Into The Night

Chapter 1

"For your sins, we sentence you to exile outside Athana's Wall," the white-cloaked figure looming over Rylynn said. His voice was not angry, nor enthusiastic. He was calm, devoid of emotion. The white man convened with the crimson-cloaked figures at his side for the previous thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to decide her fate told her there was no deliberation, no chance of coming out alive. They had returned to their semi-circle pedestal where the entire crowd could hear. As the Crimson Court declared their verdict, sharp gasps and murmurs, thirsty for the drama, flooded the shadowed room behind her. Her empty stomach roiled and threatened to heave the little it contained. Her muscles turned to a quivering mass, wanting to fall to the floor. Fear coursed through her, shaking her legs, freezing her toes and fingers, distorting her thoughts. But she held strong, she would not give them the satisfaction. Clenching her fists, stamping down nausea, she stared steadfastly at the figures above her.

That night played over in her head now just as it had every day and night since she found herself in the impossible predicament. Panic, choices, cold. Darkness shrouded her then as it did now. She was innocent, but no one believed her, and likely, no one ever would. No matter how hard she worked, no matter how far she'd risen, she would never be one of them.

The two figures on the ends of the semi-circle moved to her sides. She knew why. Her exile began immediately. Despite the head-to-toe robes, the oversized hoods, and the masks of animal skulls, she knew exactly who gripped her arms in a vice. It was overkill, but they enjoyed it a little too much. Each figure stood nearly a foot taller than her and outweighed her tiny stature by tens of pounds. She was a criminal now of the worst kind, and the Crimson Court didn't take that lightly.

As they lead her out of the chamber, past the wide-eyed, whispering spectators, she eyed her best friend on the edge. Solid black hair, perfectly tailored clothes, and gleaming green eyes cut through the dark. The man stood in the back during the ordeal, fidgeting. Fenryn would not meet Rylynn's gaze. One word from him could have put an end to all of this, but he wouldn't dare speak on her behalf, he couldn't. He and Rylynn weren't supposed to be friends, weren't supposed to mingle outside of her service to him. At that moment, a deep and unending emptiness flowed through every vein in Rylynn, but a bubbling rage accompanied it. She thought Fenryn was the exception; the one who would accept her and always be there for her. Fenryn could never receive the punishment Rylynn now faced as she accepted the penalty in his stead. But he remained silent. A tinge of guilt flashed over his face, but only for a second before returning to the icy gaze of superiority his kind were taught from a young age.

Before she even fully registered what was happening, Rylynn stood outside the gates to The Golden City, never able to return. Before her, the Outside spread in unending bleakness. Everything she'd ever been taught to fear hid out there in the Night Forest. Once part of the magnificent Golden Forest, the corruption infected the Night Forest mere feet from the Athana Wall for as long as Rylynn had lived, and for many years before that. The frozen lakes held monsters of terrifying proportions and the willowy trees hid horrors of cunning brutality. On the edge stood its newest, weakest inhabitant, with nothing but the thin, oversized potato sack of a prison uniform she'd worn the past three days.

This particular stretch of forest wasn't deep, she could see the Voskaran Mountains beyond it from Fenryn's room in the castle. The Night Forest would surely kill her; however, if she could reach the gates of Voskarus, she would only probably die.

Exile was a feel-good word the Crimson Court used so they didn't have to live with what they doomed prisoners to. Exile suggested a chance. But there was no chance here. She wouldn't last to see the sunrise. Contemplating her options, Rylynn paced along the city wall. If death was inevitable, she could just give up right here. Lay down in the snow and wait. Perhaps her frozen body would force the court and the citizens to acknowledge the truth of their verdict. Unlikely. She knew they would probably just hide her body as if she had never existed. Like they did with all their problems. Her only other option lay with the unknown. Quickly she decided they didn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing her beg, dying at their feet. Her nervous steps came to a halt and she looked out over the glistening wildlands in front of her. Chill air stung her lungs, her fists balled tightly, and her feet stepped forward, not with confidence, but with defiance. Stubborn to the end, she thought.