Enthralled ❂

𝐨 | 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

The corners of the roof collapsed, shaking the ground as harsh as the heat of the flames. Everything was breaking. Fire fought its way inside like an uninvited guest. It nipped and ate at the walls. It was consuming it like a violent embrace.

"Run!" He shouted, pushing her towards the door.

Her feet weren't moving. They dragged as he pushed her forward, but her hands clawed to keep ahold of him.

"You must go! Now!"

He kicked open the door to push her outside. Yet as he did, a band of horses galloped to the front of the house and one of the riders dropped to the ground, a sword in hand.

The hands that lay on her shoulders to push her away now pulled her back inside.

She could see his eyes frantically looking around to find an escape, but fire was all around them. The flames reflected in his irises like the reflection in a mirror, and it was almost as if the glass-- the surface of his eyes-- were cracked.

The man with the sword stalked inside and swung the blade, aiming to strike whoever was in his path. A hand grabbed her by the arm and pushed her to the side just as the tip of the sword swung forth and hit a target.

Her father scampered backward with blood dripping from the wound on his chest. She screamed and moved towards the man with the sword and struggled to take it from his grasp. But he was stronger than her and pushed her face away from him, knocking her to the ground.

His sword then drove forward and dug inside her father's stomach, pushing and pushing still, until a fountain of blood pooled from his lips.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to die.

The attacker pulled his sword out and let her father's blood trail down the blade. Then he turned towards her. That picture is burned into her memory-- his tall figure standing amongst the flames with death in his eyes.

Scampering backward, she shouted for help, but there was no point. He knelt and grasped her arm, pulling her up on her feet and dragging her back towards the door.

Her hands crashed down on the man's chest and her nails clawed down his arm, but he remained unperturbed. He swung her in front of him and pushed her out the door where she landed on the wet grass.

The rain poured down yet no amount of water could extinguish the fire that erupts from the house like hands waving in the sky.

Around her, she could see her life unraveling in an instant. The villagers-- her friends, her family-- running for their lives. Children crying and women screaming. All of the men being hunted like foxes.

Swords swung wildly in the air-- war cries and shouts of war thundering all around. Blood spraying here and there. Bodies lying still in the grass now tainted red.

There seemed like a neverending stream of men attacking. Everywhere she looked there were foreign men slaughtering anyone they laid their eyes on.

Fingers wrapped themselves in her brunette strands and tugged her up. He shouted in words unknown to her as she trembled. Then his sword nipped at her ankles and she understood that he wanted her to stand.

As she did, he pulled her towards him. He was hot and stunk of blood. His mouth was near her ear, breathing into it like sand being poured into a jar. He walked forward with her in front and made his way to the horse he rode in on.

The glint of his sword reflecting from the light of the fire behind them shone as he rose it near her. She shrieked, moving backward as much as she could with him being there, but he didn't strike her. Instead, he put his sword back in its scabbard at his hip.

His hands then grabbed at her waist so tightly she felt like she would break. He moved forward, his hips colliding with her behind momentarily before he raised her up and threw her over the horse's back.

Her stomach felt the heat of the horse as well. It too was covered in blood, smelling like the people she had come to know.

Now it was the people she had lost.

The man mounted the horse with little effort, sitting in front of her. One hand held the reins whilst the other drew behind to clasp itself tightly around her waist, holding her secure.

As soon as the horse rode away, she was shaking and her head flew in all sorts of directions. Both her legs were hanging off of the horse's back along with her head, which made the ride feel as if the world was shaking as much as she was.

Little by little more men rode their horses away from the village, following the man who had kidnapped her, and the screams behind them grew faint.

All that she was, all that was her home, is now gone.