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Trials Saga: Night Slash

The mark is the sign of the prodigious. The one that everyone awakens between 9 and 16 years of age, thus dictating the path to take in life. What is your skill? Sculptor? Warrior? Governor? Divinity draws the path, you decide how to walk it. Talent, or effort, is what will determine if you will be able to overcome the trials. Titania, like everyone else, has her mark. A mark to take revenge on everyone, even if it means becoming a demon. She no longer has friends or family to call by her real name, but her enemies always whisper Night Slash's name with fear.

Chioban · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
14 Chs

3

"You don't need to see this" says the man in the heavy armor and the lion's mane collared cloak. The knight plants his knee in such a way that his bulky figure covers the little girl's field of vision... But she still hears the blows, the pounding against the ground, the furious cry that at one point sounds just as muffled and desperate as her own, but above all the girl hears the drum threatening to break in the woman's chest. In a corner lies overturned a bridal gown of blue, red, and violet silk patterns that beautifully mimic the dyes and lines of the heart.

"Do you want your turn, Raudo, or shall I take it?" Another man asks, his voice more playful and youthful. "Is essential to respect the customer's specifications, isn't it?"

The knight turns to glare at the man through the slit of his helmet. At that precise moment of carelessness the girl gets up and runs, escaping from the house but not from the horror.

The homes of stone and wood burn, the trees also crackle with black hands, and the streets are stained with the corpses of the clan's people. But strangely, neither the fire nor the screams resound. From outside only the gentle wind of an ordinary snowy night can be heard. Meanwhile, seated on the high, stepped roof of the town hall, a woman sits cross-legged, playing a crystal flute, an instrument with designs of flowers, clouds, leaves, and snowflakes, in reference to the seasons. The flute player's tune lingers and deprives the ears of the innocent to prevent them from learning of the nightmare, until it is too late to react.

The girl keeps running, down the mountain slopes, her little legs leaving furrows in the snow. She loses herself in the forest of loving trees, a kind of purple canopy made to last for eternity, the same light purple color that dyes the eyes and hair of the members of the Hundredhearts clan, hence the two loving trees that appear on the family crest.

The girl stumbles on a root and ends up chest deep in the snow. She plants her hands and tries to get up to continue escaping... But her strength is lost, replaced by cry. The tears that overflow from her eyes prevent her from seeing. For long minutes she remains whimpering in the forest, begging to wake up from the nightmare and discover that everyone in her family is happy, that her aunt is safe.

A merciless laugh breaks the stillness of the forest. Titania stops her crying. Pale with fright, she stands up and turns away. She has to wipe away her tears so she can see the man watching her from the darkness.

The boy has a pale complexion and black hair with a fringe that falls down the middle of his face; Under the uncovered eye he has three inverted triangles painted, and below is his malicious smile; The clothing is a studded leather armor smeared in black oil that mutes the rings and helps to camouflage in the shadows, which seem to be the boy's natural habitat. 

"Where are you running off to, cute little lamb? Don't you want to play with me?" The voice is the same one that exchanged words with the knight a few moments ago.

Titania lets out a shriek and turns around to run away, but her tired legs have a hard time rising above the layers of snow. The assassin does not need to walk to the little girl, he simply rises from the darkness of the trees as if lifted by invisible threads, and throws himself forward.

The boy's knee impacts the girl's back with a crunch. Titania is knocked down again. The killer seeks to grab her hands. The girl kicks, bites, and screams, but in the end her wrists are captured.

In one motion the killer slams her against a log. Before Titania could peel her hands away, a stiletto pierces both her palms and leaves her pinned to the loving tree. Titania screams. The assassin laughs, and with one hand he grabs the little girl's jaw and forces her to look him in the eye. 

"Watch how you sweat, runny nose, and shake, what a pitiful sight. No man would be attracted to that small, bony body of yours. But I am not as demanding as others... Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for you"

Confusion, pain and fear rule the girl's countenance, while the assassin's smile grows without noticing the broad figure behind him.

A wetter crunch echoes. The killer's stomach explodes from the inside out, splattering all over the girl's front. The assassin's face pales and twists, his quivering eyes look down to reveal the gauntlet stained by his own internal juices. Raudo's fist withdraws leaving a hole. Seconds later the assassin falls sideways into the stained snow.

Raudo, with his clean hand, grabs the hilt of the stiletto and pulls it out in one motion, after which Titania shrieks and falls. Raudo throws the stiletto into the snow and stares at the girl, who kneels and stares at the oozing holes in her shaking hands.

Slowly the girl clenches her fists and squeezes. She lifts her face to Raudo, her small teeth clenched, and between them seeps a promise whose furious timbre of voice matches the hatred that illuminates the young girl's trembling gaze.

"I will kill you..."

It begins as a whisper, which grows into a string of screams in which sadness and despair are camouflaged by a desire for revenge too great for such a small girl.

"I'll kill you and your companions! Everybody!"

Raudo turns his back on her and walks away. Titania's screams follow him.

"I'll kill you! I swear! I'll kill them! There won't be any left!"

Raudo's figure disappears and silence rules again, but the fire inside Titania remains just as alive as the one spewing towers of smoke from the clan.

She tilts her head slowly to the corpse of the assassin, purple eyes fixed there for a minute, until she decides to get up and approach the stiff. Titania suffers a hunger and thirst that aches like iron buried in her gut, needs that can only be quenched by violent ends.

Titania's heart pounds in her chest like the hammer of a maddened judge, and a prodigious mark is drawn on her lower back.