When my skin is not my own and the heart is tainted, there is still one thing that will always belong to me. My soul! No more shall it weep in the darkest of nights but it shall become a beacon of light for all those who cannot see. I am a warrior...
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The evening in the village contrasted sharply with the oppressive atmosphere of the kingdom. Here, the world seemed to whisper peace. The silence was not heavy or foreboding, but soft, like a blanket draped over the town, lulling everything into gentle harmony. The air was fresh, sweet with the smell of earth and grass, pure in a way Lalzari had long forgotten. Birds sang high in the trees, their melodies weaving into the quiet, offering a soundtrack to the serenity. Even the simple act of villagers pouring their bathwater onto the streets seemed graceful, the water catching the fading light and shimmering like liquid diamonds on the ground.
“This could have been such a beautiful place,” Lalzari murmured, her voice catching in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes, the sight of such unspoiled beauty pulling at something deep inside her. She was so accustomed to chaos and ruin that this untouched slice of life felt like a dream. The warmth, the laughter, things she hadn’t known for so long, they stirred something within her, something fragile and nearly forgotten.
As she passed a small house, Lalzari glimpsed a child seated by a glowing fireplace, giggling at something unseen. The soft light from the fire bathed the child in a golden hue, making the scene feel almost ethereal. Even after all the violence, the bloodshed, and loss, there was happiness to be found here, tiny, flickering pockets of joy that somehow persisted in the darkness.
But her presence disturbed the peace. The moment the villagers noticed her, they shrank back, their faces drained of color. Old widows and weary farmers peeked from behind curtains and quickly shut them again as though they had seen death itself walking in their midst. Lalzari felt their fear, she saw it in their quick glances, the way they scurried away like frightened animals. She wanted to approach them, to show them she meant no harm. But there was no time for introductions, no space for trust-building in this war. She was a shadow here, and her mission couldn’t afford to be delayed.
She scanned the porches, searching for the blue flowers Khushboo had mentioned, but all she saw were dull patches of hay and mud. No blossoms grew here, no signs of life that dared to thrive beneath the weight of the kingdom's tyranny. Flowers wouldn’t bloom in such darkness, she thought.
Suddenly, Lalzari was yanked back with such force that the world around her spun. A large, calloused hand clamped over her head, sending her reeling. Her body flew backward as if she were a kite caught in a violent gust, and she slammed hard against the unforgiving ground. Pain exploded through her as she rolled to her stomach, a scream tearing from her throat. The hand gripped her shawl, jerking her head up mere inches above the dirt. She knew what came next.
Instinct kicked in. With a swift motion, Lalzari kicked off her ankle chains and whipped them against her attacker’s head. “SHHHAAAH!” a deep voice groaned, and the grip on her loosened. She rolled away, pulling out her emei piercers from her bun, their sharp steel tips glinting in the dim light. She sprang to her feet, her body coiled, ready for the next strike.
