Cry Shield

The sun crept steadily over the horizon, casting its golden light across the thatched rooftops and winding dirt paths of the small village.

The air was filled with the cheerful chirping of birds, their songs blending with the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of the river that meandered through the fields.

It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the troubles of the world felt distant, kept at bay by the serene rhythm of daily life.

Celestia opened her eyes to the warmth of the morning light that filtered through the window of her modest room.

She stretched lazily, enjoying the quiet comfort of her bed, and the stillness that enveloped her. Beside her, her little brother Nether slept soundly, his chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber.

A soft smile touched her lips as she watched him for a moment, his innocent face a picture of pure tranquillity.Careful not to wake him, Celestia slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the wooden floorboards, which creaked under her light steps.

She descended the narrow staircase that led to the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread and herbs welcomed her.

Her mother was already at work, her hands deftly preparing the morning meal with the practiced grace of someone who had done so countless times before.

"Good morning, my dear," her mother greeted her, turning to offer a warm smile.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Mama," Celestia replied, returning the smile as she stepped forward to kiss her mother's cheek.

"I'll fetch water from the river after breakfast."

"Take your time, it's a beautiful day today," her mother said, placing a plate of bread and cheese on the table.

The simple meal was their usual fare, but it was shared with the joy and love that made every bite taste like a feast.

As they ate, the kitchen filled with the sound of light-hearted conversation and laughter. Alia's brother eventually joined them, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and soon he was chattering excitedly about the day's plans.

These moments were precious to Celestia, the kind that she would hold in her heart forever—the warmth of her family, the safety of their home, the ease with which happiness seemed to find them in this little corner of the world.

After breakfast, Celestia took a wooden bucket and stepped outside, her brother trailing after her with boundless energy.

The village was alive with the early morning hustle, neighbours exchanging greetings, children playing in the streets, and farmers preparing for the day's work.

The sky was clear with the sun casting long shadows across the ground, and a gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers.

The path to the river was one that Celestia knew well, lined with tall, ancient tress whose leaves whispered softly in the wind.The sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the ground.

Her brother darted ahead, picking up sticks and stones, his laughter echoing through the tress.

Celestia followed at a leisurely pace, soaking in the beauty hat seemed to radiate from the land itself.

"Celestia, look what I found!" her brother's voice broke through her thoughts. He ran up to her, proudly holding out a small, flat stone."It's lovely" Celestia said, examining the stone with a smile.

"Maybe we can paint it later and make it good luck charm" Her brother's eyes lit up at the idea, and he tucked the stone into his pocket, already imagining the colours they would use.

They continued on their way, the river coming into view, its waters sparkling in the sunlight. Celestia knelt at the riverbank, dipping the bucket into the cool, clear water.

As she did, a strange sensation washed over her—a shiver that ran down her spine, as if something unseen was watching them.She paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she scanned the trees around them.

But everything appeared as it always did: quiet, serene, untouched by anything but the gentle hand of nature. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, she finished filling the bucket and stood up, dismissing the sensation as nothing more than her imagination.

On their walk back to the village, everything seemed as normal as it had been before. The same villagers greeted them with friendly waves, the same laughter and chatter filled the air.

But as they approached their home, a thin column of smoke caught Celestia's eye, rising from a distant part of the village.

Hder steps faltered, her heart tightening with a sudden, inexplicable dread."Celestia, what's that?" her brother asked, his voice tinged with concern as he noticed the smoke too. She didn't answer.

She set the bucket down, her breath quickening as she began to run toward their house. The closer she got, the stronger the smell of burning wood and thatch became, the smoke now thickening in the air.

Nether struggled to keep up, his small legs pumping as he followed her, fear creeping into his voice as he called out her name.

When Celestia reached their home, she stooped dead in her tracks. The sight before her was like something out of a nightmare. Their house—her safe haven—was engulfed in flames, the roof collapsing under the intense heat.Screams pieced the air, and the once peaceful village had become a scene of chaos and destruction.

"Mother where are you !!!!!?" Celestia screamed, her voice breaking with terror as she ran towards the burning building.

But before she could reach it, figures emerged from the smoke—men clad in dark armour, their faces hidden behind masks, the sword dripping with blood.

They moved with a terrifying purpose, cutting down anyone who crossed their path. Celestia froze, her heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe.

She saw her mother, desperately trying t shied Nether from attacks, her eyes wide fear and determination. But the men showed no mercy.One of them struck her down with a brutal slash of his blade, her body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap.

"No, it can't be mother !!" Celestia scream tore from her throat, raw and filled with unimaginable pain. She rushed forward, but on e of the men grabbed her by the arm, yanking her back with brutal force.

She struggled against him; her mind unable to comprehend the horror unfolding around herIn that moment, as she watched her family being slaughtered, something inside Celestia shattered.

The world she had known, the life she had cherished, was gone—replaced by a darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.The village, once a haven of peace and happiness, was now a place of death and despair.

As the flames consumed everything she had ever loved, Celestia screams echoed through the smoke-filled air. Her vison blurred with tears, her body trembling with shock and grief. This was the end of her innocence, the moment when everything changed.

And as she was dragged away, the flames reflected in her eyes, she knew one thing with certainty: she would never forget this day, nor forgive those who had torn her world apart.

The fire that burned within her heart would never be extinguished, and one day, she would have her vengeance..

Deep within the ancient forest, where towering trees stood like silent guardians and shadows danced to hide forgotten secrets, a young girl walked alone.

Célestia had fled to this place, a vast, mysterious wilderness feared by the villagers for its haunting stillness and unknown dangers.

It was here, among the twisted roots and gnarled branches, that she sought refuge from a world that had taken everything from her. It was here that she would forge her new life.

When Célestia left her village in ruins, she had no clear direction, no purpose beyond escaping the memories that haunted her.

She wanted to outrun the pain, the horrific images of her family's final moments, but there was no escape. The pain followed her into the dense forest, clinging to her like a shadow. The solitude she found there, however, forced her to confront her grief, her anger, and the overwhelming sense of loss that threatened to consume her.

The early days in the forest were a harsh trial. She was a girl of the village, unused to the ways of the wild. Hunger gnawed at her belly, fatigue weighed on her limbs, and fear lurked in every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig.

She was a stranger in this world, vulnerable and exposed. Yet, something deep within her, a flame fueled by sorrow and a burning desire for revenge, refused to let her surrender to despair.

As the days turned into weeks, Célestia began to adapt to her new environment. She watched the animals of the forest, studying their behaviors and survival tactics.

She learned to identify edible plants and roots, discovered how to set traps for small game, and found the skill to start a fire. Her instincts sharpened, and she grew attuned to the rhythms of the wild.

The forest, once a menacing labyrinth, started to reveal its secrets to her. She was no longer just surviving; she was learning, growing stronger with each passing day.

But survival was not enough. Each night, as she lay beneath the stars, the memories of her family's brutal slaughter played out in her mind, fueling a rage that kept her awake and restless.

She knew that to avenge her loved ones, she would need more than the skills of survival—she needed to become stronger, fiercer, and more capable than she had ever been.

One fateful day, as she ventured deeper into the heart of the forest, Célestia stumbled upon something extraordinary. Beneath the roots of an ancient oak, partially buried and covered in moss, lay a sword.

The blade was tarnished, its surface pitted with rust, yet it glimmered faintly in the dappled sunlight, as if it still retained some of its former power.

The hilt was adorned with intricate symbols that seemed almost alive, pulsing with an energy she could feel in her bones.

With great care, she unearthed the sword, her hands trembling slightly as she cleaned the dirt and grime from its surface.

Despite its age, the weapon felt right in her grasp, as though it had been waiting for her. This was not just a tool for combat; it was a symbol of her determination, a physical representation of the strength she sought to wield.

As winter descended upon the forest, bringing with it biting cold and heavy snow, Célestia's resolve only hardened. The brutal weather posed a new set of challenges, but she faced them head-on.

She built a shelter from branches and animal hides, crafted warm clothing, and continued her training in the snow-covered woods. Each day, she practiced with the sword, swinging it through the air until her arms ached, imagining her enemies at the other end of the blade.

Then, one morning, as she practiced in a small clearing, Célestia became aware of a presence watching her. She stopped mid-swing, her senses alert.

From the shadows of the trees emerged an old man, his hair as white as the snow around them. He wore a cloak made from the fur of a great beast, and his eyes, sharp and clear, observed her with a mix of curiosity and understanding.

"You wield that sword as if battling your own demons," he said, his voice deep and resonant.

"But strength does not come from the sword. It comes from within.

"Startled, Célestia instinctively raised her sword defensively.

The man, however, made no move to threaten her. Instead, he approached slowly, his gaze steady and calm.

"My name is Aeldric," he introduced himself.

"I was once a master of arms, a teacher to many who sought glory in battle. But I have left that life behind, seeking peace in these woods.

Yet, I see in you a spirit that is both fierce and troubled, a soul seeking something more.

"Célestia, still wary, could not deny the air of authority that surrounded the old man.

He spoke with the quiet confidence of someone who had seen and survived countless battles. His offer to teach her was both unexpected and deeply tempting.

She knew that she could learn much from him—more than just how to swing a sword.And so, she accepted. From that day forward, Master Aeldric became her guide, her mentor in the art of combat and the mastery of self.

Under his tutelage, her training took on a new intensity. He taught her to move with precision, to strike with purpose, and to defend with unwavering focus. Every lesson was a test of her resolve, pushing her to her limits and beyond.

But Aeldric's teachings went far beyond the physical. He emphasized the importance of mental discipline, of understanding that true strength was not about overpowering an opponent but about controlling oneself.

He taught her to meditate, to quiet the storm of emotions within her, and to find balance.

"A warrior who fights with anger is already defeated," he would say.

"You must fight with clarity, with purpose, and with a calm heart.

"Célestia struggled at first with these lessons, her anger and grief too raw to easily suppress.

But slowly, as the weeks turned into months, she began to understand. The forest, with its serene beauty and untamed wilderness, became her sanctuary.

The rustling leaves, the chirping of birds, and the flow of the river all became part of her meditation. She learned to listen, to feel the pulse of life around her, and to draw strength from it.

Master Aeldric also revealed to her the true nature of the sword she had found. It was no ordinary blade but one forged by ancient masters for a wielder destined for greatness.

Together, they worked to restore the sword, cleaning the rust from the blade, sharpening its edge, and reawakening the power that lay dormant within it.

With each passing day, Célestia felt the sword becoming an extension of herself, its weight familiar and its balance perfect.As spring approached, bringing with it the promise of renewal, Célestia knew her time in the forest was nearing its end.

She was no longer the frightened girl who had stumbled into the woods seeking refuge.

She had become a warrior, her body honed and her spirit tempered by the harsh trials she had endured. The forest, once a place of exile, had become her home, and Master Aeldric had become more than just a teacher—he was the father figure she had lost, guiding her toward the path she was destined to walk.

On the day of her departure, Aeldric stood with her at the edge of the forest.

The sun was rising, casting a golden glow through the trees, and the air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

The old master placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression sombre but proud.

"Remember, Célestia," he said, his voice filled with the weight of experience,

"strength is not just in the muscles or the weapon you wield. True strength lies in the will to do what is right, even when the odds are against you. The sword you carry is powerful, but it is merely a tool. You are the one who gives it purpose. Never let it control you."

With these words echoing in her mind, Célestia stepped out of the forest, leaving behind the solitude and the serenity of her training.

She felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of leaving Aeldric and the life she had built there, but she knew that her journey was far from over.

The world beyond the trees was vast and filled with dangers, but it was also where her destiny awaited. Her quest for justice, revenge, and redemption had only just begun, but she was no longer afraid.

She was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.As she walked away, the forest seemed to whisper its farewell, the rustling leaves and the calls of distant animals bidding her goodbye.

Célestia tightened her grip on the sword, her heart heavy but resolute. She was no longer a lost girl; she was a warrior, forged in the wilds, ready to carve her path through the world.

The fire of vengeance burned brightly within her, but it was tempered now by the lessons she had learned, the strength she had gained, and the wisdom of her master.

Her journey had only just begun, but Célestia knew she was ready for whatever lay ahead.