Levy was going to die.

She had no doubt about it now. She was going to die alone, she was going to be devoured by flames until not even her bones remained. Or have her throat cut out before she could even have the chance to breath. At the age of ten, she was going to leave this world. Outside she could hear nothing but the sounds of screams and cries of battle as men, women, and children were slaughtered mercilessly. Sometimes, she could even hear the sounds of hooves thundering just outside her family's root cellar.

She could see the smoke now. At first it was barely a small wisp but soon it became an abundant gray cloud that slithered under the root cellar's door and seemed to purposely snake towards her, filling her lungs and making her gasp and sputter. No doubt the fire had finished off her house, and the bodies of her already dead parents. And had now come to claim her with it's fiery hands.

She found it somehow ironic. Her mother had screamed at her to go hide while the soldiers slit her father's throat and threw flaming torches into their home. Her mother had probably thought that the root cellar would become Levy's haven, shielding her from the soldiers and their flames. Instead, it would become her cell, trapping her until the fire finished her off, and then it would be her grave.

Levy didn't want to die, she didn't want the last thing she would ever see to be the inferno's unforgiving flames. She didn't want her last thoughts to be of her father with his throat slit, blood trickling down his neck like a river. And her mother surely being devoured by flames.

She made her way towards the door, barely even able to open her eyes through the smoke. She reached out a shaking hand to grasp the handle, her fingers wrapping around the ring. Excruciating pain and heat had her immediately snatching her hand back and clutching it to her chest.

It was so hot!

She broke off into a fit of coughs as the smoke somehow got even thicker, choking her and making her almost keel over. She wasn't going to die like this, no way! She grabbed onto the ring and, despite the horrific pain, swung the door open only to be met by a wall of red flames.

She gasped and stepped back. There was no way she could possibly make it through that, she thought hopelessly. She watched in horror as the flames crawled forward, licking at the walls and floor and casting them ablaze. Though in between the flames, Levy could just make out the snow covering the ground and even a sliver of night sky. For the first time that day, Levy felt a small amount of hope no bigger than that sliver of night. The fire couldn't have been very thick if the outside was visible. If she could run through it, there was a chance she wouldn't die and could roll in the snow before any major burning took effect.

Holding her hand over her mouth and nose, Levy charged through the flames, the red blaze swallowing her whole being. The heat was worse than she could have ever imagined. She felt like when she had grabbed the handle, only all over her body and worse because she had been able to at least pull her hand away, but there was no pulling back. There was only pressing on or complete certain death.

She almost cried in relief when she came out of the flames. No! No time for that! She rushed over to the bank of snow and threw herself into it, rolling onto her stomach and back, rubbing it on her arms and legs and her face and neck. For an instant she wondered if she even had any hair left, or had the fire burned it all away? She ran her hand up her neck and felt an almost strange happiness when her fingers brushed against her hair, gathering it into a fist. She glanced down at it. It was matted and the ends were charred but it was still there.

She had burns on both her arms and legs. She quickly decided that the worst one was on her shin. The first layer of skin had been burned away and the skin underneath was flaming red. The stench burned her nose and made her queasy. This was nothing like the smell that Levy had craved when her father brought home a rabbit or bird, or even a hunk of pork on special occasion. The smell alone of the cooked meat had made Levy's mouth water and stomach moan, but the terrible fetor of burnt flesh made her stomach moan in a separate way all together!

Levy gazed at the scene around her. Almost every house was engulfed in flames, which cast an almost ghostly light on the snow. The roads, where only this morning she and her friends had ran around and merchants shooed them away from their stands and shops, were now littered with bodies, and the men who had come were celebrating their victory near a bonfire in the village's center. Levy felt her stomach flip. The stench of blood and burnt flesh was overwhelmingly sickening. The amount of smoke she inhaled was no help either. She bent over onto her knees, retching over and over.

She stood on her shaking legs, fatigue threatening to take over her small form. She winced at the pain in her shin and stumbled forward, gasping at the pain in her feet, no doubt also horribly burned from sprinting through the flames. She staggered towards the woods, just across the road. She nearly slipped on a pool of blood that had gathered next to a fallen man, who was still clutching a pitchfork he undoubtedly had used in hopes of protecting himself.

Reaching the first tree she pressed her hand against it. Bad mistake. The rough bark scraped against her burns and her hand was engulfed by pain. She drew it back and had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out.

"Have all of the villagers been done away with?"

Levy gasped when she heard the voices. She spun around and saw two men making their way down the street. One was a soldier, she recognized the similar armor and the strange insignia on the breastplate. The other was, well, definitely not a soldier . He had a purple robe on, and a strange hat similar to that of a witch's. And his face, Levy could tell even from the treeline it was ugly.

She stepped behind the tree, praying that it would keep her hidden until the men passed. Who were these men? Why had they burned down her village?

"Sir we've checked all of the houses, all of the village inhabitants are either already dead, or being dealt with by the fire as we speak." the soldier reported.

Levy felt herself shivering as the other man chuckled. "Very good, make sure we leave a clear warning for Metalicana."

Levy's eyebrows shot up. Had he just said Metalicana? Could His Majesty have something to do with this? Was this some sort of vendetta? Had he done something to anger these men? She knew very little about His Majesty. He rarely seemed to go anywhere but his palace and the battlefield, as far as she aware. She had heard stories about him being known to defeat one hundred armed soldiers without any armor or weapons. Or that he had openly accepted any declaration of war from even the greatest, and most feared countries, and have declared victory within the week. She had loved those stories, but there was no way they could be true. Or were they? Had these men come to declare war to discover for themselves what true terror was behind the name Metalicana?

There was a grunt behind her, and before she could she could even turn to see the sound's owner, a fist had forced itself into her hair, tangling it's fingers with her strands and nearly lifting her off her feet.

She screamed and sobbed, kicking her feet out towards her attacker and trying desperately to yank his fingers up. The man seemed to simply shrug it off and Levy found herself being dragged towards the two men up ahead.

She whimpered as she was dragged in front of the man in purple. He looked even more horrendous up close. With beady eyes and a long, pointed nose. He looked exactly like a rat!

"My, what do we have here?" came a sickeningly sweet voice, a sneer spreading across his face. He reached out a gloved finger to run down the side of her cheek. "Did a little bird escape her fiery cage" he murmured, softly chuckling at his own joke.

Levy tried to squirm away from the man, only to have her hair yanked harder. She whimpered and tears slid down her cheeks.

"Oh, my dear, there's no need for your tears," he cooed, brushing them away with his thumb. "In fact, you're going to help me." His hand suddenly clenching her jaw painfully, forcing her eyes into his. "You see, my little bird, I need you to deliver a message to your king." He said, his other hand moved towards his belt, unsheathed a dagger, and thrust it forward until it was a mere inch from Levy's eye. Levy cried out, struggling to get away from the blade, more tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Pay close attention."