Embers in the Ashes

Chapter 1

The regiment stormed across the land, hoof beats like thunder echoing for miles. The urgent boom of drums continued to play as they raced against time to reach the outlying village, but when their feet met the boarder they were too late.

The distant screech of fleeing abigors still filled the air. Lifeless, blackened corpses stretched endlessly over the horizon. The Smokey haze had no visible end, but it was the lingering scent of burnt flesh that etched itself into their memories. An absolute silence settled over the ranks even the softest breath felt invasive.

            A young man stepped forward. The golden crest of the royal family shimmered despite the overcast sky. Few would believe the guilt flooding his heart. Once again, he failed to reach his people before the raid obliterated them. He loathed his inaction. Too many lost their lives too soon because of him. How could he lead them, when he couldn't even save them?

            Small fires still burned over the rubble of houses and ashes scratched his eyes as they drifted across the landscape, but the prince remained. Soldiers dispersed to gather the dead. They wouldn't leave until everyone was collected. Most bodies were beyond recognition, they would be lost, tossed in another of the unmarked mass graves that scar this land.

            As efforts expanded, the troops began to see shed scales littering the earth and bloodied claws and horns were found amid the human carnage. At the town square fallen abigors laid mangled in the streets, blood still seeping into the cobbled stone. Wings had been torn from their backs and fangs ripped from their mouths. Golden eyes stared sightlessly, demonic features frozen in silent agony.   

Never had so many of those demons been killed. In their rising shock, the soft sobbing was nearly missed. The prince glanced at the commanders. They set a protective barrier around him before edging toward the voice.

No one could explain what they expected to find, but this wasn't it. The village's angel statues, the source of their pride, were in pieces. A trail of red ran from the perimeter of the shattered stone to its center where a young girl kneeled. She was covered in dust and debris was embedded in her body as though she had dragged herself over the wreckage. The girl's head was bowed where she laid partially hidden by the rubble. She was a painting in scarlet. Blood flowed across her skin. Her tears fell pink. She was blind to her audience.

She barely looked fourteen, had no weapon and was certainly lacking in the hardened warrior persona. It wasn't possible she caused the massacre, but then, who did? However, this crucial answer wasn't an immediate concern. 

The commanders were waved aside. Even when boots entered her vision, she didn't seem to care. Once in front of her, words could be heard between the sobs. "Elaine. Elaine, I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry." There is a body in her arms. Where it remains unscathed, blond hair could be seen trailing down the blistered, porcelain skin. Yet, that was not the problem. Greyed, feathered wings laid crushed upon the dead corpse's back and- though hidden from behind by ruins- from the front one black and another dirtied white wing are clearly draped across her back.

Her shoulders shook, but she kept adjusting the body as though the dead were still capable of feeling discomfort.

The prince coughed and instantly it was as though everything had frozen. She stiffened, the hand brushing hair away from what was once a face stopped. Finally, she turned. There was a sharp gasp. The entire left half of her body was burned an angry red. It curled around her temple beneath her raven hair before ending over her foot. There were points where her clothing had melded to her skin. Only her eyes- a deep ocean blue- remained untainted, they widened when they landed on the royal crest etched into his armor.

If someone looked closely they would have seen the fear inside them. Her wings disappeared like dust into the wind. Only one word repeated in her mind: escape. She scrambled out of his reach, but there was suffering in her eyes. She tried to run, but adrenaline was fading and every muscle was paralyzed. The breath hitched in her throat and she was fighting for consciousness.

Her gaze jumped from this dangerous stranger to the body in her arms. The trembling wouldn't stop, but she couldn't do anything.

The prince watched her rising panic and knew he needed to do something. He had to get her out of there. This is one person he could save. He threw his weapons away, raising his hands in surrender. He spoke softly, "Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you." Her walls were building quickly, and she watched him warily. He stepped closer, freezing when she jolted back.

"I'm Rezon." She hesitated but opened her mouth.

"Cahira." he stepped closer, she didn't move.

"I won't tell anyone," she nodded, but the doubt was there, "I'll protect you." He moved the dark hair over his ear. A black tattoo was curled around it, the ink marking him as a gifted. Cahira smiled, but it was dark. It was as though the life had drained from her eyes.

She struggled to speak, smoke having filled her lungs. She tried and deep hacking coughs fell from her lips. When they finally ended, tears glistening in her eyes she spoke, "Not safe anywhere." The words are choked and raspy. He kneeled before her, resting his head gently against hers.

"I know." And he did. They would never be safe, not here, not as they are. Coming to the capital was a risk, a lethal one, but the wilderness wasn't much better. "I know, but how will you fair here? Please come with me."

Her gaze lingered over the body. She stood, legs shaking. her shadow was cast over the corpse. There was no expression in her eyes. She looked as dead as the corpses.

"The draft."

"You won't have to, I'll make sure of it."

"I-"she collapsed, curling into herself. The hacks had to hurt. "I- I- want to." She sputtered, taking a shaking breath. "They're monsters."

A fire had been lit inside her soul. He could see it, beyond the pain. She wanted the abigors gone. Determination had set her path, but he would guide her on it. She was so young, just a child really, but in that moment, she appeared to have aged a decade.  

"No, You don't. Enlist, I'll train you." He would never stop her, but he refused to send her to a certain death. If she was going to run into danger, he would hone her skills.

The burns were causing a strain, she could barely stand on her feet. Still, she made it over to the troops. When she stood before them, everyone could see it. Time sped forward. There would be a day when she would stand with them. She would lead them. This girl would raise hell.

He lifted her onto his horse and didn't protest when she rested her head against his shoulder. The soldiers wisely held their tongues. The girl was clearly exhausted and what had transpired was worse than most could imagine.