The story I'm about to tell you is the story of a woman many people in my world know. It is the story of a woman who was very much hated, yet also loved. She was honored and yet slowly forgotten.

My name is Hiroyuki and I'm going to tell you the story of Ishiguro Akemi.

Fire. Everything was burning. Dead bodies of animals were lain everywhere and wooden houses were crumbling under the heat of the blazing substance called lava. The gate was closed with a spell, making sure no one could escape. Just in front of that very same gate was the body of a, as far as one could guess, eleven years old boy. His head was gone, severed from the rest of his limbs. His milky white skin was stained with crimson and his once pure white clothing now nearly black from the dirt. A large black wolf lay next to him, barely breathing and with blood pouring onto the ground. He could barely open his eyes, but that didn't keep him from taking a look at his old master's body. He wanted nothing more than find his masters' head, but he couldn't. He was just too weak. He couldn't think clear any longer.

Another scream filled the air, this one not the same as the others. It was much higher, not like the scream of one facing death but like the one seeing it. 'Mistress...' The wolf thought as a tear fell from his left eye. A thousand thoughts went through his head making him ever dizzier then before. His breathing slowed down even more. The wolf was ready to give up. He was ready to stop fighting, but something told him to stay alive. Something told him to keep breathing, to keep fighting. And his fighting was worth it.

After a few minutes a girl came limping towards him. His sight was blurry, but he could make out the small form of his princess. He could still see her bright red hair, that beautiful hair she and the rest of the clan were so very proud of. She was drenched with blood and clutching her left arm which had blood running down it, dripping off her hand but she still looked beautiful. She was desperately trying to catch her breath. 'Akemi-sama...' the wolf thought, for he could not speak. He was simply too tired.

The girl fell to her knees next to him. His eyes were threatening to close, but he dug his sharp claws into his leg harshly to make sure he wouldn't fall asleep. "Hold on, Yoru." The girl said with a voice so gentle it could calm down a dragon, yet the voice was strained this time. The wolf nodded his head and sighed. He was going to be okay now. Everything would be fine.

The girl concentrated and started glowing, a beautiful pure white colour surrounding her hands. She hovered her hands above the wolf's wounds and opened her mouth. A soft and beautiful melody left it. Words in foreign language filled the air, words only native Ishiguro could hope to understand and even most of them couldn't even hope to master. It was the language of the Ishiguro royals. The language this one princess excelled in. Slowly but steadily the gentle white light entered the black wolfs' body and his wound started closing. The young girl took a deep breath as the white energy began fading, her heart beating fast, almost too fast.

Slowly she started leaning on her hands. Her entire body was covered with cuts, bruises and blood. Tears were falling from her face and she was clenching her teeth. She dug her hands into the ground, sand filling her fists with earth and other things covering it. She was reaching the limit. Her heart was over-flowing, threatening to burst.

She screamed.

The scream was filled with emotions and it was heart-breaking. The pain and sadness in that scream was overwhelming and it saddened the wolf even more than before. Never before had he heard such a scream and his heart broke. That's when he knew. They were alone. The only ones left.

"Akemi-sama..." The wolf began, slowly standing up. He wobbled for a bit, finding it hard to stand steadily but after a while finding his footing. "Akemi-sama, we have to go. We have to leave." he told the five years old girl whose face was covered by her hair. He couldn't see it, but he was sure her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were closed tightly. If he, a twenty-two year old wolf, was almost unable to bear the pain how would a small five years old be able? She was shaking, her tears dripping on the blood-stained ground. She couldn't believe it. Just yesterday everything was fine. Her mother was cooking dinner happily, her father was coming home from work with a smile on his face and her brothers were playing tag with her. How could things have gone so very wrong?

She knew the wolf was right, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Her legs refused. This was simply too much for a five years old to take. She was lost. She felt alone and she was in pain. Her heart gave up and everything went black.

The wolf cursed under his breath and walked towards her, occasionally limping. He took her on his back. It was then and there that the black wolf decided. With the heavy weight of the little girl on his back he slowly made his way to the huge gate. The caster of the spell was now gone, making it possible for them to leave this place. The wolf put the girl on the ground outside of the gate and then trudged back inside. He gathered every single body, gathering them all at the main crosswalk and then he burned them. He burned the bodies of their loved ones, of their families. No one was spared.

Then he left. He turned his back towards the gate and picked up the girl once more. He muttered a final spell, one that would make it impossible for anyone but an Ishiguro to enter the village. And then he slowly walked away, taking one last look.

And what was the worst part? They couldn't blame anyone. No one. It was their own fault after all.