Chapter Five: A Fragment of the Past (Part I)

|| 3 Years Before The First Gate was Breached || 

One berry, two berries,

Under the cloak.

It was the third day of the Stygian Moon festival at Azyria.

The sun was beaming high up in the sky, its burning gaze set straight onto the celebrating town below. The air was hot and humid, but it did nothing to affect the sizzling happiness and excitement that the town was drowning in.

The market, too, which was usually not very crowded, was bustling with a whole load of merchants, customers and wandering wayfarers. They moved along the multiplicity of various goods of jewellery, spices, clothing and other appealing merchandise; shopping and bargaining to their heart's content.

The Moon Festival was considered an important festival in the town of Azyria for decades. People come together and celebrate the birth of the fall harvest of the year. This festival ends with the townspeople gathering together at the town square in the evening to laugh, dance and drink their worries away.

This heartwarming revelry went on for about three days after the arrival of the full moon which wonderfully signalled the time for the farmers to reap what they have sowed.

The Azyranian festivals were truly a sight to behold and revel in.

And Ayra sneaked out just to witness and experience all of this.

Well, not really. Ayra had to only sneak out today but yesterday, she had the other children of the orphanage and Lady Leorah with her.

But this time, it was different. Today, was different.

She successfully sneaked out and escaped from Lady Leorah's watchful gaze to conduct her evil little plan all by herself. 

Three berry, four berry,

Under the cloak.

Old man Griffin would return to the shop soon. She slightly peeked out from behind the wooden crate she was hiding; using the size of the fruit-filled stacks of the wooden containers to hide her small frame from the straying eyes of ongoing passerbys.

Ayra let out a breath and slightly bit her lip.

She did not think she would be able to get her hands on these rare berries at all. It was pure luck. To have thrown a weak bait at old man Griffin—the owner of the fruit shop that she was currently stealing from—and the huge man surprisingly falling for it.

It was a simple plan, morphed into a solid and definite one after yesterday's observation. But she was unsure if this plan of hers would bring out the desired results.

When Ayra found old man Griffin sweetening up the butcher of the meat shop for a parcel of expensive meat and leaving the shop with a sour face and empty hands—her brain lightened up with a plan.

It was a nonsensical one but when Ayra went over to deliver the message today—the message that she created on a web of lies—about the butcher inviting Griffin for a little chat; the old man frowned in confusion. But when Ayra further added that she may have seen a large parcel of meat in the butcher's hand while he asked for her to deliver the message; greedy old man Griffin took off like the swift wind.

All that for a simple pack of meat.

Ayra had to laugh.

The guilt of her actions was present—it was slightly gripping but not too consuming. Ayra believed this to be a little payback of her own; her little revenge against the old man for harshly slapping away and insulting a poor woman who had come begging for some food yesterday.

Ayra knew how monstrous humans can be but to witness it in front of her own eyes? It was heart-wrenching.

Five berries, six berries,

Under the clock.

Her heart thrashed against her chest—in wicked excitement or cruel fear? She did not know. But what Ayra knew was that if she did not hurry then she'd likely be beaten into minced meat of the worst kind.

Old man Griffin might be a mere mundane but he was definitely a terrifying one.

Ayra shuddered at the thought of what he would do to her if he had magic. Suddenly, she wanted to run away.

Her hand tightened its grip on the berry she was holding. 

A few more berries and she'd leave. Just a few more.

Six berries, seven berries,

Under the cloak.

Ayra moved to grab two more berries.

Eight berries, nine berries,

Under the clo—

A huge, beefy hand suddenly gripped her shoulder.

Ayra froze.

Her heart picked up its pace and she sucked in a tight breath. Her hand unconsciously tightened on the bright wine-coloured fruit that she was holding.

Ayra slowly turned around and came face to face with old man Griffin's round pot belly. Her mouth turned dry as she slowly craned her neck up to see his furious face.

She didn't know which was worse. His angry face or his normal one.

The old man's huge face had gone

completely red with anger. Sweat covered his entire face and neck and it looked like he had been running.

Running back to the shop to face the little minx who had lied and made a fool out of him.

Under her cloak, she gripped the berries towards her chest and sent a silent prayer to the Celestials above.

Gryffin bent his head down to face her. His sharp eyes glanced down towards her chest, towards the berries she clutched with her whole life. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed viciously.

"What are you holding there?" He asked, calmly. But Ayra knew that the old man was anything but calm.

She gulped. What was she supposed to say to that? Telling the truth would be impossible since the man in front of her possessed every quality that a kind heart didn't. Lying would put her in an even more difficult situation since that would mean one thing:

Punishment.

She shuddered.

Trying to keep control over her rising fear, she crafted her face into a calm one and said, "I was just taking care of the fruits, sir, making sure no worm bites its way through the flesh and spoil them while you were away." She lied.

Old man Griffin raised his eyebrows and scowled angrily, not believing a single word that tumbled smoothly out of the kid's mouth.

He questioned lowly, all the while gritting his teeth.

"Why are they under your dirty little cloak then?"

She smiled but her knees were slightly shaking. Any moment now, Ayra knew that she'd have to run like the wind.

"Because they were getting cold. Winter's arriving you see. No man purchases iced goods, right? So I was keeping them all warm and fine for you." She even gave a toothy smile.

He looked furious now. "So, you are telling me, " he clenched his hands, "that while the entire town is perspiring its ground out because of the rancorous heat, " he got in her face and snarled, "my shop is the only one that is cold, so cold to freeze my goods?" He let out dangerously.

She gulped. And mumbled lowly, mumbled some words that were sending her straight to hell.

"Maybe winter is starting with you, old man." She smiled at his bright red face, "Why do you look so angry? That little chat with the butcher didn't go well, I assume?"

"You—you little minx." He sputtered. "You lied to me! You lied to me, you little thief!"

He growled out loudly like a feral beast and lunged for her.

Ayra let out a small yelp before throwing her hand out and hurling an apple at his left eye. She forcefully pulled out the little bit of power within her to fasten the wind bracing the apple she just threw; to increase the speed.

The apple hit its target and with a loud snarl, he lost his footing and fell back on the ground with a huge, 'thud' and Ayra using the little time she had, swiftly grabbed two apples from a crate and bolted towards the entrance. Before she could throw herself out of the shop, she whirled around, stretched her hand out and thrust all of her power towards the empty box of crates.

The wind blew the stack to the ground, sending the tower tumbling one after the other and creating a line of mess at the entrance of the shop.

Her hand jerked back at the impact—her body not used to the magic flowing within her. But she didn't have time to feel the pain.

Ayra retrieved her shivering hand back and ran like the wind.

She made it out towards the busy crowd of the market just in time she heard him bellow out angrily,

"GIVE BACK MY BERRIES, YOU LITTLE MINX. SOMEONE CATCH HER! CATCH THAT LITTLE THIEF! SHE TOOK MY BERRIES! CATCH HER. GIVE ME BACK MY BERRIES!"

She smirked and swiftly pushed through the crowd before she turned around and screamed out a loud,

"Only if you catch me, old man!"

ווו×

Ayra ran and ran and ran. Her muscles ached all over and her legs were on the verge of giving away. Her body was screaming for some rest and some water. Her knees were scraped and bloody from all the falls she went through, her breathing heavy and drained of strength.

But she couldn't stop.

Her heart thrashed against her chest but she knew she couldn't stop. Not when two men were tailing after her like a possessive lover.

She sharply made a right turn and towards the back alley of a tavern, desperately trying to lose the men chasing her. But they were fast and enormous, always making it a point to use their overly grown heads to make out where her tiny legs carried her through the busy crowd.

Cursing under her breath at the sight of the men behind her—screaming and demanding her to stop—she quickly formulated a stupid plan.

Ayra halted in her tracks and slowly turned to look at the men. Her muscles groaned in pain and discomfort but she held steady and faced them, forming her face to look as terrified as possible.

The two grown men who were chasing her stopped a few feet away from her and took her features in before smirking in success and defiance.

Ayra slowly sprinted towards them with the fruits in her hand, all the while sending a prayer to the Celestials above. They looked surprised for a second but they shared a smile of relief, assuming that the little girl was giving up and was indeed running back towards them to return the fruits and face the punishment that the old man would give her.

But Ayra planned on doing neither of those.

Instead of stopping in front of them, Ayra swiftly drew her leg back and released a sphere of wind around her. Her worn-out clock softly floated up in response to the magic surrounding her.

The men stared at her in confusion.

She took a deep breath.

And then she took off.

Using the wind to propel her forward, Ayra forced her legs to keep up with the speed.

And when she was halfway across from them, she bent her body and bolted right through one of the men's parted legs.

The men, stunned, didn't make a move for a few seconds, trying to proceed what the heavens just happened. They immediately turned around and chased after her, even more furiously.

They screamed and cried out, cursing out loudly for falling for a child's trick. But they couldn't come close to her. Not when she moved towards a sea of people in the town square witnessing a public play and disappeared in it. Not when she didn't come out through the other side of the crowd but made a left and towards another dark alley.

Even their hulking size and overgrown heads couldn't make her out in this large crowd.

But Ayra didn't stop. She didn't stop till she turned back and saw that no one was chasing her. With a sigh, she stood behind a large garbage bin in the alley and slumped down on the ground, breathing heavily.

A few minutes passed by with her catching her breath, then she slowly straightened up and looked at the fruits in her arms—four berries rested between two apples now, instead of nine.

She let out a sigh of relief.

She was suddenly thankful that the majority of the townspeople possessed no magic. People with magic are scary. But scary people with magic are terrifying.

And Ayra knew that she'd be dead by now if the old man and the two men who just chased her had magic flowing in their veins.

She sighed again, a little exhausted from all the running.

Ayra began continuing down the dirty street. The revelry and chaos of the market was just a soft mumble in comparison to the scurrying and squeaking of the mice in this dark alley.

Turning at a corner, her eyes immediately rested on the cloaked figure seated against the wall. The cloak was thin, dirty and had tiny holes in every section. She knew it would do nothing to protect against the cruel arrival of winter.

Ayra stopped right in front of the hooded figure and softly released the two apples onto the lap of the person.

The action caused the figure to look up.

Pale brown eyes and a gaunt, soot-kissed face stared up at her. Her honey-brown hair looked lifeless and was matted atop her head. The woman looked in her early thirties but for some reason, she looked older than that. And exhausted. 

Exhausted from begging.

Exhausted from surviving.

It was the same woman that Ayra saw yesterday, crying and begging at the market for a morsel of bread. For anything—anything to give her starvation a bit of rest. Ayra couldn't help but follow her yesterday and when she found out her whereabouts, she decided that she would come the next day and offer her something.

Ayra stared at the woman. The woman stared back, in surprise and confusion.

"I know two apples are not enough but you will last a day."

Ayra turned to leave but stopped. Something tugged at her heart. For a minute she stood there, in silence. And said,

"Walk south from the Abbey and towards the perimeters. You'll find an orphanage at the foot of the hills. I have a huge family there." Her icy blue eyes locked into the woman's dull brown ones.

"That's the warmest and the happiest place I know. The people there are loving and welcoming. I'm sure you'll love it there." She finished with a small smile.

When Ayra turned to leave, a soft voice called out to her.

"Wait."

Ayra faced her, tucked a small strand of her short hair behind her ear and tilted her head, waiting for the woman to continue.

"What is your name, child?" The woman asked in a steady voice, tightly grasping the apples in her hand as if she'd never let them go.

Ayra smiled.

"Ayra," She said softly but clearly.

A gentle wind blew.

And with that very smile plastered on her face, Ayra left the alley.

The woman stared down at the apples for a long time before whispering lowly, 

"Ayra."