The Claim

Chapter Three - Differences

Merek sighed with exhaustion as Mirabella headed towards the path to the city. He followed like a dog, a protector never leaving her side. In some ways, she'd grown up, changed but in some ways, she was still a child, robbed of her childhood by the vengeance in her heart, insisting she was no longer the weak young child, crying out her mother's name at night, with hopes and prayers of her survival.

She wanted to finish what her mother apparently started, by killing the king's wife that night, their mother created a viciously dark path for herself, a path Mirabella was only too happy to travel down herself.

Merek had hoped that as children, it was all just a child's fantasy, something she'd cast aside with age but as every year past, her plan became more detailed, darker and her eyes began to look completely soulless, devoured by visions of vengeance.

She headed towards the path, oblivious to it all, not even thinking about the cart of soldiers riding in the distance, waving the king's flag, but Merek had seen, he pulled her back behind a tree, using all the strength he had. She glared like a caged animal, about to speak, her eyes full of fury as he covered her mouth and shook his head, nodding towards the cart.

He waited until they'd past, his heart thumping with fear as she grunted with anger, with ideas of killing them, no doubt using the flame spells she was learning to boil them alive in their full steel plate but Merek wasn't going to watch them suffer like that, he was about to kill them if he could get around them. 

"Why did you do that?!", she demanded angrily, throwing him into the tree. "I could have had them!".

"You would have died, there are too many and their screams would attract others!" Merek stated, thinking on the spot as he panted with fear, his hand shaking as he fought it off. "Come on, Mira, do not do this, you do not have to"

"You are wrong, brother, I do, for our mother or have you forgotten her like everything else?!"

He didn't answer but instead stood, hurt by her comment, he fought back his own anger, clenching his fist as he bit his tongue. It was easy to fight with her, easier to hate her for what she said yet he chose not to get into an argument, often the safer thing with her around.

"Where are you going?" she demanded as she he turned his back on her. "Merek!", she hissed.

He ignored her as he headed towards the forest, half-hoping she wouldn't go into the city alone, needing him to help her with her little plan. He sat down next to a young tree, struggling to grow with all the blood that saturated the ground previously, thanks to the last war with their kind and the humans, enchanters were forced to flee but many were lost on both sides, a war Merek was too young to be involved in.

He touched the tree, allowing a green glow to emit from his hand as it grumbled and groaned, its roots growing strong, digging deeper, past the blood and cruelty, into the fresh soil where it could grow away from the scars of the battle that had taken its toll on everything, the people and the forest, the soldiers, the enchanters and the peasants who suffered in fear of their return, his sister's return. 

Ever since that night, when he was just a young child, his innocence scarred by the sounds, smells and sight of battle. No child should have to hear the painful screams of who he assumed were family, friends, perhaps his own mother in the end, he was unsure but never doubted her death, not for a day.

She would have come for them had she lived, she would have found a way to tell them that she had lived but there was silence, a distant hope that sang silence that only fuelled his sister's rage.

She insisted they would win but he was unconvinced, he believed she would fail, that he would be killed along with her, an entire family wiped from existence because their father licentious and their mother ambitious. They were born and years later, the king took a wife and had a child he could name heir.

He sat there, in the peace of the trees, letting his anger settle but his hand still shook, even clenched with the anger he couldn't stop feeling, anger at his sister, the naïve girl of sixteen that had no idea about what could happen, did not care enough to plan that far ahead, assuming the people would accept her claim.