Chapter 1

- 1,236 years since the war ended -

I remember. I remember when I was seven years old. How that cold forest floor felt in that partially damp way that would sook through your clothes, leaving you chilled to the bone. I remember feeling alive or at least healthy for the first time in my life, but I can't remember my parents' faces. I can remember them lying there, but I rack my brain for their profiles, expressions, or any identifying features, but I come up blank.

It was the first time I'd ever left home that I can remember as I was usually bedridden and still tend to be. I think that's why we left because I was always ill. Maybe we were looking for a cure or something to help, at least, but I know we didn't make it. I remember how the time seemed to draw on as we wandered through these woods. Maybe we were there for longer than we planned as I remember our food was running low.

I was overly curious, of course, asking about every plant, animal, or thing we came across. My Dad answered all of my questions; I think he was rather happy to, but I'm not sure. On the other hand, my mom was fretting over my father for some reason, though I've never figured it out in full.

While I was constantly bouncing around, running ahead and playing games in the vast woods, my parents grew slower. Soon as the weeks began to pass, my parents took breaks that would stretch the span of days. I remember being sad, the saddest I ever felt, though at the time I couldn't understand what was happening; when I look back on it and try to remember, I think they were dying.

I can remember my mom telling me to continue on, I even can recall the growing loss of strength in her voice as she continued to cough here and there, but for some reason, I didn't. It seemed like a pretty good option, but I did not until they stopped answering.

My cheeks were raw from crying; I know that. They almost stung as my throat would urch. At points, it felt like I stopped breathing and that I didn't want to again, but I would as I would start to struggle. I wanted water. Maybe that's why I got up and wandered away, my need to survive overpowering my will to stay.

I remember aimlessly wandering from tree to tree in that near fogged state, clearly not knowing where I was going nor caring. I remember that it felt as if I'd left pieces of me with every step of the way leading back to my parents as they waited there, on that forest floor. They called to me in their mute frigid way, not telling me to go away, this time, but instead to curl up and join them in their cold, still state. As if it would all be okay if I just laid down and joined them; even at that young age, I knew that it wouldn't though a small part of me longed for it.

It was growing dark, but I kept stumbling along with no clear goal; yes, I was looking for water, I know that, but I also know that I wasn't entirely seeking it; I didn't have the strength to. So, I kept wondering. Occasionally, I would feel weak and tired and would come to a near stop under that moon, and then start to cry; It happened more than once, but I am not sure how many times as I quickly lost count. That sorrow I felt was evolving to a pure numb feeling as I cried and walked, unsure of what I was doing. All of that is so clear; every second of that walk feels like hours etched into my soul for an eternity, but I can't remember my parents' faces. I can remember everything I wish to forget, but not what I wish to remember.

More happened that night. Although I remember it, I could never confirm whether it was real or not. I used to tell the sisters about it, but I started to believe them over the years of them telling me it was all just a dream. A small part of me still wishes it was true, that there was something more in this world, or on that night; that something could happen filled with beauty and awe on the same night covered with shadows and sorrow.

I like to think that it happened around midnight, almost on the dot. After all, I remember where the moon sat, near its peak, on that cloudy night. Thinking of it as midnight gives it some poeticness, the occurrences near the witching hour. So fitting, don't you think? I'd stopped for good near the bank of a river. I'd already quenched my thirst, and so I was already giving in to my emotions and fatigue. That's when I heard it. It was no more than a rustle, could have been nearly anything, even a bunny, but my mind, in its tired state, jumped to the worst conclusion. My gaze jumped from bush to bush as I held my breath, unsure of what to do. My ears perked and listening to any sound but were left only to be filled with silence. It took a few seconds for me to settle, and my nerves began to relax, losing that tense ridged state that was quick to regain.

I swear not a minute after I heard the sound, and I remember this clearly, I saw something, faint and glowing and only growing in brightness. It was a set of eyes, like wolves or a cat with a gold-like hue, more of a mustard yellow to be exact, but they were about a foot and a half, nearing two feet, off the ground. I froze, staring at these eyes. I can remember the fear; it nearly dripped off of me. I had no idea what to do, and even if I did, my young little brain and body wouldn't have cooperated.

Neither of us moved. We were frozen at that moment, neither of us daring to do anything; maybe it was unsure what to do too. Eventually, it moved closer into the little clearing and away from the shadowed trees.

It, or they, were human in shape, with features that seemed masculine even to a young seven-year-old. There was something odd about it, though I couldn't figure it out. It was something about how their figure stood in that shaded way that made it clear they were different. Besides, even I know that human eyes do not glow.

It reached one of its very human-like hands near what I assumed was its face and seemed to push back a hood giving me a clearer view of it. It wasn't human, and that was undeniable; Though I was right, they were clearly and unmistakably male, and if I were only a little older, I would've appreciated how handsome he was only that much more. He had horns sticking out of pure black hair, blacker than the night sky. His horns curved back as if they were combed. He had a pair of thick black eyebrows, his lips nearly a heart in shape. His nose was covered in red scales, scales that dispersed below his eyes. Now that I think of his eyes, I can remember how they changed colour in the moon's light, turning from that bright mustard yellow to a rich and alluring gold.

This handsome beast looked at me, and my seven-year-old mind began to run. My body unfroze as if they only just realized the threat. Yes, he was handsome, but maybe that was only a tool used to kill me. My petite body turned in its sitting positions, hands digging into the dirt as my body moved like that of an animal, only in a more clumsy way. I ran along the river, not daring to turn back, but that didn't last long; I wanted to check and make sure that this monstrosity wasn't catching up to me. I can remember how stupid I thought that was; this beast, nearly the size and build of an adult human, wasn't going to catch a small, sickly child, but as I turned back, I realized he wasn't there. Had I really run that far? But I still didn't stop.

I ran until I was huffing and puffing, needing to take a moment to breathe. Remembering it now, I realize that my run lasted that of three minutes, maybe even less. Yes, I felt better, but that didn't erase all the time that I had been bedridden. I placed my hands on my knees and couldn't even raise my head. I stared at the ground, knowing that I was almost certainly dead. Seconds passed, and the being still didn't come tearing up to me. I looked around, back to where I came. I couldn't even see him. I looked towards the river, then to my right, into the forest, and then back to where I was going. I was alone again, in these woods. I didn't know what to do with myself; that was clear. I questioned every action I had taken in the last few hours, the hours that I had walked and now the minutes that I had run. I had no idea what I was fighting for or why my need to survive was still so high. If this beast did not kill me, then I would be by the next, and if I somehow miraculously made it through that, I would surely end up with the same fate as my parents.

I decided at that moment that I wouldn't fight my apparent fate; though I wanted to live, I didn't want to feel pain. I looked to the water taking in its beauty, hoping that this one thing would be the last thing I would see before that monster killed me. I sat down, holding my knees to my chest as I waited. Nothing happened as I sat and listened to the water running.

"What are you doing?" a voice said, making my gaze run in circles around me, but I couldn't find anything. I was alone in the woods with the barreling stream. "Why are you just sitting there?" it said again in that male voice. Already having exhausted my options, I looked up and there in the branches of the trees, just sitting a few feet above my head, was the actual beast.