You Better Kill Me First

No Decision

When new-born Aisha Xanders opened her emerald green eyes, to the untrained eye she was alone. Aisha's mother, Sayira, had died in childbirth. Her father, Cal, had died moments before. Yet, when the beautiful brown-skinned baby saw the world for the first time she was the safest she'd ever be. How?

Aisha and her parents were members of a race with a name lost to time. A race that many inhabitants of the ethereal realm feared because of their power. They were identified by the faint mystic markings that adorned their bodies. They lived in solitude from the 4 main nations of the Lycan, elven, orc, and fae. If you were to look at them, you'd see a simple man or woman. They lived the life of nomads. Simply harmless.

However, the elves, orcs, and fae knew of the power that had been gifted by higher powers involved. The Lycans refused to get involved as they somewhat related being feared and misunderstood. They Lycan King and his nation, however, dared not interfere against the other 3 powers.

The Elves believed that they needed to be controlled or contained. The Fae believed they should share the gifts and the Orcs believed they were monstrous beasts that must be quelled. Ironic. The "Marked", as the nations had dubbed them, were well aware of the fear that the nations had for them. The Marked were pacifists. They were never aggressive or monstrous. The Marked did all they could to prove that they were not threats. They stayed out of the quarrels of the other nations and minded their own business.

In the end, it wasn't enough. Fear overtook the 3 scared nations. In a conjoined attack, the elves, fae, and orcs assaulted the Marked Ones. The elves captured and brought back their prisoners. The fae did much the same as the elves did. The orcs though had no mercy for these alleged hidden threats. The Orcs murdered all those whom the previous two hadn't taken.

The day was struck from any records.In time, most of the Marked would die. The elves kept them imprisoned within the walls of their deepest and darkest cells, opting to completely forget about them. The fae performed experiments and attempted to find ways to gain their prisoner's powers to no avail. In most of these attempts, the marked were unable to survive.

Cal, Aisha's father, was mourning the death of his wife. She had died mere minutes ago while she gave her last breath to give birth to her child when the 3 nations attacked. Determined to save his daughter, he grabbed the beautiful white fleece blanket his wife had made for their daughter. Cal wrapped her up and placed a cap on her head. He grabbed a backpack that he and his wife had prepared for a situation such as this.

Cal ran into the main room of the little yurt he had shared with his beautiful wife for years. He went over to her and kissed her on her still warm forehead. He covered her up and with one last tearful look, he fled for his life and his daughters as many of the Marked did. Running out of his home, he turned and aimed his hand at his home. Vines began to slither out of the ground and encapsulate the entire abode. Soon, the house was barely visible from the outside, concealed in a mass of plant life. Cal turned and sprinted away holding onto his daughter for dear life.

He rocketed towards the forest edge near their homes that were being ravaged by merciless forces. Cal, along with other members of his tribe, sped along hoping to flee the onslaught of weapons and magic cast at them. He had just reached the edge of the forest when he felt it. The arrow. It had lodged into his back. A deadly rain of metal stopped several of his tribe members dead and slowed plenty more. He lurched into the trees, stumbling only for a second, renewing his grip on his daughter and pushing forward. He could hear his people, screaming and crying. He knew that none of them would use their powers, it would do nothing but prove their attackers right. However, he wouldn't let them harm his daughter.

Cal ran until he couldn't anymore. He could feel his energy leaving him. His vision was getting hazier as he could feel the blood leaving his body. He could hear the crashing of branches behind him, coming up closer and sealing his fate. Cal collapsed on a nearby redwood and caught his breath. The little bundle he was holding wiggled and he shifted himself against the tree to prop himself up. Standing against the tree, he unwrapped the top of the little bundle he had been carrying and gazed down at it. His beautiful little baby girl slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of the circumstances she had been born into. He lifted her up closer to his face and placed a kiss on her forehead and whispered tearfully, "Our little Aisha".