The Jewel of the Five Kingdoms

Magiano

(The night of the funeral)

I have only felt pain like this once before, and that was the day my life was destroyed.

  The rain whipped against my face in heavy pools, but I kept running. It was painful and sharp, like slaps in the face, but nothing could compare to the pain in my heart. Even if I did want to turn around and beg for Ana's forgiveness my legs wouldn't listen.

Her words kept echoing in my mind over and over again.

  "You are a child, Magiano. A child and a cowered. I don't want your help."

Her eyes had blazed with such a fiery intensity that she almost looked like a different person.

  She looked like a queen overcome with grief and rage, and knowing I had caused that made my heart ache.

What have I done? Why did words I do not believe come from my mouth?

  My nose still ached from where she had punched me, but I do not stop to check it.

I know it must be broken, the taste of my own copper blood dripping over my lips into my mouth is a painful reminder of that. The pain keeps me going.

The pain made me remember that I deserved this.

  When I saw the beautiful princess with Prince Arthur I was overcome with anger. I was overcome with jealousy.

But now as I run through the rain to who knows where, I realize that what Ana said was right.

I am a coward.

I ran from my family when they needed me most, I ran from my job when I didn't think I was strong enough, and now I run from the only person who has ever given me real joy.

  I trip over a rock lodged in the soft earth and tumble into the mud, sliding on my hands and knees from the slick rain.

  I was only a little ways from the village, but nobody could possibly see me with the thick rain clouding me. I let the mud seep through my fingers and the rain run down my clothes and although I fight it, I go back to the day that haunts my nightmares.

The day I watched my family die.

***

  The day started so normal, the perfect beginning to a catastrophe.

  I was ten, and I had done my usual round of pick-pocketing in the town square of the small village we lived in.

My family and I were part of a small Algonquian tribe named Ojibwa and we lived in small groups like my village. The multicolored tents were a normal sight to me, pretty little shapes that formed colorful designs. I often wondered these tents alone, and today was an especially good day for me.

I had gotten a beautiful golden ring from a young girl that could pay for a whole weeks worth of food, maybe even two weeks if I was lucky.

I knew mother and father wouldn't appreciate it. They never wanted me to steal, but I told them that was what we needed to do to stay alive.

How else would our family have money to buy necessities like food and drinking water?

In my young mind, I believed stealing was the only way I could help provide for my family.

I walked into our small house to find my three sisters cleaning their usual round of chores.

They were each so beautiful it made my heart ache to think of them. Not only did they show beauty on the outside, but the inside as well. My first sister was three years older than me, the second was a year younger than me, and my third was two years younger than me.