moonfaerie

Legends of the Lost Age

Tackled to the ground, Sybil thought at first the man was attacking her. There was a warmth in her fingertips as she gripped a clump of dirt with a fist, a faint glow barely illuminating from beneath the earth. It wasn't until she saw the scorpion on his dagger that she relaxed, free hand moving to the place on her shoulder where she hadn't even felt the creature crawling. Saying nothing to his boasting, she allowed him to have it as it had been a true statement. He had saved her life twice now. The girl sat up in the dirt, staring at him curiously. Though she'd been planning to sneak off and break away from him once they reached their destination, it crossed her mind that he might have some use after all.

Not ever venturing past the city or the forest, Sybil didn't know much about the rest of the world or what to expect. The thought of through a rough part of town, even with her magic, still scared her—she didn't feel she could trust anyone at the moment, except perhaps Dalious, and brought her knees close to her chest.

“Grefolin,” she mused, trying the name on her tongue. She scrunched her nose up at the sound of it; she didn't like it. Nor did she like the dwarf for betraying Dalious' friends. A slow nod as she could understand wanting retribution for what the dwarf had done ,she said, “Then lets kill him.” The words came out as casually as if they'd been discussing the weather. Tilting her head to the side, she frowned slightly at his request. Always the one to oppose violence, she had only killed now because her hand was forced. Her gaze drifting towards the ground, she wondered if this was what all people thought of the malignant. A pang of sorrow gripped her chest as she thought about her mother thinking that, at one point in time, the callous woman might have been just as naive as Sybil herself had once been.

Picking herself off the ground, she coolly stated, “I will not kill them if they give me no reason to.” Perhaps she should linger in the woods instead, find a cave, and live out the remainder of her days in a peaceful solitude protected by the forest. Mounting Altair as the rest of the horses scattered off into the forest, they proceeded on their way to the little crime ridden gambling town Dalious had mentioned. Keeping her head lowered to the ground, Sybil wished she had some sort of disguise to keep her camouflaged and hidden. The young girl stood out among the dark hooded cloaks and dirty thieves even if she did look like a beggar covered in ash and soot.

Leaving their horses by the tavern inn, she followed closely behind Dalious—a little too close as she occasionally clipped at his heels. A frown on her face, she told him, “I don't like it here.”

Legends of the Lost Age

The rabbit meat had been the last thing on her mind. When Dalious mentioned it, she looked to the blackened rabbit when he took from the fire. Her eyes stayed on him, following him as he moved, though she remained silent. Her appetite was gone, too. Sybil felt sick to her stomach as she looked at all the corpses surrounding them. Knowing that she'd been the one to do that made her body shake and she barely felt she could stand. Loosing the strength in her hand, horrified at what she'd done, she almost collapsed to the ground. At the last minute she managed to catch herself by holding on to the horse. The animal allowed her to do so without bucking and it even looked like he was trying to help her.

Listening to his suggestion, she found it difficult to imagine leaving. It was hard for her to adjust to this new reality where her mother was dead and she was a fugitive—a murderer. With no other options and no other idea of what to do, the girl nodded her head. “Okay,” she agreed, her voice dry. At least Dalious had a plan which was more than she could say for herself. And she had to admit, having lived on the outskirts of Arthenway her entire life, she was interested in going a place where the malignant weren't considered the enemy.

Not realizing how parched she was until he offered her a drink, Sybil took the canteen from him and gulped it down, water dribbling from her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and said, “Thank you.”

They traveled towards the east, putting as much distance as they could between them and the clearing. Sybil rode atop the horse that had taken a liking to her and she to it. Not knowing how to refer to the horse, she took to calling him Altair; he didn't seem to mind his new name. Getting as close to the east port as they possibly could through the maze of the forest, they eventually had to stop and build another camp. It was easier this time as rather than waiting for him to start a fire, Sybil immediately made one for the both of them. Curling up beside it for warmth, she fell asleep using her arm as a pillow.

It was a restless, fitful sleep filled with horrific nightmares and the girl woke up hours later to the rising son covered in a cold sweat. Stretching with her arms over her head, she frowned when she felt the leaves stuck in her blonde hair. With a frown she reached back to pluck them out, removing a couple of twigs that had found its way in there as well.

Looking over at Dalious, she watched him sleep for a moment before her impatience got the better of her. Crawling over on her hands and knees towards him, she sat down in front of him before shoving him forcefully awake. If she was up, he would be too, and they would take advantage of this time to proceed forward. “Up!” she exclaimed. “Up, up!”

Legends of the Lost Age

At the commander's mention of the horse and the look he gave the animal, Sybil found herself moving closer to continue petting the creature—as if to console it for having to put up with being in captivity with such a terrible person for so long. Her stance was protective and one look showed she refused to let the man return with it, no matter the kindness he had in his eyes for the animal. He was undeserving and even the horse knew it as it didn't move from it's location back to his former master.

These men apparently weren't convinced she was a witch, or so she gleamed from their use of the word suspected—and she suspected that most of them, had they thought she was a real witch, would have been too afraid to continue chasing after them even if it was under the kings orders. She'd seen many men sent from the Empire run away once they realized the extent of her mother's full power. None of them had ever made it far and hidden deep in these woods somewhere were the disfigured bodies of their comrades.

Frowning at Dalious, she shook her head in an attempt to tell him it was a bad idea. The Imperial Empire—and people in general—could not be trusted. Even if he did manage to win, it would only anger them more. But he either did not see her movement or ignored it as he faced off with one of the soldiers, the man's arrogance and cockiness leading to his downfall. Just as she predicted, the commander yelled the order to the others to kill them. Sybil's eyes widened and, for a moment, she began to panic, her mind unable to focus on what she should do as her first instinct had been to run.

But as the men grew closer, she had to react on nothing but instinct. Holding her hands out in front of her, the flames emerged from her palms and sprayed the ground in front of her. A wall of fire erupted between them and the men keeping them at bay for the moment as another group tried to flank them. A wave of their hand sent a shockwave knocking them off their feet and struggling to regain their balance. There was a sudden rush of anguish tightening her chest knowing that these were the same men that had killed her mother.

Something began stirring inside of her—something dark and twisted. The ground beneath her feet began to shake as the flames of the fire suddenly began to spread, encircling the area entrapping everyone inside. Her breathing came out in short bursts as her gaze focused on the soldiers. The blazing wall licked at their feet as they clamored over one another trying to figure out how to escape as it made a slow and agonizing crawl towards them. Some were brave enough to try to rush through the flames, but the moment they reached the other side they collapsed, bodies convulsing on the forest floor much like the bug her mother killed. Blood pooled from their eyes and ears as vomit spilled from their mouths and soon their lifeless eyes were staring up at the canopy of trees overhead.

Their pleading cries filled the clearing, begging mercy from the witch—and it would have made her laugh if she didn't feel dead inside. Her eyes were kept on the scene, urging the flames on with nothing more than her mind and soon the begging was replaced by the sounds of their tortured cries as they burned.

Legends of the Lost Age

Lowering herself back down on the log, Sybil said nothing in response, but continued to eye him curiously. He didn't appear to be scared of her or, if he was, not to the extent others normally were. Frowning at his question, the girl averted her eyes as she gave it careful consideration as she wondered herself what she would have done if he hadn't sprung into action when he did. All she could remember was a blinding rage that dulled everything around her and strengthened the connection she had with the earth.

It was odd to think just the night before she had been defending these same people to her mother—trying to convince the woman that maybe the malignant were the ones who needed to change. “I don't know,” she replied. The first time she'd ever killed or hurt anyone was during their escape, redirecting the arrows back to their assailants; the vivid memory sent a chill running down her spine. Eyes narrowed as she glared at an inconsequential patch of dirt on the ground while thinking about the men that had kidnapped them and killed her mother, she told him, “I would have tried.” Whether she was successful or she would have died in the process was unknown.

Lifting her gaze to focus on him, she gave a nod. “Our gift is fueled by the blessings of Aru and Orlana, of nature and emotion,” she told him. “Chaotic emotions cause chaotic magic. Love and compassion, creation. Anger and hatred, destruction. If I am tired-” or a state induced by poppy tears, similar as to what had been done to her after they rendered her mother unconscious to keep her from attacking, “I cannot concentrate. My magic is either unstable or useless.” A small smile quirking at the corner of her lips, she added, “But it does not run out and it does not tire me. The more I use it, the more invigorating it feels.” It would be easy to let such power go to her head as others often did. A powerful malignant in her own right, she didn't even compare with her mother. She needed to be better. If they wanted to fear her, she would give them something to fear.

The sound of twigs snapping jolted her to attention. Sybil stood, whirling towards the noise. “What was that?” she asked, eyes flicking over at Dalious, imploring him to check it out.

Legends of the Lost Age

Watching the young man as he spoke, Sybil only listened out of courtesy when she'd rather be doing anything else. On occasion her mind drifted back towards the scene in the city—to her mother's corpse on the pyre and the crowd jeering for her death. The snap of his fingers bringing her back, her face creased as the frown on her face deepened. “They're looking for you too,” she pointed out. She hadn't been the only one who'd escaped that was slated to die that day. The empire may not stop hunting her, she may never be safe again, but she doubted he would be either for the role he'd played in her escape.

There was no emotion on her face as he proceeded to give her advice. Sybil had always thought the stories her mother had told her before this point were to scare her into being agreeable—paranoia among their kind to purposely distance themselves from the humans and the elves. Seeing that those beliefs had been wrong, that the people of the kingdom truly hated them for their abilities, was a bitter piece of information for her to swallow. Perhaps her mother had always been right and there was really no room in this world for a kind malignant.

Even so, she would not work in the kitchens. The girl may not have been anywhere close to royalty or even a part of the aristocracy, but she was proud nonetheless. She'd been given a gift by the gods and that gift wasn't meant to be hidden away in the kitchens. Her mother would have been disappointed in her. Now that the woman was gone, she felt more of a need than ever to live up to her expectations.

Dalious may have been ready to go, but his horse appeared to have other plans. A small smile on her face when the creature bucked him off, she held out her hand and even stood as the animal clomped in her direction. “There, there,” she cooed as she petted his nose. The girl wasn't surprised. Most animals tended to have a fondness for the malignant, exceptions including the wretched cursed creatures sent by the empire to hunt her kind down to extinction. Her eyes glanced up at Dalious, arching an eyebrow at his sudden change of heart. “How kind of you.” Her words were flat, but if she had any strength to convey any emotion at this point it would have been sarcasm. He wasn't offering to accompany her out of the goodness of his heart, but out of the contrariness of his horse.

Gaze sweeping over the clearing again, she caught the sight of movement out of the corner of her eye. Reaching out with a hand towards the direction to catch whatever it was before it was gone, she dragged a small rabbit back into the clearing with an invisible force. With a flick of her wrist, she closed her hand into a tight fist resulting in a sickening crack of the bunny's bones filling the clearing. She crossed her arms in front of her, staring down at the unmoving animal, body twisted in ghastly abnormalities. Glancing back up at Dalious, Sybil motioned towards the body with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Dinner,” was all she said.

Legends of the Lost Age

Edit: Since you fixed my stuff for me, no need for me to have this here!

Legends of the Lost Age

Though her eyes may have been closed, Sybil could still hear the shrill shrieks of agony piercing her ears as the smell of charred flesh filled her nostrils. It was a sound and stench she would never forget. Tears streamed down her face and snot from her nose as the girl pleaded, begging with the soldiers to stop this and let them go. There was a feeble naive hope that somehow her mother could survive. That somehow she could think through the pain and use her magic to escape. Sybil tried to remember her own teachings, if there was anything her mother had taught her that she could use to free herself from her own situation. Her stomach churned with nausea, but the lack of food only resulted in violent heaving with nothing to show.

After what seemed like an eternity, the screaming finally ceased and all Sybil could hear was the sound of the flames crackling on the pyre. The soldiers took her down from the pole and the girl opened her eyes, regretting the action immediately as she saw the blackened corpse of her mother hanging limply on the pole beside her. As much as she wanted to look away from the morbid sight, her eyes never strayed. Even when they dragged her off to the gallows, she craned her head in an attempt to look behind, to watch for as long as possible until she couldn't see anymore. Flames of hatred birthed deep within her as she committed the sounds and the sight to memory.

A bag shoved over her head, she was shoved forcefully to her destination. The tears had since stopped as she simply stood there awaiting her fate, tuning out the sound of the crowds and the last words of the men around her. Hands clutched down by her side, she could feel her blood start to boil. The plank at her feet moved slightly and, perhaps given time, the whole ground would have started to reverberate with the intensity of her emotions as it did with her mother. However, she never got the chance, as the rope was cut from her neck and the sack removed. The girl blinked, staring up at her savior with a wide eyed curiosity, unable to find the words to answer him. There was no time.

Feeling his hand grip around her wrist, he dragged her behind her more than she ran as they reached his horse. Clamoring onto the stallion, she held onto the stranger and glanced behind her shoulder at the mob chasing after them. Arrows flew by their head and her eyes narrowed. With another set prepared to aim at them, she removed one of her arms from her grip around his waist and gave a wave of her arm. The trajectory of the path of the arrows changed as they whipped around like boomerangs, plunging through the weak points in the armor of the men who had originally fired them. She returned her tight hold on him so as not to fall off as the horse took off.

There was nothing but silence through the duration of their trip as they traveled through the city deep into the labyrinthine woods. Most people were afraid of the forest, but Sybil found comfort hidden through the canopy of the trees. Their little cottage had been on the outskirts and her mother had always taken her there for her lessons about nature and fear.

Watching the man as he worked on rubbing two sticks together, she tilted her head to the side. Eyes drifting towards the fire he was trying desperately to ignite, she held out a hand. Without much effort at all, a stream of fire like the breath from a dragon left her palm to send the flint in a blaze. The small clearing now illuminated, her piercing blue eyes scanned her surroundings before she took a seat on a fallen log, picking at the fungus and moss that had grown over it. In response to his question she said only her name. “Sybil.”

Legends of the Lost Age

The bug crawling across the wooden floor was more interesting than her mother's lecture. It scurried to the left before pausing and then moving back to the right again. What an odd little indecisive creature. As it moved out of her view she twisted in her chair maneuvering to her knees as she held onto the back and watched it intently. It stopped, turned to face her, and for a moment she wondered if it knew that she'd been watching.

That's when it collapsed and shortly after began to convulse. Small hands gripping the chair, she leaned forward with a wide eyed morbid curiosity. The legs torn apart from it's body by an invisible force, it's innards poured out of it's mouth. Gasping the girl fell down in her seat turning to face the hardened stare of her mother.

“And what have you learned?” she demanded harshly.

“You killed it,” the girl complained. Crossing her arms she pouted with a discontented huff. “Maybe we are evil.”

Frowning at the child, the woman gave a defeated sigh. Resting her elbows on the table, she massaged her temples. “No,” she curtly responded, lips pursed taught together in annoyance. “Magic does not make us evil. The King is not called evil though the blood of his tyrannical forefathers flows through his veins.” A sneer of loathing and disgust making it's way on the woman's face at mention of the man, the little girl lowered her head and remained silent. It was better not to interrupt lest she end up on the receiving end of her mother's wrath. This was a lesson she had learned the hard way. “One cannot control whether or not they have the ability to possess magic, but one can control how they use it. We have been blessed by the Aru-”

“Cursed you mean,” the girl spoke. The woman stared at her daughter, hazel eyes glistening in confusion which prompted her to further explain. Straightening her posture as if she were sitting with the other children in the schoolhouse, she began to proudly recite the lessons they had been taught. “The Malignant, also known as the magi, are beings created by the union of the Aru and Orlana's creations. Children of sin-” While she had much more to say that her instructor had told them, her mother cut her off before she'd gotten a chance to properly begin, completely outraged.

“These are the lies they teach our youth?” she shrieked. The ground shook with her rage.

“Ma,” the girl whimpered, glancing fearfully towards the door. Magic was something to be feared. It was godly power that no mere mortal should have possessed and therefore anyone who did was a danger. All magi were to be eliminated. It was for the good of mankind. To save themselves from inevitable corruption as much as to save others from their predisposed ways. While it wasn't magic the little girl feared, it was the possibility of the royal army finding them and prosecuting them as Malignant. There weren't many things the child was afraid of, but the threat of death and loneliness was among them.

Realizing her mistake, everything became still. The woman stood, wrapping the child within her arms as they both listened for the clomping sound of footsteps they were both so certain would soon follow. When it didn't the woman relaxed, letting her arms fall. While her body may have been at ease, the girl could see the anxiety in her mother's facade, hidden behind her eyes.

“Off to bed with you, Sybil,” her mother ordered. “Your lessons are done for the evening.”

Hopping down from the chair, the girl glanced over her shoulder at her mother before she shuffled off to bed.

Had she known that would have been the last time she'd ever seen her, she would have said good night.

The Dead and the Dying

Elizabeth was quiet during the exchange. Her faith in others hadn't ever been particularly high, but it was dwindling fast. The betrayal from these people wasn't necessarily a shock, she was just angry with herself. She should have known better than to risk her life for people she'd never met before. Things might have been different at the beginning, but they were starting to shift now and more of mankind were starting to show their ugly colors.

“Luring people who want to help you in order to hold them up and steal from them instead sounds pretty cowardly to me,” Elizabeth remarked. Was this what the world was coming to now? Snorting at the woman's rhetoric, she said, “I hate to tell you this, but god had nothing to do with it.” It was the will of a few power-hungry, selfish, xenophobic, racist men.

Seeing the others emerge from the food court area, Elizabeth leaned her head back and let out a groan. She'd had about enough of this. Ignoring the cultists as they spoke in unison, she knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do. She was just angry, frustrated, and impatient. Pulling out her weapon, she aimed and instantly fired at the woman who'd been talking—the one she assumed was in charge of everything because she certainly enjoyed the sound of her own voice well enough. From the looks of it, these people probably expected for them to surrender considering they were vastly outnumbered. Using this brief moment of shock, she took out a couple more before a bullet clipped her in the shoulder and she was forced to dodge behind a large partition.

“I'm sick and tired of dealing with all these assholes,” she growled, mostly to herself. All she'd wanted to do was be a nice person—help out someone that might have genuinely need it. Instead she got this bullshit. The pain seared throughout her arm and she grimaced from the pain, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins was enough to keep her going. One of the crazy hooded cultists circled around to her, brandishing the knife, but Elizabeth let out a kick to knock him off balance. She could feel a slice of a blade knick her back. Letting out a sharp cry, she whirled around and fired her gun. Blood soaked through the long cloaks around the stomach area as their hands gripped at the wound trying to staunch the bleeding.

The Dead and the Dying

The continued push for survival began to feel futile. Forced to keep a smile on her face for the sake of the little girl that remained practically glued to her side, Elizabeth often found herself sneaking away from the rest of the group whenever she could just to have a good cry. What were they even doing anymore? The missiles aimed at cities around the globe meant that they weren't the only ones affected by this disease anymore. There wasn't a place left that was safe and despite Dallen's reassurance that the group would eventually find a place to settle down, she didn't believe him. The only way to survive with them chasing after them was to keep moving—keep running—and that didn't sound like a fulfilling life.

Eyes downcast as they discussed the options among themselves, she mindlessly stroked the little girl's back to comfort her. Maybe it was her youth and the fact that she didn't know how things were really supposed to be, but she was far more accepting of the situation and listened more intently to the conversation trying to understand. A lull in conversation as the two of them were the only ones not to say anything, she looked up to find all eyes on her before giving a dismissive, “I don't care.” She'd been more detached and despondent to the group ever since their trip to the hive, but it was something she found she couldn't easily pull herself from.

Erin wasn't remaining by Elizabeth's side because she was scared anymore—even if that was true. She mostly stayed beside her because she knew she was sad. At the woman's response, she glanced up at her with her big eyes and gave a small frown. “We can't just leave them,” she implored. Looking around to the others in the group, she gave the pastor a stern look of disappointment as he of all people should have known that every life was precious and they needed to do whatever they could to help. It didn't match her sweet features.

“Why do we have to stay together?” Elizabeth frowned. “Let the people who wanna go on go. It's better than them fucking up and getting people killed.” Her harsh gaze was on Blake when she said it. The needless deaths of Lucy and Gwen hadn't been forgotten. In fact, it was a constant harsh reminder of what people were capable of when they got scared. “Kenjen, Ethan, Steven, and I can go to the people in the mall. The rest of you keep moving forward and wait for us at the city limits.”

The little girl looked almost offended by that plan. “But I voted to go, too,” she argued, obviously wanting to go with them to help save the people. Unfortunately it was too dangerous and while she may not have trusted Blake with her, she trusted the pastor to watch her as he had been doing and even Dallen to protect the group.

Elizabeth waited for objections, but while there were dubious looks from everyone no one actively voiced otherwise. Turning her back on the rest of them, the woman went to the truck to load up on weapons.