My human mother used to tell me stories. Some were of beautiful princesses being saved by the dashing prince, others were horrors of a mighty evil hiding beneath my bed, but none were as captivating a tale as the fall of our great countries.
Hundreds of years ago, my mother started, all of the kingdoms of the world stumbled into a dispute. It was such a petty disagreement, but each lord was so sure they were right that none would back down. Eventually the argument bled out into the battleground where the lords swore the answer would reveal itself in flesh and steel. They fought for a great many years, a number so great that they forgot what petty argument started this war; they thirsted for nothing but blood from those who opposed them.
Their people grew tired of war and death. All the able men had gone to die for the Lord's honor, leaving the fields to run red. The people suffered and starved, and every kingdom began dying from the inside out.
On their last limbs, clinging onto hope, a robed hermit emerged from the mountains, wielding a staff of pure gold. Inked onto the wrinkled eyelids of the hermit were the symbols of the Heavens, and written on the whites of his eyes were the ancient scriptures of the Almighty. The hermit spoke of a gift--Praeditum. This gift was a power given to him by the Almighty to rid this land of its toxins.
With His power, the hermit healed the wounded, vanquished the evil, and relinquished the twelve great countries to their former glory, settling their dispute and counseling them in accepting each and everyone's differences. This led to great peace between the countries and harmony fell upon the land. As he withered and died, the old hermit promised Praeditum to return.
A few generations after the passing of the robed hermit, a curious anomaly appeared from the high forests, unknowingly threatening the many years of peace. Strange half human-half beasts stumbled out of the darkness, each without clue of who they were or how they came to be.
Their appearance sent tremors throughout Regionem, shaking the land into disgusted chaos. The humans sneered and gawked at the hybrids that slithered and flew, they gagged at the hybrids that galloped and barked. Each hybrid was so different and inexpiable that the humans thrust them aside as if they were below emotions of trust and compassion. They created a rift between the two species, spreading even further from one another with every passing decade.
The humans began calling the hybrids animans--half animal, half human. The humans slew the animans, enslaved them, and did with their bodies whatever they pleased. Most animans aren't even allowed within certain Countries, which is why many wind up in trouble like this.
"Yuh fil’hy, animan scum!" His scratchy voice cut at the young girl’s face and she winced at his tone. He dragged her to the center of town, his grip like steel around her forearm.
People stepped out of his way, creating a path exactly where he wanted to go. Some morbid souls would spit or hiss profanity at his prisoner; others would turn away and pretend not to see. Too weak-stomached to watch the whipping take place, but too cowardly to stand up and stop it. Those were the type of people the young girl forgave the least.
The man with the sharp tone stopped in the center of town with a stomp before hurling her onto the dirt. She coughed, spewing more of the dirt onto her face and eyes. She blinked it away, she held her breath so it wouldn't happen again as she turned up. A thick trunk of splintered tree towered over her.
"We'll see if yuh come back here after a good whippin’, yuh fil’hy half breed." The man spit before placing his foot on the back of her head, shoving her face back into the dirt.
The crowd laughed as she cried in pain, cheering for the rowdy man.
A few seconds passed. The man must be basking in his newfound fame. She lifted her face from the ground, wincing in pain and touching to see if anything was broken, but the seconds were fleeting.
There was a rough tug at the base of her thick hair, pulling her back up to her knees. She screamed, taking hold of his wrist and digging her nails into his skin. Even beneath her gloves, she could feel how thick the skin of his hands was. But the man only flinched which made him tug tighter at her hair. She could hear strands tear prematurely out of her scalp, and she whined loudly through clenched teeth, tears stinging at her eyes. Her head felt hot, and a warm liquid began pouring from her nose. The pain pulsed and the ache radiated throughout her whole face, doubling with the pain from her stretching scalp.
The man laughed along with the crowd this time, reveling in the wounds he caused her. "Let's hear that nasty scream again, little animan brat. Did yuh think this dirty cloak could hide yur hideous features?!"
His other hand gripped tightly to the back of her cloak, and she felt her heart skip in her throat. With a single yank of his arm her cloak was torn off her body, revealing the ragged shirt she wore beneath. It was already torn and bloodstained with previous punishments.
The man clicked his tongue at her as the crowd hissed in disgust. "Yu're a naugh’y little brat, aren't yuh? We can't show ‘em a good bea’in’ with this dirty rag on, could we?!" He shouted out to the crowd.
They cheered louder, agreeing with him wholeheartedly.
She swallowed a scream, her body beginning to shake in terror at his suggestion. "N-no sir, p-please...!"
He tugged on her hair again in reply to her plea. "Should have thought o’ that before steppin’ foot in Cance, animan brat!" His other hand tightened on her tattered top.
Her heartbeat quickened and she tried to get to her feet, but the man only shoved her back down. She felt tears streaming down the sides of her face, and her throat clenched causing her voice to become hoarse and panicked. "No, please..!" She cried out again, her mouth stretched as if it would make her plea louder, her hands desperately pushing away at his grip.
The crowd cheered louder, ignoring her wails and egging the man on.
The collar of her shirt tightened against her torso, and she could feel the man's toothy grin gaze upon her chest where innocent skin freckled with goose bumps, soon-to-be publicly exposed. She gripped onto the man's hand tighter, squeezing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth in fear for what was just a small yank away.
She could hear the tears of her tatty sleeves ripping apart. Usually, tears of clothing sounded like the gentle declaration of rebellion. Here, these whistling rips sounded like the daring promise of humiliation.
Cheers rose higher, ringing in her ears. The crowd grew ever more impatient and excited for her dehumanization. It made her wonder who the real monster was: animals like her or humans like this man and the crowds of people who cheer him on.
Humans could sit there and watch as if torturing a young girl was as right as rain so long as she was only half human. It was humans who fear, fight, and create havoc, and they see no need to stop. It was humans who believe they alone live above any law that governs the lives of every creature on this planet.
Her throat clenched as the tear deepened, her heart pumping against her ears. It was the humans who were monsters.
Suddenly, the grasp on her ragged shirt was released and fell limply back onto her thin body.
"Now let go of her hair."
Slowly, the tight grasp on her head loosened and her scalp relaxed. She sat on her knees, stunned by the sudden rescue, the ghostly remnants of a scream slipping past her dry lips.
The rowdy crowd fell into hushed whispers among themselves, staring behind her where the man once stood.
She let out a shaky breath, tears of fear still making their way down her cheeks. Someone...had saved her?
But nothing was for free. They would ask some dirty chore done for them in return, that was how it usually ended up. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought, suddenly fearful of the one who saved her.
She turned her head slowly, horrified of what she would find.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
