AN: Voila! New story! xP This is pretty much a back story for my character I submitted for Caitlin-Silver's story, though there will be differences between her story and mine. I loved her too much to put the idea on hold and I hope you find her interesting too! Hope you enjoy! (Takes place in ancient Krokotopia about 1000 years before the Malistaire incident; still debating the exact time period.)
Rating: T/Light M for blood and violence, language, and possible suggestive themes. I don't plan anything explicit as I feel uncomfortable doing so, be it gore or…ya know, but that can easily change. I am a writer who believes in the power of descriptive words after all.
**I've created different species of kroks and manders. I'll leave a basic description of each on my profile till something better can be arranged. HIGHLY suggest you look at them.
Prologue
Krokotopians love nothing more than sunlight and fire.
The rippling flames and warming sunlight are like blankets wrapping around their precious world in order to protect that of which is most dearest to them. Leaders are made when the sun rises, a sign of a new beginning, a new Order. Prophecies of grandeur and hope revolve around flame and star, lighting the pathways so that it may be made clear to all those involved. Children born at midday, when the sun is at its peak and the fires burn at their brightest, are destined to be have long, prosperous lives. The lucky individuals born at this time are known only as Kroks.
Not every child is born at midday though. Manders – bless their good wills and noble hearts – are always born at sunset, where light gives way to darkness. Because of this, they are thought of as a weak, spineless people without a single flare of light in their hearts. They're made into slaves, doing hard labor until they break down altogether. Most died young, and those lucky few who survive past twenty are put under more pressure and strain. They never lasted long.
So what of the humans of the world? They – unlike the Kroks and Manders – are more sporadic, undecided. Most are at least lucky enough to be born in the light of the sun, so they lived as citizens of the world, able to rise to royalty or sink to slavery. But there were still those few who aren't born in sunlight at all, but in the cold darkness of night. They weren't just considered lowlier than the pitiful Manders; they were fated to bring darkness to the world.
It was on one such night where the moon was but a sliver of gold in a starless sky that a human was born, a little girl that seemed to be shrouded in darkness and despair.
"Hush my child," the mother murmured quietly to her crying newborn, her voice so quiet and strained her husband had to lean closer in order to hear her. She smiled fondly at the child, a sad, pain-stricken smile. The small, broken family huddled closer together, sand crunching beneath them as they moved. They dared not give birth in the village; the guards would've surely taken her away as soon as she had been birthed to be turned into a slave, or worse, incinerated.
"They'll be coming for us soon, Estasha," the father murmured into his wife's ear, planting a quick, rather dry kiss to her temple. "We're foolish parents,"
"I won't let my daughter be damned," Estasha hissed quietly, pulling her daughter closer to her chest in an effort to warm the naked bundle. She looked to her husband, bright amber eyes flashing with the fiery light of a mother's love. "Aleskar we can't give her to those bastard Kroks,"
"We'll lose our lives," Aleskar suddenly looked up, scanning the surrounding area as the sound of swishing, crunching sand broke the eerie stillness of the night. Estasha winced, beginning to rock her child back and forth in an effort to comfort both the baby and herself. Aleskar pressed his forehead to hers, murmuring a quiet prayer to the sun gods before addressing his wife once again. "She's already been damned with night-birth. Do you want to let her suffer in life rather than be at peace with death?"
"I want her to have a chance," Chance, Aleskar knew, was precious to his wife, and had he been honest with himself at the time it was precious to him as well. He stared down at the wet bundle in his wife's arms, a bloodied mess of dark skin and hair, her little eyes shut tight and a frown upon her lips. He thought and he thought, trying to decide what to do. Damnation wasn't an answer, not to his beloved, but what else could they do? Estasha looked at him with eyes filled with hopeless determination. "Let her have a chance to show that light can shine even in the darkest times,"
That single sentence was what changed the fate of the newborn. Aleskar kissed his wife passionately before surging to his feet, glancing around him wildly as sounds of howling Wargs ripped the still fabric of the air, echoing through the night. Estasha stared up at him wide-eyed. "What do you plan to do?"
"J'skaar will help to raise her,"
"But he's a mere slave! Will she be…?" Estasha trailed off, staring down at her precious daughter. There was no doubt in her mind J'skaar would take good care of her beautiful daughter, but his wife was a cruel, racist thing, and suddenly she was wondering if it really was better for her daughter to be handed to the Kroks. Aleskar ran his fingers through his wife's hair.
"His wife is a questionable being to be sure," he murmured, eyes darting this way and that as sounds of shuffling feet suddenly echoed through the night. "J'skaar is good though. He will protect the baby. Now please," he held his arms out to her. "Let me take her to him. For a chance,"
Estasha would have liked to sit there all night in the sand and contemplate what to do, what their best bet would be, but there was no time for that now. She shoved her daughter into her husband's hands, causing the infant to whine out in surprise. The helpless mother watched, grief-stricken, as her husband ran off in the direction of the town.
Slowly, carefully, she reached over and grabbed the spear that had been laying at her side, hidden in the depths of the sand. She struggled to her feet, taking a rather sloppy fighting stance as Wargs suddenly came out from the shadows, circling her and snapping at her ankles, eyes glistening ravenously. Guards slowly followed their beasts, pointing spears and swords in her direction, ready to kill upon command. One of them, a rather tall, ugly fellow garbed in bronze armor raised his reptilian hand, and all movement ceased. Estasha swayed slightly on her feet, clutching her weapon so tightly her knuckles had gone pure white.
"Where is the child?" The bronze-armored Krok hissed, golden eyes glistening dangerously in the dark. Estasha was tall for a human woman, but the monster before her was still a good foot taller than her, and she found herself trembling with fear as she looked up at him, knowing that it was here and now, fighting to protect her broken family, that she would meet her end. A sudden sense of calmness came over her as she thought about her daughter, her beautiful little daughter, and taking a deep breath her amber eyes hardened, and holding the spear in one hand she drew out her short sword with the other. She was still shaky at the prospect of meeting her end, but for her daughter, her family, she would do anything.
"She's far, far away from the likes of you…" She spat, raising her sword to meet the surely oncoming attack. She thought she would fall to the sounds of steel against steel in a ferocious fight, her last breath one of a fallen warrior, but before her sword had a chance to crash down upon her enemy, her head had been severed from her shoulders, staining the sands below her a dark crimson red as her once beautiful eyes, filled with the undying love of a mother, stared blankly into nothingness.
Aleskar wasn't sure how long he had been running. He wasn't sure if his wife had survived. He wasn't sure of anything as he ran through the night, dodging guards that watched over the poor, makeshift village and rounding corners to avoid being seen in firelight. He paused for a brief moment in an effort to catch his breath, leaning against a wall and looking down at his daughter. She was whining quietly, not exactly crying but not exactly laughing either. He kissed her forehead, wrapping her around more tightly with his cloak in order to keep her warm.
My dear you've no need to worry, he thought, brushing the dust off her cheeks before breaking into a steady jog towards another part of the village, a place referred to only as Shar. Torn up white tarps and broken down shacks dotted the area, and no fire had been lit to show where one road ends or another begins. Enslaved manders – with baskets atop their heads and chains at their ankles - looked on at the odd pair of humans without a slightest hint of interest glinting in their eyes. To them, it was just another desperate parent trying to get their child away from living hell to some non-existent haven.
Suddenly Aleskar came to a stop in front of a small, holey white tent, hesitating at its entrance. He didn't want to walk in only to find J'skaar's wife Hala, who would surely turn the infant away without a moment's thought, so he sat down in front of the tent, waiting, watching as his daughters breath became more and more labored. She needed food, milk, something in her small tummy. Finally, just as Aleskar's hope was beginning to fade, the tent behind him moved slightly, and glancing over he saw a skinny Mander with dark blue skin stretched thinly over his bones.
"J'skaar!" Aleskar jumped to his feet, causing his poor friend to jump in surprise. J'skaar's yellow eyes glinted with mingled relief and confusion as he saw him, and quickly looking around to be sure they were alone he came over to meet his friend, resting a callused hand on the man's shoulder.
"Foolish Aleskar, what are you doing here?" he hissed urgently. Aleskar gave no response, only angling his daughter so that the Mander could fully see her. Her eyes were closed now, her labored breathing now a gentle wheezing. J'skaar stared wide-eyed at the creature in his friend's arms as if he'd never seen a baby in his life. "Is this-"
"My child, yes, it is," Aleskar murmured quietly, shifting closer to his friend as a few slaves passed by them. J'skaar looked at him in confusion.
"It is night-birthed?" Aleskar nodded.
"Please, old friend, I need you to care for her. Feed her, bathe her, do what you must, what you can, so that she may have a chance to live,"
"Aleskar, I-"
"Please J'skaar!"
"But Hala-"
"Damn her then!" Aleskar snapped suddenly, causing his friend to flinch in surprise. The man was growing paranoid, his eyes darting around every time something moved or made a sound. J'skaar winced and looked back at the helpless bundle. Briefly he wondered if the human child would ever consider him - a simple, enslaved Mander - family. Aleskar stared pleadingly at his friend.
"Please J'skaar, just until she's well and old enough to care for herself," J'skaar let out a shaky sigh.
"Alright, my friend, I will do all I can. I won't make any foolish promises though. She lives or she dies," Aleskar visibly relaxed, tears filling his eyes as an incredible sense of relief and peace came over him. Carefully he handed the Mander his only child, making sure his cloak was still wrapped tightly around her small, fragile frame. J'skaar awkwardly held her in his thin arms, his eyes softening as he cradled her.
"What is her name?" he asked, looking at his friend. Aleskar opened his mouth as if to respond, but snarling Wargs and the rushing sound of feet on stone and sand interrupted him, and as fear shot through his heart he quickly forgot about his friend's question, and kissing his daughter in a final farewell he bolted blindly off to the south, hoping that somehow his smaller size would allow for him to outrun the large, detestable Kroks. J'skaar looked after him in confusion, then pain, as he realized that he would never see his friend again. The man was good as dead if they caught up, and if not that he would be forgotten in the wilds of Krokotopia. He looked down helplessly at his now-daughter, and when the howling of Wargs grew louder he held his breath and hid the child's face in his chest, quickly retreating back into his tent.
Hala was elderly, even for a Mander, with dry, wrinkly violet skin and pale blue eyes that have long since lost their luminous glow. The only reason J'skaar had married her was because the ceremony had been arranged one. All Mander marriages were arranged in order for procreation to occur, and J'skaar himself had several other sons whose names were all but lost to him now. She was sitting down awkwardly on the ground in a patch of dry hay and moss collected from the Oasis, and when the unsteady tent shook she slowly looked up at him strangely, as if to wonder why he was back so soon.
"What happened, J'skaar? Thought you went marketing," the old, senile Mander hissed, her short tail twitching to and fro in irritation. J'skaar – to keep from snapping at her – always did his best to remind himself that she was a Sillo Mander, aggressive and possessive by nature, so in truth it wasn't much her fault, but even so he had to bite his lip to keep from insulting her with a sharp retort.
"Aleskar was out. He-he gave me something…" J'skaar murmured awkwardly, swaying slightly on his feet as he stared at his wife. Hala narrowed her eyes at him.
"Well? What is this gift that bastard human gave?" Hala despised nothing else more than a human. Greedy, power-hungry, materialistic creatures as she would say, and J'skaar knew this. He gulped, feeling his muscles begin to tense.
"His child," As he said this J'skaar tilted the nameless baby so her dark-skinned face could be seen. Hala's eyes widened for a moment, the narrowed, and she repeated the same action several more times before responding.
"Rid it," she hissed sourly. "I will not own a naked rat as a pet!"
"Hala dear, please! Just think!" J'skaar begged his wife, kneeling down beside the much older Mander so that she could have a clearer view of the infant. He knew that no matter how much he begged, how much he tried, Hala would refuse. Suddenly a thought came to mind, and forcibly he turned her head in his direction. "The child is human – a creature you despise for all the right reasons, but think. She can have mander-heart and soul if we were to raise her, keep her safe, then when she's older, she could rise in nobility. No one may realize it, but mander-heart will be noble, not human heart, and perhaps you may prove your point of Sillo Manders superiority,"
This caused Hala to at least think, and J'skaar let out a breath of relief. They seemed to sit there for hours, waiting for her to come to some type of decision. Finally, she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Very well, J'skaar," she hissed coldly, clearly not fond of the idea however much it made sense to her now. "We shall raise her, but I will never consider her a daughter, and her name must be Eclipse, for night-birth is the darkest curse of all, and whether you live to see it or not, she will bring more pain and shadow than you will ever know."
