrea had, she was sure that her family would overlook it.

She looked to the target practice booth, where Jacob was instructing Diana, another member of their team, to throw knives. Jacob pressed himself against Diana, seemingly trying to adjust her stance. Andrea grit her teeth and tried to swallow the bitter taste in her mouth.

Andrea hated Diana. Diana was ethnically a L'leian, the desert people that Oden had been at war with for decades. Furthermore, her magic was useless in fights. It was unsuitable for war, and in more ways than one, Diana was unsuitable to be a military mage.

Andrea would have liked nothing better than to stalk over to the target range and order the knives to fly at Diana instead. For a while, she entertained the idea. It was quite plausible since Andrea was a metal mage, first and foremost. But that would tarnish the family name, and Diana wasn't worth the effort. No, let her have her time with Jacob, and let Jacob cavort around with that little desert rat for while.

After all, soulmates were bound by magic to be together, and sooner or later, Jacob would find his way to her.


Sure, Jacob Cain was a mage. Sure, the word "wildcard" was practically branded in a burnt black down his back. But the thing was, Jacob didn't believe in soulmates or perfection or meant-to-be's, despite what everyone said about the matter.

Jacob was ten when his father died. His father, a military mage, was wiped out in a siege when the L'leian mages summoned a firestorm to burn the Odenian fortress down. His mother had been a seamstress, and when her husband died, her meager income had never been enough to feed her four children.

Jacob was twelve when the government recognized his innate magical ability. Then, he entered the Military Academy of Oden, with promises that the government would provide for his family. He had no real desire to fight in the same war that claimed the life of his father, but it had been a necessity. Work hard, rank well, and his family would have more food on the table, and his younger siblings would not have to give their lives to the military.

Since his father died, Jacob had known intimately the one irrevocable truth; the thing about being a military mage was that it wasn't a question of one will die, but when. Even if a mage managed to make it through a stint in the military without dying in battle, then he'd die prematurely due to magical exhaustion.

In the Academy, he had hated his peers. They were all bright eyed children. Though they too were drafted due to their magical ability, they bought into the glorious tales of war. They swallowed war propaganda like it was candy. They genuinely, optimistically still believed that they could resolve the decades-long war between Oden and L'ley with their heroism.

Perhaps, Jacob reflected as he watched Diana weigh the knife in her hands, that was why he got along so well with her. He had first met her during the last of their placement tests, when they were assigned to the same tentative field team together. From the first moment, Diana had been calm and calculating. Though she was lowly ranked in the Academy for offensive magickery, she was coldly efficient in the field. There had never been any glory or heroism involved in her decision making; she made the necessary calculations and took the necessary precautions to help their four-man team to survive.

He stepped closer to her, carefully gripping her wrist.

"No," he said, "You need a firmer grip."

She turned her head to face him, and suddenly, Jacob was aware of how close she was. He could feel her breath across his skin, and where he held her wrist burned. She was small, barely coming up to his shoulders. What would it be like to hold her against him? For that one moment, Jacob wanted.

He took a deep breath.

"Got it?" he asked her, in a voice that betrayed none of his momentary thoughts.

She nodded, and turned away. He took a step back and breathed a sigh of relief. He forced himself to remember how sheer want led to miscalculations in the field. Wanting made people tunnel. Wanting glory led to stupid deaths, and blindly wanting to survive didn't help anyone live.

And, he forced himself to think about how he had sparred with Diana once, and how on her hips, in ugly red lettering, her symbol said "Michael."

Sometimes, Jacob wondered if he really didn't believe in soulmates, or if he simply didn't want to believe that he wanted someone who wouldn't be his.


Despite having been on the same field team as Diana for over a year, Michael Abel didn't know her very well.

He had been in the same class as her once, when they'd both been sixteen and in the Academy. She was quiet, and if it hadn't been for her L'leian ethnicity, Michael would have never noticed her. Instead, she had the classic tan skin and golden hair and eyes of the L'leian people.

That year, whenever she walked into the room, the class would fall quiet. Sometimes, there would be malicious whispering. There was never any doubt what they were whispering about. Racial slurs. Insults directed toward a girl who never talked back. It was understandable, Michael supposed, since the country had been at war with L'ley for decades. How many had died at the hands of L'leian mages? How many students were missing relatives because of the war? It was easy to target Diana because she was blatantly. It was perhaps easier to hate her because she never broke down. Instead, she held her head high and looked coolly onward, almost as if in silent arrogance. Diana had never broken her silence in class, not even when their teacher had tried, awkwardly, to praise her academic ranking.

"I dare you to do something worse," her cold golden eyes had said.

And it was those eyes that haunted Michael.

Someone had once spilled ink over her, and he had turned to her, wanting to do something. Perhaps apologize for his classmate's actions, or perhaps offer words of reassurance. She had noticed him staring, and met his eyes levelly.

"Don't bother," they seemed to say.

Michael had turned away, feeling unnerved.

These days, those eyes appeared in his nightmares. They were angry, nowadays. They seemed to accuse him of being a coward, too scared to defend even a girl against teenage cruelty.

How do you expect to fight in a war when you're so scared? You did nothing for me. You're a coward. Will you be able to kill my people if they looked at you with these eyes? those eyes chanted in his dreams.

He always woke up from those dreams gasping.

Michael absentmindedly traced his symbol on his forearm. His was blue and said "puppet", and he figured that it most likely referred to Andrea, who primarily fought with life-sized dolls with metal skeletons that she could control. These days, in the military, she was becoming known as The Puppeteer, or the Master of the Dolls.

Somedays, Michael wondered why his dreams couldn't be pleasantly about Andrea, if she was supposed to be his soulmate, rather than about the guilt that threatened to consume him every time he saw Diana.


A/N: There you have it, the prologue. :)

Basically, if you weren't paying attention, red soulmate symbols spell out tragedy, other colours don't. Diana's is "Michael", Michael's is "puppet", Andrea's is "power", and Jacob's is "wildcard."

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