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"Let's have a toast. To the incompetence of our enemies."
― Holly Black
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꧁Chapter One꧂
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Run
I beg my legs to run through the ache, spreading up my thighs, burning in my throat, soot clinging to my white stays, scraping it down my lungs, setting them ablaze with each breath and pant my body screams for.
Run, run through the torment, run through the searing pain, through the blood of our mother soaking the earth beneath our feet.
Run
Smoke mixes with the fog, shrouding our path in a disorienting haze. I choke back the urge to retch, my stomach roiling at the scent of soot and blood caking our skin.
Cyra keeps pace beside me, her breath coming in ragged gasps as we burst through the dense fog, our feet pounding against the moss-covered earth littered with treacherous sharp stones.
Their footstep we're closing in, one deadly stride after another. Daggers glint in the moonlight, honed to a lethal edge, poised for the killing blow they so very itched for.
Even in Aspye, escape to any other capital or town is unthinkable —we would be hunted relentlessly until we reach the next kingdom and killed if we meet the next soldier.
And they knew this, they knew they didn't have to kill us here because the people who ran would face a fate so much worse than the families of Aspye Left in the ruins of ash
Yet it was never quite enough
Even a mindless massacre of the innocents wasn't enough. Terror was the goal they were determined to win and Hope, something woven into the fibers of the soul could not co-exist with it.
It would never be enough.
The forest erupts in a blaze of light, flames engulfing the trees and painting the night sky in hues of hellish orange and red. Overtaking homes and families in its wake their shrieks echoing through the trees in a chilling symphony of terror
In the mix of chaos a sharp bone-cracking sound echos through the forest louder than any scream
She thrashes wildly her eyes disbelieving- almost horrified her ankle twisted and bruised in a trap of vines and yanking against her skin sending blisters up her leg
I rush to her side, dropping to my knees beside her
I knew they could hear her, my hand wasn't enough to stop sounds that had echoed through the trees and it was only a matter of time until they found the source of the noise.
Panic settled around me like a cold, suffocating cloak, threatening to consume us far more swiftly than any raging flames ever could, I was hasty to untangle vines as they cut and scraped my fingertips drawing blood with every thorn.
I looked over my shoulder, a newfound paranoia taking form in me as the light sound of footsteps plagued my head. Then, something much worse took form in front of me.
Hemlock blooms.
Their white petals intertwined with the poisonous green vines wrapped around her legs were renowned. Born from our ignorance and foolishness, they had become the root cause of the plague that tormented Apsye, sending the masses into hysteria and, soon, their graves.
It would've claimed our mother but now, It would claim hers unless we acted soon
I will not lose Cyra, not like this.
Not with my hands covered in her mother's blood.
A shrill whistle pierces the air, commanding attention with its whip-like sound cutting through my thoughts and smoke.
The sharp cry slicing the air restlessly hits the birch trees with a heavy thunk And my heart stutters.
The pain hits me like a tidal wave, threatening to drag me under
Blood splatters against the moss, dripping down my arm, dripping onto the white blooms, painting the poisonous petals red.
Arrows.
The realization slammed into me like a hammer blow and deeper than any blade
This wasn't a meaningless massacre of an empire driven to terror for the simple crime of living or execution by a corrupt blade that once hounded and shaped our own.
Because that would be a mercy.
We were no longer an empire to be conquered but one to be hunted
This was war that was led by rage, a war led by heedless vanity for the sake of bloodshed
And Aspye would burn to ashes in its path.
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꧁The End.꧂
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