《Burning Era》


 Prologue | Good Lifes End

    Soft crackles of the flames radiated warmth in the lax evening. Despite this, anyone witnessing the event would find the sight chilling. Deadwood was swallowed by the towering flames. Yet, no one in the crowd was panicking. For it was not their home that was being burnt.


    The flames rose and licked her feet, leaving scorching marks of black on her skin. Tied helpless with thick rope, it felt like dark chains were holding her waist. Her head spun as her neck lulled around limply under the thick smoke. Illusions from the mind¡¯s eye made the tightened chains feel like the embrace of the devil. Perhaps they had been right.


    Her arms flared in pain and her legs were charred. One of her arms ached from struggling continuously, stretching and unwinding the rope to no avail. The other arm ached from the flames brought upon the very people who had trusted her, the flames in their eyes burned almost as much as the ones that  were burning her face.


    But what had hurt the most, was the stray thought that passed her. ¡®Where is she¡­?¡¯ Under all of the screams and tears forced out by the flames through her throat, she was afraid of something more. Is her daughter not here? Did that mean they¡¯d gotten her? Or had she escaped? Is she among the crowd?


    Had she seen her mother in such a sorry state?


    It became too much. The air itself was drowning under all of the jeers and pelted rocks being thrown around. It felt like sticking your head into a beehive, full of echoing sentiments of hostility that would slowly kill your mind if you weren¡¯t already dead by a thousand stings.


    Her clothes withered to the abyss and her soul had already left her body. She had given up even before the rancid smell of a burnt corpse began to seep through the air. Bringing gloom to all but the people present.


    ¡°The witch is gone! She¡¯ll no longer harm us!¡± ¡°Right, right. To the fire she goes!¡±


    Words full of hate overlapped one another in a disgustingly harmonic fashion. The crowds roughly bumped into one another in their frenzied state, the brutal show doubled as a welcoming reassurance for them. None had reacted to the coppery smell. Some of the adults even brought their children as a means to show them what ¡®justice¡¯ looks like.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t right¡­¡¯ One child in particular, despaired at the sight. She could not put into words the feeling of slowly watching your mother, your most loved one, die. She could feel her eyes sting as she held back hot tears, feeling as if the fire somehow reached her face and burned her eyes.


    The girl could feel something beginning to rise out of her throat, and it wasn¡¯t words. Only barely did she cover her mouth in time, resisting the urge to puke all out on the floor. She lifted her arm and swiped the tears off her face, dampening her light sleeves. Holding her arm to her face, she tried desperately to quiet her sobs.


    Like flickering flames, on and off, she couldn¡¯t decide what she was feeling. Unending hate towards everyone around her? The crushing grief of sudden loss? If her emotions were a pool of water under the sun, swirling inwards. Then it felt as if fresh charcoal was dumped into the liquid.


    ¡®Please, quiet down¡­¡¯ She whimpered, the jeers and insults were too much. Carelessly thrown around with a person that only did good for them and received nothing in return but this.


    Her hands shook, not in fear as it had moments prior to the gruesome death, but in horror of the cruelty in this world. She strained her neck to keep her head down, afraid to peek.


    ¨C


    She ran with no signs of stopping. With every step, her legs wobbled and her bones felt close to breaking. The soles of her feet were sore, ready to fall off at any second. Tears piled on her cheeks and ran down her chin, forming tiny puddles on the grassy ground. Her heart was racing and her chest ached in pain. Like rumbling clouds, her sobs bubbled in her chest. Ready to burst and bare the world her grief.


    She took notice of an alley, between two stone-walled buildings. A church and an orphanage. Oddly enough, only one of the two was painted with vibrant colors. But she ignored that in favor of the chance to hide.


    Wasting no time, she quickly entered before she fell to her knees.


    For what felt like an hour, she sat there. She had tucked herself to the corner of the dark alley, blending into the shadows. From afar, she seemed much smaller curled up. She was still exhausted from the exertion she put her body through.


    She had to wonder. Why did she decide to hide? Was it to hide from the people that hunted for her? Or was it to hide the pain and grief that would prone people to use her in her weakened state? She only knew that she had to hide.


    The dark alleyway felt cold. Wind seemed to blow an iceless gale throughout the alley. Every puff of breath felt like they would have made tiny clouds, but they didn¡¯t. The clothing she wore did little to warm her, almost as if they weren¡¯t even there. Her fingers felt numb and her cheeks burned, but it wasn¡¯t cold.


    It was calming in a way. Comfort in the form of nature¡¯s indifference, different from the warmth of familiarity. ¡®This likely isn¡¯t natural though.¡¯ She thought.


    Suddenly, the thick clothes that hugged her frame felt tighter than it was moments ago. Almost to the point of suffocating her. It was uncomfortable, like multiple bonfires were being lit around her. The pleasant cold that captured her mind moments before had completely vanished.


    She couldn¡¯t understand what was happening. And though by now she realized it was an illusion, she was helpless to stop it.


    Helpless against the changing climate in her own head. The layer of sweat that wrapped around her body became hot then cold rapidly and made her head spin. She felt as though she didn¡¯t belong in her own skin. The confusing mix of emotions that filled her to the brim warped into something else entirely.


    Had she been in a better mood¨C a writer¡¯s mood¨C she would have said that it was as if her soul was leaving her body.


    ¨C


    Like a dying fire, the crushing feeling in her chest faded. Despite this, every twitch of movement felt light, unnaturally so. It made her worry that she would trip and fall when she decided to stand up. The strange feeling wasn¡¯t something she noticed until it suddenly felt like she could move again. As if the metal bindings that existed only in her head disappeared.


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    With a soft groan, she stood up. Her earlier worries were for naught when she took steps¨C albeit shakily¨C forward.


    She felt a swell of pride for standing up, the pleasant feeling filled up the hole that had appeared in her heart. But the feeling quickly faded the next few steps. She felt like a child learning how to walk again. Except, she somehow expected her mother to hold her hand, even when she knew that she was gone.


    ¡®Stupid.¡¯ She thought.


    Like a statue made of stone, she froze completely still. She couldn¡¯t take any more steps forward as her spirit was snuffed by the feeling of uncertainty. ¡®Where do I even want to go?¡¯ She thought. The previous steps forward felt pointless as it did aimless. She had been going forwards with little thought.


    ¡®Where can I even go?¡¯


    The question hit her like a boar hitting a fence. Forget about her dreams of writing and learning, she didn¡¯t even know step one of survival. A well of frustration pooled in her head as thoughts ran through her head with panic. ¡®Those men, are they still out to get me?!¡¯


    Like a child, looking to see if they¡¯ll get caught stealing cookies, she snapped her head side to side rapidly. Only, the situation is less ideal. She scanned the area to find it empty, like deadwaters at night.


    She held her hands together, forcing herself to calm down. ¡®It wouldn¡¯t do to panic like this.¡¯ Even as she thought this, she had trouble keeping herself from bolting out the streets right there and then. Taking deep breaths, she eventually came to a point of rational thought.


    She gathered her thoughts as best as she could and organized what resources she had in her head. It was unlikely that they would get her now when they could¡¯ve earlier. She thought for a few moments, before she hesitated. Was she wasting time? Without an adult to guide her, she felt as if she could make a terrible mistake at any moment.


    ¡®I¡¯ll likely die on the first misstep¡­¡¯


    A soft flap brought her attention. A stray piece of parchment flew in the air, lightly grazing the ground once in a while before taking off once more. Slowly, she brought one of her hands to her other palm. As she was listing things down in her head, she vaguely wrote them down on her palm with her finger, her face deep in concentration.


    Even if she feels uncertainty with every step, she still needs to move forward. She recalled the stories she¡¯s read with inspiring protagonists. Remembering how they got out of every terrible situation they were put in, she based her next steps off of them. Some were more radical than the others but it was a start.


    After finding herself confident with her memory, she began thinking of how she would gain the things she needed. It was roughly an hour when her thought process was interrupted, though to her, it only felt like minutes. She felt stuck over a particular item that was tricky to come across, her eyes were unfocused but slowly drifted upwards in her thinking.


    The girl was met with pure darkness. The vantablack was lit only by the moonlight.


    Her eyes widened in surprise. ¡®How long was I out here?!¡¯ She practically yelled in her mind. Sighing, she wondered if she had enough time to break through this step of her plan. ¡®I¡¯ve been out here long enough to bring the night in.¡¯ The girl felt mild irritation at losing track of time.


    She stretched from her seat on the floor, having sat down just minutes after her hour-long brainstorming began.


    Hopping to her feet, she felt a jolt run up her legs. Instantly, she was hit with nausea and stumbled to keep herself upright. Her head spun despite staying still. She had to wait for it to pass before she could move again. The lightness that haunted her limbs returned full force and then some. Gently, she brushed off the dust that may have stuck onto her skirt.


    The girl was wearing a white dress shirt. On top of it, she had a dark blue overdress with sleeves that reached a little short of her shirt¡¯s cuffs. The dress reached just below her knees and matched the color of her pants. Over the bottom sleeves of her pants, she had dark boots, made of mostly cloth rather than leather. Her short brown hair reached her nape and curled slightly inward to her face, subtly pointing towards her eyes. They were light red, like pale roses.


    She could hear her stomach growling. Looking towards the alleyway¡¯s opening with a faraway look, she realized she could no longer stay here much longer. Night was far more dangerous than its counterpart and she couldn¡¯t think straight with an empty stomach anyway.


    How she pushed off her hunger for an hour was a mystery.


    Before she left however, she looked around what had been her safespace for the past hour. The walls were plain, almost identical to one another. Though one of the two was painted with vibrant colors, they both seemed bland under the moonlight.


    What caught her eye were the marks on both walls. The church¡¯s wall had what seemed like names she didn¡¯t recognize. There were three in number. Her eyes drifted downwards to see sharp pebbles. There were only two, which led her to wonder where the last one went.


    Shaking her thoughts off, she turned to the orphanage''s walls. Unlike the church¡¯s, it was painted gray. Something about that didn¡¯t sit very well with her, filling her with an uneasy feeling. Opting to place her focus on something else, she noticed what seemed like crude drawings. It looked like something, but she couldn¡¯t figure out what.


    In the end, she decided to head home. All the way, she held paranoia that someone would recognize her. Shifting her eyes between the poorly-lit houses and structures in the night.


    ¨C


    The girl reached her house without any issues. The path to her house was dead quiet with no one around. She couldn¡¯t tell if that was worse than shifting through a crowded path. Nonetheless, She decided not to question it.


    Now, standing still after closing her door, she feels incredibly tired. Her weight felt too much for her feet and her eyelids were heavy.


    Despite this, she knew in the back of her mind that wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep tonight. With that thought in mind, she stalked to the kitchen like a corpse trying to find sustenance. After grabbing some bread, she bit into it and pulled out a wooden chair from under her table with her free hand. She was in her room, finding more comfort than in the kitchen.


    The girl sat down, finally observing the taste of her bread. It was hard and its texture was rough, it was tasteless but she didn¡¯t mind it as much as she would¡¯ve in any other day. Simply too tired to care. Her eyes shifted lazily to the left side of her table.


    Said wooden table was tucked in the corner of her room, right next to the open window behind her. Across the open window sat her bed, in the other corner next to her table¡¯s own corner.


    With little hesitation, she reached to the darkness and pulled out something thin. In her hands, she held a quill. After that, she reached into the darkness once more. This time, to her right. Once she had both quill and parchment, she began writing.


    Deciding to spend her time destressing using her favorite activity, she wrote tales about magic and heroes. Sometimes, they ended in tragedy. In other times, it was simply short stories of everyday life of the common folk that she happened to find interesting.


    The girl didn''t let herself be fooled however. She knew that wasn¡¯t making great use of her time. She should be sleeping, perhaps, but she also knew that she wouldn¡¯t be able to. ¡®I would fight to live.¡¯ She vowed, but she felt like she had done enough.


    ¡®For today at least.¡¯


    The girl was in a state of weariness and stress, both clashing and leaving her exhausted either way. It took several tales and hours later that she felt her eyelids close by themselves. On her face, she held not a smile. But she did not frown neither.

 Chapter 1 | Coming Fall

    Golden rays of the sun entered through the window. They lit her cheeks and colored them gold instead of her usual pale tone. With eyes shut, she groaned weakly. The girl slowly sat up, gently lifting her neck from its strained position. She had slept with her head limp backwards, it was hard to tell if it would¡¯ve been better to sleep slouched forward or not.


    She winced from the mixture of heat and cold sweat, wiping her forehead. Her limbs felt heavy, she noted.


    The room felt incredibly hot, courtesy of the sun shining through her windows. Cream-colored walls that made up her room seemed to radiate heat from where the sunlight hit. Becoming an echochamber but with intense heat instead of warped sounds.


    Her room was relatively basic. The walls were four in total, making her room akin to a stretched cube. Furniture that mainly consisted of shelves and chairs littered her room. Usually, it would be quite strange for a person to have more than one or two chairs in their rooms but she quite liked them. The floor was made out of a pleasant dark-colored wood. Unfortunately, she could not enjoy it at the moment.


    There was so much sunlight, it baffled her that this amount was even possible. It was as if the ball of flames in the sky fell down and happened to glare through her window. Her unadjusted eyes could barely tolerate the bright assault. Feeling the strain creep at the edge of her vision, she quickly made her way to the door.


    With a creak, the door swung open to her relief. Air blowing through the hallway was refreshing. The effect was instant. With a sigh, she began to do her morning stretches. The hallway itself had a dark wood floor, its walls were cream-colored like her room. At the end of the hall, an open window remained the source of fresh air.


    Though the hall was scarce of furniture¨C minus the round, wooden table by the window¨C the hallway was much ¡®livelier¡¯ in a sense. Decorated with their family¡¯s various traditions, it did not fail to make it an interesting sight to look at. Some most notable were the stone-textured masks that gave off an ominous feeling. Prompting her to look away nervously.


    Self-portraits and drawings were on the more mundane side of things, but she still felt fondness with each one. One in particular was of her mother and herself, enjoying themselves. ¡®I remember that¡­¡¯ She drew it herself. Though it was nothing like those fine art that she once saw from traveling merchants that passed by their village, she still captured the most important details. And for that, she is proud of it. Locking her hands above her head, she finished her last round of stretches.


    ¨C


    She went to the forest on a snap-decision. It wasn¡¯t too far away, so her still-weary legs were able to bring her there. Initially, she wanted to at least prepare for the first part of her plan, putting paint on the canvas one might say. But rationality won over impatience and she decided to ease her mind for a moment.


    Running from adults, or anyone older than her for that matter, would be difficult in her worn-out state after all.


    Ignoring the tall trees, she went to a specific area in the forest. Weaving through sticks and stones, her movements almost seemed practiced. It wasn¡¯t but it reflected how often she visits in the first place. The grass here was darker and thicker, despite the rows of trees surrounding it, likely taking water for itself. But it did beg the question of how plants shared nutrients in the forest in the first place.


    ¡®Are the bushberries dominant since they are able to thrive despite the competition? Or do forests just naturally have more nutrients than in villages?¡¯ The girl wondered, feeling comfortable in letting her head rise above the clouds.


    Akin to a splatter of rainbows, the various wildflowers spread across the open field. Standing out against the otherwise mundane forest. The girl could barely hold herself from her excitement, not wanting to accidentally step on them.


    Like a tumbling ball, she bounced towards the bundle of colors. Instantly, she began to recall what she named the colors. ¡®Rain-Wet Red, Pale-Stone White, Star Yellow and Deepwaters Blue.¡¯ Her eyes held a light that seemed to never dim at that moment.


    To others, they may have thought it was stupid. Only just childish names. But it didn¡¯t matter to her. It didn¡¯t even occur to her that they may even be remotely embarrassing. Her soft, tiny hands came into contact with the petals of a vibrant red flower.


    ¡®Crushed Ruby-Red¡¯ She named.


    Its color imitated the valuable ore. The petals were sharp-edged but soft in texture, almost as soft as fur, except, without the fur. She thought it was similar to a lion¡¯s mane, from what she¡¯s read in the stories anyway. Fierce and protective, like the flower petals¡¯ sharp edges. Unlike rubies however, the soft texture gave it an interesting layer to its depth. The kind of soft that reminded her of flowing water, thus, it was crushed ruby-red. ¡®Flowing freely in its own way.¡¯


    The familiar pattern of thought gave her comfort. Enjoying the simple things in life and placing deep thought into those simple things, as if the harsh dangers in this world never existed.


    When you think about it, someone has done something similar. And that would be how flowers are named flowers, how rocks are called rocks. Like her, they didn¡¯t think about what people would think when they gave their discovery a name. Naturally, she shouldn¡¯t as well.


    Spinning on the ball of her foot, she leaned her head back to face the skies. It was still the same sky, if a bit bluer than minutes before. The sun had already taken its spot on the side of the horizon, thankfully not bright enough to blind her.


    ¡®The clouds seem happy today.¡¯ She noted, it seemed more ¡®soft-stone white¡¯ than ¡®dull-silver gray.¡¯


    The girl hadn¡¯t even noticed when a wide smile crawled to her face.


    She liked this, to take her time with the world. To absorb what she can and enjoy what she does. To learn about the things she wants, and to not have to worry about things she has to. For a few moments, she realizes the small victories in what she can, finer times where she is glad.


    Like a melting candle, she suddenly sagged. ¡®Sadly, I have to go back.¡¯


    ¨C


    The girl wandered around the village. After making sure that no one somehow found out she was an orphan and decided to steal from her house, she went on to explore the familiar village. Walking around always helped her think straighter, she was hoping to work through the finer details in her plans.


    Skipping steps and looking around, her eyes flickered through the scattered houses and the grassy sides. In spite of this, her eyes never locked with any of the people passing through the same path. Sweat rolled down the side of her face as her nervousness balled up in her stomach and never seemed to go away.


    ¡®Don¡¯t¡­ look.¡¯ Internally, she pleaded. Every tiny glance a person makes in her direction makes her heart rate spike. It was clear to her, they had little suspicions on her. But she just couldn¡¯t get it out of her mind that they could just be waiting. Taking every sweet moment they can to just strike when she¡¯s not looking.


    She never noticed how much people seemed to curiously look around until it was the only thing she could think of.


    Slowly, the girl set her eyes firmly in front of her. Slowing down, she began to recall her plans. The plans she so carefully crafted in her darkest moments with a heavy heart and a shriveled spirit. She won¡¯t allow the painful loss to pull her down. ¡®Not allow it to swallow my mind¡¯


    Like a shell unwinding, the anxiety and paranoia that plagued her mind slowly faded as though it was never there in the first place. Her habit of getting lost in her own head came in handy at the moment. ¡®It¡¯s kind of like meditation¡­ I think.¡¯ Truth be told, she never tried meditating. Most of the wisdom and knowledge not taught by her mother was learned through thick, crusty books shelved back home.


    The village has a library as well. Most of the books were religious, much to her disappointment. Her mother showed her to their family¡¯s own collection of books one day, when she voiced her unfruitful scavenge. It contained more variety, more information than its alternative.


    Her interest in reading the first time came from something else however. Fondly, she could still vividly remember her mother sitting her down, on her lap. Then pulling out an old, dusty book. It had a hard cover, colored somewhere between brown and red.


    She would read this wonderful story, full of hardships and mysteries. With the protagonist eventually overcoming them. Unlike other parents, her mother would usually pick out much more fleshed-out books. Sometimes, it would be a bit darker than what you would read to a child, but nothing traumatizing.


    The girl noticed that her mother seems to dislike fairy tales. Wherein the plot is more plain and nothing of risk is presented. Nothing interesting is ever brought up aside from the concepts themselves. Even though she tries to hide it, her mother¡¯s lips twitch into a frown every time she gives one glance at those fairy tales.


    Because the books were longer than fairy tales, the girl made a habit to remember important details. At one point, she became overconfident in her memory and didn¡¯t account for a small detail in the story, becoming caught off-guard by the twist in the end. Even though it was pretty obvious in hindsight.


    Her mother chuckled at her flustered expression. And the girl decided she would never make that mistake again.


    She appreciated those stories her mother read to her. Doing so while she made gestures that fit into the scene. A stabbing motion for death, crossed fingers for betrayal. It made it much more memorable. The clouds she had placed on her mind gave her relief. Though it won¡¯t ever compare to her actual mother, the memories she still tightly holds gave her comfort.


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    ¡®I think¡­ I can start now.¡¯ She felt much better, physically and emotionally. The heavy weights that bound her limbs to the ground are much lighter.


    When she returned home, she came in with an air of nervousness and hesitation. Looking just about ready to collapse and bury her face into her pillow. When she came out, she came out with resolve, determination, and a hammer.


    ¨C


    ¡°My ball got stuck¡­¡± The boy muttered, looking at his rubber toy. It rests on the side of the rooftop, as if to look down on the boy. It was round, the size of a small basket. Various different kinds of leather were sewn together, forming the ball.


    The boy felt helpless, he couldn¡¯t reach it no matter how high he jumped. His fingers just barely slipped passed, unable to reach it. Stomping his feet with frustration, he was ready to give up. It wasn¡¯t worth it anyway, trying to reach a stupid ball. The boy turned his head, as if he didn¡¯t care.


    Despite this, the boy was clearly upset. His mouth was clenched and his eyes were shut, slowly tearing up.


    Not paying attention, he felt the air shift before a small hand landed on his shoulder. He whipped his head back, coming face to face with a girl his age. The girl was wearing dark boots with a flowing overdress. That¡¯s when he felt it. An aura that pressed him down, hugging his soul in an icy grip.


    ¡°Hey, you seem to be having trouble with something.¡± She had a soft, almost whispery kind of voice. It snapped him out of his internal struggle and brought his attention back to the present.


    The boy reluctantly decided to ignore the pressure. He was unable to meet her gaze, opting to keep his eyes on her dress instead. Her clothing seems to be a commoner¡¯s clothing, modified to imitate a noble''s. It was sewn together with materials of lesser quality, but the experience behind its folds and cuts was awe-grabbing.


    The girl¡¯s hands were pale and soft, as if they had never come across working a hot day in the farms. ¡®Strange, very strange.¡¯ He thought. The girl¡¯s words only registered moments later. Realizing he failed to respond, red slowly made its way up his cheeks. His mother had always scolded him for that habit. But the girl seemed unbothered, as if there was no pause in the first place.


    ¡°O-oh, my ball over there got stuck.¡± He finally responded, stuttering awkwardly. It would be a lie to say he still wasn¡¯t trying to get his mind off the aura. Warily, he pointed a finger at the roof¡¯s side.


    The girl turned her head to the side then hummed. She absent-mindedly tapped her chin, seemingly deep in thought. Reluctantly, the boy risked locking eyes. It seemed as if the clouds in her eyes were receding, the dullness fading for a moment. He noticed it was pale red, almost pink but not quite. The boy caught a glimpse of pure concentration in those orbs, a certain sharpness that only the most dedicated to their task can conjure. Suddenly, she turned to him and smiled widely.


    ¡°Give me money.¡± It came out as blunt as a fist.


    ¡°W-what?¡± ¡®Is she robbing me?!¡¯ He thought with panic. Rapidly, the boy reached into the sides of his shorts. Only to realize that he didn¡¯t have pockets! Any other day, it would¡¯ve sounded like a regular commoner begging for money, but with that aura she carried he feared¨C!


    ¡°It¡¯s only two silvers for a ball right?¡± She casually asked, ignoring him. Simultaneously, she cut through the internal panic that began unraveling in his mind. He met her eyes. For a brief moment, her gaze held a glint of amusement, before it was swallowed by the dark aura once more.


    The boy made a sound of realization. ¡®I could just buy another ball!¡¯ The boy thought. Once again, the words only registered after the panic and confusion.


    In a moment of impulse, he reached into his back pocket¨C which he forgot about¨C and handed the girl two silver coins. With an air of satisfaction, the girl nodded. Right before she entered the large crowd, dissolving into the mass of people. He was a bit surprised at her speed, she looked like she would collapse by a howl of the wind. Pale skin with dark rings around her eyes.


    The boy twiddled with his thumbs. He looked at the ball then at his hands. Then back at the ball then back to his hands. After a while, the boy wondered if he had been too rash. Giving money to a stranger and trusting them to buy something for you might not have been the smartest idea¡­


    ¡®Mom is going to be upset about this.¡¯


    Just as he was about to leave and sulk in defeat, a familiar figure came back.


    In her hands was a rubber ball. It was mildly pink, akin to faded red paint. It was made of different patches of colored leather. The shade of pink varied depending on the leather in the particular spot. This one was an entirely different color to his own ball, which was a creamy white.


    The boy¡¯s eyes were wide, having not expected her to actually come back. On another note, something strange he noticed is that the aura surrounding her was lighter. Not in the sense that it was weaker, but rather it didn¡¯t actively ¡®claw¡¯ at its surroundings anymore.


    He opened his arms for the ball but the girl walked past him. As if he wasn¡¯t even there. He looked at her and was about to voice his confusion, when she suddenly positioned herself in front of the wall. The same one with the roof holding up his ball. He noticed her arms shook briefly, before the girl threw the pink-shaded ball.


    With a loud clunk, the pale, once-stuck rubber ball fell down. It rolled for a few moments before stopping.


    ¡°Wow¡­ I didn¡¯t think of that.¡± He muttered, genuinely impressed with her thinking. He skipped to the ball and was about to pick it up, but then stopped, ¡°Wait, what was even the point of that?¡± He asked. Couldn¡¯t they have just gotten the new ball and left the old one?


    The girl giggled, a petite hand softly grasping her face. She looked at him with a wide grin, as if was a magician proving something right. The girl turned to face and spoke in a more normal¨C but still soft¨C voice.


    ¡°This ball is for me, silly.¡± She smiled, genuinely this time. The previous darkness that lined her smile was completely gone. ¡°You look the type that would play alone otherwise.¡± She said, discreetly insulting him. It went over his head as his face lit up.


    The boy was overjoyed. It felt as if several words that can only describe happiness clogged the canals of his mind. He never had friends, but the thought of having someone to play with and joke with made him feel grateful for his inability to grab the ball, helpless for an entire hour.


    ¡°Do you want to be friends?!¡± He asked, practically bouncing.


    The girl nodded, her emotions much more controlled but her smile betrayed her thoughts. ¡°Sure.¡±


    A new friendship is made. Unbeknownst to them, it would be a bond that is known to all and beyond. One that is known and feared by every one that is in their way.


    ¨C


    ¡°You know,¡± The strange girl started, ¡°You were a pretty slow talker, for someone so energetic.¡± At the end of her sentence, the ends of her lips curled up. The boy, walking beside her, flushed in embarrassment.


    ¡°I was hoping you didn¡¯t mention that¡­¡± He muttered, trying to pull himself together. He only got a giggle in response.


    She stretched, popping her joints. A look of surprise and concern came on the boy¡¯s face. ¡°Hah¨Chuh?! Are you okay? Are your bones breaking?!¡± The girl slowly turned her head at him, a tame confusion on her face. ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°You were making popping sounds!¡± He practically screamed.


    It was then at that point that she began to explain to him basic human anatomy. And that her bones weren¡¯t breaking. That is, after the long round of laughter that swept over her, further enhancing the boy¡¯s face to a red beyond reds. ¡®Blood-Berry Red¡¯ She thought. ¡°For a noble, you don¡¯t really read much do you?¡± Emphasis on the ¡®much¡¯, translates to not at all.


    ¡°I-I¡­¡± He wanted to retort, but the words refused to leave his mouth. Any sort of counter-argument he could brew would just be a lie. He really just doesn¡¯t study or read much, focusing on playing around and trying to make friends.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she waved her hand as if dismissing the previous conversation, ¡°I¡¯ve got to go now, name?¡± She ended her sentence as blunt as she had first caught his attention, through confusing wording.


    It took a moment to register what she meant before the boy answered. ¡°O-Oh, it¡¯s Thomas Riddleword.¡±


    ¡°Thomas Riddleword, huh?¡± She said his surname in the same whispery tone from earlier. Meanwhile, he was trying not to show visibly how happy he is with the fact that he said his surname right, not stuttering once. Though, he was impressed that someone else his age said it right, saying it even in a cool way.


    The girl in truth had trouble speaking properly, spending her days reading and writing by herself. That was why she whispered it out at the end, she could just wave it off as mishearing her if she said his name wrong. But he didn¡¯t need to know that.


    ¡°Bye now.¡± Swift as the evening wind, she disappeared. Not literally, like the boy would¡¯ve wanted. That would be witchcraft sadly, but it would have been cool. Off the distance, the girl was slowly leaving his view. She remained a small dot of blue and brown before blending completely into the thick crowd. ¡®Must be rush hour.¡¯ He thought, having trouble to even just spot her.


    The boy turned to face the tree beside him and threw his ball. It bounced back and hit him square in the face. Let it be known that Thomas Riddleword has great intuition, but not great reflexes.


    ¨C


    ¡®They¡¯re all set.¡¯ Dozens of lines of rope were layered above the trees, similar to spiderwebs. They were just barely visible as they were tied to tree branches too high up to fully register as anything but odd branches. That is, if you could even see them from the night¡¯s darkness. They might as well be invisible.


    Dry leaves were caked all over the floor, cracking with every step. Looking closely enough into the tall, brown trees, you would notice something sticking out. Long daggers were pierced through the trunks, their sharp ends stuck out through the other side like a needle through cloth. Odd, strange-looking handguards helped to keep them in place, the handle being dark black. ¡®Cave-Rock Black¡¯


    The girl admired her handy work, eying the traps she carefully laid out. She made sure everything was functioning, cautiously running her finger through the sharp blade. A warped feeling of satisfaction filled her being for a moment. A tiny smile creeped up her face.


    Granted, her traps were basic at best. Blades and sharp objects laid out strategically in an open forest. It was deep inside the biome that screams would go unheard but close enough that she could realistically lure people in with a white lie.


    Her breathing was slow and deep, a forced calm that she wasn¡¯t sure she brewed to hide her nervousness or excitement. Bloodlust unknowingly seeped out into the environment, scaring away smaller animals from the area. The weary bones in her body felt as if a burst of energy had erupted from the inside out, she wasn¡¯t completely sure what it was.


    The girl could feel her hands shake as she wiped the sweat off her face. Once again, unsure which of the two emotions were present. Who knows, maybe it was just the hunger. She forgot to eat today.


    But either way she¡¯s got a plan. She¡¯s already prepared for this. In her pocket, her hammer was tucked away. Having gone unused for its original purpose, involving a helpless boy, and now given a role to protect its master.


    ¡®I¡¯m ready.¡¯


    She thought.

 Chapter 2 | Close Call

    The chirping of morning birds echoed through the forest. Green, healthy leaves gently took their place on the forest floor.


    ¡°Oh~! What a cute girl you are!¡± A feminine voice squealed, no doubt scaring away the nearby animals. The woman in question wore a dress that reached near her ankles. It was bright yellow that popped out in contrast to the forest¡¯s dark green. The girl found it fitting for her bubbly personality. There was another woman next to her, she wore deep purple instead. ¡°That, I don¡¯t disagree with.¡± She said mildly but her face betrayed the delight she felt.


    Warm red rushed up to the girl¡¯s cheeks, a compliment from a stranger was something she didn¡¯t know how to handle. Then again, it was a stranger she lured into the forest, so this was the least she should have expected. The girl wondered if she should have gotten Thomas instead.


    Softly, she muttered her response, ¡°Th-Thank you¡­¡± A layer of unease slowly melted.


    ¡°Anytime dearie,¡± The woman dressed in yellow replied, a wide smile on her face. ¡°Now what is it that you want out here?¡±


    The girl rubbed her hands behind her back, feeling relieved. She already knew the woman as Helen Godiva, one of the nobles that lived in their village. ¡®Thankfully, neither asked nor given their names.¡¯ She thought. It would be less troublesome to think of a fake name on the spot, it is doubtful to think that she could trust anyone right now.


    ¡°Ah well¡­¡± The right words would not come out of her mouth, lingering paranoia that persisted even until now has urged her to just dispose of them. After all, her plans always included a backup that would always end with only her coming out alive. She jolted, instantly shutting down the thought. Despite her pestering hesitation, she resisted morbid temptation. It was irrational.


    In spite of the show of will, the girl had to compose herself for a few minutes. The encouraging words given by the two women only added to her shame.


    ¡°You see,¡± She started, all the while making small gestures with her explanation. ¡°I have a strong enjoyment of stories written in books, and I am quite good at writing them myself.¡± Now, she would have to show humbleness, since saying such bold, but currently empty, words will give her a disadvantage. ¡°Of course, it may not compare to what¡¯s already on the shelves, but,¡± She¡¯s already prepared the selling point for this, ¡®It¡¯s win or lose.¡¯


    ¡°The orphanage lady from our village seems to be getting tired of managing children who run around all day. If I could get more money to buy parchment, I could write little stories for them to read and sleep to.¡± She ended, feeling sweat run down the back of her neck as she waited for their response.


    Silence permeated the air for a few moments. It was an offer, both women realized. It isn¡¯t that strange to see children doing odd jobs when things got hard, but the one in front of them delivered her point as if she was an adult offering a fine deal herself. The woman in yellow was about to say something, when the one in purple¨C Serena Godiva¨C stepped forward.


    ¡°What about your other stories, you have said that you don¡¯t have parchment anymore, right?¡± Serena asked softly. Her companion in yellow gaped at her, she had not expected her to consider the offer of a child. They were nobles, free to give away money to people they think need it! She opened her mouth to voice this, However, Helen was not given a chance to speak when the girl turned to them and spoke again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they are quite appropriate for the age group of the orphanage¡­¡± She frowned, sounding unfortunate.


    ¡°I see. What is the reason you think you will be able to have them sit down and read a book?¡±


    The girl shifted her eyes to the side and hummed quietly, gathering her thoughts. ¡°Well, I was more so planning to read it for them. I¡¯m not able to make up things on the fly and I prefer writing intricate storylines anyway. That¡¯s what the parchment is for.¡± She wondered if that sounded presumptuous.


    The girl paused for a moment before she added; ¡°...And I get nervous speaking to crowds.¡±


    The revelation was hesitant. She wondered if she had been too hasty, revealing her back in a negotiation. From what she¡¯s heard¨C or in this, read¨C negotiations tend to bring the worst out of a person, what¡¯s not to say they will take advantage of her?


    Helen, the woman in yellow who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. ¡°And reading from a copy eases those feelings?¡±


    The girl nodded, making the woman smile, ¡°Then we would be happy to buy you parchment!¡± She exclaimed. Her companion had her eyes closed but did not oppose the idea, opting to offer silence as her agreement.


    ¡°Oh, uh,¡± The girl awkwardly made her request. ¡±Will it be okay to just give me the money for it? I¡­ buy a specific kind of parchment-¡± She gestured, making something that vaguely resembled a square, ¡°From a man that only sells it to people who encountered his shop!¡± She lied hastily.


    The girl hated the irrational response the moment it left her mouth. An immense amount of shame and cringe weighted on her shoulders, she wanted nothing more than to rewind the conversation to a few minutes back.


    The girl had to put in a considerable amount of effort to plant her feet to the ground, trying to keep herself from doing anything irrational. After all, the traps were only for self-defense and disposal, ¡®If they find something they shouldn¡¯t have, that is.¡¯ She added darkly. It would be so easy to just get rid of them at this moment. But even nobles have more energy and strength than her at the moment, she would easily be knocked over by the wind if she didn¡¯t strain herself to stay awake.


    Helen twirled in her place, her smile beamed with a thousand suns. ¡°Now then, let us get some gold from our carriage!¡±


    The girl was surprised when she heard that. Looking around, then through the surrounding tall trees, a fancy, white carriage could be seen. She felt both relief and fear simultaneously. There was no direct danger that could harm her¨C aside from wolves and other wild animals¨C but she had planned for the nobles to come alone, without even their carriage with them. Even if there was no direct danger, had she done something irrational¡­ ¡®It may not have ended well for me.¡¯


    Helen, oblivious to the girl¡¯s state, huffed playfully. She ran her fingers through her golden hair and tilted her head. ¡°Why did Serena have our carriage come with us?¡± She whined with no real heat, ¡°It was really troublesome to get them here!¡±


    At the mention of Serena¡¯s name, the girl snapped her head towards the woman. Her eyes were still closed, yet the girl felt something deeper from her. She couldn¡¯t tell if she was just being paranoid again but she had the distinct feeling that the woman was more observant than she would¡¯ve liked. ¡®Unreadable¡­¡¯ She thought. It was one word, but she felt it was the most fitting word at this very moment.


    An unknown variable, incalculable. Despite that, she swallowed the sludge that formed at the pit of her stomach and ignored it, turning around to face the now-unhidden carriage.


    Unbeknownst to the girl, when Serena opened her eyes, the deep purple orbs of hers held a look of understanding and stoic sadness.


    ¨C


    ¡°H-Hello, I¡¯m¡­¡± She sounded pathetic. The girl wanted to pound her head in over and over again for her hesitance. Gathering her resolve, she forcefully flushed every fiber of weakness in her body like a gaping hole had suddenly appeared in the center of the ocean. ¡°I am here today to read you a story.¡± She said with finality.


    The reactions varied from person to person, but almost all of the children in the orphanage had a look of curiosity. They sat on the grass just outside of the orphanage, which is deep in the forest. Not just far enough to need a ride to get to the village, but also close enough that it¡¯s considered part of it.


    Most of the younger half of the children broke into groups of friends and began whispering to each other. At the corner of her eye, the girl noticed the orphanage lady¨C ¡°Quentin,¡± She told her¨C frown deeply, her eye twitched in irritation. The girl could only assume that they gossiped too loud¨C likely about her¨C and got scolded from it.


    She waited for them to finish, feeling slightly nervous for their response.


    Abruptly, they stopped. Turning to her, they seem to have come to an agreement. Before one of the taller children¨C a teen¨C could say anything, a younger boy stood up. ¡°But that¡¯s really boring¡­¡± He whined. The rest of them facepalmed and groaned, the period of discussion completely wasted. This seems to be a common occurrence.


    The girl could not stop herself from giggling and covered her mouth in an attempt to keep it quiet. Eventually, the other children joined in, laughing at their own pain. It was at this moment that the false confidence she built up began to fade. It didn¡¯t feel as if she was feeling any more confident right now, but to her, it felt like the invisible barrier of ice started to melt.


    Perhaps this wasn¡¯t going to be as bad as she thought.


    Thinking this, she finally began with what she came here for. Pulling out a roll of parchment, her face remained the same but she definitely felt a hint of warmness roll up her cheeks. Apparently, her sleep-deprived self thought it was a good idea to add a small drawing to the front, like what you would see on actual hardcover books. Thankfully, she was able to cover it as it rolled out but she had to wonder what else was herself up to earlier.


    For the rest of that afternoon, she read to the children¨C and teens¨C who decided to stay and listen to her story. Some of them occasionally asked about something they didn¡¯t understand, usually involving things that you would only know if you had access to books of good quality. Nonetheless, the girl answered them to the best of her abilities.


    Admittedly, there were times that she had difficulty conveying her thoughts, miraculously ending up talking about a different topic she could talk about properly. Though, thankfully none of them noticed this little quirk of hers. She cringed every time she caught herself doing this. ¡®I get so easily distracted¡­¡¯


    All in all, it was a learning experience. Converting your knowledge of human deception that¡¯s present in the story is harder than one might think. That said, it wasn¡¯t just a learning experience from explaining different perspectives to other people, it¡¯s also a learning experience whenever one of the children gives their own knowledge on the subject. Occasionally, she would learn something new or begin to see things from a different perspective. Even the shyer ones would sometimes speak up if it¡¯s quiet enough.


    They read up to a little below over half the entire book, which is around forty thousand words. How did she know? She developed a kind of intuition with this kind of stuff. She once told her mother about this ability, telling her a vague estimate of the book she was reading, she called it buggersnot( Bullshit).


    It was nearing the end of their session when the girl decided to call for a break. The other teens and children listening agreed. That is, the ones not asleep on the grass anyway. From what she¡¯s read in different science books, not taking breaks is a very bad idea. So with a stretch, fingers locked overhead, she decided to let her mind wander.


    Briefly running her fingers across the parchment on her hands, she recalled a rather recent memory.


    ¨C


    ¡°Hello dearie¨C!¡± A familiar cheerful voice was heard. The girl couldn¡¯t bother to turn around at the moment, so she didn¡¯t. With a simple wave to the air in front of her, she said ¡°Hi, Ms. Helen¡­¡±


    To the blonde woman, the little girl¡¯s voice was much softer than before, sounding a mix of tired and polite.


    Undeterred however, the woman in yellow continued, ¡°How was your day? Did you write up a story to read for the orphanage?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡± The girl¡¯s answer was once again, short. By now, the woman felt concerned, wondering if she was okay.


    But right before she was able to express her concern, the girl continued. ¡°Somewhere around forty-thousand words.¡± Her eyes widened in shock, how had this little girl written up that amount in such a short span of time? As if reading her mind, the girl finally turned to her.


    The dark rings around her eyes seemed more obvious, contrasting with her pale skin. Just the sight of them told more than what had been said.


    ¡°I had time.¡±


    She could see that.


    ¨C


    This was a day ago, her first meeting with the nobles was instead two days ago. Some parts in her mind were hazy, worryingly so. But she decided to deal with that later. Right now, the reminder of her lack of sleep spurred the weariness that she was somehow able to ignore the entire day.


    Every night, she had been ensnared with nightmares. Painful trains of thought that she didn¡¯t ever want to touch upon in her own mind. Those thoughts gathered hidden as a small ball and sprang out when she least expected it.


    Sluggishly, she placed a hand over her temples. The girl considered the surrounding scenery for a moment. She could feel the solid ground under her, it was unlikely for her to slide off and fall. She could hear the soft grass being stepped on rather carelessly as the younger children played tag. It felt nice to rest out here every once in a while. Lingering alone in her own house for too long might¡¯ve driven her insane. Even though she wasn¡¯t able to stay in the house for long lately.


    With her eyes closed, she let her mind wander again. Only, it didn¡¯t.


    Like tiny bits of sunlight peeking through clouds, it felt as if her mind was hyperfocusing on something. She couldn¡¯t get the image of the traps she laid in the forest to go away. The mental image stuck to her mind¡¯s eye and didn¡¯t let go.


    For a moment, a stray thought hit her. How had she gotten those daggers anyway?


    She instantly regretted asking that question as images appeared with rapid fire, flashing images she could vaguely recognize. A cave, found somewhere far from the village. The night sky, very late into the night. There were even a few boars that were asleep along the path.


    It was the next set of images that sent her into a panic. A bunch of men sleeping peacefully. Bows and daggers, clean and riddled on the floor. A flag. It was a base!-- Not just any base, she¡¯s gotten the daggers from bandits.


    ¡®Not¡­ good.¡¯ She thought, head whirling with panic.


    In her sleeplessly-hazed mind, she¡¯s done something so incomprehensibly stupid that she wanted to stuff her mouth the soles of her foot. Multiple scenarios emerged from the depths of her mind, all of which ended horribly. Then, as if ironic fate existed, she began to hear the distinct sound of hooves rapidly hitting the ground.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Cursing whatever demon sent her to a living hell, she forcefully craned her neck to look behind her. Wide Men, ten in total and muscular. They rode in horses, some riding on the same one. Scars littered their bodies and showed intimately their experience in battle.


    One thing was very clear, their faces held the look of utter glee. Bloodlust washed over the area like a broken dam as they openly stated the horrible things they would do. Touch, kidnap, torture. She wasn¡¯t able to hear what they were saying in full sentences but those words rang through her head without stopping.


    The reaction was instant, every child that wasn¡¯t frozen in fear scrambled to get away, screaming for help. Like a broken chorus of people singing for the first time, the ear-piercing screams reached far beyond the orphanage, likely being heard by the village folk already. But the girl knew that help would come far too late.


    It was all her fault. A painful pang rang across her chest, stronger than whatever fear she felt before. With eyes wide and a face full of fear, she slowly stood up.


    ¨C


    ¡°So what do we have here?¡± His voice was deep and rough, asking the children almost carefully. But they all knew there wasn¡¯t even a bit of care in the man, he was mocking them. ¡°It seems that somebody messed with us, waking up to a base with only half of ¡®er weapons.¡± He continued.


    This was really bad. There were too many of them, scattering in all directions wouldn¡¯t do them any good. There wasn¡¯t a single doubt that they could easily ride the horses and capture them. As the girl¡¯s head was running with plans and scenarios, the leader of the bandits went on with his speech.


    ¡°We¡¯ve ye a chance. You messed it up.¡± He said, grinning in a mixture of arrogance and glee.


    Their village made a truce with the bandits, or more accurately, their village had a truce with the bandits. It was going just well, no one disturbed them despite the villagers living in fear everyday, conscious that they could be attacked at any moment. With how far away this part is to the rest of the village, the nobles aren¡¯t able to hear about this slanted truce from the silenced commoners.


    ¡°Now you pay!¡± With a roar, the horse-riding man charged forward. It wasn¡¯t long before the rest followed. What happened was close to a massacre or rather, the start of one. They were relentless with their blades, sinking them into the flesh of their victims and drawing blood. Laughing sadistically while doing so.


    ¡®Why did I do this?¡¯ The girl wondered, falling to her knees. ¡®It¡¯s my fault isn¡¯t it? My fault¡­ My fault¡­¡¯ Like a deranged mantra, she couldn¡¯t get the line of thought out of her head. She was the cause of all this. The reason why screams of innocent children were filling the air. She tried to stand, to run away, but she couldn¡¯t.


    Her feet were frozen to the ground, she was unable to move, unable to do anything but watch. An odd sense of deja vu came over her. The feeling in her chest was strange, hard to put into words. It was familiar, eerily so. ¡®This is¡­¡¯ She tried to ignore it, but it won¡¯t seem to go away. It was like a puzzle, slowly coming together.


    The final piece slid into place. She realized with horror that it was the same feeling when she watched her mother die. The hopelessness of being unable to do anything as the people around her were hurt. It wasn¡¯t the same however, she wouldn¡¯t say she¡¯s as close to these people as she is to her mother. But they were getting hurt, because of her.


    Despite that, a single line of thought felt the absolute truth to her at that very moment. She didn¡¯t know if it was guilt, bravery, stupidity, or justice, but she wasn¡¯t going to let anyone get hurt.


    Perhaps she¡¯s gotten attached to this orphanage already, or perhaps she hadn¡¯t. But the choice was already made. She leaned forward and took a deep breath, taking in the feeling of her unwounded skin for a moment with resignation and acceptance.


    Her fist cocked back, and she watched as her body sprung towards one of the men. With a loud thunk, her fist landed on the man¡¯s cheek, saving the boy from a fate of being torn to shreds. The girl¡¯s joints and tendons protested, and her muscles were already long since worn.


    Admittedly, she felt a tinge of satisfaction when the boy behind her sighed in relief. The feeling didn¡¯t last very long however.


    ¡°Little shit¡­¡± Her now-opponent picked himself up. The girl wanted to run away that very moment, but there was no saying that the boy would be able to follow, or that one of the other bandits wouldn¡¯t get to them.


    The man growled audibly, the girl was tempted to vent her frustrations and call him an animal but stopped herself. With a blade on hand, he prepared to unleash his anger on the girl. A cut was hurriedly dodged, leaving the man¡¯s long blade stuck on the ground.


    He grunted while trying to pull it out, but it remained stuck there for a few seconds.


    Rapidly, her eyes flickered all over the man, the girl¡¯s mind going overdrive. She quickly ignored the fact that he was wearing odd shoes and scarcely other clothes and took notice of the man¡¯s lopsided cloak, forming a plan.


    She could feel her heart pounding as she prepared to dodge. This time, she had something else in mind aside from not wanting to die. She felt the air in front of her shift as she rotated her entire body. She felt her body protest again just as her opponent readied another rage-fueled stab.


    For a moment, she was convinced that she was going to get stabbed, bracing herself. Then, fortune hit her and she took the chance. The sound of cloth straining from getting pulled could be heard, her hands grasping the cloak tight enough to turn her knuckles white.


    ¡®Fall¡­ over!¡¯


    The heavy weight was overturned. The man being too shocked with the feeling of his center of mass rapidly turning to properly correct himself on time. Then, right on cue, a large rock was slammed into the back of his head, knocking him out. Courtesy of the boy that was saved earlier. Both children gave a sigh of relief at taking out the danger.


    A yell was heard. They could practically smell the disbelief and bewilderment from the distance, ¡°Joey?! You got knocked out by children?!¡±


    Of course, there was no reply from the unconscious man, but the attention quickly turned to them. The man yelling growled audibly. The girl felt a tinge of familiarity before she realized it was the bandit leader.


    The rush of accomplishment that she felt from defeating one of the bandits quickly turned into weariness at the sight of another impending battle. Her hands trembled, for a moment, she considered giving up, to lay down and rest. But she couldn¡¯t, not when she felt like she could still do something. The girl cleared her head, rapidly drowning out the terrible thoughts that she didn¡¯t want to entertain. She could still feel her feet planted on the ground, unable to move. But it was progress.


    It was at that moment that a wave of dizziness rushed to her head. A certain pressure was building up in both of her eyes, they felt warm. Not warm enough to burn thankfully, but they prickled. At first, she thought those were tears until the feeling quickly intensified. It felt as if multiple needles were relentlessly stabbing her eyes over and over again. Only, instead of red filling her vision, it was white. The world around her was turning white but she could tell it was only her vision.


    ¡®What¡­ is happening?¡¯ Uncertainty plagued her mind, eating away whatever sense of calm held her together.


    The lid that was keeping her emotions controlled was completely eradicated, probably at the worst time too. She could be attacked at any time, ¡®I have no time for whatever form of a panic attack this is!¡¯ She thought, trying to look around only to see nothing but white.


    The now-freed emotions began to circle her mind, trapping her in her own thoughts that she did not want to think at the moment. Anger, fear, grief, sadness, weariness and wariness. They ate away at her soul, doing nothing but damage in their current form.


    ¡®My e-eyes¡­ chest¡­ they hurt!¡¯


    The girl felt¨C dare she say¨C her soul getting ripped apart. Eventually, she stopped trying to will the feelings away. Instead, the girl concentrated to see what was in front of her and not just the pure white void that filled her vision. Along with that, she gave up trying to make the feelings disappear, tucking it away in the depths of her mind for later.


    To her relief, her vision started to clear. Blurry blocks of different colors filled her vision, eventually forming fuzzy-edged images. Colors of different shades and hues could finally be seen.


    Now, she had to stand and fight. The girl noted that she felt just a bit lighter, not just emotionally, but also physically. ¡®I¡¯ll show my resolve by righting whatever faults I make!¡¯


    ¨C


    It was a sliver of white that she recognized as a knife. Just barely, she was able to move herself out of the way. Her movements were slow, speaking intimately of the state of her body. She heard a grunt filled with annoyance and rage. Briefly looking up, she saw the bandit leader¡¯s face. Dozens of tiny scars littered the field that was his face. His expression was of utter murder and hatred.


    Perhaps it had something to do with the liquid that ran down her cheeks, they weren¡¯t tears, but she had no time to think about that. Sluggishly, she moved away to create some distance, thinking through her current situation.


    WIthout a doubt, the girl was sure that adrenaline was the only thing keeping her standing. The moment she relaxes, she is sure that her body would collapse. And she would lose consciousness.


    That¡¯s why she had to attack now. Make the most out of the current battle and hope that they won¡¯t get away. ¡®I can¡¯t let them get away.¡¯ She thought. The girl ran her eyes through the bandit leader, he had a look of both disgust and something else she couldn¡¯t make out. His stance told her he was still looking down on them, but had begun becoming more cautious.


    It took her a few moments, her eyes scanning every movement. She realized that he only kept his knife on his left arm the entire time. Not in the way that some people are left-handed but in a way that seemed like he couldn¡¯t use his right hand. Admittedly, a small detail for the large gap between them, but it was a start.


    Pushing her weight by kicking off the floor, she dashed towards the leader. Her legs ached painfully with every step but she ignored it.


    Several attacks had landed in the short span of time that the battle went on. The girl felt the open wounds sting painfully like a hot knife running through butter. She made sure to focus her attacks on the leader¡¯s right side, scratching, clawing, punching and kicking it. Noticing this, the man cried in a fit of rage and became more aggressive with his attacks.


    She saw him extend his arm haphazardly, the sliver of white nearly piercing through her chest before she was able to swat it to the side with her hand. The action was pure instinct and reflex, causing her to use the wrong hand as her palm was cut by the blade¡¯s sharp edge. Strange, she thought the cut would¡¯ve been bigger than this. Glancing briefly at the wound, it was the size of a leaf.


    With the girl¡¯s eyes focused on the leader¡¯s chest, having no reason to watch his face, she didn¡¯t notice the man¡¯s expression. The cockiness and arrogance has long since faded, left with a look of nervousness and confusion. Unbeknownst to the girl, with every hasty dodge she makes, the wind blows in her favor. It was weak at first, barely a breeze, but it quickly became obvious as the air wrapped around her body for the briefest moments. Aiding her movements.


    The cuts that did make it to her body were dulled by what felt like thick flowing liquid. But it wasn¡¯t liquid, the air itself seemed to condense and shield her skin whenever an attack was about to land. It made it difficult to even cut deeper than the surface, despite the bandit leader putting every drop of power into his attacks.


    As the seconds turned into minutes, the rapidly growing wind quickly eclipsed the man¡¯s stamina. His arms and core felt sore from swinging his knife full force, trying to compensate for what was practically a shield over the girl¡¯s skin.


    It was only for a brief second that he misstepped. But that was all it took for the girl to notice.


    With a gracefulness that didn¡¯t quite match the girl¡¯s worn state, she pushed the man to his back using both arms. He would¡¯ve fallen, had it not for the slight miscalculation. Her arms weren¡¯t long enough to reach him, missing his chest by a hair. Then, the girl¡¯s eyes widened as she felt a strong gust push her from the back.


    Except, she didn¡¯t fall. But the man did.


    For a brief moment, one line of thought went through the man¡¯s head, ¡®What gods have we angered¡­ to bring someone with such strong intent against us, let alone a witch¡­¡¯ It was that mix of weariness and determination that spurred this thought. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness as lines of purple resembling tears were dried on her cheeks. It was not unlike a warrior who has lost, but continued to fight no matter their grief.


    The loud thunk that followed was heard clearly in her ears despite the raging battles around her. The bandit leader was knocked out after hitting the back of his head on the tree behind him. His scarred eyes were closed, making the girl wonder if she killed him or not.


    But one thing for sure, a revelation that made it known to her that her life would change forever. Just not by how much. She had used magic.


    ¨C


    Four more bandits somehow went down in the time that the girl fought their leader. Apparently, some of the teens in the orphanage were originally found in the woods by the orphanage lady. So naturally, they knew how to fight dirty, usually by throwing dust and grass on their opponent¡¯s eyes and blinding them. She was completely drained, unable to do anything but watch the battle. Beads of sweat ran down her face as she took heavy breaths.


    The girl could feel the battle nearing its end. The outcome wasn''t the one she liked, the girl was willing to cope with the fact that they were attacked by bandits and survived. No one died, thankfully. Some were injured and were bleeding profusely, but the children that were protected or simply hid tended to their wounds.


    The whole time, the bandits were hesitant. Cautious after the fall of their leader and fearful in the presence of a witch. Though it seems that they¡¯re in a state of denial. Every few moments, their eyes would shift toward the girl. Whether it was because they thought that she would be able to somehow magic a long-ranged attack or something, she didn¡¯t know.


    But their distractions could easily be taken as disadvantages. The children were relentless in striking when they didn¡¯t expect it.


    Her attention however, was focused on something else entirely. The sound of hateful growling could be heard.


    The lingering fear that remained in the deepest parts of her bones once again rose to the surface and fully emerged. Every part of her being could only focus on the sharp slab of metal whistling through the air. The bandit leader himself was the one deciding to put an end to things. If it wasn¡¯t obvious enough, he plans to start with the problem that plagued them from the beginning.


    Of course, she couldn¡¯t be sure that the leader was the strongest out of all of them, but the fact that he was able to fell a tree when he slammed his leg against it leaves her convinced. He cracked his neck and began to dash towards the girl, not unlike a bull charging towards its enemy.


    The world around her fell into slow motion. The strange energy that fueled her howling wind was by now, as drained as her body¡¯s own stamina. It could only produce soft gusts in a futile attempt to protect its master. Her eyes hurt and felt dry. The girl closed her eyes and crossed her arms, trying to minimize the damage.


    Suddenly, the wind swirling around her completely died. It was as if it was never there in the first place. For a moment, she thought she was out of this strange power but then she felt a tingle in her leg.


    What followed was completely unexpected. Her wind came back, but it only surrounded her leg for a brief moment. It condensed and coiled into itself like a snake just as she felt her muscles tensing involuntarily. The bones in her entire body shook painfully as her body was launched into the air, reaching heights that would be impossible for someone her age.


    Just as she was enjoying the brief relief that came with fresh air hitting her skin, her numerous injuries finally took their toll. The tiny cuts across her body were plenty, the blood loss even more so. A wave of dizziness captured her mind as she tried to stay awake.


    Hazily, she was able to hear a cry of frustration as the rushing wind fogged her ears. The sound of horses soon followed and the girl quickly panicked. ¡®I can¡¯t let them go!¡¯ She thought.


    Bandits were scum that needed to be taken out entirely in the first shot rather than in parts. Had she not been in such a dire situation, she would¡¯ve said that she thought of them as like parasites. They feed off of the villagers and make everyone¡¯s life more miserable.


    Gritting her teeth, the sound of the horses¡¯ footsteps quieting down made her change her priorities. She had to think of how to survive this fall, and quickly.


    She turned her head to face the incoming ground. Becoming aware of a strange, fog-like gas floating around like a cloud. It was colored a reddish purple. Despite the seemingly random detail, an instinctive part of the girl told her that it was part of her magic.


    Reaching out with a hand, she tried to center her focus to the cloud but it did little. It remained the same, showing no change. After that attempt, she then tried to narrow her eyes, having found a connection between her eyes and the magic. Again, it did nothing, though she did note that her eyes still felt warm and strained. ¡®I¡¯m getting desperate here¡­!¡¯


    With little faith in her ability to subvert her death, she imagined bread hardening after being left out for a few days in a ditch attempt. Somehow, it worked. The purple cloud turned into a liquid, similar to water.


    But then she could only watch in horror as the cloud went beyond a honey-like state and into the thickness of a rock. It didn¡¯t flow at all and remained still on the ground, as if it had mass. The impact against the hard surface would be sure to kill her, no better than just crashing onto the ground.


    As she felt prickles from her eyes, both from the strain and tears forming, the girl tried to conjure another image in her head. This time, it was the image of flowing smoke. Learning from her mistake, she tried to balance the two while trying to figure out how to somehow imagine two images at once.


    It wasn¡¯t even a moment before she felt an impact run through her entire body. Her bones rattled from having to keep her body intact, just barely succeeding. The magical gas she used was able to enter a somewhat liquid state. She intended it for it to be a bit more solid than water; however, it seemed that it might¡¯ve been a bit too hard.


    But she lived. So she¡¯ll take what she can get.

 Chapter 3 | Whats your name?

    She groaned as she was waking up. Blinking, her vision came blurry. She slowly raised an arm and wiped off the remaining crust out of her eyes. For whatever reason, it was harder to get them out than usual. It was the kind of inconvenience that wasn¡¯t big enough to be a problem, but still enough to be annoying.


    ¡®What, why¡­?¡¯ Every single one of the ¡®W¡¯ questions went through her head. Visible confusion was present on her face as her eyes met with clean, white sheets. She could distinctly remember having blue bedsheets¡­


    She jolted in her place. Surprise, disbelief, fear and frustration immediately roared alive within her chest.


    The girl stared at a wall as she recalled the events prior to her loss of consciousness. She wouldn¡¯t say that she felt like she was reliving the events but a few close-calls definitely sent chills up her spine. How did she dodge that¨C she doesn¡¯t know! But the rush of memories confirmed her suspicions.


    She has magic.


    A trickle of annoyance bubbled in her chest. This line of thought had already gone through her head multiple times and a part of her still didn¡¯t want to believe it. She couldn¡¯t believe it. Because if she had magic¨C the word was just barely choked out even in her head¨C that meant a lot of things. So many bad things that she can¡¯t even recall a single one. It was just bad, period.


    Despite that, she just couldn¡¯t help but¡­ close her eyes. And feel.


    What was she feeling? It was the strange, warm feeling behind her eyes¨C or was it in front of her eyes? Oddly enough, there probably wasn¡¯t a proper answer. It wasn¡¯t that there was something there, at least physically, but she knew and could feel that there¡¯s something there.


    She wondered how- ¡°Hey! You¡¯re awake!¡±


    An embarrassing squeak came out of her mouth. She was feeling mortified, but then froze at the sight of the children from the orphanage.


    A conflicted expression settled on her face before she could hide it. She didn¡¯t even think for a moment about what they would think of her, thought if they would look down on her. Her mind immediately went into overdrive, she had to escape, escape. They were going to kill her, going to¨C


    ¡°Hey¡ª?¡± The deeper voice of a teenager could be heard.


    She slowly craned her neck to look at him. From what it seems, he realized her panic and raised his arms in surrender, trying to calm her down. She untensed, if only because she didn¡¯t know what else to do. The jumpiness didn¡¯t leave her system and continued to stalk her insides.


    ¡°I.. um.¡± The girl cursed herself for opening her mouth without thinking.


    ¡°Hey miss Witch¡­ can you do that thing that makes the leaves fly?¡± It was the familiar boy that whined when she first introduced herself.


    ¡®Oh right,¡¯ She thought. The wind that she cloaked herself with blew away the scattered leaves. One of them even flew into the mouth of a teen who was yelling out a warcry, making him choke for a few moments before coughing out the leaf.


    Said teen was at the back, scowling. She didn¡¯t realize that she was giggling until she realized he was scowling at her. How he realized what she was thinking she didn¡¯t know, but out of respect she chose not to mention the rather comedic moment.


    Some of them continued talking, but she was only half-listening. At one point, it was only fear that plagued her thoughts. She had subconsciously voided her newest bonds and thought that meeting them once more would only be trouble.


    But perhaps, it hadn¡¯t been. She wondered if she could hold onto this warmth forever.


    Feeling calmer, she smiled. It was small and barely noticeable, but it was there. She wasn¡¯t even sure why they were worrying about her so much. They¡¯ve only known each other for a few hours at most, yet they worry about her like family.


    In a fleeting moment of hope, so brief and sudden, she thought, ¡®Perhaps¡­ they do think of me as family.¡¯


    To her, it was foreign. The feeling of reliance on another, that is. Even if it was only recently that she was left alone and forced to face the world by herself, she still couldn¡¯t get the mindset of distancing herself from people to fully disappear. Thomas is an exception, the boy didn¡¯t look like he could hurt a fly without tripping on himself. ¡®No offense, Thomas.¡¯


    This warmth however, she couldn¡¯t accept¡ª Not fully anyway. Not now. But maybe¡­ she looked up, breathing in the air and feeling it fill her lungs, maybe¡­ in the future.


    ¨C


    Time continued to pass in¡­ wherever she was. The girl was sat up on the bed, finding it rude to talk to people while lying down. The tightening feeling from her body not moving the entire day was annoying. Despite that, she would admit that today wasn¡¯t entirely wasted. She got to learn more about the other children. Finding them interesting, she compared it to being introduced to new characters in a book.


    One girl was named Rosiana. She was very sweet and¨C as one would expect¨C had bright red hair. Apparently, she very much likes music, as she harped on about it when the conversation went from traveling merchants that sold random stuff to the church choir¡¯s singing that you could encounter while traversing through the village.


    The next was the unshameful boy who said what was the first thing on his mind. He broke the ice both when she first met the kids at the orphanage and now, when she feared that they would hurt her for being a witch.


    He was once the son of a merchant, explaining his lack of hesitance in engaging into conversation with strangers. How did she know that? Well he dove straight first into the conversation when they were talking about traveling merchants; Opening with a ¡°My dad was a merchant too! That was before he was killed.¡± His voice was chirpy but held sadness underneath.


    Needless to say, everyone was silent for a few moments, even the ones that already knew. But the boy seemed eager to continue the conversation, unbothered by the darker topic. So they continued, trying to keep their minds off his words.


    ¡°You¡¯ve all skipped lunch, so at least eat your dinner!¡± It was old lady Quentin.


    It was true. The girl realized that she felt horrible physically because she hadn¡¯t eaten either. Suddenly, the familiar feather-light sensation on her fingers made more sense. It wasn¡¯t the first time she had gotten herself to move with barely any energy after all.


    ¡°¨C Hey c¡¯mon, let¡¯s see what¡¯s on the menu!¨C¡±


    ¡°¨C Oi, Oi! Don¡¯t leave without me!¨C¡±


    Looking around, she could see other children also recovering in their own beds. Their friends were still in clumps of groups talking to one another. Though, they slowly gravitated towards the door, which leads to the kitchen. She assumed they were going to get food for their stay-in-bed friends. Which brought the question;


    How was she going to eat? Or more specifically; get up, walk across the room, get a bowl of food and come back? The rumble in her stomach did little but emphasize the helpless situation she found herself in. You could practically see a tiny cloud of depression forming over her head.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°H-hey, you look hungry¡­ Do you need help?¡±


    The girl made a strange sound that resembled a yelp of surprise despite being muffled by her hands. Behind her, she could hear a nervous half-laugh half-cry. Quickly turning her head, she came face to face¡­ With another girl!


    Unlike her, she instead had beautiful golden hair. Her simple clothes usually worn by commoners were in bright, vibrant colors that could be seen in only the rarest of flowers. ¡®I didn¡¯t even know it was possible to use dye to that extent¡­¡¯ The little witch thought. She didn¡¯t have the chance to think of a good name for the colors in front of her since she forced herself to respond.


    ¡°O-oh, you¡¯re¡­¡± She stuttered, before abandoning her own words, not actually knowing what the girl¡¯s name was. ¡°U-um, yes! I-I do need help¡­¡± The first half of her sentence was filled with energy, only to quickly dwindle in her own anxiety. ¡®Why am I like this?¡¯ The witch internally cried.


    Unbeknownst to her, the blonde girl was practically in the same boat. ¡®Wah¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have said anything¡­ I¡¯m embarrassing myself¡­¡¯ She thought, pinching the ends of her vibrant shirt. She usually wore a large, dark coat; Not unlike what anyone suspicious trying to hide would wear.


    ¡°O-Ogey¡­¡± And her tongue was tied, butchering ¡®okay.¡¯ Neither of the two even specified what the witch needed help with, essentially letting the other guess what they were thinking. Being too awkward to really say anymore words, the blonde-haired girl went to the kitchen area with hasty steps.


    ¡®That was weird¡­¡¯ The witch could easily admit that neither of them really participated in the conversation. Nonetheless, she had to swallow the lingering¨C Instinctual¨C Fear that she feels around people. She clenched her hands hard, as hard as her weakened state allowed anyway.


    This fear, it may have helped her at the start, but she can¡¯t live like this¡­ Can¡¯t survive like this. To her annoyance, she could compare herself to a stray cat on the road; Fearful and untrusting, unsightly. Full of resolve, she thought to try her hardest to break out of her shell.


    Just as she was thinking that however, her mind quickly shifted to panic as somewhat-familiar rapid footsteps could be heard. Why? In front of her¡­ the same girl from earlier was carrying several plates on each hand!


    ¡°L-let me¡ª¡± The witch practically flew out of her bed to reach for the girl, who was still carrying plates of food with shaking hands.


    It was a bit of an understatement to say that she miscalculated her current strength.


    ¡°¡ªAah!¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªW-woah!¡ª¡±


    Both of them fell on one another, the witch girl pathetically catching her own leg with a foot and the vibrant girl from the sheer weight she was carrying. Naturally, everyone in the orphanage took very keen notice of the sound of breaking plates, as well as confidence. Yay for anxiety.


    ¨C


    ¡°¡ªAchoo!¡± Sniff.


    Much to their eternal relief, the headmaster only punished them by having them clean up the rooms before bed-time for a few days. Apparently, she saw the entire interaction and felt pity for both of them. When she said that, the vibrant girl made a quiet sound like she was dying inside while the witch girl seemed too shocked to even react.


    Click


    The witch girl sighed, she stopped wiping the floor for a moment and went to close the open door. For whatever reason, it opened and closed as it liked. There isn''t even wind inside! After that however, she took a moment to think. Working with someone wasn¡¯t as bad as she thought¡­


    She blinked, then again; Neither of them were engaging in conversation. The vibrant girl made an effort not to meet with her eyes, not that she noticed, she does the exact same thing.


    ¡°...Hey, can you pass me the broom¡­¡± The witch whispered, she kept glancing every so often at the other girl¡¯s side of the room, making sure she finished before offering her rag to switch with her broom. Without seeing much room to argue, the vibrant-clothed girl wordlessly handed her the broom and vice versa.


    The room was quiet, if you took out the sounds of sweeping dust and soaked rags running across the surroundings that is. Both of the girls could feel the thick air just barely sliding into their throats, in the manner one would call ¡®breathing.¡¯ Nervousness was crawling inside their bodies like pestering mice that never leaves. Despite the mutual feeling, neither seemed to notice it in the other.


    ¡­


    But what if they had? Or what if one had noticed? The witch girl tried to glance discreetly at her cleaning partner, checking to see if her eyes were fooling her. She could see it; Tenseness and a certain lightness in every movement, nervousness. ¡®Like me¡­¡¯ She thought.


    A storm of internal arguments brewed inside her. If every string of words were a person, it would form the mental imagery of a whole mob chaotically pushing and swatting at one another. It was a standstill, and yet, she couldn¡¯t help but recall back to her own words. Not that she ever uttered them into this realm we call physical, but even in her mind, it still stands.


    For what she''s about to do, the girl could feel something in her chest building up. An emotion that was blending and mixing into the lightness of both hunger and nervousness, making her feel woozy just for a moment.


    The little witch girl turned to her partner cleaning some shelves, ¡°H-hey, it¡¯d be weird not knowing each other¡¯s names right?¡± She stuttered, forcing the words out of her throat like the innards of an animal falling out, nervousness included. Rapidly, she spoke before the girl could even open her mouth, not wanting to make a bad impression. ¡°Of c-course¨C I need to say my name first, since I¡¯m the one who brought it up!¡± She added hastily.


    With a blank face as though she was still processing it, the vibrant girl nodded. A shaky smile formed on the witch¡¯s face, ¡°It-it¡¯s¡­¡± Mentally, she swallowed her fears, ¡°Livith...¡± Abruptly, she caught her tongue, keeping herself from saying her surname. She wants to say it, ¡®cause not doing it feels like she feels ashamed of her mother, but she also knew that it could call trouble to say it outloud.


    In the back of her mind, Livith finds it ironic that she finally tells someone her name on purpose and not from being forced on the spot. She notes the feeling of fear and something else building up moments before, almost as if saying her name had both relieved and erupted those said feelings she felt. She watches the vibrant girl¡¯s reaction, maybe she should run away in advance, just in case?


    ¡°Mine¡¯s Allie¡­¡±


    After a few seconds, Livith blinked in surprise. She responded quickly, making sure that she didn¡¯t get lost in her thoughts again. ¡°Allie? That-That¡¯s a nice name.¡± She said. ¡°I got so nervous just talking to someone¡­¡± The words slipped out her mouth before she could close it. Allie¡¯s smile wasn¡¯t something she expected in return to her statement.


    ¡°I-I felt the same way.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± ¡®That¡¯s a stupid question.¡¯ Livith thought. ¡°Actually, we should eat¡­¡± She muttered, not sure if it was for herself or for both of them. Either way, the feather-like lightness that wasn¡¯t nervousness continued to dance in every twitch of movement. Hunger, Livith could feel her mouth water.


    Instead of responding verbally, Allie turned to the two plates of food covered by a clean piece of cloth.


    ¡®It wouldn¡¯t do for it to get dirty while we¡¯re cleaning after all.¡¯ Livith thought. Out of guilt, both the girls refused to eat their dinner until they finished cleaning at least this room. They''re going to need the energy to socially interact with the others outside after all.


    The two continued to talk, most of the topics being the most random you could think of. Honestly, from an outside perspective, it would seem like the two were being held hostage and forced to pretend to be friends, but that was quite from the truth. Both were just a social wreck, that¡¯s it.


    ¡°These mashed potatoes taste really good!¡±


    ¡°Right?! They do¡­¡±


    At some point, they finished up their food, resuming their work. In the end, two more rooms were cleaned up hastily. The headmaster wanted them to do a bit more but decided to spare them, having seen the two interact quietly.


    Personally, the witch didn¡¯t think they were friends quite yet. Mutually, they were wary of the other, but they were also wary of other people either way. It¡¯s this strange kinship that draws them together, as well as the constant internal suffering of being anxious while talking to other people.


    For a single moment, Livith thought of what might be the blonde¡¯s reaction when she finds out what her mom was¡­ Then again, the kids of the orphanage know what she is, so maybe it won¡¯t be like she was expecting¡­


    Livith chose not to tell the rest of them her name just yet, it was already a big step for her to do so with Allie. Thinking to herself, she hoped to find the courage again. ¡®They seem like amazing people.¡¯ She thought. On that same note, she couldn¡¯t help but feel that she was forgetting something¡­