Screams sliced through the night waking a young girl from her slumber. Slowly lowering her quilt, her fire-red hair emerged from the covers followed by sea-green eyes.
Her eyes scanned her room, trying to find the source of the chaos and yet seemingly failing. Peeling her covers away from her body, she noticed the abnormal temperature of the room. Sweat beaded on her body beneath her soft cotton gown. She grabbed her stuffed rabbit before leaping from the bed, feet connecting with the cool marble floor making her tiny toes curl.
Tiptoeing towards the edge of her room, she looked out the window only to widen her eyes in apparent horror. Beneath her, her village burned, swooping monsters that looked like massive bats tearing through the sky and releasing their hell upon the earth. Men, women, and children scrambled from their crumbling homes, their screams and begs sounding on deaf ears as the dragons continued to pour out raging fire.
The little girl clutched the rabbit to her chest. Tears filled her eyes and poured down her pearly white face. Fear consumed her small body and she felt herself grow rigid.
"Merda! Perpa!" she called for her parents in the Favan dialect only known to Plyndrës.
Her cries seemed to go unanswered and the little girl gripped her bunny tighter, making her way to the hall. The hall was dark, not a single candle lit. The only light to be seen was the outpour of moonlight and fire which danced across the opal floors in brilliant yet terrifying color.
"Merda? Perpa?" she called again, this time her voice like a hoarse whisper.
"Frasa?" the soft and familiar voice of a boy called out from behind her.
"Dar?" she answered. Yes?
The little girl whipped around, to face her brother. His light brown hair was ruffled and sticking in all directions. His shirt tinged with ash.
"Oh, Kolbin!" the little girl exclaimed, tears sopping down her face as she ran into her older brother's open arms. He swooped the five-year-old up, rocking her side to side for a moment, clutching her head.
"Oh, Frasa," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her head. "I'm so happy you are okay, soerter." Sister.
Frasa placed her small hand on his chest, feeling his trembling.
"Where is Merda and Perpa?" she whispered against him.
"They-" he inhaled deeply, releasing a shaky breath. He didn't wish to burden a five-year-old with the dire news but knew it was unavoidable. "They are gone soerter. They are gone to Gal."
In the Khysten religion, Gal was where the noble and brave laid to rest. It was the afterlife, a paradise of sorts.
"Nay, Kolbin, you are a liar!" Frasa cried against him, trying to wriggle room in his arms. Her red hair stuck out in different directions.
"Nay, Frasa, I tell you the truth." Her brother insisted. "We have no time for this, the Draconi are here and they will not spare either of us, child or not."
He moved quickly down the hall, his steps assured for a boy of only eleven tides. Frasa wailed in his arms. Passing through an ornate set of doors that had carvings of pixies frolicking in a pasture while sirens sang on rocks by a shore, they entered a massive library. The high, oil-painted, ceiling with gold flakes pressed into it spoke to the family's exuberant wealth and also ancient history.
Kolbin clutched the crying child tightly as he carefully darted through the bookcases. A long blast sounded and the entire house shook. He gripped her tighter, his eyes wide.
YOU ARE READING
Ascension: Isle of Draconi
Fantasy"Tell me little bird, who hurt you?" ... Her family was known as the Plyndrës- pillagers of the north. They invaded lands, stole great treasurers, and murdered those who stood in their way. But, their sins could not go unpunished, especially when th...
