Wind Petals

Chapter 1

              Amid the sombre expanse of the sky, a brilliant and furious bolt of lightning tore through the darkness, illuminating the heavens with its searing power. The pouring, ruthless rain sums up a gloomy night, full of menace and fear. The ground became more soggy as the downpour persisted, absorbing the drops as much as possible, allowing redundant to surge. The clay-tiled roofs are prone to thawing in the presence of the downpour. Rivulets of water cascaded through their gentle curves, forming gushing torrents that flowed down their slopes.

The hueless raindrops pounded upon the earth to alter it to pale brown. Assembled simultaneously on the surface of the light soil, in maroon, they flood. At the commencement of the maroon spill, the pale brown cold gush was shading with the crimson drops that were dribbling from sliced damp flesh.

"-attack to-"

"Do not-"

The clamour of men's bawling was disrupted by the ominous, deafening crack of thunder that reverberated through the relentless downpour. As the outer, interior household yard, surrounded by thick, tidy walls, are less than a battle field. The bloodstains of those who had fallen lifeless were washed away by the rain, while those still standing found themselves drenched to the bone.

"Do not allow him to escape!" A man, bearing a blade, roared from the shelter of a nearby roof, unaffected by the rain or the clash that unfolded. As they heeded the command, more than half a dozen men, beneath the rain, clamped the hilts of their swords.

Against one.

In the obscurity of the night, merely his eyes were devoid of the ebony attire that concealed the rest of his face and body. Feet were slightly enduring his blood-dripping, quivering body, yet his arm was firm to wield his blade against the front.

"Kill him!" Another command resounded through the misty air.

Bracing himself for further conflicts, he compiled every ounce of courage despite his infirmity. In accordance with the received command, the squad of men surged ahead as well, with the purpose of assailing him.

Yet they ceased in a moment.

The pair of flaps on the wooden door leading there were entirely divided. A man figure, clammy with the rain as well as his own blood, barged inward. His face was etched with nothing but terror.

"It was the black thi-" he bawled as he entered. Yet it was not altogether. Muffling him, from the rear, the head of a metallic blade appeared through his heart. No further noise emerged from him-a mere muffled thud as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

All their gazes converged on that spot, as did the tips of their drawn swords. Through the very entrance that lay in ruins, the wielder of the heart-piercing blade emerged, having concluded the skirmish beyond the yard. From the lifeless form he had cast upon the damp ground, he retrieved his blade, adding it to the blood-gleaming blade that was already in his grasp. His gaze met that of his alley, who, though apparently drained from the battle, stood at the forefront of a formidable alliance, united in strength. As they reflected one another, the sole thing that remained discernible was the vision of his, concealing his identity by ebony threads.

"Kill him first!" Once again, a command reverberated. Yet it remained unacted upon. The gang of men faltered, their determination wavering. Terror morphed abruptly into their faces as they beheld the spectacle ahead of them. A solitary man, who bore twin blades, was not scratched despite his engagement against the rest of their men. It prompted them to revise the deed they were on the verge of committing.