Fantasy Romance (working on title)

Chapter One - Tragedy

  Bast always loved the rolling hills of Meldenborrow, where livestock outnumbered the people ten to one and trees swayed in a serene dance with the wind. She ran home with fresh produce from the local town market, her silver hair bobbing up and down as she hummed an old lullaby her mother used to sing at night. In the distance, Bast could see her father and younger brother harvesting grain from their small field. Her brother's brown hair and tanned skin, earned from a day's hard work, bounced excitedly as he picked grain in no particular order, while her father, with mirrored features, methodically worked his way down the rows, leaving only the dead plants behind. She had always admired her father's careful and pragmatic approach, and she strived to emulate it herself.

Bast finally reached the small family cottage and was greeted by the enticing aroma of stew cooking inside. "No one else could compare to Mother's cooking, even if they were named the best cook in the world," Bast thought to herself as she placed the produce on the kitchen table and greeted her mother.

"Hello, Mama, what are you cooking?" she asked.

Her mother turned to her, her bright green eyes shining, and replied, "It's beet and rabbit stew tonight, dear."

Bast was just about to reply to her mother when her father burst through the door, panic written on his normally calm features. "Cellar, now!" were the only words he said as he grabbed Bast by the collar of her shirt and pushed her down the trap door into the family cellar.

"Father! Wha—" Bast managed to say before her father shut the cellar door, locking it and placing the kitchen rug over the entrance. The dim light she once had was gone. Bast attempted to calm herself by breathing deeply but couldn't help the growing unease of not knowing what was happening. Why had father put her down here? Why not her brother or mother? Her thoughts were interrupted when heavy footsteps clanked on the floor, and a foul odor stung the air.

"I heard you have a special here, Lucas," a voice said to her father. "No special here, sir," her father replied, sounding as calm as ever, as if he had been relaxing after a long day and was unbothered by the surprise visitor.

"Is that so?" the voice said with a sly tone. "Well, I heard from the village that a girl with silver eyes and white hair often came and sold grain from your farm. You do know it's a capital offense to hide something our military so badly needs, don't you?" The voice drew closer to where Bast assumed her father was standing, causing dust to fall from the cellar ceiling with every clank of his shoes.

"Yes, Captain, of course, I do," her father replied, his tone wavering slightly, a hint of worry that the captain must have heard too. "The girl you're looking for is from the neighboring farm. She comes, and I pay her to sell our grain. It's a much easier trip for the young to make than us old folks." The captain replied, "Then you don't mind if my men search the place?"

Before Bast's father could say more, she heard more footsteps clanking across the floor, knocking more dust loose from the ceiling. "Wasn't a question, Lucas," the captain said coolly before his men tore the place apart. Bast heard furniture being knocked over, cabinets torn open, and covers thrown aside. Bast's cottage wasn't very large, with just a small kitchen and a dinner table on one half, and a large-sized bed on the other. The family slept together and ate together, always close to each other at all hours of the day. Now their home was being torn apart, and Bast didn't know what to think. What is a special? Why am I hiding? Who are these people? All these questions spun in her mind when she heard one of the captain's men pull back the rug to the cellar.

"Sir," he said, beckoning the captain closer. Bast held her breath, hoping they would brush it off and leave, praying that whoever it was would simply say, "It's just a cellar, no need to search it." But her hopes were trampled when the captain said in a smooth, cool voice, "Wouldn't be keeping anything down here, would we?"

"No, sir. It's just to store excess grain," her father replied, his voice tinged with clear worry. Bast pushed herself against the bags of grain as the hatch to the cellar opened, her breathing quickened. She looked up to see the face of the captain, an older gray-haired man clad in silver armor with a wicked grin. His green eyes lit up as he grabbed Bast by the arm, lifting her out. She kicked and screamed, but it was futile. Bast's father yelled, "No!" as he lunged forward, only to be pinned by two guards. Bast looked at her mother, who mirrored her father, clutching her sobbing brother close.

The captain laughed, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Bast's spine as she struggled and fought to reach her father. "Well, well, seems you lied, Lucas," the captain said, his grin growing more sickening by the second. Bast felt as though the image of that terrible grin would burn into her memories, haunting her wherever she went.

The captain began to drag her out of the house as soldiers pushed her family into the center of the small cottage. "Burn them" he ordered, chaining Bast's wrists behind her and throwing her onto his horse. The last thing she saw of her family was her father fighting to get free, her mother and brother sobbing before the doors were shut and the cottage was set ablaze. Their screams echoed in her ears as Bast herself screamed and cried, yelling, "Someone, anyone, please! Please! Please!" before the captain silenced her with a sharp Hit.