Chapter Text
Blood, soft, wet— royal blue blood streaming down her face. The blows to her head consist of one of those that only the strongest shall ever face. Her moves are what I would call swift, precise. Her body moved as if it had no bones, but a hefty amount of mobility.
Her opponent, our strongest.
Larger than a brown bear standing on its two feet, braver than one too. His fist slamming into her face. One hit after the other as her head tipped back each time. His hand painted itself in the warm liquid but she did not yield nor did she wave her flag.
Instead, the long halberd is raised. Sending the whole audience into shock, a wave of oohs and ooos flooded the stadium.
A minimal squishing sound is all that is heard after. The weapon is now placed deep in The Towers abdomen. His hands, now gripping onto the injured spot, stopping his inevitable death for just moments.
"Healer!" Ovisiana yells before spitting out a pool of her own gore.
The ones sitting next to me rise, as do the ones in the back and side and so on until they all do.
A frail, sickly looking man runs into the pit but it's too late. The Tower had already fallen, plummeting onto the tan, dirty gravel. His fall echoed and eyes clamped shut.
Ovisiana smirked, pushing back the single pure colored braid and raising her weapon in the air. The boos in the crowd did not dare affect her, she rather embraced them. Wore them as her armor and calmly skipped out the zone without looking back.
A presence behind me is known. It is rotten, corrupt and leaves an unworthy stench in my nose. "Rematch! The fight was fiddled with" A man exclaims. I can feel his giggle-water coated spit fly out of his obscene mouth and land on the drape that covers me.
His idiotic claims filled a rage in me, he had not known what it was like in the pit. He had never felt the jarring strikes of the warriors who had risked their lives and souls in the past. He has instead only watched from the sidelines, judging the plays of men and women who had more gonads than him.
My hands tighten, my fingernails scarred my palms. If I went any deeper, my hands would end up as Ovisiana's face did.
I lowered the handmade cloth from off my head, revealing coils that stretched past my backside. A few gasps from other watchers pleased me, some even leaving their seats at the strange site. I tap the older man's shoulder and he whips around, almost spilling his canteen filled with ale.
"If you should question my sister's will to fight, might I suggest I order you into the ring?"
The man scratches his glossy head as the dim light attempts to reflect back onto it. He chuckles, swiping his nose and smiles. "We only ask for a fair fight" He says, looking around for any type of assistance but there is none of that nature.
"And I only ask of you is to respect your princess"
"I respect my queen not her-"
"That is rich coming from a man who does not bear our mark" My finger points to his egg of a head and back to mine, highlighting the clear white streak of hair.
There is no problem with shaving your head of course, but it is rare for a noble to be demanding something from someone like Ovisiana. Someone who would squash him like a bug under a laser beam.
He steps closer to me, looking down at me with fury and frenzy in his eyes. "I shall not be barked around by a-' He pauses, swallowing down his thoughts and words. My eyes traveled down his body, scanning his ragged clothes and worn out sandals.
"By a what." I ask gracelessly.
He exhales a lengthy breath and takes a long sip of his ale before throwing it to the ground, drenching it on the women standing behind him, presumably his wife. The woman flinches, extremely. Her hands shielding her face from an attack but revealing black and purple spots tattooed onto her arms.
"A bastard!" He yells, his words pulsating throughout the stadium causing everyone to snap their heads in our direction.
His words did not hurt, my heart did not race and they were far from accusations. They are frankly the truth and one that only I can accept. However, his chest starts to rise and lower. The sweat seeped from his skin and down his face. His face was white and pale but a cocky smile started to grow, parting his chapped lips.
If I were a normal noble, I would let this go. Treat it as another individual with preposterous thoughts and ideals.
But I'm not.
I'm my mothers daughter, my sister's sister and I will not stand for disrespect, especially from a man who does not value the beauty of his wife.
An eerie smile spread to my cheek as a brilliant thought came to my mind. "Take his wife, I'll deal with her then." Boabatar grunts, throwing the crying woman across his shoulder as she kicks and pleading for help.
"No!" His hand reached towards the women and my guard but before he did the swiftness of my sword reached his first. He screams in agony, clutching onto the numbed part as it gushes out dark blue blood. His eyes darted on the hand which used to be a part of him but now is only feet away.
"Clean it." I say, gesturing to my stained sword.
"What?" He cries, his head spinning due to the heavy amount of blood loss.
"My sword is now filthy, as is your fault. So clean it" He pulls out a piece of cloth with his remaining hand, holding it up to the object. "With your tongue." I explain, slamming the sword on the ground and linking my fingers with one another.
His tongue glided along the diamond steel tip and moved upward to the rest to the dirty placements. He whimpers a little, like an abused bitch. No one dared to stop, no one dared to help. Exactly how it should be for an imbecile like him. He removes his mouth from off the blade, admiring the lifeless hand that he so solemnly aches for.
I gently curtsy down, taking my weapon and holstering it back to where it belonged. "The next person to question my birthright or my sister-" I point to the man's dismembered hand, "Just know, that will be your head"
I turn around, I can feel my bare feet covered in the man's blood but I will not wipe them, they will be a symbol to them all.
Walking towards the medical center I cannot help but feel a sense of shame. I am not prone to violence, I'm actually against it and hurting my own people is not what I intend to do with my life.
But still, the thrill of wielding the sword, having everyone looking up at me. It is an exhilarating feeling that makes me understand the reason why my little sister participates in these tournaments.
Having that kind of power is alluring, it can make someone get lost in the ocean of it all. And nothing is more dangerous than a maiden wielding a weapon.
Most people in our society wouldn't believe in this idea of a woman holding power, which is inconsiderate because my mother sits and maintains the throne and not father Varis. And considering my sister is one of our best fighters even though she has not yet bled.
Even if I do not- will not hold the throne or fight like Ovisiana does. I am the best weapons forager which is far more important. A man without a weapon is no man at all and those who cannot make weapons rely on the forgers- rely on me.
The long, dark hallway sent chills down my spine. I look back, ensuring no one follows but the only thing following are my bloody footprints. I turn the corner to see five armed guards protecting the door as if it's a piece of raw meat.
They do not move at first, questioning my value and place. I tilt my head, looking up at the sky scrapping men and glaring my huge brown eyes into their souls, almost like they are drilling petite holes.
Boabatar grunts once again signaling his men to move in an orderly fashion and paving a way for my entrance.
For once today, my heart stops completely seeing the horrifying image.
My baby sister, battered and bruised like no before. She has been in many fights, none like this. None to the point where her face is almost unrecognizable. Both eyes blacken. Cuts and scrapes provide a veil over her natural beauty. The scrawny healer leans in closer to her face, stitching a large gash on her forehead.
"Will it scar?" I ask, hovering over the working man.
"I can ensure she will have the best care-"
"It was a simple question. Will it scare her face?" I demanded, my voice raising as the healer's hands shook against my sister's skin.
He moves away, dropping the needle and thread onto a shiny metal plate along with his small, clear glasses. "I suppose it will but-"
"But nothing. Leave, there is no use for you." Dropping a few coins into the man's hand he massages his back and waddles out of the room.
"You are reckless."
"Says you-"
"You do not value your life."
She scoffs holding her left arm in place. "I must show everyone- our mother, that I am worthy of the title"
I sigh, rubbing both of my sore temples, "Even if it costs you your life-"
"Yes Prairilese, I am meant to die by a blade owned by a worthy opponent. It is my birthright-"
"Your birthright is being queen someday and dying in a bed of riches, not fighting like some hooligan" I say, running my fingers through my hair and sitting on the rough medical bed right next to the stubborn girl.
"We both know good and well the throne will be yours-"
"Yes and well I do not choose to have it, I do not wish to bear the pressure and pain of holding my people together." I lay my head on her armored shoulder, feeling the chilling metal on the base of my cheek but that is not what stung me. "I have no right to the throne, I am our mother's bastard."
Ovisiana groans, still holding up her injured arm."You are mothers daughter, her eldest and more worthy to seat the throne than Can'non"
There is a moment of silence where what is only heard is the sound of our breaths and the faint yelling noise of the crowd.
I wish for nothing more than for my sister to do as she pleases, as long as she is safe. But it seems like the word safe is not in Ovisiana's vocabulary. She strives for danger but also order. The only thing she would betray of my mother's wishes is her will to fight. Exactly the opposite of me. I however betray everything she tells me to.
I look at my young sister, supposed to be so innocent, so protected. Her gold colored hair shall never be soaked in blood but as long as she lives, it will be and that is what I fear the most.
"Did I put up a good show?"
I sniffle, holding back the unnecessary tears, "I will not answer that."
"Well did you think I would yield, or you know, die?" She laughs but quickly groans in pain at the opposite reaction, maybe it is well deserved and will allow her to come to her senses. Who am I kidding?
"I have never pondered those silly thoughts, not even today" I say truthfully, after every fight, no matter how hard or easy, no matter how big or small the other fighter is. She always gets back up. The day she lays lifeless and battered, similar to now, scares me yes, but it will not happen as long as I look after her. It is my one true job that I will take on for as long as we both live.
She clutches her arm once again for a third time but yelps like a baby. I squint my eyes slightly at the nervous girl. She attempts to pull away as I tug on the base of her armor. "If you choose to not sit still, I will cut that braid right out your pretty little head" The armor is rough, and difficult to slip off for someone without experience. It feels as if I could do this in my sleep and or blind. Removing the iron plates was easy, putting them back on took my little sister hours.
A animal like hiss leaves Ovisiana's lips, "It is nothing-"
"Quiet." I say, gently unstrapping the arm plate. My hand rises to my face, clasping over my mouth and holding back the acid like texture in my throat.
Her arm, out of its socket and hanging down like a loose chandler. It looks completely and utterly disgusting, I have no clue how she isn't screaming in pain. There is no chance she is a normal person.
I flick the dislocated part of the arm, making her flinch away from me, "That stings, you beast"
"It appears as if it's about to fall off your body-"
"Just push it back in and shut it" She interrupts, rolling her head in a full three-sixty, letting a few satisfying cracks loose. My hand instinctively strikes the back of her head at the distasteful sound that I had warned her about previously. Looking back at my hand, I can feel a familiar wet and sticky substance that had not been there prior.
Placing my dominate hand on the top of her shoulder and my other at the base of her hand, "Okay, three, two-"
Pop.
It falls into place perfectly, now looking like an arm that can function properly and not that disgusting monstrosity. She does not scream, she does not yelp. She simply breathes in and sucks up all of the discomfort that she chose. Ovisiana wiggles her fingers, regaining the vigor she had once before.
"You did not say one" She says, stripping the remaining armor off and fixing the basic black attire that was buried under the pounds of steel. She bends down, separating both legs then stretching for the right and then the left.
Sometimes I wish I was like Ovisiana. beautiful chocolate hair, agile, respectful. The Igneari heartthrob, the warrior, the princess that was meant but un-promised. Everything that I'm not and what my people hate me for. I did not choose to be born a bastard, I did not choose for my mother to lay with another man. The only thing I chose was to accept the names given to me.
Unworthy, bastard, mistake.
Maybe it would be a wise choice if I'd joined the lost ones, become exiled and forgotten forever. But is that really the price I'd pay to feel whole, to feel welcomed and accepted by my own people. The ones who are supposed to support me, but choose to be the ones to look down at me like I'm some forbidden monster.
I'm just a girl, almost of age who was born into unfortunate circumstances. Much like the humans forced to live upon such boring and miserable circumstances. Forced to deal with the conformities of society, and shackled to a system that wants to replicate everyone. Schedules, work, bills. Everything that makes a place so insufferable and what distinguishes us from them.
I look down at the small, dainty watch, "It is past time, we are going to be late"
"Oh- yes, about that, I'm sort of-, what would you call it? Busy with comrades"
"You have no friends"
She sighs, "You know I am a drag each time we're there"
Ovisiana hates children, when she found out we were having a little sibling, she declared that child to be sent to the lost ones until he was in his adulthood. Of course mother had the baby despite my sister's wishes but eventually, she got what she wanted and became the youngest once again and that is when we knew everything changed for good.
"The children love you" I say, biting my lip, trying to keep back the hysterical laugh from that horrendous lie. The children hate her, they complain on that fact that she is too strict and takes away their recess when they do not perfect a double roundhouse kick in less than twenty seconds. Even though they are closer to age with her than me, they beg me to leave her at home and pray to our protector that I come in my airmobile alone. The parents love her, they say she teaches discipline and will lead their children to become great warriors. They hate the fact I teach them how to craft and make mini weapons for their use.
"You're a horrid liar" She drapes the soft cloak over her head as do I. The guards attempt to follow us but fail when Ovisiana shrugs them off and tells them to get back to the palace. I do not understand why they listen more to her, sometimes it seems like she is the older sister and I am the younger.
…
The air ride is smooth, no one is in the sky at this time due to the festivities that happen later on in the day. Dances, food stands and other things that we cannot participate in. But I wish I could. Like the parades I read about humans having on special days and occasions,but here it is everyday.
Ovisiana lays on the clear, polished window that I had just cleaned earlier this morning. Smugging all her sweat on it and making it filthy again. Her mouth opens wide out of pure exhaustion, her eyes struggling to stay open for the next few minutes.
"If you fall asleep I'll throw you out and let you plummet to the ground"
"Good, maybe I'd fall in front of the school so my body is displayed to those bratty children"
I can't help but laugh at her ridiculous joke, my face changing into a deep shade of red and my stomach tossing and bubbling. My laugh must be contagious because Ovisiana starts to sync in with me. Until she doesn't. She sits up from her slouching position, rubs her eyes and looks closer out the window.
"Is that a-" She pauses, grabbing the binocular-like glasses that I made for her weeks ago and squeezing them on her face, "A boat?"
Beep
Beep
Beep
Three small beeps, my watch sounded three beeps. So meaningless for someone who doesn't know the meaning behind them.
Ovisiana turns her head, and for the first time. I can see- no feel something from her that I never have . Her lips part, eyes unfocused and gulps down the knot or ball that is stuck in her throat.
"We have to report back to The Queen" She says, her words coming out shaky and her lips quivering in just the slightest. A small droplet of sweat runs down her face as she quickly wipes it away.
"But shouldn't we-?"
"Now Prairilese!" She grabs the steering wheel, making the car move from left to right, side to side.
"Stop- were going to crash-"
"We need to go back-"
Boom
A large, annoying sound floods our ears, causing the both of us to clasp our hands over them.
One little sound, echoing from the place just inches in front of us but it is far from the location.
Fire, ash, rubble and smoke surrounding the area.
And a ginormous alien ship where the school once was.
If it were up to me, I would dive in that rubble, hot stones and everything, just to see if there are any survivors. Any at all. But the weight of that ship, it could have crushed our whole village if it landed any closer, a small part of me wishes it had. Maybe then, the people- children inside would be safe and not sacrificed for an unknown reason.
The sound of Ovisiana yelling - screeching at me to turn around shouldn't be such a conflicting noise, but my arms feel as if they are being held down by cement blocks and my mouth feels dryer than when we went through that drought and people started to offer their first born just for a bottle of water. Tuning her out of my mind isn't a smart choice, she has always been the smartest one but lacks the compassion that constantly holds me back. I feel like I can hear them. They're tiny bones being crusted by the tons of metal, being fried and chard by the curse of those demon starters. They're innocent faces expecting me but being unwelcome with the worst death imaginable.
It is not normal for children to die at this age at the hands of someone else, the last one we know of was Varis the second. As it should be, but we were wrong. This planet, this island, is the only innocent thing in this whole forsaken universe. Everyone is guilty of something, even those children who are burning right before my eyes. That does not excuse them dying like this,not having proper bodies returned back to their families but instead having to only live with the memory of what they children once were before me. 'Go!', A voice says, but I cannot.
"Prairilese! Go or we will burn too" She pleads, begging me to turn around once more.
"No." I say chillingly, barely a whisper and no quivering or no tears being shed, "They are waiting for me- they are waiting for us" I turn to my sister who looks as if shes isn't in this moment right now. She stares into the fire, not with remorse or regret but with a pleased look. Nothing like when she heard mother signaling.
Ovisiana sighs, pushing back the strand of pure hair that cover my unsettling face, "They are gone sister. The dead may not rise but the living can be warned." She is right, I am aware that she is right.
"They are just children"
"So are we" She attempts to justify, but it is like her words go into one of my ears and travels straight out the other, avoiding the part of my brain that is trying to process all of this information.
"I am sorry, forgive me, sister"
"What-" Ovisiana tries to say, but falls back into her seat as the small medical needle probes her neck and my hand is the one that grasp's it like a coward. No one knew I had combined the venom from various different fishes that swarm throughout the river, and I would be prosecuted if anyone found out.
My trembling hand meets with the soft joystick that operates the airmobile, moving it forward the vehicle thrusts forward, lunging towards the woods that almost connect the once school and the now colorless forest, together. Ovisiana lifeless body almost moves with the motion, but my arm holds her back into place. Securing her like if she had a seatbelt on.
The trees rustle against the top and sides of the vehicle, scrapping at the windows and at the clear roof that lets the sun in when there is daylight.
Animals, oh the poor animals. So fearful of their first Forrest fire. They most likely heard the screams of the children, they must echo in their ears like an alarm. They were lucky, hearing the last of the youth is a sound that some parents would want one tape. Play over and over and over until their ears leak and ache. They leap and gallop away from the fire, obviously as any scared mammal would do. It would be for the best, but what if the best is wrong. What if there are still children in their, begging for help that wont arrive.
A sharp stop is all that pulls me out fo my thoughts. For some odd reason, we had landed right in the middle of the forest, something that I had not planned. But still, this whole situation was not entirely up to me anyways.
"What in the holy protector have you done. You always do the exact opposite of what me and mother tell you. You assume I'm the reckless one. No Prairilese, that is you, it has always been you and it will continue being you for as long as we both shall live. Maybe if you wouldn't have left Varias alone-"
"Do not speak to me about Varias" I snap back, striking my sister across the face, causing a faint bruise to slowly from on her left cheek, "There is only one person on this island that was responsible for his death. Do not put that back onto me."
She strokes the pained part of her cheek, soothing it with her tortoise like hands and turning her head away from me, her oak colored locks and fruity scent slapping my face in the process. Ovisiana pauses for a second, her face shifting to a recognizable look that brought me back to when were were kids. Before I can act, she reaches for the joy stick moves the mobile backwards along with us. She groans as her head recovers from the sudden impact with the uncomfortable and stiff headrest. Her hand still on the stick, she looks at me, her eyes locked onto mine and her posture strengthening.
She did not expect me to raise my hand to the stick as well, her face turned white as I moved her hand back forward.
I didn't know the last thing we'd both see was an old, tall, oak tree standing in our way and getting closer and closer.
….
My eyes feel heavy and my head is spinning in ways I never thought it could, Feeling my face, to my knowledge there is not any cuts or bruises which is surprising considering we totaled my only airmobile. It took me a whole year to get my license, now mother is going to strip that away and not allow me to drive until I'm fifty.
I stumble out my vehicle, almost tripping over my own feet and rubbing the side of my head like Ovisiana, who is thankfully passed out. She would skin me alive if she saw me venturing out into fire, alone.
My bare toes grip onto the warm, earthy soil. The feeling of my feet dancing on earth's base is electrifying, I can feel it breathing from right under me. The smell brought me back, the smell of ash, despair and a failing ecosystem. My heart tightens knowing my people, my home did not deserve this treatment.
My feet start to move, but almost like they are moving themselves without my mind telling them to. It's like I'm being drawn to somewhere, like I was meant to be here at this very moment and she placed me here for a reason. The hard prickles of discarded wood, minerals and the now sourcing soil did not affect me. I supposed what's already damaged cannot be hurt again. The smell of flesh burning does not make me feel the need to stop, it convinces me to keep going.
I suppose it is the least I can endure.
I remember Father Varias taught me to hunt, he said someday I'd need to learn to take care of myself and I was the last thing on his list of responsibilities. He never taught cah'non or Ovisiana what he taught me.
He had told me to look out for sounds, broken leaves that looked tampered with and more importantly, tracks. I am a better tracker than him, I knew I was. No one really ran through the woods except for the animals.
This is why the sight of size ten shoe imprints did not make sense. They have been going on for a while, in one single direction without stopping. They are so close together like the person who they belong to had been running from something.
It is intriguing, alluring, not knowing what was waiting for me.
The inhalation of smoke pollutes my nose and lungs. Any longer and I think I would be like-
"I will murder you"
Ovisiana.
I do not turn around, I do not stop. I actually walk faster at the sound of her terrifying voice. She lets out a few disease-like coughs and her steps gradually become louder. I can feel her next to me, her breath becoming heavier, obviously due to the amount of smoke. If she becomes any angrier, I bet her rage could power those engines and make them burn the entire island down.
Another breathy cough leaves her system, "If you do not turn, mother will tear the whole village down to find us" She says,, her hands swinging everywhere as she tries to prove her point.
A small whimper, not an animal. I can hear human whimper but Ovisiana cannot.
"She will strip up the folk until they tell her where we are-"
"Be quiet-"
"I do not wish to be quiet"
Another whimper, so soft, so light. "There's someone here- we are not alone" I whisper, holding my sister back from moving but she slaps my hands away. "It could be one of the children"
She rolls her eyes as I drag her towards a nearby tree that the human-like whimpers come from.
"Holy sh-"
"Language"
It is not a child, it is not an animal, oh but I wish it were. it is an alien that is far from home. Lost and hurt.
"He's…human-"
"Lost-" I interrupt, staring down at the sleeping boy who does not bare our make. His hair, darker than ever without a single pure streak. It was like he was frozen in time and waiting for us to find him.
Ovisiana steps closer to the boy, reaching out to him-
"Stop!" I say, slapping her hand down and pushing her meters away. My body insistently shields the boy, from a distance of course.
She looks down at the boy again, her eyes hungry for a kill, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her moist lips are unnecessarily refreshed by her tongue and her right eyes twitches just once.
"You must not touch him… remember"
"He shall die anyway, look what his people have done." She points to the burning trees and growing fires. "He is forbidden… Do not worry, It will be painless" A wave of fear passes over me, when she swiftly pills out her iron blade and starts walking towards the helpless boy.
Pulling out the heavy, unused gun, I point it at my sisters chest. My finger trembles against the trigger and the object, clearly shaking.
Ovisiana laughs, holding her stomach and wiping a stand of sweat off her face. "Very funny Prairilese hand me the gun-"
Zap
The bright green laser strikes her exactly on the soft, squishy place on her shoulder, right where I was aiming for.
Ovisiana groans, whispering and mumbling unholy curses that I cannot repeat. I had vowed to always keep my sister safe, even if that means from herself or a version of herself. When she sees a threat, she only goal is to eliminate it at any given cost. It does not matter if her soul is on the line as well, she will always try to protect our people and the order.
"Sister, I will not watch you lose yourself by harming an innocent-"
She laughs, the weight of her shoulder now trying to balance itself out, her hair sticking to her wet, sticky forehead."You are a fool if you are to believe this is innocent. The only innocent thing is him burning like the poor, poor children, like those helpless teachers just waiting to get back to their families"
"You are not yourself"
"No, sister. I am myself. You are the one who refuses to embrace what you are-"
"And what exactly is that" I yelled back, the gun raised to my sister, but my head turned towards the boy.
"Not human." Ovisiana says, a small smirk taunting me, laughing at me, "I saw what you did to that man, his wife who screamed for mercy"
My finger gets closer to the tempting trigger that is begging me to give it a small bit of attention, "Mind your tongue"
"Face it Prairilese, let your monster in."
A small rustling sound breaks both our attentions, a deer running towards the fire and a bear running behind it.
The back of Ovisiana hand is all that is next before I crash to the ground. My gun flies into the air and right into her perverted hands, now aiming it at her target.
"Just like I have."
Remote.
I forgot about the damn remote!
Her eyes squint and eyebrows curl as she watches me reach into my flower, bra, shirt thing. My finger hovers over the big red button but the crazed look in her eyes made it easy for me to push it back down.
Her entire body spazzes, drops down and convulses rapidly like as if she'd be having a medical emergency. Her head hits the ground repetitively so much so she would have a concussion right about now.
I kick the weapon away, my hand still on the button and rushing towards my baby sister. Placing her head In my lap, she looks at me with these eyes. Pleading for her big sisters help, wishing for it to stop.
"It is okay" Pushing back the sticky hair and kissing the base of her forehead, "Do not fight"
Her green embers shine against the beautiful night sky. They would be stars if they weren't her eyes. But they finally closed out of utter exhaustion, almost like they were waiting for the approval of another.
She is not a monster, I am not a monster. We are people too.
The movement and screams coming from the boy was not expected. His eyes moved rapidly as he studied the picture that was painted in front of him.
He is nothing like I have ever seen before.
His hands fiddle with a small red bracelet with a tiny gold pendant in the middle, like an infinity symbol mixed into another. He looks around, observing his surroundings or as if he's looking for someone.
My arm raises, the palm of my hand facing and reaching out to him, "I mean you no harm. I do not want anything from you but what you call yourself"
For a moment, he does not answer. Maybe he does not speak the dialect? Maybe he is illiterate? Perhaps he's mute-
"Finian" He gulps loudly, "Finian Sok Sinclair"
He does not look at my face, only at the small bracelet that does nothing for him at the moment.
"I am Prairilese, daughter of Casicara, princess of the igneari, forger of weapons" I pause, biting my lip and holding back my next phrase, "Heir to the golden throne" I whisper, holding my head down in shame.
"Where am I?" He whispers, still clutching onto the piece of jewelry.
My head tilts, a small smirk perking across my lips, "You are on our island, strangely enough"
"Forboden" He says, whispering and turning his head to meet mine.
"Excuse me?"
"They call this island- you all, Forboden- forbidden I mean"
"You know of us?" I smile, my cheeks turning hot—burning and cherry but not from the fire. From the recognition.
He chuckles, pushing back the dark colored ringlets from his face, "Everyone does"
The frightened boy flinches as murmurers from the almost conscious girl spills out, "Your like a God- and your people." And for a second, I do believe him. It warms my heart, these compliments; showering my people. Showering me. I feel like my brain is scrambling, turning into mush and I am slowly but surely forgetting where I am.
What has happened.
"Are there more of you" My expressions must have changed quickly. The look of fascination and awe on his face twisted into one of that is of fear. A large gulp rom the boy expresses something intriguing. A minute but noticeable scar, stretching from one side of his neck to the other. It is healed- well of course, but still. A foreign nasty thing that does not belong on such a thing.
He looks down once again, "Yes, our commander- leader. He'll know I'm missing-"
"Stop" I say, stepping closer to Finian.
Finian, such a strange name. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael. I would have guess all those names and most likely many more, but not Finian. But still fitting. Finian can better be defined as fair or white, the perfect name for the prefect specimen.
"There is no need nor reason to lie. I will not hurt you" My eyes glide over towards my sister- whom is now awake, grasping onto the fresh cut on her head. Supposedly from one of the many rocks that she hit on tragic but well deserved her fall. I point to my sister, she stares at him like he is a home made meal. Well and prepped just for her. "She however, will open that scar right back up. Now, are there more of you?"
"There are about a hundred on the ship but none are with me. I'm alone"
"What a pitiful shame" Ovisiana says, limping towards Finian. The dark blue blood is all that is masking her face
His eyebrows furrow together, his head shaking rapidly "Wait why-"
She groans as her black, heavy boot collides with his confused face. The force of the kick was noticeable. A unusual substance arises from that act of violence. We both lean in closer to inspect this new found observation. Ovisiana licks her perfectly moist lips and chuckles.
Dark blood. But not the color of ours.
The color of the fire that is burning right in front of us. The color of shiny rubies that are only presented on a wedding day. We are definitely the first of our kind to see this since The Only War. Since our family road into battle with his kind.
"The creature bleeds red"