The Rise of Imani Firyali *NOW OFFICIALLY PUBLISHED!!*

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

0.

the girl who lost everything.

.

.

.

The ground trembled with the vibrations of falling homes, and the sky was a collection of burning asoka flowers. Screams that penetrated the air peeled the skin back from your bones and exposed the fear pulsating under. Those shrill sounds were ones of pain―of death.

Violent gasps laced with the tightness of hysteria escaped my mouth as I ran, my bare feet disheveling fallen leaves in my wake. The grass crunched and collapsed as I sprinted over it, my temples perspired against the heat of the flames dancing around me. The blaze ate everything in its path, engulfing the wilderness and growing in size and strength with each moment. As some familiar faces from my village ran past me, their eyes engulfed in terror, my thoughts were erratic with desperation.

They had to be okay.

Past the edge of the forest and at the back of the village was my home, where I had left my family just hours ago to go swimming in the river at the bottom of the mountains. My mother, father, and little brother had said they'd come with me later, but they'd never shown up.

And the horizon of crimson had told me why.

I burst from the forest and into the back of the village, my eyes landing on a sight that for the rest of my life would instill a horror in me I would never forget. Bodies littered the burning ground, as did piles of cinders that used to be the homes of people I knew. People on horses in the distance were cutting down people a ways away from me, and the putrid stench I would soon recognize to be blood hung in the air.

Perhaps this was the Inferno.

My home was ablaze. I wailed in anguish, feeling tears burst forth and crawl down my cheeks to mix with the soot and ash that clung to my skin. Rushing forward I opened the door, despite the fact that half of the small wooden house had already gave way to the flames, plumes of smoke floating into the sky.

I choked on my tears when I saw their bodies. My father had been cut by a sword across his torso from shoulder to hip, and he was propped up against the wall as it burned above him. His once bright gold eyes were cloudy with death, only the hue of the surrounding flames sparking within them. The dark color of his skin had paled, and the bright smile he had always given me seemed nonexistent. Blood dried and tangled in his tied back gray hair, and blood trickled down his chin and coated the peppered hair of his beard.

My mother had been cut down from behind, and was half strewn across my father's lap. Her hair cascaded in tangled knots mixed with ash over her face, hiding her once tan complexion from my view. Blood coated her top wraps of clothing, and a pool of blood was still underneath her. Her once beautiful and delicate hands were burned and blistered, one outstretched to my little brother. His small hand rested in her grasp, also unmoving. Blood coated his toddler body as well, but I couldn't tell if it was from his own body or from one of my parents. His face was calm, peaceful―but his chest was frozen.

Tears stung my cheeks as I collapsed to my knees, wailing as if my chest cavity was about to split open with my heart tumbling out with it. I crawled over to my family, ignoring the flames that licked at my skin as the emotional trauma at the sight I was seeing completely overtook the blood in my veins. I breathed in short, painful gasps, shaking my head while smoke mixed with the air in my lungs and forced coughs to rise from my throat. I shook my mother's shoulders, hoping and praying that there was a slight chance she was still alive.

This couldn't be happening. Just hours ago we'd been living a normal life, in a peaceful village. Who were these people, and why?

"Hey, there's still a kid here!"

Fear paralyzed me, and a shadow overtook my small form. I turned abruptly, seeing a middle-aged man enter inside my home and settle his eyes on me. He was dark-skinned, like me, but a light pink scar ran across his left cheek like a spider's web in jagged strokes. His calloused hands and the sword within his grasp were stained with blood, and the sight made nausea rise to the back of my throat and churn in my stomach.

The middle-aged man smirked, murder in his eyes. "Well well, looks like we missed one."

I was shaking so violently I couldn't hold myself up, and all I could do was use my bare feet to push myself further into the bodies of my mother and father; as if the closer I got, the more I would be protected from this murderer. But I was just backed into a corner, with nowhere to go.

The middle-aged man stepped forward, the glint of his keen blade rising in the air. I raised my left arm to protect myself, the sword flashing against the flames as it swung down to land a killing blow. The sharp blade collided with my arm, and white-hot excruciating pain blindsighted my senses. A blood-curdling scream erupted from my throat, coiling and writhing as if my very soul was burning in the flames around me. Hot blood splattered against my face and turned my vision red, and I collapsed to the wooden floorboards, the screams coming out long and agonizing.

The man wasn't done, though. As he drew closer to strike me once more―my blood now mixing with whoever's blood was already on the blade―a voice rang out from behind us outside the hut.

"Oi! Quit playing with your kill and let's go! She'll die eventually."

I looked up despite my swimming vision, my body curled into a tight ball. If I wasn't shaking violently before, I was now. The tears of horror pooling from my eyes had turned to ones of pain, and I watched as the man who had attacked me turned back to the door hesitantly, pausing in thought for a moment. After a few seconds, the middle-aged man glanced at me before leaving with a grumbled complaint. He joined a fellow comrade outside, and I watched as they disappeared into the clouds of smoke, leaving the burning village behind.

And leaving me to die.