Title: Nightmare Memories- Andia
Author: Andia
Rating: PG-13 for lots of Angst and Dark themes.
Disclaimer: The author Andia, though her name states other wise, does not own the characters in this story with the exception of the nameless old man.
A/N: Part of a Challenge I was issued to write a series of Dramatic and Dark SLC/DSC fanfictions. I hope this works. Now, on to part one!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My name is Andia Nowa, and this is my confession.
I was five about to turn six when I told my first lie. At the time, a bounty hunter was attacking our village,
a bounty made by some insane politic that needed our voting power out of the way, or so I was told. I knew the
way around the forest almost by heart though the wood was ever changing, so I told my fleeing parents that I
could lead them to a safe place. I ran ahead, not realizing that I had left all those I held dear behind.
I never really saw them again. By now, they're probably dead.
I was seven when ignorance first hit me. I was living with a group of freelance bounty hunters who had agreed
to train me after quite a bit of discussion. I knew that one of these hunters was responsible for the massacre
of my village, and I automatically aimed my revenge towards an assassin by the name of Verina due to a grudge she
had against me. It turned out that she was innocent, and the only one I trusted among them was the true murderer.
Arrogance is a common personality trait for me, I'll admit. Such a particular characteristic came to me when I was
about fourteen, and began to advance past my teachers in the arts of politics and combat. I boasted, and 'bit off
more than I could chew' so to speak. I was lucky, for each time I was able to back up such boasts. But, when I
had hit the age of sixteen, I over stepped my boundaries and because of such many people were hurt.
And I am still picking up the pieces of my lost friendship.
Protectiveness was a new thing to me when I came across a child named Casita, who shared my DNA identity in only a
way a sister could. She was defenseless and hunted because of the family name she took up. I was protective of my
blood already, given my parents' death, so I vowed to protect Casita as a small way of seeking forgiveness for not
killing the one who had murdered my family.
Love is something I know I have only felt briefly in my existence. The first shred of this emotion was when I came
face to face with Prince Kuyo Kuten, a young brash heir of the Zetain Empire. I was trying to use him to regain
power over the Velian throne which was rightfully mine by blood, but I found such a task nearly impossible whenever
his icy blue eyes were set on my own.
I knew jealousy when it formed into Casimalia Nowa, my eldest sister. I envied her charms, her refined state and her
beauty. She was a thing of light, while my own ugliness was hidden by the shadows in which I dwelled. I knew one
day she would lead to my downfall, and it was unwelcome knowledge.
Tears were first shed from my eyes as I watched all I had worked for go up in smoke. I watched as wave after wave
of soldiers conquered the land I had fought for, bled for and longed for. I felt my soul being torn from my body
along with the stone cold blade removing itself from my heart. You see, the first time I cried was the first time I
died.
My name is Andia Nowa, and this is my confession.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Starlight tresses of silvery-gold streamed around his thin frame, seemingly strangling the life from the mangled
and torn body. His breath was slow and labored, chest rising and falling slowly as though his thin grey robes
pressed down upon him with powerful force. His blind eyes were covered with a thin silver cloth, but the crystal
brown eye jutting through his wrinkled forehead was far from sightless as it focused on the form before him.
A girl, probably no more than eighteen mortal years old, with eyes of pure molten gold that was tinted red with flames.
Her own breaths were labored, a tiny bead of sweat running down her pastel face to drip from her chin, landing with
a silent splatter between her bare feet. Her raven hair and midnight black outfit seemed to blend not only with each
other, but with the inky shadows in which surrounded the two. Like a crow in the night sky.
"Old man, I grow tired of these games." Her voice was colder than ice, yet it held enough emotion to show her anger
and weariness. She held her hand out, drawing from her exhausted body even more power than before, getting ready to
pounce upon the man's fragile form and tear his soul from his body. "Tell me how to escape, or I shall be cross."
Weak folded hands wrapped themselves around the old man's staff, pulling the battered form from the cold stone floor
and back onto two wrinkled and callused feet. A chin was held high with pride and defiance as he faced his foe
without fear. "Never shall I tell you! Demons belong in damnation, and I will not be responsible for your release!"
There was a deep echoing clang as the staff hit the floor, fallowed by a thud of a skinny being hitting the floor.
The golden eyed girl, standing there with her hand still extended and her eyes literally glowing with power, was not
happy with that.
Her hand dropped as she tumbled to her knees, arms supporting her upper body as she gulped in breaths of stale air.
Her body trembled with weakness as she tried to reclaim her runaway emotions, to try and pull back the tears of despair
which sprung to her eyes at the thought of being trapped here with no escape for the rest of her mortal life. She looked
at the lifeless body of the stargazer spread out across the floor, suddenly realizing that her enemy had not been
much different from herself.
"He was trapped here too," she whispered silently, her hands clasping her shuttering shoulders to cease the seizers of
weariness. To keep the darkness buried so it did not spring forth to capture her consciousness once more. "He had been
trapped here to guard the entrance to heaven. He was like...me."
Another shiver rippled through her thin frame, her eyelids pressed painfully against her skin as she squeezed her eyes
shut and a whimper broke past her throat. One name echoed through her mind the one name she could point a finger at for
all the pain she had suffered. For all the pain those she had loved had suffered. For all the pain the old man had suffered
in his final moments.
"Andia." She whispered the name gently, "My name is Andia."
Author: Andia
Rating: PG-13 for lots of Angst and Dark themes.
Disclaimer: The author Andia, though her name states other wise, does not own the characters in this story with the exception of the nameless old man.
A/N: Part of a Challenge I was issued to write a series of Dramatic and Dark SLC/DSC fanfictions. I hope this works. Now, on to part one!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My name is Andia Nowa, and this is my confession.
I was five about to turn six when I told my first lie. At the time, a bounty hunter was attacking our village,
a bounty made by some insane politic that needed our voting power out of the way, or so I was told. I knew the
way around the forest almost by heart though the wood was ever changing, so I told my fleeing parents that I
could lead them to a safe place. I ran ahead, not realizing that I had left all those I held dear behind.
I never really saw them again. By now, they're probably dead.
I was seven when ignorance first hit me. I was living with a group of freelance bounty hunters who had agreed
to train me after quite a bit of discussion. I knew that one of these hunters was responsible for the massacre
of my village, and I automatically aimed my revenge towards an assassin by the name of Verina due to a grudge she
had against me. It turned out that she was innocent, and the only one I trusted among them was the true murderer.
Arrogance is a common personality trait for me, I'll admit. Such a particular characteristic came to me when I was
about fourteen, and began to advance past my teachers in the arts of politics and combat. I boasted, and 'bit off
more than I could chew' so to speak. I was lucky, for each time I was able to back up such boasts. But, when I
had hit the age of sixteen, I over stepped my boundaries and because of such many people were hurt.
And I am still picking up the pieces of my lost friendship.
Protectiveness was a new thing to me when I came across a child named Casita, who shared my DNA identity in only a
way a sister could. She was defenseless and hunted because of the family name she took up. I was protective of my
blood already, given my parents' death, so I vowed to protect Casita as a small way of seeking forgiveness for not
killing the one who had murdered my family.
Love is something I know I have only felt briefly in my existence. The first shred of this emotion was when I came
face to face with Prince Kuyo Kuten, a young brash heir of the Zetain Empire. I was trying to use him to regain
power over the Velian throne which was rightfully mine by blood, but I found such a task nearly impossible whenever
his icy blue eyes were set on my own.
I knew jealousy when it formed into Casimalia Nowa, my eldest sister. I envied her charms, her refined state and her
beauty. She was a thing of light, while my own ugliness was hidden by the shadows in which I dwelled. I knew one
day she would lead to my downfall, and it was unwelcome knowledge.
Tears were first shed from my eyes as I watched all I had worked for go up in smoke. I watched as wave after wave
of soldiers conquered the land I had fought for, bled for and longed for. I felt my soul being torn from my body
along with the stone cold blade removing itself from my heart. You see, the first time I cried was the first time I
died.
My name is Andia Nowa, and this is my confession.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Starlight tresses of silvery-gold streamed around his thin frame, seemingly strangling the life from the mangled
and torn body. His breath was slow and labored, chest rising and falling slowly as though his thin grey robes
pressed down upon him with powerful force. His blind eyes were covered with a thin silver cloth, but the crystal
brown eye jutting through his wrinkled forehead was far from sightless as it focused on the form before him.
A girl, probably no more than eighteen mortal years old, with eyes of pure molten gold that was tinted red with flames.
Her own breaths were labored, a tiny bead of sweat running down her pastel face to drip from her chin, landing with
a silent splatter between her bare feet. Her raven hair and midnight black outfit seemed to blend not only with each
other, but with the inky shadows in which surrounded the two. Like a crow in the night sky.
"Old man, I grow tired of these games." Her voice was colder than ice, yet it held enough emotion to show her anger
and weariness. She held her hand out, drawing from her exhausted body even more power than before, getting ready to
pounce upon the man's fragile form and tear his soul from his body. "Tell me how to escape, or I shall be cross."
Weak folded hands wrapped themselves around the old man's staff, pulling the battered form from the cold stone floor
and back onto two wrinkled and callused feet. A chin was held high with pride and defiance as he faced his foe
without fear. "Never shall I tell you! Demons belong in damnation, and I will not be responsible for your release!"
There was a deep echoing clang as the staff hit the floor, fallowed by a thud of a skinny being hitting the floor.
The golden eyed girl, standing there with her hand still extended and her eyes literally glowing with power, was not
happy with that.
Her hand dropped as she tumbled to her knees, arms supporting her upper body as she gulped in breaths of stale air.
Her body trembled with weakness as she tried to reclaim her runaway emotions, to try and pull back the tears of despair
which sprung to her eyes at the thought of being trapped here with no escape for the rest of her mortal life. She looked
at the lifeless body of the stargazer spread out across the floor, suddenly realizing that her enemy had not been
much different from herself.
"He was trapped here too," she whispered silently, her hands clasping her shuttering shoulders to cease the seizers of
weariness. To keep the darkness buried so it did not spring forth to capture her consciousness once more. "He had been
trapped here to guard the entrance to heaven. He was like...me."
Another shiver rippled through her thin frame, her eyelids pressed painfully against her skin as she squeezed her eyes
shut and a whimper broke past her throat. One name echoed through her mind the one name she could point a finger at for
all the pain she had suffered. For all the pain those she had loved had suffered. For all the pain the old man had suffered
in his final moments.
"Andia." She whispered the name gently, "My name is Andia."