Unchained

Sad beginnings

In a dark village, on a dark night, a fire blazed. The fire burned for hours, consuming the large mansion on the hill, and everything in it, including the family of three who lived there. February third, 1802, in the villages of Reddonde; The Ulvensbane mansion burned to the ground.

The Ulvensbane family were treated like outcasts. The villagers had never accepted them from the day they moved in. It was July 13th of the year 1800 exactly 3 months after James's birthday. The Ulvensbane family had moved from their homeland in Moonacre Voderland to Reddonde to have a fresh start and a better life for their son. Unfortunately things didn't go as planned. Things only got worse. The family never did anything to upset the villagers, in fact they hardly did anything at all. They rarely left their mansion, on the hill. Unfortunately, just after the family moved in over 20 villagers went missing, not a good first impression, and not something the villagers would consider a coincidence. There was no evidence to prove that that The Ulvensbane family was behind the crime, but the villagers didn't need proof. One day the villagers decided, as a majority, that their village would be better off without The Ulvensbane family. It was raining when they voted to kill the family with fire.    

There was one villager,Rose Vixon, an older woman with a soft personality, and even softer auburn hair. She was never married, and no relatives to speak of, but in the short time the Ulvensbane family had lived in the village she had grown to love them almost as her family. She felt that what the villagers had done was very wrong. She was the only one who felt they were innocent and did not deserve death. She tried her best to convince the people to reconsider but their was nothing she could do. As the villagers set their home ablaze all she could do was cry and yell in vain, while the flames licked and devoured the home with its ravenous, never ending hunger.

The day after the fire, she looked in the rubble and ash. of the once beautiful mansion. Searching for anything to give her comfort; hoping something--anything--might have survived. The scene looked like the very definition of bleak. Ash and stone was all that was left of the mighty mansion. The air smelled of soot, it was so thick with she could taste it, she could feel the gray snow like substance crunch underfoot.

The whole area seemed peaceful, but underneath the peace was a rage, and it filled the air. A rage, that wanted justice for the crimes committed there, on that ash covered hill. A rage, that was barely contained by the peace, a peace that the family had left behind. Rose felt that rage, it was so palpable it was draining to take a normal breath. She treaded carefully to keep the peace that just barely tamed the rage. She crept up the ash strewn stone steps, and the search began. She struggled for hours, checking each bedroom, trudging through the library,  muddling through the ballroom, all of which had become great forests of gray gloom. As she was about to give up for the day, she spotted a charred lump in what used to be the great hall. She thought it was a large suitcase or chest, that it might contain something for her to remember her friends by. She was gravely mistaken.

When she came upon the body she didn't cry, she didn't scream, she simply knelt down by the corpse of what used to be Jane Ulvensbane. Jane was in the fetal position laying on her side, clutching a bundle of cloth beneath her arms. Leaning her face down to the charred face of her friend, Rose simply whispered, "I am so sorry". As she was lifting her head, she heard a whimper. Rose was sure she was hearing things, but she heard it again, a soft whimper coming from Jane's body. Rose slowly turned what was left of Jane's body over, the bundle of cloth squirmed under Jane's protecting arms. Rose slid the bundle out from Jane's death grip, this action caused the body to crumble, as though the bundle had been the only reason it had stayed together at all. For the moment Rose ignored the disintegration of her friend. She held the slightly burned cloth bundle in her arms and folded back the top flap of cloth, a tiny head was underneath, followed by a tiny body. A sleeping child was wrapped inside the cloth. The only child of Jane and Erric Ulvensbane, James, had survived.