Anya Before
Summary: My idea as to what events led up to Anya becoming a vengeance demon.
Rating: PG (a little violence)
Disclaimer: I do not own this character. Joss Whedon does. And a fine job he does with her, too!
Author's note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction. Be gentle! Since we don't know Anya's life story, I had the idea about what might have happened to her. I set her family in generic Dark Ages Europe, so pretty generic Anglo-Saxon names abound.
On one of the last days that Anya was human, she awoke at dawn as usual. After dressing quickly, she hurried down to the kitchen to help her mother begin the daily chores. She plaited her brown hair into a long braid as she went down the stairs. Anya and her family lived in a stone keep. It was not a castle, but it was large enough to show that hers was a family of some means. In fact, her father had been a landowner of a small holding on which he raised sheep before his marriage. Her mother, Rosamund, was the second daughter of a minor lord. It was the money in her dowry that allowed her father to build his estate.
Anya bounded into the kitchen. "Good morning," she called out to her mother, who was already sliding bread dough into the hot stone oven.
"And a good morning to you, daughter," replied her mother. Anya smiled and watched her mother begin to prepare more dough. Her mother was a beautiful woman with red hair and golden brown eyes. She was also a very powerful woman at a time when women were mostly powerless. Rosamund had done her duty to her husband by giving him 5 boys. For this alone she would have been praised and treated well. But Rosamund was also a powerful witch, descended from a long line of witches, and she was training Anya, her only daughter, in the ways of the Old Ones. Of course in their time, being a witch was more dangerous than ever before. There was a new religion that wished to crush all reminders of the old. Rosamund knew how to use her power and therefore be unnoticed by anyone besides other practitioners.
"Anya, please go gather some apples. I plan on making tarts today, since I wish to pamper you on your last week as my little girl."
"Yes, Mother. Then will you teach me how to make them?" Anya responded.
"I think I already taught you," her mother smiled, "but if you wish for a reminder then you know you may assist me."
Anya giggled, thinking about her upcoming wedding. She was fifteen years old, the perfect age to be married. She was also extremely fortunate to be marrying a young man whom she had actually seen, although only from a distance at market. She had a feeling her mother had had a hand in the marriage arrangement, even though it was her father who had made the decision. Women were not supposed to meddle in matters of such importance. So many young girls were forced to marry horrid old men who had already gone through a wife or two and needed a new one to care for the children. Anya shuddered at the thought and thanked the Old Ones for her fortune. She had a decent dowry, and therefore would have been desirable only for that. But she was to marry Alric of Minster, the son of a cloth merchant in the nearby town. He had blond hair, a nicely formed body, and a face free of pox marks. She was lucky indeed.
She plucked the apples from the tree and thought of the rest of her day. She would help her mother begin the daily cooking until Marta, their servant woman, came to work. Then she would tend the gardens - one vegetable and one herbal. Towards midmorning, she and Rosamund would retire to their sewing room. While working on Anya's wedding clothes, her mother would lecture her on managing a home of her own. After the midday meal would come her favorite part of the day, and what she would miss the most once she was married.
"But in the meantime," she thought to herself "the tarts are waiting."
Anya's father, Ulf, and older brothers came back to the house at noon. Her little brothers had finished with their tutor, and they were moaning with make-believe hunger. Anya and Rosamund had the table full of meat pies for their sustenance. The apple tarts were a welcome surprise.
"Woman," murmured Ulf between bites, "Tis a fine meal."
Ulf was a gruff man, more at ease amongst his flocks and his fields than in a fine home. Though he had a fiery temper, he was not cruel. He had never beaten Rosamund as so many husbands beat their wives. Whenever he went to town for market, he always brought back some bauble for Rosamund and Anya. While he would not allow Anya to be tutored with her brothers, he did not care if her mother taught her. Ulf and Rosamund had never loved each other, but they respected each other. Anya hoped that Alric would prove to be a good husband, but if he wasn't, Rosamund had taught her spells to make life bearable. Not for the first time did Anya wonder whether her mother had used these enchantments for herself.
Once the men had finished eating, Rosamund wrapped up a lunch for Anya and herself. Marta cleaned the kitchen and began preparing the stew for the evening meal in a cauldron over the kitchen hearth. She glanced at mother and daughter through narrow eyes as they left the house and headed for the stables.
Rosamund was insistent on her daughter's daily "riding lessons". She and Anya had slipped away from the house for an hour each day since Anya was ten years old. Rosamund purported that she and Anya both needed fresh air, but the real reason for their excursion was inside a group of standing stones over a hill and away from the house and pastures. It was there that Rosamund instructed Anya in the ways of the Old Ones. On this day, Rosamund's sunny mood from the morning had faded, and as she dismounted from her horse, a look of concern masked her face.
"Mother, what is wrong?" asked Anya worriedly. She knew that her mother had visions of future happenings at times. "Do you see something to come?"
"I do not know, my child," Rosamund replied, "I was just overwhelmed with a feeling of....something that is amiss. Let us read the rune stones and see what may be."
Anya lifted stones from a pile by one of the standing stones, revealing leather bound books, scrolls, and pouches of different shapes and sizes hidden in a deep hole. She brought out a small brown pouch and shook out the runes within. Rosamund and Anya looked at the runes, reading the warning that lay there. Rosamund looked up at Anya, whose lip was quivering. "Now dear one," she admonished, "this is a warning that might not be for you. It warns of betrayal and marriage, yes, but you know that these warnings can be flexible. It may only mean that Alric snores in his sleep and will thus betray your sleep." Rosamund was grinning at Anya, trying to make her daughter feel better all the while feeling the dread inside her intensify.
Anya smiled, but worriedly looked up at her mother. "But what if it is the betrayal of Alric with a mistress? Or if he casts me aside?"
"My daughter," replied Rosamund, "You know that men of our time may do just about anything to their women. We have no recourse but our own wits. If he takes a mistress, you may do a passion spell to focus his attention back to you. He will not cast you aside because your dowry would then revert back to your father."
Anya sighed. The teachings of her mother were truly her only power in the world. She often wondered about the stories her mother told her about their ancestors - women of power and strength who fought beside their men. Women whose powers were not only acknowledged, but celebrated. She collected the rune stones and placed them back in the pouch. She wished she could be one of those wild women, racing on chariots and acting as high priestesses of their tribe. The only thing anyone would want her to do would be to bear boy children.
Her mother sat, watching her daughter's face fall and felt the despair in her breast turn to fury. Her daughter should never have to rely on spell craft to make her world bearable. Rosamund reached out to her daughter and pulled Anya onto her lap as if she were a baby again.
"My sweet girl," she murmured in a soothing voice, "I shall always be here for you and for yours. I will protect you and help make things right."
"With spells?" Anya asked.
"With anything in my power," replied her mother.
Anya sniffled and slid out of her mother's lap, coming to rest on the ground beside her. "Then perhaps you ought to teach me a spell to make someone stop snoring," she smiled.
Mother and daughter laughed, although Rosamund's laughter was still tinged with fear. They spent the rest of the time going over healing rituals and other day to day helpers of spell casting. As they were placing the books and scrolls back into their hiding place, Rosamund paused and reached down to the very bottom of the hole. She touched a red leather book that she had actually never shown Anya before. Looking up at Anya, she made decision that was tempered by her uncertainty. "Anya," she said, "You know that if anything ever happened to me, you must come and get these books and scrolls and take them to a very safe place."
"Yes, mother, of course," replied Anya, worried again.
"There is a book here that I have never shown you," said Rosamund. "It is a book of great power. You must be very careful with it."
Anya stared at her mother. She was becoming frightened. Rosamund could see that, but she was also very afraid. They rode back to their home in silence.
As they approached the keep, they were both startled to see several horses tied up outside of the main door.
"Mother, were we expecting guests?" asked Anya.
"No, my dear," her mother replied, "I can see the livery from here. It is of the House of Minster."
"Alric?" Anya brightened, "Perhaps he came to see me."
"I hope so, daughter," sighed Rosamund, not mentioning that she had also seen the horse of the Minster family's priest amongst those of Alric's retainers. She did not know what that meant, but priests often brought ill tidings to those of her kind.
The horses slowed to a trot as they entered the yard. They tethered their horses by the kitchen door and went inside. Marta was there, waiting for them.
"Master wants your presence in the hall," she sneered, "Both of ye."
Anya had never been spoken to like that in all her life. She was about to tell the servant to keep her place, but her mother tugged at her gown, hissing at her to be quiet. Anya was thoroughly confused, but when she saw the look of fear in her mother's eyes, she was silenced. Her mother bore herself regally as they walked through the kitchen. Anya followed her mother's example. Rosamund whispered, "Stay back from me. If anything happens to me, flee. And never forget what I have taught you."
"Yes, Mother," said Anya, "But...
"Shh!" Her mother cut her off and they entered the hall.
"My lord," began Rosamund, "You wished to..."
"Silence!" roared Ulf. Anya's father stood facing Alric, Alric's father, and the family priest. His face was red and his chest heaving up and down. Anya's brothers were all on the stairway, looking at Anya and Rosamund. The youngest had frightened looks on their faces, while the oldest had ones of disgust.
Anya began crying. Her mother did not move to console her, but instead moved forward, closing the space between herself and the men.
The priest then spoke in a scornful voice, "We have come today on an issue of great import. As a spiritual leader of the Minster family, as well as of others in our region, I must regretfully inform you that allegations have to come to light that will negate the betrothal of Alric, son of Eldric, and your daughter."
Ulf cried out, "Ye've let your daughter be made into a whore!" He was angrier than either Rosamund or Anya had ever seen him.
Anya was too shocked to reply. She had hardly ever even spoken to a boy or man who wasn't a relative.
Rosamund knew she would have to think quickly and carefully. Keeping her eyes downcast and her manner meek, she asked, "I pray you, good sirs, please let us know the offense that has occurred under my watchful eyes."
The priest smirked and replied, "We have it on the authority of your maidservant that your daughter has been slipping out of her room at night to meet with all manner of men. I have sworn statements from the shepherds she has...had congress with."
Anya cried out, "That is not true! That is not true!" She began crying, but no one came to her solace. Alric looked at her as if she were vermin scuttling down the hallway
At that moment, Rosamund had a vision of the real events leading up to this. She stared at the priest, pointing at him accusingly. In an almost chanting voice, she spoke, "In the family of the people by the hill there were eight children. There were riches aplenty but the youngest son got none of them. Shipped was he to a monastery to follow the ways of the church. He grew full of bitterness and greed, and his thoughts turned more towards Satan than to his God. He became the priest of a wealthy family of whom the only son was betrothed. But he managed through deception of the most foul kind to ally the boy's house with his house - and his younger sister, knowing that the dowry she brought would be a dowry he shared. You are false, priest."
Everyone stared at Rosamund in shocked disbelief.
"You should know of deceptions, witch," replied the shaken priest, "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live. We have enough witnesses to burn you, witch. The church shall confiscate this property in order to purify it, and the flames shall purify you." The priest murmured something under his breath. No one else knew he did so, but Rosamund heard the demonic spell.
Anya watched the next few moments as if she were underwater. The satanic words of the priest were intended for her father. Ulf, still full of fury, found himself pulling his dagger from his belt and advancing towards Rosamund. Rosamund turned to Anya. Anya heard her mother call to her, but did not see her lips move. RUN! screamed Rosamund as the dagger pierced her heart. Anya's own heart broke as she saw her mother's lifeblood, but she ran with all her might back through the kitchen and into the yard. She untethered a horse as her mother died and her father looked about in shock, released from the spell and being told by the priest that he had done the right thing, but that now his daughter's soul was endangered. She must be found right away so that he could help her back on the path of the righteous.
Anya galloped the horse harder than she ever had before. She knew the standing stones would not be safe, so she cast her mind to other places of refuge. She reached the stones, overturned the rock pile, and gathered up the scrolls and books, hurriedly placing them in a saddle bag. She was able to think a bit more clearly as she mounted the horse and headed towards the forest. She knew of a cave she could hide in. She whispered a spell of distraction and a spell of protection as she once again raced the horse to her destination. Once she got to the cave and removed the books and scrolls, she sent the horse on its way, hoping to distract any pursuers. She collapsed on the cold floor amid the spell books and began shaking. The events of the last hour reeled through her head, and she cried herself into a sleep of escape.
The morning sun awoke her. She lifted her head cautiously, but she saw nor heard any signs of followers. Again she spoke the words of the protection spell. As she sat up, the image of her father stabbing her mother arose as well. She knew it had to have been an evil spell - she had seen the priest say something, but had not heard it. Her father would never have hurt her mother otherwise. Anya knew she could never go back to her home. Her reputation was ruined and she would not be able to be married to anyone of good standing. Besides, with her mother gone, there was nothing for her to go back to. She started crying again. She felt so powerless and alone. She began to gather up the books and scrolls from where she dropped them, trying to restore order to the chaos she felt inside her. She picked up the red book her mother had warned her about the day before "Was it really just yesterday and not years past?" she thought, bewildered. She looked at the cover, translating the Greek writing, The book was called Spells of Vengeance.
The End
Summary: My idea as to what events led up to Anya becoming a vengeance demon.
Rating: PG (a little violence)
Disclaimer: I do not own this character. Joss Whedon does. And a fine job he does with her, too!
Author's note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction. Be gentle! Since we don't know Anya's life story, I had the idea about what might have happened to her. I set her family in generic Dark Ages Europe, so pretty generic Anglo-Saxon names abound.
On one of the last days that Anya was human, she awoke at dawn as usual. After dressing quickly, she hurried down to the kitchen to help her mother begin the daily chores. She plaited her brown hair into a long braid as she went down the stairs. Anya and her family lived in a stone keep. It was not a castle, but it was large enough to show that hers was a family of some means. In fact, her father had been a landowner of a small holding on which he raised sheep before his marriage. Her mother, Rosamund, was the second daughter of a minor lord. It was the money in her dowry that allowed her father to build his estate.
Anya bounded into the kitchen. "Good morning," she called out to her mother, who was already sliding bread dough into the hot stone oven.
"And a good morning to you, daughter," replied her mother. Anya smiled and watched her mother begin to prepare more dough. Her mother was a beautiful woman with red hair and golden brown eyes. She was also a very powerful woman at a time when women were mostly powerless. Rosamund had done her duty to her husband by giving him 5 boys. For this alone she would have been praised and treated well. But Rosamund was also a powerful witch, descended from a long line of witches, and she was training Anya, her only daughter, in the ways of the Old Ones. Of course in their time, being a witch was more dangerous than ever before. There was a new religion that wished to crush all reminders of the old. Rosamund knew how to use her power and therefore be unnoticed by anyone besides other practitioners.
"Anya, please go gather some apples. I plan on making tarts today, since I wish to pamper you on your last week as my little girl."
"Yes, Mother. Then will you teach me how to make them?" Anya responded.
"I think I already taught you," her mother smiled, "but if you wish for a reminder then you know you may assist me."
Anya giggled, thinking about her upcoming wedding. She was fifteen years old, the perfect age to be married. She was also extremely fortunate to be marrying a young man whom she had actually seen, although only from a distance at market. She had a feeling her mother had had a hand in the marriage arrangement, even though it was her father who had made the decision. Women were not supposed to meddle in matters of such importance. So many young girls were forced to marry horrid old men who had already gone through a wife or two and needed a new one to care for the children. Anya shuddered at the thought and thanked the Old Ones for her fortune. She had a decent dowry, and therefore would have been desirable only for that. But she was to marry Alric of Minster, the son of a cloth merchant in the nearby town. He had blond hair, a nicely formed body, and a face free of pox marks. She was lucky indeed.
She plucked the apples from the tree and thought of the rest of her day. She would help her mother begin the daily cooking until Marta, their servant woman, came to work. Then she would tend the gardens - one vegetable and one herbal. Towards midmorning, she and Rosamund would retire to their sewing room. While working on Anya's wedding clothes, her mother would lecture her on managing a home of her own. After the midday meal would come her favorite part of the day, and what she would miss the most once she was married.
"But in the meantime," she thought to herself "the tarts are waiting."
Anya's father, Ulf, and older brothers came back to the house at noon. Her little brothers had finished with their tutor, and they were moaning with make-believe hunger. Anya and Rosamund had the table full of meat pies for their sustenance. The apple tarts were a welcome surprise.
"Woman," murmured Ulf between bites, "Tis a fine meal."
Ulf was a gruff man, more at ease amongst his flocks and his fields than in a fine home. Though he had a fiery temper, he was not cruel. He had never beaten Rosamund as so many husbands beat their wives. Whenever he went to town for market, he always brought back some bauble for Rosamund and Anya. While he would not allow Anya to be tutored with her brothers, he did not care if her mother taught her. Ulf and Rosamund had never loved each other, but they respected each other. Anya hoped that Alric would prove to be a good husband, but if he wasn't, Rosamund had taught her spells to make life bearable. Not for the first time did Anya wonder whether her mother had used these enchantments for herself.
Once the men had finished eating, Rosamund wrapped up a lunch for Anya and herself. Marta cleaned the kitchen and began preparing the stew for the evening meal in a cauldron over the kitchen hearth. She glanced at mother and daughter through narrow eyes as they left the house and headed for the stables.
Rosamund was insistent on her daughter's daily "riding lessons". She and Anya had slipped away from the house for an hour each day since Anya was ten years old. Rosamund purported that she and Anya both needed fresh air, but the real reason for their excursion was inside a group of standing stones over a hill and away from the house and pastures. It was there that Rosamund instructed Anya in the ways of the Old Ones. On this day, Rosamund's sunny mood from the morning had faded, and as she dismounted from her horse, a look of concern masked her face.
"Mother, what is wrong?" asked Anya worriedly. She knew that her mother had visions of future happenings at times. "Do you see something to come?"
"I do not know, my child," Rosamund replied, "I was just overwhelmed with a feeling of....something that is amiss. Let us read the rune stones and see what may be."
Anya lifted stones from a pile by one of the standing stones, revealing leather bound books, scrolls, and pouches of different shapes and sizes hidden in a deep hole. She brought out a small brown pouch and shook out the runes within. Rosamund and Anya looked at the runes, reading the warning that lay there. Rosamund looked up at Anya, whose lip was quivering. "Now dear one," she admonished, "this is a warning that might not be for you. It warns of betrayal and marriage, yes, but you know that these warnings can be flexible. It may only mean that Alric snores in his sleep and will thus betray your sleep." Rosamund was grinning at Anya, trying to make her daughter feel better all the while feeling the dread inside her intensify.
Anya smiled, but worriedly looked up at her mother. "But what if it is the betrayal of Alric with a mistress? Or if he casts me aside?"
"My daughter," replied Rosamund, "You know that men of our time may do just about anything to their women. We have no recourse but our own wits. If he takes a mistress, you may do a passion spell to focus his attention back to you. He will not cast you aside because your dowry would then revert back to your father."
Anya sighed. The teachings of her mother were truly her only power in the world. She often wondered about the stories her mother told her about their ancestors - women of power and strength who fought beside their men. Women whose powers were not only acknowledged, but celebrated. She collected the rune stones and placed them back in the pouch. She wished she could be one of those wild women, racing on chariots and acting as high priestesses of their tribe. The only thing anyone would want her to do would be to bear boy children.
Her mother sat, watching her daughter's face fall and felt the despair in her breast turn to fury. Her daughter should never have to rely on spell craft to make her world bearable. Rosamund reached out to her daughter and pulled Anya onto her lap as if she were a baby again.
"My sweet girl," she murmured in a soothing voice, "I shall always be here for you and for yours. I will protect you and help make things right."
"With spells?" Anya asked.
"With anything in my power," replied her mother.
Anya sniffled and slid out of her mother's lap, coming to rest on the ground beside her. "Then perhaps you ought to teach me a spell to make someone stop snoring," she smiled.
Mother and daughter laughed, although Rosamund's laughter was still tinged with fear. They spent the rest of the time going over healing rituals and other day to day helpers of spell casting. As they were placing the books and scrolls back into their hiding place, Rosamund paused and reached down to the very bottom of the hole. She touched a red leather book that she had actually never shown Anya before. Looking up at Anya, she made decision that was tempered by her uncertainty. "Anya," she said, "You know that if anything ever happened to me, you must come and get these books and scrolls and take them to a very safe place."
"Yes, mother, of course," replied Anya, worried again.
"There is a book here that I have never shown you," said Rosamund. "It is a book of great power. You must be very careful with it."
Anya stared at her mother. She was becoming frightened. Rosamund could see that, but she was also very afraid. They rode back to their home in silence.
As they approached the keep, they were both startled to see several horses tied up outside of the main door.
"Mother, were we expecting guests?" asked Anya.
"No, my dear," her mother replied, "I can see the livery from here. It is of the House of Minster."
"Alric?" Anya brightened, "Perhaps he came to see me."
"I hope so, daughter," sighed Rosamund, not mentioning that she had also seen the horse of the Minster family's priest amongst those of Alric's retainers. She did not know what that meant, but priests often brought ill tidings to those of her kind.
The horses slowed to a trot as they entered the yard. They tethered their horses by the kitchen door and went inside. Marta was there, waiting for them.
"Master wants your presence in the hall," she sneered, "Both of ye."
Anya had never been spoken to like that in all her life. She was about to tell the servant to keep her place, but her mother tugged at her gown, hissing at her to be quiet. Anya was thoroughly confused, but when she saw the look of fear in her mother's eyes, she was silenced. Her mother bore herself regally as they walked through the kitchen. Anya followed her mother's example. Rosamund whispered, "Stay back from me. If anything happens to me, flee. And never forget what I have taught you."
"Yes, Mother," said Anya, "But...
"Shh!" Her mother cut her off and they entered the hall.
"My lord," began Rosamund, "You wished to..."
"Silence!" roared Ulf. Anya's father stood facing Alric, Alric's father, and the family priest. His face was red and his chest heaving up and down. Anya's brothers were all on the stairway, looking at Anya and Rosamund. The youngest had frightened looks on their faces, while the oldest had ones of disgust.
Anya began crying. Her mother did not move to console her, but instead moved forward, closing the space between herself and the men.
The priest then spoke in a scornful voice, "We have come today on an issue of great import. As a spiritual leader of the Minster family, as well as of others in our region, I must regretfully inform you that allegations have to come to light that will negate the betrothal of Alric, son of Eldric, and your daughter."
Ulf cried out, "Ye've let your daughter be made into a whore!" He was angrier than either Rosamund or Anya had ever seen him.
Anya was too shocked to reply. She had hardly ever even spoken to a boy or man who wasn't a relative.
Rosamund knew she would have to think quickly and carefully. Keeping her eyes downcast and her manner meek, she asked, "I pray you, good sirs, please let us know the offense that has occurred under my watchful eyes."
The priest smirked and replied, "We have it on the authority of your maidservant that your daughter has been slipping out of her room at night to meet with all manner of men. I have sworn statements from the shepherds she has...had congress with."
Anya cried out, "That is not true! That is not true!" She began crying, but no one came to her solace. Alric looked at her as if she were vermin scuttling down the hallway
At that moment, Rosamund had a vision of the real events leading up to this. She stared at the priest, pointing at him accusingly. In an almost chanting voice, she spoke, "In the family of the people by the hill there were eight children. There were riches aplenty but the youngest son got none of them. Shipped was he to a monastery to follow the ways of the church. He grew full of bitterness and greed, and his thoughts turned more towards Satan than to his God. He became the priest of a wealthy family of whom the only son was betrothed. But he managed through deception of the most foul kind to ally the boy's house with his house - and his younger sister, knowing that the dowry she brought would be a dowry he shared. You are false, priest."
Everyone stared at Rosamund in shocked disbelief.
"You should know of deceptions, witch," replied the shaken priest, "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live. We have enough witnesses to burn you, witch. The church shall confiscate this property in order to purify it, and the flames shall purify you." The priest murmured something under his breath. No one else knew he did so, but Rosamund heard the demonic spell.
Anya watched the next few moments as if she were underwater. The satanic words of the priest were intended for her father. Ulf, still full of fury, found himself pulling his dagger from his belt and advancing towards Rosamund. Rosamund turned to Anya. Anya heard her mother call to her, but did not see her lips move. RUN! screamed Rosamund as the dagger pierced her heart. Anya's own heart broke as she saw her mother's lifeblood, but she ran with all her might back through the kitchen and into the yard. She untethered a horse as her mother died and her father looked about in shock, released from the spell and being told by the priest that he had done the right thing, but that now his daughter's soul was endangered. She must be found right away so that he could help her back on the path of the righteous.
Anya galloped the horse harder than she ever had before. She knew the standing stones would not be safe, so she cast her mind to other places of refuge. She reached the stones, overturned the rock pile, and gathered up the scrolls and books, hurriedly placing them in a saddle bag. She was able to think a bit more clearly as she mounted the horse and headed towards the forest. She knew of a cave she could hide in. She whispered a spell of distraction and a spell of protection as she once again raced the horse to her destination. Once she got to the cave and removed the books and scrolls, she sent the horse on its way, hoping to distract any pursuers. She collapsed on the cold floor amid the spell books and began shaking. The events of the last hour reeled through her head, and she cried herself into a sleep of escape.
The morning sun awoke her. She lifted her head cautiously, but she saw nor heard any signs of followers. Again she spoke the words of the protection spell. As she sat up, the image of her father stabbing her mother arose as well. She knew it had to have been an evil spell - she had seen the priest say something, but had not heard it. Her father would never have hurt her mother otherwise. Anya knew she could never go back to her home. Her reputation was ruined and she would not be able to be married to anyone of good standing. Besides, with her mother gone, there was nothing for her to go back to. She started crying again. She felt so powerless and alone. She began to gather up the books and scrolls from where she dropped them, trying to restore order to the chaos she felt inside her. She picked up the red book her mother had warned her about the day before "Was it really just yesterday and not years past?" she thought, bewildered. She looked at the cover, translating the Greek writing, The book was called Spells of Vengeance.
The End