Echoes of Forgotten

Myfina

Fina glanced around at the group, the weight of her past heavy on her shoulders as she shared her story. The crackling of the campfire faded into the background as memories rushed to the surface, each one more vivid than the last.

"It’s hard to know where to start," she said, her voice a bit softer than usual. "But I guess it begins in a small village outside of Grenford, the capital of Ashwell. I was born into a peaceful, simple life, until the war came."

The others listened intently as Fina began to recount the story of her childhood.

The peaceful village Fina once called home was a memory now, lost in the flames of war. Her parents, beastfolk like her, were caught in the chaos of battle. Fina could still remember the smell of smoke, the screams, and the sight of her mother’s cloak stained with blood. She had only been a child when it all happened, too young to fully understand the devastation, but old enough to feel the crushing weight of loss.

As she wandered through the ruins, her small hand clutched the tattered remains of her mother’s cloak. Her eyes, wide with fear, searched for something—anything familiar. But all she found were charred remains and the silence of death.

A figure appeared through the smoke, draped in white robes. The man knelt down, his kind face softening when he saw the little girl. He was a priest, Father Benjamin, who had come to offer aid in the aftermath of the destruction.

"Are you lost?" the priest asked gently.

Fina pointed toward the bodies of her parents, tears streaming down her cheeks. Father Benjamin’s face fell, but he quickly scooped her up in his arms, holding her close.

"You’ll come with me, little one," he whispered. "You’re safe now."

"Father Ben took me to the church in Grenford," Fina continued, her voice steady. "He was the first person who treated me like I mattered. But not everyone saw me that way. Most people didn’t trust beastfolk, even though I was just a child."

She paused, glancing at the group, wondering if they could understand the prejudice she had faced.

"People called me names, said I didn’t belong. But Father Ben always stood up for me. He treated me like his own daughter. For a while, I thought I could finally have a home again."

Two days had passed since Father Benjamin brought the young girl to the church. He found her sitting quietly in the courtyard, watching the other children play. She didn’t join them.

“What’s your name, young one?” Father Benjamin asked as he approached her, his voice soft and kind.

The girl looked up at him, her eyes still filled with sadness. “MyFina,” she said softly.

“MyFina? That’s a beautiful name,” Father Benjamin said, sitting down beside her.

“My mother gave it to me,” she whispered, holding her knees close to her chest. “She said I’m her 'Fina.'"

Father Benjamin smiled gently. “Your mother must have loved you very much. I’m Father Benjamin, but you can call me Father Ben.”

“Okay, Father Ben,” she replied, giving him a small nod.

“Can I call you Fina, for short?” Father Ben asked, his eyes warm.

Fina hesitated for a moment but then smiled slightly. “Sure. Back in the village, all my friends called me that.”

At the church, Fina found a small measure of peace. Father Ben gave her a place to stay, food, and clothes. But life was far from easy. The other priests and churchgoers weren’t as welcoming, casting suspicious glances and whispering behind her back.