My eyes widened as his wrists slightly flicked up. I yelled a warning just as a hard, unyielding wind propelled us all back. I was tumbling through the air for a few seconds before I remembered my wings. Flaring them open, I balanced myself and swooped low, my daggers flashing as the young soldier came into view.

He only had a second to widen his eyes in fear before both of us were rolling through the grass. I shoved aside the need to recover and pinned the soldier down immediately, my wings casting a shadow over his face. He fought and lashed out, first with his knives, then with his magic. The former I handled fine, knocking the blades out of his hands and pinning them to his sides. But I didn't see the slight lifting of his wrists before it was too late.

Agony ripped through me as I stumbled off and away from him, lashing my dagger out blindly as the air was sucked from my lungs in one horrific movement. I choked and gasped for anything, anything to fill my starving lungs. The young soldier rose almost guiltily as he raised his elemental sword over me. No. Not like this.

From my position on the ground, I could faintly make out the thundering of frantic steps as Xylin and the others neared. The young soldier sensed it too. With a cry of guilt and agony, he plunged that blade down towards me. But didn't get far.

Time seemed to slow as that sword came falling down on me. Perhaps my mind had turned delirious in its final seconds of life as I felt myself raising my hand towards him. Felt that familiar tug on the air around me as I pulled on that power that went down, and down, and down. There was no end to this, only a power that practically begged me to release it.

I did.

My powers, mine, blasted from me like invisible whips, streaking towards the boy. I roared a battle cry even though I shouldn't have been able to with absolutely no air in my lungs. But that air became self-restored as I rose and used my powers to penetrate through his chest, right to his heart.

The thundering beat echoed in my ears as the soldier dropped to his knees and stared up at me in awe, even as I obeyed that voice inside my head and crushed that invisible weight in my hand.

The young boy screamed then as I willed his heart to stop beating, crooned to it to obey my will. And it did. I knew I could have chosen any organ in the body and it would have obeyed me, but the heart it was.

Just as I came back to myself, my powers flowing back into me in satisfaction, the boy fell to the ground. It was his turn to gasp for air this time as he gazed blearily up at the sky. I cried out and was instantly on my knees beside him. I expected to find blood at the least as I looked down at his chest.

Nothing. Not even a stain.
Like I had punched through an invisible barrier and went straight to its core.

I took the soldier in my arms, stroking his sweat-damped brown hair, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

I kept repeating that line, over and over again until a hand grazed my arm, barely more than a featherlight touch, but I had felt it.

It was the young soldiers, "Renderer," he whispered.

"What? What's a renderer?" I faintly recalled hearing that term somewhere.

"You. You're a renderer. Such a treasure," he whispered again, more faintly. He was dying. He was dying in my arms because of me, "Such a rare power to have." His head began to loll to the side.

"What's your name?" I sobbed. So young and already a loner. No longer a survivor.

Even though he had just tried to kill me, he looked up at me like we were friends, had always been, "Aunyai. Aunyai Hren."

"I won't forget you Aunyai. You fought for your country and beliefs. I respect you," I whispered. I wish we had left it like that, but he replied.

"No. The rumours...a queen of the arkryllians. I respect you."

My wings slumped behind me as his grey eyes glazed over and he was gone.

Dead because of me.
My father, also dead because of me.

I let go of his body, slightly tripping over his blue cloak and stumbled back. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

Renderer.

That cursed term. I let out a sudden scream, my powers flowing out of me and sucking the life out of the very heart of each tree near me, withering them until they resembled a single twig.

"Raila!" A voice roared over the cacophony, "RAILA!"

Xylin.

I remembered myself then as my powers rushed back to me and the trees, grass, and everything living stopped dying.

A warm hand clamped my shoulder. Kalinier. I cried out and wrapped my arms around him. He stroked my hair and whispered it was over. It was over.

How much of that had they seen. I looked up at him, bright green eyes now dull and tortured as he gazed at me. "What's a renderer?"

The others froze at the term. Kanin slowly approached with Kyra close behind him. He knelt down beside me. I refused to remove my arms from Kalinier as he brushed my hair back and said: "A renderer is the term Ithyneians use to call people who have the rarest power of them all. The power to control any living thing and bend it to the person's control."

"The power only comes around once every century or so, usually when something major is about to happen."

I shakily got to my feet with Kalinier's help, "I-I'm a renderer," I whispered, "The young soldier, Aunyai, he said I was a renderer. He called me a queen of the arkryllians."

"Cursed moons and all the gods above help us," Clane swore, looking at me wearily, "A renderer?"

"My mother," Kyra started as we all looked to her, "use to tell me stories about them. How they would always be the sole bearer of life and death on a battlefield. Nothing could stop them. What use is wind or ice or fire when you can simply utter a single word and everyone around you just falls to the ground?"

I cringed at that. "Not helping, Kyra." Kalinier growled.

But it had been said.
And she was right. Kanin and her had both trained me to fight already. My arkryllian features helped to amplify my senses, and my powers.

With these powers...even Renithyn wouldn't stand a chance.