Alfinians Rise

Enter the Lions Den

I think about death often. How easy it is for some people to take the life of another in this God forsaken world. But mostly, I wonder how I'll die in the end. Will it be an accident? Natural causes? Murder? Will it mean anything in the end?

The rumble of voices as they echo off of the rusted metal structures all around me roars in my head, pulling me from my own thoughts. The thick, sweet smell of the inbound rainstorm floods the air, all but masking the potent and unhygienic stench of rot, factory smoke, and char that stains this broken town. Dark green clouds move overhead, blocking out any sunlight there might be as flashes of yellow and white shatter across the heavens above.

It won't be much longer now before it begins to rain. I need to find cover soon.

Pushing through the mass of blank faces, I walk with my head down, my face hidden beneath the deep crimson red leather hood of my military-styled, tail-cut trench coat. I tug at the black sheer scarf wrapped around the lower half of my face, a hundred and twenty percent paranoid of being seen.

People bustle around, darting back and forth between makeshift stalls made from crates, boards, and anything else found lying around, lining either side of the pathway. Each stand currently displaying anything from knockoff parts and outdated gadgets, to not-so-fresh foods and used items of clothing. I peek out from under my hood as sellers shout at the very top of their lungs in a desperate attempt to grasp the attention of anyone and everyone who could be a potential buyer. 

I watch one stall owner, a rather busty woman with monkey Brown, wild hair, and a deep, dark brown complexion only contrasted by the pale white patches lacing across her skin, as she attempts to sell already withering fruit for a ridiculously high amount. Unfortunately for the people of this district, this is normal. 

It's pathetic really, just how far these people are willing to go for one sale. However, I understand where they're coming from. In a place as poor and corrupted as this, it's all about survival, something I know all too well.

Pressing forwards, the crowd gradually grows thicker and thicker, until finally there's no path whatsoever. I sigh in frustration, lifting my head and taking in the different people. Just ahead of me is a girl with a dirty, pinkish-purple choppy, jaw-length haircut and a barely-there ponytail sitting atop her head. She reminds me of a Neon flower. Her arms are lined in thorn-like scales and the most delicate of fingers. A shame that they are covered in dirt. Next to her is a significantly taller man with broad shoulders and metal gray hair, accompanied by a razor-sharp- toothed grin. Literally. He probably filed them down himself. The two of them make the most interesting pair but they seem like they're in their own world as they chatter endlessly like birds, never once noticing, nor caring, about the eyes that follow them. 

They seem happy...It's nice to know that happiness can be found even in hellholes like this.

I turn my attention to my surroundings, looking for an alternative route to escape the crowd, however, a slight flash of white and gold in my peripheral vision causes me to freeze. A figure, tall and lanky stands off to the side, completely unnoticed by those who don't understand the significance of his presence. Clad in a solid black coat with a white and gold insignia displayed over his heart, he stands stock still with his shoulders back and head held high. I can't help but watch as his eyes scan the crowd. Heart pounding, thoughts racing, fear had stricken me at my very core. It's a Ravn. 

Why is he here? Is he alone? Wait, of course, he's not alone, they never travel alone.

Time stretches infinitely. I watch the black, shadowy figure intensely for what feels like hours, but in reality, could've been a few mere seconds. I know I shouldn't be looking. It's a dangerous game that I'm playing just by allowing my gaze to settle on him, but I cannot force myself to look away.