Hello,

This book has been on my mind for some time now, and I'm glad I've finally started writing it.

Please vote and comment if you do, this is the first chapter which means your opinion will be the driving force for me. I would love to see that it does not disappoint. Also, the first four chapters are rather difficult to comprehend, because they are all mysterious, so make sure you continue reading because, in my opinion, it all starts afterward. So I hope you won't abandon the book hastily before you make it to the good stuff.

Don't hesitate to let me know what you think. I look forward to hearing your thoughts. That's the biggest gift to any author. I hope you overcome your shyness or unwillingness to provide me with some comments:)

Lastly, please do not write offensive comments. The book is free, and so there is no reason for grievance. You are here on your own volition, and you can leave any time you want. Thanks for your understanding.

As always, thanks for reading

Alena

I parked my Hyundai Elantra in the parking lot at Northwestern University campus. It was 10:00 am in the morning in Chicago, and it was one of those rare sunny days. It was indeed a beautiful morning and I breathed in the nice fall weather of September, the trees displaying an intricate mosaic of colors as I passed them by. I started walking towards campus, my backpack dangling from one shoulder. I looked at the time; I had Causes of Conflict class starting in exactly ten minutes, and I found myself running to make it. Professor Martinek was quite prompt and hated late students; I didn't want to be his new target in class.

"Hey babe," said my boyfriend, Baran as I lowered myself to my usual seat in the back.

"Hey," I smiled at the gorgeous hunky boy who set hearts beating everywhere he went. His face was beautiful as so many things were wonderful in this world, like the sun sinking behind the Eiffel Tower, the soothing rhythm of the waves washing ashore, or the soft lingering sounds of the violin as it brought to life a light-hearted romantic sonata. He was a senior in computer programming, and we'd met two years ago through a common friend and were dating since then. This was obviously not a class in his major, but he was taking the class to fulfill his gen-ed requirement. Though he denied it, it was crystal clear to me that he was listening to the words pouring from Prof. Martinek's lips, men killing men and all that bloodshed in the world, with a contorted face just to spend more time with me.

"One of the major causes of conflict is grievances. Many civil wars start because of social, political and economic injustices in the system. When a minority group cannot achieve equal rights within the rules and regulations of the political system, then the members of the groups may have no other option, but to resort to violence to achieve their objectives. For example," continued Prof. Martinek with his usual enthusiasm, having already transitioned into his zone as he began to talk about the details of the wars he was exemplifying as case studies. I was simply fascinated by this topic, the idea that an individual would take up arms despite facing potential repression, intimidation and possibly death, all the costs of mobilization, beat all rational thought. Who would have such courage, and what level of desperation would push a man to risk his life, triggering that level of courage? Hell, I had no idea.

I looked at poor Baran whose gaze was fixed on his watch as he counted the minutes to his freedom. I held myself with utmost restraint not to laugh at his agony. I caught his eye and winked at him in sympathy, the things we do for love...Guilt suddenly wrapped its vile arms around me, squeezing me in its dark, painful grip. He loved me too much; I knew that. And, he was the best of boyfriends, the kindest, the most considerate, the most of everything and then some more. And, in my way, I loved him. I knew that, too. Then, why did I feel I was somehow deceiving him, deceiving myself? I was not ready to answer that question. Unfortunately, my level of courage was not up to par, worse still, I was completely and happily content to reside within the confined walls of my cowardice for the time being. I pushed all such thoughts away as I heard the commotion from the random shuffle of chairs around me, noticing the cluster of students packed and restlessly standing as they waited impatiently for Prof. Martinek to end the class.

"I'll see you, next class," Prof. Martinek said, the movement in the class finally alerting him to the end of his allotted lecture time.

"Finally, I thought it would never end," said Baran, sighing with obvious relief.

"I don't know why you don't drop this class. It's obvious you hate it," I said smiling.

"I'm all right, baby. Don't fret over it. I get to see you three additional hours every week, that is worth all the torture he inflicts on me," he said, his gaze flickering briefly on Prof. Martinek who was collecting his notes scattered on the table.

Baran was so sweet that I couldn't help but rise on my toes, giving him a quick kiss.

"And, then there are those unexpected perks," he said, grinning like a little kid who'd just been granted a boon. Then he looked at his watch; he had another class about to start in another building at least ten minutes of walking distance from here. The realization immediately replaced his boyish expression with stern lines. "Shoot, I've gotta go, babe. I'll see you for lunch?" he asked.

"Sure, I'll see you then," I said, blowing him another kiss as he departed.

I met my partners in crime, my best friends Abby and Payal, at the cafeteria. Abby was roommates with Payal who was an international student from India. We were so thankful that her parents had sent her here to study journalism. She was a vital member of our small group with her friendly, social and cheerful disposition, quite the opposite of Abby who was rather an introvert math genius despite her striking looks.

"Hey Sierra," Payal said cheerfully. "What's up? Is your hunky boyfriend joining us for lunch today?"

"Yes, he's done with his class project," I explained. We had hardly seen him last week when he was embroiled in his Matlab assignment, programming some agent based model on energy efficiency, or something like that. Frankly, I had no clue. While I'd always been good at math and physics, hard sciences had never intrigued me. It was almost perfect precision and accurate predictability with which things happened, the degree at which water boiled, the speed with which light traveled, the way with which gravity worked. I, on the other hand, preferred to study the imperfect order and patterns in the chaotic world of humankind.

"So, that means we'll be seeing him as the old times, clinging to you like a limpet. I swear you are the luckiest girl. He's a sight for sore eyes," Abby said. She was single, and gloriously stubborn in her refusal to recognize any male interest in her. With her long wavy blonde hair, blue eyes and tall skinny body, I'd no doubt she would look gorgeous wearing a trash bag, a fact she would deny till her grave.

We chatted over the Oscars, the new show, Shannara Chronicles, our favorite Wattpad books and everything else we could squeeze in the little time we had till Baran finally appeared with his three buddies.

"Baby, I'm starving. What do you want? " Baran asked, without sitting down as he dropped his bag on the seat next to me.

"Just Caesar salad," I said, and I smiled upon seeing his barely visible head shake. Baran was a basketball player, playing the guard position at Northwestern Wildcats men's basketball team. So, he could eat three burgers in one sitting which is why he never understood how I appeased my stomach with what he referred to as rabbit food. "And, you girls? The usual?" asked Baran looking at my friends.

Abby nodded.

"Holy crap. Don't look behind you girls, but it's him," exclaimed Payal as she fixed her dark brown gaze somewhere behind us. She tucked a loose strand of her short black hair behind one ear, an action she carried out on auto mode whenever she was excited. Baran and the boys took this as a cue to take their leave towards the food line.

"Who? Oh, my God, you mean Seth?"Abby said, turning her head immediately.

"I told you not to look; he'll notice." Payal reprimanded her.

"But, you are looking," Abby pointed out, continuing to feast her eyes on the boy of interest.

"And, isn't that the point? To be noticed by him?" I laughed at Payal's funny contradictions. Laughing was my way of masking the strange excitement slowly rising inside me, threatening to come out with the ferociousness of an unrestrained monster. I knew who they were talking about; I tried very hard not to repeat Abby's behavior and look at the boy infamous as the sexy bad boy of our college. I cringed with the familiar feeling of guilt, and I immediately emptied my mind, the genes of cowardice advancing until I gave no other thought to the symptoms of sickness.

"Here, baby." Baran came just in time, pushing a bowl of salad in front of me and he started devouring his food the moment he lowered himself next to me. I looked at him for a second, his long golden curls falling over his forehead and his eyes each time he bowed his head to take another giant bite form his hamburger. He was simply adorable.

"Here is your lasagna," said Mischa as he sat next to Payal along with Taka and Andrew. He had the sweets for her, but Payal was the flirtatious type, putting her hand in every jar without necessarily being interested in the candy. She enjoyed the attentions of every man who was drawn to her exotic straight, thick black hair and large dark brown eyes surrounded by the thickest eyelashes, which although natural, looked as if drawn and accentuated by a brown-black eyeliner at all times.

"Thanks," Payal said, her eyes still fixed on Seth. "Damn, he's leaving," Payal cursed.

"Who?" Mischa asked, confused. He caught the target of her gaze, his eyebrows furrowing in mild anger. "I don't know what you girls see in him beneath all the tattoos; he's the epitome of vulgarity and incivility."

"I couldn't agree more,"Baran concurred as he took another bite of his food.

"You say that again, assholes," came Seth's full familiar voice far behind us, followed by a ruckus of fighting. This time, I had no problem looking at Seth, being only one of the many whose attention was riveted on his lithe feet movements as his fists came like cannonballs on the two large guys whom I recognized as players from the football team. "I'll kill you, motherfuckers," he said, his rage penetrating the whole room, hushing all table speech around us. The moment my eyes locked on him, I knew I was mesmerized, watching his muscles tauten, his tattoo of a green dragon stretch his skin gracefully as his arms lashed out repeatedly. Nobody intervened, not Seth's closest buddies, not the girls at his table, not Baran, not Mischa, nor anyone else in the cafeteria as he continued beating the two guys to a pulp for whatever offense he thought he was given.

"Stop it," I shouted, my voice penetrating the silence of the room except for the loud cracking sounds Seth's fists made contact and the constant moans emitted from his victims. I briefly noticed Baran's face with an expression of horror, as his hands seeking to catch me came out empty when I bounced out of my seat in a blur as if possessed by unseen forces, my feet carrying me towards the chaos no one, but I dared be part of. "Stop it; that's enough!" I screamed, aiming to pierce the haze of rage which had taken hold of Seth's body. He turned around, one arm holding the barely standing guy by his collar while his fist was coiled back, bunched, ready to fly.

"Please stop," I said, flinching at the blood pouring from the guy's apparently broken nose. Seth narrowed his eyes, making me hopeful that I'd gotten to him somehow, but I couldn't be sure as his face devoid of emotion masked his deep inner thoughts. He turned back again, letting the fist lash out, just to stop it with extreme precision a second before it made contact with the guy's jaw. Seth's hand gripping his collar loosened, and the guy fell down on the cafe floor immediately, moaning and clutching his bruised body.

"Keep away from her, or I'll kill you next time," growled Seth. Then he walked towards me, his eyes still crazed. He stopped in front of me; he raised his hand as if touch me, but his movement stopped in midair as if fighting with the demons of uncertainty and self-doubt. I couldn't breathe as I felt every inch of my body come alive standing in such proximity to him. I was enthralled by his gaze, consumed by a magical pull, depriving me of any rational thought. I suddenly gasped in surprise as I felt Baran's arm on my shoulder. Seth blinked as if waking up from a dream, a look of mockery and derision suddenly settling on his face. "Restrain the princess, basketball boy. Her impetuousness can get her into trouble. We wouldn't want her to get her hurt, do we?" he said, looking at me briefly one more time as if in remembrance of the moment we'd just so secretly shared.

As he was leaving, my eyes were drawn to the dragon tattoo on his bulging arm muscles, its diamond shaped scales blending beautifully from the palest shade of green to a rich dark emerald, with just a tint of red scattered down the animal's chest. It was ferocious looking and yet, so captivating at the same time. But, what made me question my sanity was the flicker of a movement I spotted in the dragon's tail in that minuscule of a second when Seth was passing me by. It was as though the dragon was rebelling against its captivity, as though it wanted to break out of his skin, as though it was a being, very much breathing and alive.

"Baby, what were you thinking?" Baran said, his voice reflecting a world of worry and confusion. "He's right. You could have been hurt. I still cannot believe what you just did; it's so surreal," he murmured squeezing me tenderly as if to assure I was unharmed.

I kept my silence, I didn't know what had come over me, so I had no excuses for what I'd done. I was secretly proud for the glimpse of courage I had spotted in me, though I would not admit that to him. I looked at the two beaten guys who were now being carried out of the cafeteria with the help of others, their destination probably being the infirmary. What had triggered Seth's rage, and what had triggered my impulsiveness to stop him? I had no clear answers at the moment; I let it go for now as I walked back to our table with Baran.