Thorn Rose (PUBLISHED)

Chapter 1 - Premonition of Disaster

CHAPTER 1

857 A.D, Wales

The town was sheathed in a veil of ghostly-white mist. It blinded the sight of those who awakened, in monotonous routine, within the clarity of the very first rays of the morning sun. Only a few came out of their houses as the previous night's festivities had drained them of all strength.

Although short in height, Faylin saw it all through the small window from the confines of the library which belonged to the monastery. Her dainty feet weren't the only things that ached; the stiff neck that had prevented her from having a good night's rest was a consequence of her great stubbornness. Still, not a sound of complaint slipped from her rosebud lips.

A gentle smile graced her slightly freckled face. She believed it to be a small price to pay for being able to witness, once more, the occasional festivities that took place during dusk.

As the remaining sunrays kissed the heathlands goodbye and the lingering stars illuminated the night sky, she was once again reminded of her birthplace. The town where she was born and raised for the first six summers of her life.

Slipping into the wooden tub, Faylin cupped her hands into the water surrounding her body and brought them to her face, removing any trace of tiredness from her eyes. She tilted her head back and felt the weight of her drenched hair against her back. She sighed in pure bliss, something the warm baths never ceased to give her.

It wasn't a big town by any means, yet the villagers made up for it. She could still remember the faint crackle of burning wood; the whistling of the wind as it mingled with the joyful songs being sung and the movement of those barefooted as they danced to express themselves. Most of all, she remembered the freedom...a bitter word with so much meaning, something Faylin had learnt to be deprived of long ago.

Letting her nude body slide down, she submerged herself in the water, holding her breath. It was not that she chose a life in seclusion. God had a plan, a path for her, as Father Mannus told her many times before, ever since that rainy day he first met her.

She believed him. Father Mannus received her with open arms when her own flesh and blood denied her; rejected her from the comfort everyone should experience from their family.

When she could hold her breath no longer, Faylin quickly rose to the surface struggling to inhale. Her quick movements sent droplets of water splashing onto the floor. She took several breaths, desperately trying to fill her lungs with air.

God, her thoughts almost cost her life.

Ignoring the shiver that ran through her body, she wasted no time in getting out of the big wooden tub and grabbing a linen strip of cloth. As she dressed, she peered outside and faltered on her movements when she noticed a raven sitting on the branch of a tree with its gaze fixated on her.

She swallowed.

Undeniably, she had taken notice of the water's cooling. It had almost seemed like a warning...a warning to take caution. Perhaps something worse was coming. She hoped not.

The long, white gown clung to her body - she had barely dried herself off. After adjusting the white wimple that covered her head and the black veil, she opened the wooden door, walking as fast as her legs allowed her, in search of Mother Agnes - the abbess.

She had a bad feeling about today and Faylin dreaded each time she had these hunches, for they were never wrong. She felt hollow, knowing there was naught she could do to stop them from occurring.

Before she could reach the baptistery, however, someone pulled her back and viciously spun her around. Her eyes travelled from the small hand, clutching her arm, towards the person's face. She masked her grimace.

"What's the rush, Sister?" Faylin did notice the mocking tone of the young woman. She still could not understand why Sister Elsa loathed her so much. The girl, unlike her, came from a wealthy family while her own parents were merely peasants.

Faylin pitied her, despite the constant boasting made by Sister Elsa as she rubbed her privileged background in her face each time they met and rejoiced about the lighter work she was given all due to her 'position'.

Faylin never felt bad about it. Sister Elsa did lighter chores such as spinning and embroidery, while she did the harder ones. However, in the end, both of them had walked in the same direction and on the same path. Rejected by their families. The only difference was that Faylin had accepted it a long time ago while Sister Elsa took it upon herself to deny it.

"I am looking for Mother Agnes. It is an important matter. I must hurry now before our recites begin, Sister," Faylin muttered urgently.

Before Sister Elsa could make a remark, the sound of the bell ringing reached their ears. They both turned around and Faylin frowned, running towards the town center. Her heart started beating quicker as she neared.

From the top of the incline the monastery sat on, Faylin saw what had caused the abrupt commotion. There was no mistaking it.

Long and strong built oak ships had reached the beach. She had never seen such an evil-looking thing. Her mind - still reeling from the shock - told her to gather her wits and make a quick, conscious decision to run away.

Even as she desperately screamed to try to alert everyone, the image of those carved dragons kept plaguing her, appearing in her mind like poison spreading through her veins.

The Vikings had come.