The world was filled with cold, wet darkness that night.
But it continued to burn nevertheless.
She wondered if this was what pain felt like; if it felt like the thick, muddy water filling her boots; or the burns on her back stinging with each hard, unfeeling raindrop; or the salt water on her cheeks pouring into her scars.
What was this feeling that screamed through her bones, that burned through her flesh, that slowly scarred her soul?
She knew it had nothing to do with the rain, or the flames, or the sharp, wicked claws of the branches.
No, it couldn't be any of that.
She had faced much worse before.
Before this.
Her confusion endlessly blinded her as her feet mercilessly pounded the earth and her lungs helplessly screamed for air.
How could this be?
What could she possibly have done to deserve this?
How was this real?
Unspoken, forever unanswered questions clouded her senses.
She didn't dare look back as her sorrow formed a hard, unbreakable cocoon around her heart.
She already knew that the winds were blowing the flames towards the south, that they were hungrily devouring everything in their wake. She knew the rain would only feed the fire of hate and boundless desire. She knew at the end, the inferno would be summoned to its master in a single burst of light to be seen for miles.
Her home would merely become a distant fairytale, a story to thrill the children of far off lands. Yet another story to end with hundreds dead, to end with an unworthy victor. Another story to broadcasted, to cause more to wear their boots in bed in case the worse should happen, in case they should be next.
Because that was how it ended every time. Every time she was glad it wasn't her, every time it seemed so distant, every time it seemed impossible that her town, of all towns, could be next.
Every time she thought washing her boots so she could wear them inside was a useless waste of time.
She knew, like everyone else, that this was no ordinary fire.
If she escaped these cursed woods, she would officially be the only survivor, and the master of the flames would be after her.
Running from her was a death wish.
But, she thought that night with a strange, sudden resolve, maybe it's not my death wish.
She doesn't know who I am, or what I am capable of.
I am coming for her.
And she will be sorry.
YOU ARE READING
Akira
FantasyI used to be an ordinary village girl. Mostly. I'm only about 70% human, after all. But that's not too important. What's important is that I used to be like any other person in my kingdom. Until she came. Until my world burned to ashes. Until the fa...
