ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ[h. hook]

Prologue

Her father screamed in rage, staring desperately at her. Being yanked away from his only daughter, he struggled viciously against the two armored guards that grunted every time he crushed their feet or snapped at their faces. A portly woman with a grim face stepped forwards from besides the child, catching her attention instantly. The women held an elegantly decorated wand, something the little girl knew meant power, but also danger.

"Aberr, please, fighting them will only make this worse for you." As a response to her falsely concerned voice, he spat at her, hitting her square in the face. She shuddered angrily and used a small blue pocket handkerchief to wipe the spit away. Her eyes were cold and hard—unforgiving in every way.

"She'll be alone if you do this you bitch! She's only five," He cried, his tone more desperate. His daughter had no true understanding of the situation, but she knew when something was wrong. Or was going to be. The child stepped forwards, only to feel the wand-woman's hand press across her chest. She did not look down at her, but her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You've committed far too many offenses to the throne. I'm afraid your last warning is passed," She muttered, barely loud enough for the girl to hear, let alone her father. And yet he still heard. His face dropped and ceased his fighting. The little girl looked frantically between her father and the woman, terror dawning upon her face as she realized what was to happen.

"NO," She shrieked, whipping around and delivering a sharp kick to the wand-woman's shin, earning a hiss of pain. The girl dodged the woman's grabbing hands and raced to her father, attempting to take down the armored soldiers, although her feeble attacks did nothing more than sound a weak clang everytime her shoe met metal.

"Nylaa," Her father whispered, his eyes raising to meet hers. She stopped kicking and turned to her father obediently. "I love you." Tears began to pool in her eyes. She understood. But she didn't want to. In the few moments that passed between father and daughter, the wand-woman had recovered herself and pulled Nylaa away from her father.

"This is your death sentence, acted upon by Fairy Godmother of the royal council." Her voice was stern and commanding, meant to instill understanding in those witnessing and fear to the one being spoken to. Nylaa had begun to cry. The woman raised her arm, took a deep breath, and jerked it to the side. Aberr looked at his daughter one more time and memorized the fairness of her skin, her glittering fire-eyes much like his own, everything about her that reminded him of himself and his late wife.

As Aberr had been there one moment, he was ashes the next, drifting in the wind to find rest within the roaring waves outside the isle. It was done. Nylaa fell to the ground, her hands limp in her lap as she sobbed all her tears until she could to nothing but dry heave. The woman and her guards made no move to comfort her, let alone take her home. Then they turned and walked away, leaving the orphaned girl to cry as they escaped the isle they had created. And then she was alone.

It wasn't the type of alone you felt when you were lost, or home by yourself, but it was the type of alone that ate away at your insides, the type of alone that let you know you belonged nowhere and to no one. Nylaa wished she could cry more, but her sadness had left with her tears and the few dry heaves that truly drained her. Now she felt nothing but anger. A burning wrath that would burn an entire village to nothing but ash.

In the moonlight, and painfully silent night, Nylaa found the strength in herself to stand, and with all she had, she screamed. It was a broken, tortured noise, but deep within it was a roaring fire of rage that would do nothing but fester and grow until it had consumed every good little thing. This was a wrath that could never quite be quelled, no matter the time that passed. No, but as every good thing in the child's mind turned sour, she glared out at the castle swarmed land just miles out of reach and smiled. She knew. Knew what she was, and what she could do. She was wrath.