Meissa is a reincarnated character from a different, magical world. How did she grow into the Meissa we know? Meet Meh-Sah le Sahlen - Meissa's past.
The buzzing excitement of preparing for the Sarta Festival typically sweeps up even the most sullen of people. Now, though, I look scornfully at the spry and curly-haired girl, the sole soul trying to push people into celebration.
My Dai, my father, looks at me, a slight frown on his face. "Meh-Sah," he chides, "she is doing her best. You-"
"Doing her best is not enough. She caused this!" I say, glaring at the girl I had once called a friend.
"Meh-Sah, we don't know what choices she had to make. We need to at least try to-"
"No! Do not try to convince me otherwise, Dai, you will only sour my opinion of you in the process. I will not change my mind.
I cannot understand him. How are we meant to smile and celebrate while our families are suffering? Sahn-Ah might be smiling, but at this point, I am convinced that all the emotions she shows are fake. At one point, she had shown grief, but that must have been a lie because she would have done something to prevent this tragedy. If she really cares, she, who was once next-in-line to be our chief, blessed with the power to tell the Future as all our leaders are, would have changed things. But she doesn't care. She lies with her smiles and her pitiful eyes. She has betrayed us.
It is the first Sarta Festival after the Vazerians visited. It is the first Sarta Festival since half of our people were dragged off, in chains, to an empire which spits on our very existence. Half of our people now live condemned to servitude to hateful people. Sahn-Ah did nothing. I do not understand my father.
Instead of celebrating the warmth of the sun, this particular Sarta Festival, I join others who plot a rescue. My father is out gathering herbs for our wounded - many of the tribesmen remaining are still recovering. Sahn-Ah, the traitor, finds herself occupied in establishing correspondence to the Vazerians.
We are going to make change. We will establish ourselves as a threat. May these Vazerians know that they have made a mistake. The Sahlen people are not weak, are not people for them to abuse with their magical technology. We have strong, fierce mages, and we have spirit and passion. All of which they lack.
We plan to attack Vize - the Vazerian capital - the next month. We will bring our people home.
As the month approaches its end, we are adding the final touches to our plan. The talismans are ready, finely carved in warning. Outside, the sun shines gloriously, and inside, we all smile grimly. The time to attack has come.
As we head outside, our arms in position to head out, I think about what to say to my father. There is a good chance of my death, I know, but I need to go still, for my people are suffering. But my sweet, gentle father would be in pain, and I wish to at least tell him goodbye.
I signal to one of the others as we are heading out, that I should follow them in a few minutes. I enter my family's tent, marked a dark green for herbs and healing. My father is there, waiting for me with a frown on his face. Looking into his sorrowful eyes, I can tell he knows what is to come, where I am to go.
"Dai-" I begin to explain, anything to ask for his blessing in my moving ahead.
"Meh-Sah," he interrupts me. "I am proud of you, always. I love you, and I wish you were always safe, but I can tell you have made up your mind. Stay safe, and where your mother's shielding amulet. It may protect you where it did not protect her."
I try to find words to react to the sheer love in his eyes, but I can find them evaporating as I also see the sheer pain in them. I never want him to feel this way, but there is no other choice. I must bring back my people.
As I move to hug him, for what might be the last time, I find myself startling at an abrupt increase in noise. There is a sharp smell of fire in the air, and heavy, thick mass of magic moving towards us.
No, I think. Not again.
My father moves ahead outside in urgency, and I follow right on his heels.
Not again.
The mass of magic enters within our sight, soldiers in well-crafted armor with sigils inscribed throughout. A panicked clash of steel, as Ril-Eh, our fiercest warrior locks arms and our other tribesmen follow suit.
It can't be. How did they possibly know? We were so close; we were just about to start on our own attack. But those bloody Vazerians are taking everything away again! All over again, I see blood on the ground, but the Vazerians are standing up. My people are dying!
I take in choked breaths and grab my nearest talisman, preparing to cast a spell. I cannot get any words out, but I struggle.
I hear a choked yell near me. I turn around - I know we never should, not on the battle field - but I cannot find myself to care. In front of me, my father lays wounded. He… he is supposed to be safe! He is a healer - he is wearing the green garb, he is neutral in all fights. What… how could they?! How could… my father- he just- why?! How?!
I feel an arm grab me and move me out of the way. I can't- I- I just- My father, my sweet, gentle father, my Dai. How?!
He lies still on the ground, pale, blood smattered across his chest. His eyes are open. Even as I am pulled further and further away, I keep looking at those lifeless eyes that once held such kindness.
I choke. My father has died.
I am not given much more time to process as I find a tiny object shoved into my hand. I finally look up into the eyes of my rescuer and gasp. Sahn-Ah… she should have known! She could have prevented this! How dare she?
"You…" I growl.
"Meh-Sah, I know you are angry with me. If I could have found a way to save Ah-Mih and the rest I would've but this is the only way any of us will survive. Take the amulet and go. Run! Keep it out of Vazerian hands. Stay alive, for the rest of us, Meh-Sah. Go!" she pushes me out.
I have half a mind to ignore her entirely. She knew it was coming - this was confirmation! I turn again, but I lose the words. Sahn-Ah is hit by a stray, inscribed spear. She lies on the ground, bloody, and the life fades from her eyes too.
Run, I hear in my head. Sahn-Ah's last words. She knew this was going to happen. She knew she was going to die, but she allowed it anyway. For what? Why did she do this?
I run. I keep running until I cannot feel anything but the magic of nature around me. I run until I can see nothing but plant life and the stars, all the while wondering about Sahn-Ah's final words (I cannot afford to think of father for otherwise I might just stop moving).
I look at the amulet she had shoved into my hand in her last few moments. In the confusion of the battle and the heavy, metallic taste of Vazerian magic, I had missed it, but the amulet had such an endless, mystifying inscription. One rune led into another which led into another - there was no ending to the chain, it just looped. But somehow that worked? Was… was this what the Vazerians were after? How was this in Sahn-Ah's hands? Did our Sahlen tribe have secret artifacts that I was not aware of?
I lay awake, thinking of Sahn-Ah - who I am not sure what to feel of. I think of father - I choke - and I think of his words, those he said a month ago, that Sahn-Ah may not have had a choice. I hate to think it - because why had I hated her for so long? Why did I ignore my wise father's words? I hate to contemplate such a thought, that these attacks may have had to happen. I hate think of the world we live in, if this was the best outcome for the future. I hate it.
Somehow, the Vazerians are keeping track of the amulet. I have inscribed runes of invisibility on my tattered robes, I have blended my own magic with nature, but somehow they always manage to track me within weeks. I move, and I keep moving. My limbs feel leaden with the burden upon me - both the amulets, and the consideration that I am perhaps the last Sahlen alive.
But I have to keep moving, I have to protect what my father died for (had he known, even then, that our people had been taken all for this stupid lump of rock? Had he known, even then, that he would have died for it?). Otherwise, I am not Meh-Sah le Sahlen.
I whimper because that is all I am able to do. The blood leaks out of me, and I can feel it. My chest is shrieking in pain, and I cannot breathe well - there is that enchanted knife in my chest, mutilating the veins that channel magic. But the knife's magic has not spread entirely yet.
I refuse to allow them to take that amulet. My kin have died for it. I shall as well; in the end, that is all I am good for.
I channel my magic into my hands, framing a spell my father once taught me, to keep me warm. Then, I mutilate it, change it into something that would have made him gape in horror - but it would also make the Vazerians gape in horror as they realize they have completely and utterly failed. I feel a smile creep up my face.
The amulet smolders, searing my hands.
In my last few moments, I see a thing of beauty. A gorgeous, searing Flame climbing high into the sky. The few trees blaze ferociously, and the ground is burnt. Grass and flowers transform into wicked waves of fire. Tiny embers flitter across the sky, dancing among the twinkling stars across the expanding night sky.
There are no clouds.
An ember burned quietly. Imperceptibly. Inconspicuously. Nearly unnoticeably.
A fire smolders. Rages. Flames. Glares. Flashes. Blazes.
An inferno will die. Go away. Flicker out. Wane. Turn to Ashes. Ashes. Ashes.