Living in a Fairytale (Completed)

chapter 7

I woke up shivering. The air is cold, the candle have melted in a pool of wax with the fire fully extinguished, and darkness engulfed the bedchamber. A nightmare. The same fucking nightmare. Carelessly, I tied my disheveled hair in a high ponytail with a black ribbon and stood up. The marble gilded floor is bleak and moist. Outside the window, the night grew deeper.

Someone is trying to fuck up my mind. Elves do not have dreams. Witches don't. The children of the dawn never dreams. In La Belleza El Tierra, dreams do not visit us in our sleep unless someone tries to send a magisueño. A spell that allows the speaker to visit whoever she wishes in their sleep. Only a few have mastered the spell and only for a purpose too. But this bastard gives me nothing but a nightmare.

The nightmare starts with me running down a steep alley, with the torches extinguished and a queasy feeling in my gut. Then it shows father and mother killed in a blood bath, swords thrusted into their chest. A broad back of a man wearing a crown stood over their bodies, his sword drenched in blood, a gold and pale scarlet. And then the screams. Horrible screams from my brothers. Asking me why I have left. Calling me a traitor, a deserter, a monster. Their voices grew louder every time I screamed, their eyes filled with contempt and hatred every time I tried to look away. Lastly, Rose. It showed the day I killed her, with my steel in her flesh and the questions in her eyes.

As I donned my hunting blacks, I tried to recall everything that happened in the nightmare. You will never survive. You will die alone and in pain. The voice rang over and over inside my head. I saw myself in the mirror, the colour of cream have turned into a lighter shade, the perfect hue for snow. Only a few stands of cinnamon brown are visible and the ember colour of my eyes shone in the darkness.

Wearing leather shorts, ivory dyed long sleeves tunic that hung loosely on my slim frame, and black cotton boots, I prepared my weaponry. I strapped the leather belt on both of my things, a harness filled with knives, the blades penetrating an icy sensation on my skin. I glanced over the sword that shone a metallic sheen against the darkness and figured I should have no need of it. I grabbed the LaTiaar beside it and stormed out of the room.

The steps ran down in a spiral staircase, the torches gleaming against the cold dark night. The queen gave me leave to use the bedchamber on the highest peak of the castle, away from the royal chamber. She's afraid of what I might do.

It's understandable, given that she have put me in a position I no longer what to take part in. As I made my decent, the ear cuffs tinkled a small tune. The metal is spun gold, encrusted with diamonds and rubies, and whenever I put it on, my ears look like of those ordinary elves. The queen hates the sight of it, which made me love it.

The training ground is silent. I strutted my way towards the arrow & feather field, a name the soldiers have given the extensive field intended for archery practice, only to meet Kaisen. His eyes widened at the sight of me and I gave him nought but a glance. Why the fuck is he here.

Twenty and five targets made of wood and leather stood in an ascending manner. On top of the hard packed ground, wordings with its cursive strokes shone a soft green light. Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez and on and on it goes. He's in dos so I walked past him as I made my way towards siete. I felt his eyes glued on my back but I kept my mouth shut and ignored his presence. Too much of him this week.

Placing both of my hands on the LaTiaar, I slowly turned it twice, feeling the machinery starting to awaken. It moved and expanded, and then a white bow replaced the small cylindrical rod that I was holding earlier. The LaTiaar is a weapon forged with magic, built intrinsically with its precise measurements and spells and years of crafting to finish. It's a knife, bow and a spear. Turn it once, it's a long knife, twice and it's a bow, thrice and one shall be holding a five foot spear that ended with a ridged point.