~Falyn Eyana~ 

(Fa-leen Eh-yah-na)

It was the first tendrils of smoke that wafted past the bare trees that had stopped me from my otherwise peaceful harvest of medicinal herbs.

Settling my half-full basket down I squinted, still only seeing a constant stream of grey drift up to the sky.

Cold...

Yes it is...isn't it?

I let out a small breath into the crisp, White Season air, clutching my cloak tighter around my small frame.

After my recent bought of sickness, my healer mother had frantically nursed me back to health, only to use up half of her precious storages and guilt had driven me to go harvesting even during snow-fall.

It was hard, being human.

Falyn look again...

Alright i will, calm down

My eyes flicked back to the smoke, slightly wary but more amused at the voice's worry. Perhaps one of the baker's children had left bread in the oven for too long, or the old alchemist had made a mistake in one of his potions-which wasn't that uncommon.

But that was not what made me drop my basket as soon as I had lifted it from the ground, disturbing the precious herbs that grew only with the chill that came after the Red Season's leaves turned to brown.

It was the shrill scream. The scream that had disturbed the White Season birds for them to fly away. The scream had me running back to my village.

Then it was the smell. The smell of burning flesh. The smell only to become tainted with smoke that became suffocating as I rounded a bend in the path only to see red.

Blooms of red that danced in the wind and left leaves from White trees to fall on the ground, only to create more red.

Fire.

Bright like blood against the snow; except it was brighter than ever before.

The fire entranced me for a few moments until I heard the sound of pounding hooves.

The Red Soldiers had found us.

Run.

So I ran, ran as fast as I could possibly run, searching, screaming for my mother.

"Mother!"

I screamed and screamed, running to our hut that lay the furthest away from the rage of the fire.

I found her frantically packing herbs into a little satchel, her tear stained face unbroken despite the demise that had befallen our home, our village.

"Mother" I cried desperately, latching onto her arm and pulling her away.

"I couldn't save anyone"

She whispered to me as if else where.

I shook her, grabbing her satchel and hiding it in my cloak.

"Mother we must go"

Her unfocused gaze cleared at my urgency.

"Falyn"

She grasped my face, kissed my cheeks and my head, as tears streamed down her face like waterfalls, then she drew blood on her arm. I recoiled immediately, eyes widening as her eyes started glowing.

"Mother..."

I choked, reaching out to her, still focusing on ruining her arm.

And then she cut my long, red hair, chanting in a language I did not understand until the strands that framed my face turned brown.

I fell back in shock, as she released my head, somehow burning the rest of the hair she cut off.

"Run" she commanded, and an invisible force propelled me forward.

I managed to look back once to see the soldiers reach our hut, and douse it in red, the screams of my mother echoing through the forest, and then they pointed to me.

Run.

Run!

That faint voice in my head urged me on, to run faster, to evade the inevitable death that lay at the hands of the wicked Red Soldiers. Loud jeers followed me "Witch! Witch! Kill the witch!"

Arrows flew above my head, and I instinctively ducked to avoid getting shot.

Fool.

Sharp pain in my leg caused me to trip, dirt and pebbles flying into my face. A part of me was protesting I'm not a witch! But what use was that? They knew I was living in the Lavender Village- a Witch's village.

Run you fool!

The voice screamed louder-frantically. The scent of blood stung my nostrils and I could feel tears run down my cheek. I tried pushing myself upwards, but my hands slipped on the gravel. Pain laced my palms, and I let out a soft sob.

Falyn, get up!

"Kill the witch!"

With the voices becoming perilously louder, I stumbled on, yanking the arrow out of my leg.

Fool!

Another arrow hit my shoulder, and then my back. I let out a shriek that reverberated throughout the forest. Birds flew out of the trees overhead, the flapping of their wings the only answer to my cry.

Falyn, you must get up! Please.

I turned my body to the side, rolling into a nearby thicket. Thorns tore at my face, and arms and legs, but I quieted my pained pants. A legion of boots stampeded past my hiding place, and I breathed a sigh of relief, "I'm safe, I'm safe" I mumbled to no one in particular...mayhap the voice.

"Hello, little Witchling"

A man's purr sounded near the bush, until a red hand reached in, latching onto my arm. It was sticky and hot with blood. I vomited, causing my throat to burn dryly, my vision becoming hazy with tears.

Falyn! You're losing too much blood, please.

The voice was stuttering. I struggled as he finally pulled me back onto the gravelly path. "How, how, how?" I mouthed silently. How did he find me?

"Disgusting"

A hard boot collided with the side of my torso, the air was knocked out of my lungs. I looked up at the man, hatred boiling underneath my skin like a ruthless tempest. That sickening crest of the King that adorned his Red Soldiers. A fire symbol, the king's designated choice of destruction. His soldiers were too much like scum to be called knights. No one was a knight under the King's golden reign, they were all mindless puppets- soldiers.

"Too bad...you're such a pretty thing ..."

He murmured, licking his lips. As the Red Soldier bent down, I rammed my head into his, making him fall backwards. The voice in my head said naught, where was she? She was against danger and violence, she would always protest.

"You witch whore!"

"Murderer!" I croaked back. The soldier's eyes narrowed with ferocity and kicked my ribs, chuckling darkly. The loud crack was like none other I had ever heard. I glared, my vision becoming a blur as his face came closer to mine. His eyes were black pools of evil, his teeth were stained dark brown. I gagged, yet it was impossible to recoil.

"Suffer in Vaggral" He whispered almost gently, his already blood-stained hand moving towards the hilt of his sword. It was ironic, that a Vaggralite such as himself would condemn me to the pits where he was born. I could feel the blood rushing out of my wounds, the hopelessness. At that moment, I saw my mother's face, her agony as she was captured, the fear as she was slain in cold blood by the Red Soldiers. The world was spinning and I felt so light headed. Where was the voice? I couldn't be alone in my last breaths, I needed someone, anyone.

"Is this how I die? By the hands of a tyrant?" I coughed, blood dripping down my chin. My limbs were leaden, my head slumped onto the ground. I only could move my eyes, my green eyes that locked onto the blade. Time slowed as it swung, my eyes flicked up to the soldier's face. Did he always have those tiny flecks of hazel in his eyes? Was that a scar below his nose? How was his face suddenly so clear? What was that smell on his breath? The blade finally swung near my face and I let out a battle cry, unknown energy bursting from the very inner core of my body.

The soldier lay on the ground with the hilt buried between his eyes.