We Come From The South » Isaac Lahey [2] ✓

returning

Bright red flames with tinges of blue at its edges leaked through the small town, scorching every bush, tree and flower, climbing the bricks of each building and leaping onto the stone roofs. Thick black smoke billowed into the air and joined the gray clouds covering the sky. Mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters all scream and run in terror, in complete panic. Heavy hooves clatter the pebble stone and the tinge of swords echo in the air.

A small cottage once decorated with luscious green vines and a beautiful array of flowers on the far edge of the town, now cowered in small flames and filled with despair. A brave family of 5 huddled in its muddy and scorched brick walls, desperately clutching one another, waiting in angst. 

More than 7 black armoured guards with sharp steel swords guarded this small cottage. Not moving a single inch.

She appeared in a cloud of dark purple smoke in the midst of the darkness. Deep violet eyes carefully surveyed the fire-lit lamps hung outside the small cottage, the agile fighters standing sternly around its walls and in the small, smoking garden.
Her long strides carried her quickly to the crushed front gate. She walked through the guards without acknowledgment, yet each and every one of them inclined their heads respectively. She stepped over the broken-in wood door and into the small cottage. The seating area met her first and was as far as she needed to go. The small family remained huddled at the back of the room, a father with a rough beard and tired eyes, a mother with quivering lips and swollen eyes, two young girls with similar auburn hair hiding their faces behind their mother and an older girl with lightly tinged orange hair and fierce blue eyes clutched in her fathers embrace.

She smiled. Her plump, dark lips pulling into a malicious, evil grin. "Bring her to me."
Her somehow soft voice was barely a whisper yet in the tense silence, they all heard it.

"No! No! You cannot have her!" The father began to yell. The mother began to cry, her arms reaching for her eldest.

Two of the black-cladded guards that had been in the room took a few steps forwards and grappled the almost orange haired girl into their grips. Her family yelled in protest but didn't dare move when the other two guards pulled out their long steel blades.

Those deep purple eyes carefully traced every inch of the girl before her. She had pale skin for the most part, yet her face was starting to get a bit of a tan, her eyes were a sharp blue and her lips a light pink. Delicate brown freckles covered her nose and some of her cheeks. Vicious red lines clouded the whites of her eyes and her bottom lids swelled with her sadness.

"She is the one. Take her."

Adrianna screeched awake, her eyes snapping open to the same, yet now different, dark purple. Her chest rose rapidly, rising and falling with heaving breaths that rose to levels of hyperventilation. She was on her wobbly feet in an instant. She couldn't hear, couldn't understand. The fear of being back in the deathly grips of the Tribe clutched at her every cell. She gasped for air as if their arms and feet were still pushing her down. She fell into a wall, it cracked under her weight.

"Adrianna!" Someone roared. The familiar sound broke through the hysteria and the voices and the pain. Her body stilled. Her hands clutched her ears. Her fingertips stung unbelievably bad and crimson blood fell down the sides of her face. Her gums throbbed. Her eyes still glowed magnificently bright.

She slowly and very carefully looked up to blurry blue oceans swirling on an hazy unfocused face, and a very familiar feeling. She smelt cedar wood and rain with the smallest hint of cologne.