The Ashen Rebellion

02 | A rough encounter

NYSSA CAUGHT HER BREATH, her heart pounding like a drum. She peeked around the corner of the room, seeing two armed forces run by. Pulling her head back in, she waited until she heard their heavy footsteps fade. The slaughter in the distance was unmistakable—the clash of swords and the screams for help wafted through her ears. She paid no mind to it, knowing that the last thing she wanted was to get recaptured. Behaving loudly would give away her position.

She stuck to the walls and corners, never leaving her back exposed to a potential ambush. The dagger in her hand felt reassuring, the cool metal against her knuckles grounding her amidst the chaos. Moving quietly, she encountered the aftermath of her earlier efforts—a prisoner she had freed was being brutally murdered by an enforcer. Blood sprayed as the guard's sword sliced through the air, ending the prisoner's life with a sickening thud.

Nyssa forced herself to keep moving, each step heavier than the last. She couldn't afford to dwell on the horrors around her. She turned her head to escape the haunting scene, only to run headfirst into another one of the enforcers. The young man's hazel eyes widened upon seeing her. He looked younger than the others, possibly in his mid-twenties, but still an enforcer nonetheless.

''S-surrender yourself, and I'll spare your life,'' The man stuttered, trying to sound tough despite his quivering voice. He raised his sword threateningly.

"Not a chance," Nyssa responded, her grip tightening around her dagger.

''Then prepare to die, rebel scum,'' He said, launching a war cry as he swung his weapon at her.

His hold on the handle was clumsy, and the sword was too big for his arms. Despite having no formal training in fighting, Nyssa knew she could handle him. She dodged each potential blow, backing purposefully into a wall to act cornered. The enforcer smirked haughtily, thinking he had the upper hand, and swung his sword. Nyssa ducked down, and his sword lodged itself into the wall behind her.

Realizing he was now weaponless, Nyssa sent a powerful kick to his stomach, which sent him stumbling back. She attempted to pull his sword out of the wall, but before she could free it, he lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. They wrestled, each trying to gain the upper hand. The fight was desperate and messy, their movements a flurry of punches and kicks.

When she finally managed to pin him down, she raised her dagger, his eyes widening with barely masked fear.

''Call it even?'' He proposed with a hesitant smile.

''Fine,'' She responded, standing up and offering him her hand. He immediately took it. ''Under one condition,'' She added, making him gulp and eye her weapon warily. She briefly explained her plan, which he hesitantly agreed to. It ended with her locking him inside a storage unit half-naked and stripping down to her bra and underwear. She slipped his enforcer uniform onto her body, a perfect fit for her tall, skinny frame.

After adjusting the uniform and sliding his sword into the sheath, she glanced back at the storage unit where the enforcer had begun pounding his fists against the door. Shaking her head, as she thought amusedly, 

Poor guy, this probably would've been the first naked woman he's seen, and he's not out here to witness it.

''Hey! You there! Halt!'' An urgent voice shouted.

Nyssa took off running, stopping when she realized there were multiple enforcers coming from her right too. 

Don't panic, don't panic, she thought, obviously panicking. A familiar quote from her father resurfaced in her mind.

 When chaos surrounds you, pause and observe. The world offers clues in the stillness—find your strength in what you see and let it guide you.

She spotted a staircase in front of her and took off down it. In an urgent moment, she pulled the sword out and used it to slide between the two handles of the door, keeping it from being opened. She continued running down the steps, only to pause at the gory sight she was met with. 

A masked man dressed in black gear, stood over multiple dead enforcers, holding a bloodied sword.

He paused upon seeing her but didn't dwell on it before lashing out and attacking her. She managed to block the first swing, but the man didn't hesitate. He charged again and again, each blow harder to deflect than the last. She blocked them all but the final one, crying out in pain as her shoulder was cut, her fingers painted bright red.

Taking pity on her lack of training, or perhaps noticing her pitiful expression, he paused. Nyssa took the opportunity to slice with her dagger, barely nicking his side before he slammed her roughly into the wall, knocking the dagger from her grip. He pinned her arms tightly above her head.

"Stop fighting," He said harshly, his breath coming as fast as hers. His voice was deep and commanding, yet tinged with an urgency that hinted at underlying concern.

Despite being defenseless, Nyssa didn't give up. She kicked his shins and kneed him in the stomach, making him groan in pain. He removed one hand to briefly clutch his stomach, but kept her arms pinned with the other, digging his nails into her knee until she whimpered in pain.

"Stop fighting," He repeated, more firmly this time.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her limbs, but Nyssa made one last effort, headbutting him. His mask fell away, revealing his face. Her breath caught in her throat.

The man staring down at her had heterochromia—one eye ocean blue and the other silvery grey. She found herself drawn to them, unable to look away. He had a bandana underneath covering the lower half of his face, leaving only his intense eyes and high cheekbones visible. The bandana was dark and patterned with intricate designs, giving him an air of mystery and danger.

His outfit was practical yet rugged, typical of a rebel. He wore a worn leather jacket over a dark tunic, belted at the waist. His pants were made of sturdy fabric, tucked into well-worn boots. A variety of pouches and small weapons were strapped to his belt, indicating he was prepared for anything.

His eyes scanned her face with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. But there was something else in his gaze, something that hinted at a deeper understanding of her pain and anger.

"Who are you?" Nyssa demanded, her voice trembling with residual fear and anger.

"You're not a soldier," He stated, absolute certainty in his voice.