|[ THE FAERI'S KEEPER ]|

Prologue: Murder

I remember it so clearly, as if it had only occurred last night, as if I had only just witnessed it. The memory is burned into my mind, like the images are scarred on the inside of my skull. Burned into my very being; branded into my flesh. It was just as painful too, as having a cherry-red poker inserted into my brain; the memory of watching my parents being murdered.

It had been early evening, with most people still walking the streets of our city. The sky was dotted with the occasional star, twinkling down at me. It had been the middle of winter, and large fires has burned in heat-pits throughout the roads, with people crowding around them to absorb the warmth. Smoked had snaked through the air, giving off the sweet scent of burning leaves and pine. It was calm, quiet, with snow glistening where the fires did not reach. It was peaceful.

I had only been 8 years old at the time.

Then the first explosion went off, causing most to duck their heads and run for cover. A barrel standing by a house has burst into flames, throwing the burning alcohol onto nearby people. Their screams haunted my dreams for months afterwards, and even in my waking moments the horrific memories claws their way through my mind like taloned fingers. I remember hearing my mother run up the stairs to my room and tell me to stay where I was, to stay hidden. I had watched from my window the disturbing scene below me, as my parents moved injured people and maimed bodies from the street and to safety. Watched as the people scurried like ants wildly, seeking refuge.

And then the Faeris had appeared, knocking the humans aside like leaves in a storm. They were beautiful, and yet terrifying. It was like watching dark flames, so pretty, and yet deadly to touch. The women’s hair, long and silky, billowed around their faces as if caught in a sudden wind, and the men’s eyes flashed angrily as if lightening had been trapped inside. In tight formation they crashed down over the people, the perfect image of discipline and power. They wielded staffs and broad-swords, and long-bows and all manners of weapons. Just the sight of them was enough to send my knees knocking.

I really had wanted to look away as the humans, weak in the shadow of the Faeris, struggled to flee, to escape, but my eyes were glued to the scene. Almost against my will I watched as the Faeris slashed at those attempting to escape the fray, and hacked at those fighting back. My gaze had swivelled back to my parents who were hurriedly still moving people. I feared for them – they held no weapons; no protection. Another barrel had detonated and showered everyone with scalding liquid and rubble. I saw my mother’s bleeding face, a gash on her cheek – the same bright scarlet staining my fathers arm.

And then a Faeri appeared behind my father, like a ghost in the night, and chopped his head clean off, his body thumping to the ground a second after his head. Refusing to continue looking, I had begun to turn away when the Faeri had caught my eye, watching me grimly. Fear had crept up my spine and tasted metal on my tongue – terror froze my body, like ice had encased my limbs. A few brief moments passed before the Faeri moved, stepping closer. The ice shattered like glass and I could move again. I rolled away under my bed and hid as far away from the door to my room as possible. I had prayed to Mīla that my mother would be safe, that she would burst into my room at any moment and sweep me up into her arms. That we would pack our few possessions and flee away into the night, scared but together. But as time had worn on, that possibility began to dim.

I can’t remember exactly how much time had passed before I moved again. The image of my father’s blood spraying the ground as he was murdered was painted on the insides of my eyes, stuck there forever to torment me. But I remember finally, after hours of whimpering and shivering violently, I dried my tears and slowly left the room. I shakily made my way down the stairs to the kitchen when there was a bang on the front door. Fear leapt back into me as I clambered into a small cupboard, remembering what my mother had told me: stay hidden. I closed the door, peering out through the tiny gap of light where they didn’t quite meet. There was another bang, ricocheting off all walls, the noise shouting in my ears, but no one entered.

A few moments’ later footsteps had wandered away from the door growing quieter. I crawled from my hiding space and had bounded to the door, peeking out as I had opened it a crack.

The street was littered with dead bodies. I hadn’t moved from the doorstep until the shouts of violence had faded into silence. I passed by my father, refusing to look at him, and found my mother lying crumpled against a barrel. Two arrows were buried inside her chest, and her fingers were curled into claws, digging into the ground. I had started crying then, letting all my anguish go. I had fallen down beside her, clutching at her clothes. An expression of pain had been etched on her face. But there was no fear. She had been brave. I would be brave.

A few moments had passed before I noticed the Faeri lying dead a few feet away. Her brown hair was long and soft-looking, now stained dark with blood. A long-bow was clutched in her dead fingers. She had been beautiful, even in death – no wonder they were called the “Fair Folk”.

I forced myself to walk to her corpse, steeled my hand to reach down. I grabbed the bow and slung it over my shoulder, along with the quiver. And I spat on the Faeri’s corpse. They had come here and murdered my family… hurt and killed dozens of innocent people. I had turned and glared at the dying flames and at the bodies of Fae and human alike. I would be like my mother. I would not stand for this. I would be brave.

I made the Empire my enemy that day. I turned my back on everything I had known. The law no longer meant anything to me anymore. I had given my father and mother one last tearful glance before I walked away.

I haven’t looked back since.