Cassandra and Gibbin hopped off their steed and approached Olisha. The elder fawn tried to move her body around to face them, but the large man compensated by shifting to her front. He got on one knee and motioned down with his hand to keep her from overexerting herself.
"Relax," he said. "Do you need anything to eat?"
"No," her voice was weak, yet strong. Olisha was not as old as her body acted. She had to have been in her seventies, but life had worn her down. Cassandra noticed how frail her legs were, as well as her arms. Despite her denial of food, the woman's thin frame showed that she hadn't eaten much for quite a long time.
The brunette joined Gibbin as they knelt in front of her. "Please, is there anything that we can do for you?"
"Unfortunately, young lady, there is nothing you can do." Olisa kept her arms in her lap, smiling somberly at Cassandra as she looked at her. "I am old. One cannot reverse age. Even a fawn's healing has its limitations. Nobody lives forever."
Both Cassandra and Gibbin knew the meaning of those words very well. Death was always at their back. No matter how hard they tried to run from it, it always came to collect. Peaceful times were paid in the mounds of dead bodies that were doomed to follow.
The butcher wanted to do everything he could to salvage what was left of this world. It had never recovered from the wars of the previous centuries. The populations were scattered amongst the lands, and the fawns themselves had suffered the worst. Each death was another hack of the axe into the tree's trunk.
People were dying – and so was Locwitary itself.
Olisha addressed their initial requests, "You hail from another realm?"
Cassandra nodded. "I do."
Olisha nodded in return. "I always knew this day would come." She slowly extended her thin arm out. Her wrinkled palm opened in front of the pale woman who had sought her help. "Take my hand, dear child."
Cassandra hesitated for a second, knowing what had happened to Lia when she did so. Against her better judgment, she went ahead with the action, believing that Olisha was no stranger to such energy. Their hands connected, and the elder fawn closed her eyes for a moment.
She let out a hum, maintaining hold of Cassandra's hand as she opened her eyes back up. "As it is true." The brunette could already feel the warm energy circling between them. "One would call it fate that you arrived here, but it seems as though a break in fate has changed your destiny. Where one destiny dies…another begins."
"What was my destiny?" She asked.
"One where you died a monster," Olisha replied. "But now, you stand to thrive as a freed soul."
Cassandra let out a low gasp as she felt the energy that Olisha had course up through her arm. Flashes of an unfulfilled fate played out in her head. She saw the smoke that filled the armory where she and Ethan Winters had fought. The pipe bomb had blown up the wall, and her fate was sealed.
Bullets rang out through the tightly packed room, filled with knight's armor and assorted boxes. She witnessed herself swinging her sickle at him mindlessly, taking each gunshot that came her way. At one point, she stepped closer to the edge of the opened wall, and that was where she remembered Ethan's gun running empty.
Here would be the moment when he knocked her through the opening.
But, instead, there was a blue flickering light that appeared in a flash. It was too fast for anyone there to see when it happened. Through these visions, she was able to observe the anomaly. Cassandra saw a break of two realities; one where he reloaded his weapon and gunned her down – and the one where she was pushed out.
The splitting timelines held no effect on what would happen in the village as Ethan went about rescuing his daughter. But, it was her life that would be forever changed. Miranda, following Ethan's journey as he killed the four lords, would end up retrieving the dagger and ending the brunette's life with it.
That sent her soul across the realms, to a place where the weapon had been created. It all made sense now, but the break in realities itself did not. Why did these two timelines suddenly exist? Were there others that she did not know about?
I wasn't supposed to die the way I did. Did that other death happen? Is there another Cassandra out there who didn't end up in this world?
"Olisha," Cassandra asked. "What is that all about? What happened to me?"
The elder fawn replied with a comforting smile. "There is so much that we do not know about the realms, Cassandra. In all my years, I have only learned so little. But, my age has given me gifts that I may share with others. I cannot tell you why, as I do not know the answer."
She raised a finger in the air. "But…you will find your answers one day. That I know."
The brunette did not know what else to say. All of this was something greater than anything that she had ever imagined. It sounded like a peek into a future that had not yet been set. Like her death, it was nothing but a string of possibilities.
Most of all: Olisha came off like she was trying to tell her that those questions were not part of the battle that she was currently in. They would matter one day – but not today.
Gibbin could only look on with such confusion. He had no clue what either of the women was talking about, but his knowledge of the fawns convinced him to abstain from asking. He understood that he understood nothing. These magical women were connected to things that he could never comprehend.
The realms went beyond this world, and in a way, so did they.
Nevertheless, the man did offer one question that he hoped Olisha could answer, "When Cassandra leaves, I will go out to retrieve Leta. She has been taken by a fawn called Narratha. That woman murdered many of our townsfolk. I fear that she will also kill that child."
Olisha's expression morphed into one of regret and utter sadness. Hearing Narratha's name was the trigger that set forth the catalyst of despair. Cassandra could sense that something else was about to be divulged – and how right she was.
"I know Narratha very well," Olisha stated. "She was one of us. A member of the commune that used to be here." The old woman licked her lips and closed her eyes. "Her path of destruction has not ended."
Gibbin leaned closer, looking as desperate as ever. "Please, you must tell me what I can do to stop her! She is powerful. Are there any fawns around the area that can come to my aid?"
Olisha shook her head. "There are no fawns around here. They're all scattered across the land. Narratha's quest for vengeance has come at a terrible cost, and even if you did find a fawn who could help, she would kill them."
The man remained persistent, "Is there any way to stop her?"
"She is her own greatest enemy," the elder fawn explained. "But, her ferocity is coupled with her hatred. A fawn as powerful as Lia could stand up to her, but…she has killed them all."
Cassandra interjected, "I must ask: if there is no fawn as powerful as Lia, then how can I ever return to my world?"
Olisha looked at her. "The power to bring you home and the power to defeat Narratha are not weighed on the same scale. I can bring you home, but I cannot stop her."
Cassandra parted her lips as she sat there. Leaving Gibbin to rescue Leta was even more hopeless than she had thought. The man was bound to get killed. He'd be dead in two seconds the moment he came walking up to her. Narratha would murder Leta and continue to lay waste to these people, and that seemed to be that.
Olisha took a breath and sat forward. "Narratha wasn't always who she is today. She used to be one of our most devoted and loving sisters. Even in the final moments, before I discovered what she had done, I thought of her as nothing else but an example of dedication."
Cassandra didn't know what to say. What could have happened that changed her? Was Narratha truly once a fawn as pure as someone like Lia?
"She wasn't alone," Gibbin added. "There was another fawn by her side, who took part in the massacre."
Olisha covered her mouth as she lowered her head again. "Then she has found what she sought: another fawn willing to partake in what she believes to be 'justice.'"
Cassandra peaked over at Gibbin, who in turn, shot a glance her way. "She wanted Lia. What for?"
Olisha sighed. "Power."
Ten Years Ago
The night had been long, and with the sky as dark as it was, the emergence of daylight was far away. Inside their tent, Nackia and Narratha sat across from one another. The younger sibling said nothing as she watched her sister shake and tremble against herself.
It had been two days since that terrible afternoon – but the events were still fresh in her mind.
With her arms wound tight against her legs, Narratha's tears kept flowing as her hands gripped the bottom of her white gown. Her lips quivered underneath her wide, misty, pink eyes. Her bundles of bushy hair draped over her shoulders. She looked like a shell of her former self – torn to ruin by the lustful acts of men who relinquished their souls.
"Narratha," Nackia called to her in a low voice. "Please, talk to me." She did not know what else to do. This argument had been going on for the last couple of hours. Her sister's repeated screams and cries had drawn the attention of the other fawns, but when they came by to see her, she was quick to demand that they leave.
As surges, the redhead felt that their acts of compassion were hollow. They were the same ones who left her to rot in front of the elders. They said nothing as she spoke from her heart, reducing her heartache to nothing more than pointless savagery.
If they would not raise a fist to demand justice for the raped and the murdered, then what would they do for her?
With bared teeth, she turned to Nackia and glared at her sharply. "I already did, but, you do not understand!"
"I do, Narratha!" Nackia tried to reach her. "You're suffering and you –"
"Do you?!" She shouted, breaking her hold around herself as she pointed a finger to her chest. "Do you know what it is like to be held down by a group of men, helpless as they treat your body as if it is not yours? I can still feel their hands all over me, Nackia!"
Narratha's face grew tenser, and her voice roared with stress as she began to lose control, "I bathe and I bathe, and yet, I cannot remove their touch from my skin! I cannot sit without feeling pain! The taste of them is still in my mouth…do you understand that?!"
Nackia backed down. She felt like an utter fool to have even said what she did. She did not understand. "Please, I am only trying to help."
"Oh!" Narratha lifted her eyebrows. "You wish to help? That is new."
"Sister…"
"No." Narratha whimpered as she tucked her head into her arms. "Our entire lives, I have been the one to help you. As we got older, you changed. I would have thought that you'd stand by my side when I spoke to the elders. But, instead, you remained silent!"
"You were talking about killing poils, Narratha!" Nackia tried to reason with her. She knew that her sister was more distressed than ever, and not thinking straight. She had been getting progressively worse over the last two days, and the isolation that she threw herself in was only harming her even more. "Olisha and the other elders want to help you, but we cannot allow ourselves to choose violence."
"Children were violated, Nackia!" Narratha snapped her dreadful stare toward her sibling. "You didn't see what I saw! None of the elders did! I was aware of the activities that poils take part in with themselves. I knew what they were about to do when they dragged me into that tent and tore my clothes off from my body."
She paused for a moment, and then spoke with an eerily low tone, "But, did Balia?"
Nackia kept quiet.
"Did Balia understand what that poil was about to do to her?" Narratha's arms removed themselves from her legs as she stood up. "To even think about what went through that child's mind during her final minutes of life makes me want to scream!" She kicked a pile of books that were on the ground into the edge of the tent the two of them sat in.
Nackia stood up, eyes wide at the sight of her sister's outburst.
Narratha's anger only grew stronger. "He raped her! A grown man forced himself into the body of a girl with only eight years of life lived, and nobody but me stood up for her! You all consider me to be below you because of my lack of powers, but what about Balia? She was a young surge, and what did she get? Silence? I demanded justice because of my love for our sisters. You and the surges – our protectors – failed to do anything!"
"I will not kill!" Nackia screamed.
"Because you are all cowards!" Narratha's years of pent-up resentment took hold at that instant. She went to grab her in a fit of uncontrolled fury. She did not have a plan for what she would do. The pressure that existed inside her had to come out.
As soon as her hands snagged Nackia's collar, her sister went on the defense; pushing against the redhead's face with her hand.
With her rage at the wheel – fueled by her perception of Nackia's inaction – Narratha lost control and bit down on her palm, drawing blood.
Nackia shrieked from the sudden infliction of pain, and her screams caused Narratha to let go. "Ow! What is wrong with you?!"
The older sibling wiped her mouth. The taste of crimson had seeped onto her tongue, and she was too aggravated to even spit it out. Sensing that she had gone too far, Narratha's brow furrowed as she looked at her. It was like she was processing everything that she had just heard. There wasn't a clear-cut answer that she had wanted to hear. In truth, she just wanted her sister to at least support her.
She turned away, back toward her collection of blankets that she slept on. "It's not about killing. It's about letting them know what can happen if they try to kill us."
The redhead sat back down on the fur coverings that rested on top of the grass. "Dhins are not hunted like ginyols or ipolits, Nackia, and do you know why?"
Her sister lowered her shoulders as she laid her eyes on her, still clutching her bleeding hand. "Because they are dangerous, Narratha."
She nodded. "That they are." Narratha exhibited a calm response. She had been too far exhausted from the fight, and the revelation of what she had just done to her sister reminded her that she was on the brink of collapse. Nevertheless, her demons would not go unheard. "They are ravenous predators, but when you watch them, you see that they are loving creatures. They nurture their young. They protect them. As brutal as they are, they are docile."
Nackia groaned as she retrieved a strip of cloth to wrap around her hand. Her sister had sunk her teeth into her quite deep. An act of violence such as this was one that she had never exhibited before. It left the youngest of the two shaken up, and while she kept up with the conversation, she could not help but feel unnerved at what she was seeing.
Narratha needed help.
"Dhins go out of their way to kill, Narratha. A dhin took the life of our mother, have you forgotten?"
Narratha's eyes floated around the inside of their tent. She appeared dazed, yet, cognizant. "No. No, I haven't. How could I ever forget? Maybe you're right. Dhins are not the best example. Yet, remember when concerns were brought up about how close they were to our commune?"
The bleeding on Nackia's hand was finally beginning to clot. She tied the rag tighter before she glanced back at her sibling. "You asked the elders if the surges could ward them away."
"And they said 'no,' did they not? They did not want us to harm nature. A month later, our mother was attacked while picking fruit." Narratha released a couple more tears from her eyes. "Do you see now? We abide by these rules, and all they do is get us killed. I do not want to see another young fawn's body molested by the poils. You've heard the stories of the great conflict centuries ago. We gave them a chance and look what they did. If I cannot wield the power to protect our people, at least allow me to carry the torch to guide us to safety."
"You speak of 'safety' as if killing poils will not sour relations as they are." Nackia took another breath before she sat down. "They will seek revenge, and they will come for us. Then fawns will seek them out. Then they kill some more of us. We kill some more of them. The cycle continues until we are both dead. Let this tragedy stand as a reminder of our fortitude to end this. Locwitary has lost its children to themselves."
The traumatized fawn scoffed at such a perspective. "So, we must resign ourselves to fear, because to resist their actions is too dangerous? What a joke you are, Nackia."
Nackia's face winced as she pressed her lips. Tears were already beginning to form under her eyes as she tugged harder on the knot of her bandaged bite wound. "Do you truly think of me that way? After all my mistakes, have you truly lost your love for me?"
Narratha wiped a tear away from her eye as she heard what Nackia had to say.
The younger redhead sniffled as she sat down on her bed. The tension in the air had grown thicker by the minute. This episode had gone on for so long that she just wanted it to be over, but she couldn't find it within herself to abandon Narratha in this time of need. Sadly, it seemed as though she may have already had.
Nackia spoke to her again when she did not respond, "I just want my sister, no one else."
"I've wanted my sister for years," Narratha replied softly, curling back up into the ball she had previously been in. "When you became a surge, you didn't need me anymore. I did not get any powers, and you moved on. I did everything I could to raise you, and you traded me for the other surges – all because of what I lacked."
Her soddened eyes raised to meet those of the woman across from her. "I lacked so much, and I still gave you everything. I gave this commune everything. I sacrificed my innocence for the others, and nobody helped me. I am suffering, Nackia. I've been suffering for years, and you let me suffer."
Those words shattered Nackia's heart into pieces. She whimpered into her hands, unable to even look at Narratha. "I am sorry! I know what I did wasn't right! Please, just let me help you! I cannot bear to see you like this! This anger you hold will only rot your heart, and whatever I can do to resolve it, I shall!"
Listening to her cry, Narratha breathed a shuddered breath before she rose to her feet. This was too much for her as well, and she needed to get some air. Her frustration with the way her life had been over the last couple of years only made the devastation of the massacre greater. She could not find it in herself to simply let go when all it did was solidify her view of the way things already were. She was too angry to forgive, even though part of her believed the sincerity of Nackia's pleas.
"I'm going to go for a walk, by myself." Narratha extended her arm to unravel the opening to the tent, which invited a rush of the cool nighttime air into their small dwelling. She huffed a deep breath, fighting to balance her animosity and her rationality. "I want my sister back, too. It's just…things aren't going to be the same for me, anymore. I've given all I had."
Nackia stopped her tears just enough so that she could calm herself. Wiping her eyes against her forearms, the fawn cleared her throat as she watched her step out of the tent. "You will always be my sister, Narratha. I would give up all my powers if it meant I could have you forever in my life."
The redhead sighed as they locked eyes one, final time. "I wish you had."
She shut the tent opening. The sound of Nackia's crying remained in the back of her ears longer than she could hear it. The walk away from the commune felt longer than usual, and the dark cloak of the night made her journey appear endless. Her other four senses were heightened by the obscurity of the shadows. Life had been an abyss of chance ever since the brutal rape that she had endured that day.
Nothing felt like it was in order. Her body was nothing more than a tattered blanket, riddled with tears and holes. She was incomplete, as if what she had before had been stolen from her, and no matter how much she tried to repair it – those wounds would never leave.
Sitting on the grass, between the commune and the edge of the forest, Narratha continued to stew in her mind as she stared aimlessly at the stars. As the ever-growing cool wind trailed around her body, she allowed herself to be enveloped by the breeze. Motionless in her sorrow, she couldn't find the strength to fight it.
Narratha felt more alone than ever before. Ever since she voiced her opinion in front of the elders, the other fawns began to avoid her, it seemed. Her mental state since had been nothing short of hostile. Every ounce of self-regret had managed to boil its way to the top, and the sexual trauma she had endured had thrown the lid off the kettle.
She felt cheated from life, due to the lack of powers she held. She had already lived like an outcast. Now, it was like the commune was finally about to spit her out and cast her aside forever. As much as Nackia wanted to help, Narratha saw her efforts as vain. Had she decided to lend a voice to her when she stood up to Olisha and the other elders, there could have been some level of understanding.
To her – that was Nackia's opportunity to prove that she cared.
Breathing a sigh, Narratha dipped her head and closed her eyes. This night would be longer than she expected, and at the rate that she was going, sleep would not be in the cards. She would just stay here, waiting for the Spector Moons to –
"What the…" Narratha felt something tingling inside her mouth. She raised her hand to touch her lips, where they turned numb, and then warm. The taste of crimson was still in the back of her teeth. She patted her tongue against the roof of her gums. Something wasn't right.
The sensation began to travel down her neck and then to her shoulders. She began to panic, gripping various parts of her body as it made its way down her arms. Nervously whimpering, Narratha did not know what to do. Was this a medical condition that she had been unaware of? Had she been poisoned in some way?
The faint touch of the strange feeling reached her fingertips – and a blue glow shined from them.
She could not believe her eyes. It was magic.
"Did I just do that?" Narratha closed her eyes and shook her head vigorously. She had to be dreaming. There was no way that had just happened. She spread her fingers again and watched in awe as more blue particles of light began to flicker.
She gasped at the sight of it. Her chest quaked as she covered her mouth. How was this finally possible?
That was when her tongue graced her lips, and the taste of iron once again showed itself.
The blood.
With her mouth still tingling from the power that had been bestowed upon it, Narratha was left in the field to sit there, pondering about what the next step would be. She had finally unlocked her powers, but the path to unlocking them was unnatural. The fawn elders had been instrumental in teaching the children everything that they needed to know about life itself.
Meetings were held where both surges and non-surges were educated in the fawn ways, and how life in this world could be safely lived. There had never been any mention of blood. Why?
Without any answers to be reached, Narratha could only conclude that she would have to find them out for herself. Her mind rattled with a barrage of endless possibilities – and she needed to put them to rest.
Nackia was already fast asleep by the time she had returned to the tent. The hour had grown late, and Narratha had not done a good job of keeping up with the time. Most of the fawns – if not all of them – were already in bed. She was likely the only one still awake, her body fueled by the adrenaline inside her.
She was anxious; hungry for the truth. She needed to know more about what was happening.
As her sister slept, Narratha had thrown caution to the wind and retrieved the rag that had been tied around her hand. She was careful not to wake the younger fawn as she unraveled it, but as the cloth came undone, the dark red splotches of blood inside revealed themselves. It was still wet.
Narratha peered at the wound that she had left on her sibling's hand, right beside her thumb and forefinger. Her skin was crated with the display of various, penetrating teeth marks. It was no wonder why Nackia had screamed the way that she did. The redhead had chewed into her like a wild animal. Such viciousness was the fruit of anger, and she carried it all too well.
As the minutes passed by, Narratha suckled on the rag, ingesting the blood in pursuit of her theory. If she was correct: the sanguine liquid would continue to trigger an influx of energy inside her. She already had a baseline for where to start, and if her limitations grew, then this would be a success.
And sure enough – it was.
Narratha began to feel greater levels of energy coursing throughout her skin and body. The streams of crimson that she twisted out of the rag dripped down her throat. It activated her senses within an instant, and the blue particles that her fingers exuded multiplied tenfold. Even a non-surge couldn't amass this number of particles in such a short period.
As soon as she finished seeping the blood from the fabric, Narratha set it down and was left to think about where she was – and what she was doing.
It had been almost two hours since she had taken to the rag to ingest Nackia's blood. Narratha still had yet to move from her spot. The flow of energy was still making itself known. Her veins vibrated with a string of warmth that she had never felt before. All of this was so new, and yet, she felt like she had been in control of it her entire life.
Thoughts were beginning to creep into her mind. Dark thoughts. Narratha could not remove herself from focusing on all the transgressions that the other fawns had committed against her. It wasn't the greatest wave of anger that she had ever had, but it was there. Her time in the field had helped to simmer down her troubles, but upon her return, they all came crawling back.
She picked up the rag again and twisted it, hoping to squeeze out the last few droplets of blood that she could. Drip by drip, they fell onto the tip of her tongue and she swallowed them down.
Just a little more, she decided. She would soon have the powers that she needed to prove herself to everyone. She would no longer be a useless body amongst a colony of magic beings. She could show them what she was capable of. She could be one of them.
The dark thoughts only started to progress, however, and Narratha soon found herself feeling more disdain for those whom she had lived alongside. She grit her teeth as she tried to shrug the memories away, but the gangrape that she had suffered returned to her mind immediately.
Flashes of the nude poils grabbing onto her body catapulted her heart into wrath. All she could think about at that point was how much she wanted to destroy them. They were the reason why she was like this now. Her life was starting to go down the right track to happiness, but they had to kill everything she loved with their lustful desires.
They took her life. She wanted to take theirs.
In the deepest recesses of her ears, she could hear the fading cries of Balia as that repulsive man dragged her along the ground. Narratha clenched her fists as the echoes bombarded her auditory senses. Her chest rose with a heavy intake. Her newfound powers leveled with her rage, and as much as she hated feeling this way, she could not let them go.
Narratha mumbled to herself, "I need more."
She grabbed the rag again but found it dry. There was not a single drop of blood left. with the particles now fading from her fingers, she felt like she was close to drifting back into her original state. She could not let this opportunity go, and as the hate festered in her brain – so did a terrible idea.
She glared at her sister, who was still fast asleep.
The next half hour was spent treading on the waters of temptation. It was a temptation that was slowly beginning to win, as her contempt for the lack of help Nackia gave her propelled that idea into action. The younger redhead had been blessed with the power to save the fawns, but she chose to do nothing – just like all the other surges.
Every other fawn had blindly followed along, marching forward into death without a fist to be raised. As soon as Narratha broke ranks, she was outcasted. After all her years of taking care of her family and the community; working tirelessly through the day without any magic to aid her, she was nothing to them when the time to speak up arose.
Her sister was someone she once loved so dearly, but as soon as she got her powers, Narratha didn't matter anymore. The surges had taken her place as older sisters. Balia, the only fawn who gave her the chance to fill that role, was dead.
She had no one left.
That was when Narratha decided that while she would fight for the fawns, she would not fight for those who did not fight for themselves, in one form or the other.
Nackia had been given her powers, and to Narratha – she squandered them.
Taking a deep breath, Narratha got up from where she sat and mindlessly walked out of the tent once more. When she returned, Nackia was still asleep. She did not make a single sound as the older redhead sat next to her on both knees. For all her great strength as a surge, she could not sense her sister staring down at her.
She never saw the heavy rock that Narratha held in her hands.
In the last few minutes, the redhead had seen every negative feeling that she ever had grow to exponential proportions. It triggered parts of her that she never knew existed, and brought upon an action that she never thought herself capable of. Her lips curled with disdain as she glared at the sister who had left her to decay in front of them all.
Her fingers clenched the edges of the stone. In this tent, a dreadful moment in history was about to unfold. The newfound desire for blood took hold of the reigns, casting aside the value of her sister's life for the greater good. Narratha raised the rock above her head.
The Cain and Abel of a different universe.
"It should have been me…"
Narratha smashed the rock against Nackia's face with all her might.
The fawn's nose erupted in a fountain of bright red blood. Her eyelids pressed before they shot open. Waves of crimson cascaded down her cheeks, concealing the white and purple impact marks that bruised her skin. Her green eyes peered at her sister above her, while her mouth sprang open.
Crimson pooled around the curves of her eye sockets, with some of the fluid spilling into her eyes themselves. Narratha did not relent. As soon as the rock was raised above her head again, she brought it back down onto Nackia's skull, splintering her forehead.
More blood splashed out. Another blow followed.
Grunting as she murdered her sister, Narratha continued to slam the rock against her face. Masked in globs of red, Nackia's convulsions soon ceased as parts of her skull started to sink inward. The rock was painted in blood, which caused the redhead's fingers to slip around as she went to strike her some more.
Several more hits – the final one ended with a flustered growl.
Animalistic instinct took over. Everything was happening so quickly that Narratha didn't even have time to think about the life that she had just taken. Desperate for air, she threw the rock off to the side and paused to catch her breath. Once her lungs were filled, she descended upon Nackia's battered face.
Every ounce of blood that she could consume was scooped into her hand and brought to her mouth. When her palms went empty, she brought her lips to the smashed remnants of her sibling's head and licked the skin clean. Streaks of pale tissue shined under the tints of crimson. The taste was as disgusting as she could have predicted, but with every drop, she felt the powers inside her grow.
Her plan was working, and she needed more.
Resorting to the next idea that could come to mind, Narratha seized the opportunity that the torn segments of flesh nearby provided. She bit into Nackia's smashed face, ripping away as much as she could. Chewing and swallowing the portions down, the chunks of meat proved to be just as useful.
She bit into Nackia's throat, engorging herself on the blood that was static inside her arteries. The redhead's mouth, chest, and hands were now completely covered in the substance.
By the time she was done, Nackia's skull and throat were ravaged. While there was an entire body still left to siphon more energy from, Narratha's thoughts compelled her to turn away from this fawn, and onto those that carried greater power.
The elders. They wielded energy stronger than any other surge in the commune.
They were also the ones who blindly followed in the poil's demands, and cast her aside when she stood up for the dead.
To Narratha: they did not deserve their power – nor their lives.
She emerged from the tent, the veins in her arms flaring into a bright blue beneath her liquid coat of sin. She was so much stronger now, and her belly was far from full.
"Almost…there…"
The elders were known to sleep in their own respective, little tents. As the bloodied fawn made her way across the field, she stopped to retrieve a small knife from the commune's cooking pit. The sharp blade would do enough to serve her in what would come next. While she felt strong, Narratha understood that magic would disrupt her endeavor. She needed to remain as quiet as possible.
Sneaking into the first elder's tent, Narratha observed Pentala lying on her side as she slept on the ground. Just as it was in her own tent, the only occupants were the victim and the killer. The senses of the elders were highly precise, but amid their slumber, even magic was unable to detect the slow and steady walk of the redhead as she moved closer.
As soon as she got onto a knee, Narratha covered the aged fawn's mouth as she ran her knife across her throat. Blood erupted up onto the both of them, and as soon as the blade had left Pentala's cleaved skin, it returned for another swipe to deepen the cut.
The elder's eyes gazed helplessly at the one who had slit her throat. In her last few seconds of consciousness, she saw the face of a monster. A dhin cloaked in the skin of a ginyol.
Narratha – a once devoted sister – had descended into darkness.
What followed was nothing short of pure, calculated carnage. Narratha had carved off sections of Pentala's flesh to eat, strengthening her abilities before she left the slaughtered corpse where it was. There were still elders to devour, and before dawn came, she would have to end their lives before they could intervene.
She entered the tents of the next two elders, her body becoming increasingly stained in blood with each visit. The act was just the same: she approached them when they were sleeping, and drove the knife as far into their necks as she could. Her strong build allowed her to disperse the layers of flesh in their necks without issue. She gleefully watched as their eyes and hands bloomed with flashes of blue.
Their powers would do nothing to help them in this sudden collision with death. As she climbed the ladder of murder, Narratha's anger compelled her to react to their resistance with even more cruelty. She would stab them in the chest, just for good measure as they were close to dying.
Jassia, the second oldest elder, had her eyes gouged from her remains and tossed aside. Narratha reveled in the bloodshed, finding solace in the powers she obtained while eating them, while also finding justice for what they had done to her.
Her pattern of thinking narrowed. All she could focus on was her mission. Nothing else in this life or world mattered to her. It was a strange shift, and though part of her decried what she did, the glaring sting of old wounds was quickly filled with the optimism she had at her evolution.
Nothing about her life would change if these fawns were left alive. They needed to be killed, so that she could ascend to the role that she so rightfully deserved. They led the fawns to ruin.
She would bring them to salvation.
After three of the elders had been mercilessly butchered inside their dwellings and chewed apart, Narratha still found her stomach hungry for more.
When dawn finally came, the other fawns had begun to emerge from their tents. It was to be like any other morning. The Spector Moons offered a clear blue sky, bordered by a yellow hue of the fading night. Mothers and daughters of all ages stepped out onto the grass, ready to commence their pre-planned day.
The content faces of those who expected normalcy were shattered when the first fawn let out a blood-chilling scream. They all turned their heads to the source of the cry, and when they saw her sister's frightened stares point in a single direction, their own eyes followed.
More screams sounded off, and those who wondered what the commotion was all about soon found that every shriek and cry was well-earned.
In the center of the commune, they saw a bloodied Narratha standing there. All around her were the assembled corpses of Nackia and the three elders that she had murdered. With her knife, she had decapitated them all. Their abdomens had not been spared any desecration. She unzipped their guts, yanking them out and throwing them across the grass.
The commune was left to watch as she continued to dine on what was left of Nackia's head. The fawn's face had been reduced to exposed bone and strings of loose skin. The knife served to peel back her scalp, keeping her wavy red hair out of Narratha's way as she ripped off more chunks of muscle like a carnivorous beast.
Chuckling with her teeth ensnared around the base of Nackia's detached spine, Narratha's bright green eyes beamed at the others. This was not just pure chance. She had been waiting for this moment to happen, and the elimination of three of the four elders was not by coincidence.
She knew what the screams of her former sisters would bring.
"Narratha!" They cried. "What did you do?!"
"Why?!"
"The elders! Narratha!"
It was music to her ears. They had all gotten what they deserved, and to see them finally feel the kind of grief that she had felt was justice, in its own dark way. If they so loved one another more than her, they would learn what it was like to lose those people. Only then, would they truly understand loss.
Hearing the screams, Olisha materialized beside them. The last remaining elder's eyes grew wide as she beheld the gory display that had been left out for all of them to see. Her hands covered her mouth as she sobbed where she stood. Narratha greeted her with a grim smile – right as she tossed Nackia's head onto the ground.
The redhead chuckled again as she advanced toward her, her hands enveloped in a blue fire. "Does my voice carry weight now, dear elder?"
Olisha's voice trembled in her palms, "Narratha, what have you done?!"
The killer licked her bloody lips, sampling some more of the crimson to keep her body going. With a menacing scowl, she pointed her fiery finger at the woman. "Re-shaping fate."
The other fawns huddled back as they moved to put space in between Narratha and Olisha. They could see just how dangerous she was, and if anyone could stop her, it would be the elder. Mothers turned their children away, directing them to return to their tents. It was just like the poils all over again, and the redhead shook her head as she watched them cower and hide.
She withdrew her arm, wiping the blood across the ends of her fur cape. "What is my punishment, elder Olisha? Am I to pick baskets of fruits for the children? Long hours hauling branches across the fields? Hmm? What is the penance for murder?"
Fighting to gain control of herself, Olisha knew that she had to put an end to this. She stood tall against the rogue fawn, voice stern as ever as she flashed her waves of energy across the ground. "Narratha, you have destroyed more than you could ever –"
"Silence!" The redhead shouted. "You stand against me, yet, allow the poils who ravaged us run free? You offered two of our youngest to the man who brought them here, as what? A token of our goodwill? You have failed this commune, Olisha!"
The elder channeled more of her energy through her hands. Even though she was old, she was still capable of unleashing considerable power. "I stand against you because of what you plan to do! You have already killed! Narratha, see what you have done!"
She glanced down at the corpses on the grass. The dead elders littered the soil, but it was Nackia who caught her eye again. Narratha's face was without expression as she turned her eyes away from the deceased ones. They were gone, and the only thing that she could think about was how their deaths meant more to Olisha than Balia's.
This sudden arrival of the elder's will to fight only deepened her perception of what was wrong with this commune. To her – Olisha was the source of the problem. As long as there were fawns like her out there, little ones like Balia would always be in danger.
She had to kill her.
"What is my penance, Olisha? Answer me that question."
"Relinquish yourself of this power," the elder ordered. "Place your hands on the ground and cease any further action. We will decide where you are to go."
"Does that entail death?"
"I will not kill you, Narratha. That is what separates us."
Narratha grinned in disbelief, only to let out a scoff. "So, even after all that I've done, you will not stop me from doing it? Is that punishment worthy of the crime?" A low chuckle followed. "Terrible answer."
Before Olisha could even respond, Narratha vanished out of view. The aged fawn stepped back as she sensed the rebounding of her energy darting all around. The redhead was untrained in a surge's power, which meant that she would be reckless and unpredictable. As soon as the path of particles made its presence in a specific area and began to grow dense, the elder was already on the defense.
She prepared her hands, hoping to ensnare the rogue fawn in a firm hold and bring her down. As soon as Narratha materialized, Olisha was suddenly hit with a direct blast of flame to her chest. It knocked her off her feet and sent the leader spinning across the soil.
Narratha ran forward with a scream, jumping as her hands encased themselves in blue fire. She slammed her arms down upon the elder, just as Olisha created a force shield to counter it.
The two stayed locked in combat; Olisha down on a knee, with Narratha standing above her.
Despite her total lack of experience, Narratha's power was accelerated by the sheer amount of hatred inside her. It allowed her to channel substantial quantities of fire, and though parts of her skin turned red from the heat, she avoided a burnout with the aid of the blood she had consumed. It thickened her arteries and veins, allowing her to remain intact throughout the fight.
Olisha may have been the strongest elder, but that meant nothing when matched with an enemy whose sole intent was to fight to the death. Narratha would kill the two of them if she had to – but she did not plan on failing.
Pushing harder against the shield that Olisha had formed, Narratha expelled her fire across it, hoping to find a weak spot. The tendrils of flames swarmed across the blue field, eventually trickling in through the small cracks in its foundation. No field of energy was ever perfect, and the redhead chose to exploit it the moment that she could.
As soon as she detected the cracks, Narratha's hands fired an explosion of heat, which flowed deeper into the shield and scorched Olisha's arms. At the expense of the blisters on her hands, the killer had succeeded in breaking through, and the elder fawn was forced to drop her defenses due to the pain.
It was a horrible choice, as Narratha quickly closed in on her. A second round of fire was thrown her way, and Olisha had to suffer significant burns across her arm as she tried to block the next attack. She cried out in agony as she stumbled onto the ground. Retreating would do her no good, as her assailant would not allow her to get away.
Narratha shouted a furious cry as she used her powers to grip Olisha's leg, pulling her closer and holding her in place as she slammed a heavy, blunt force down onto her head and chest. The pummeling pressure of condensed gravity was enough to wind the elder down.
Though Narratha's hands were now beginning to bleed from all the power she had conjured, she would not be stopped. With Olisha already injured from the blow, this was her chance to win the fight.
Powers were one thing, and elders were the strongest among the flock. However, physical strength was another – and Narratha had that on her side.
Before Olisha could open her eyes, a hard set of knuckles crashed into her nose. Her head rocked back, placing her into a daze. Before she knew it, Narratha was already on top of her. Another punch struck her face, and then another. Through her fluctuating state of consciousness, the elder could hear the chuckles of joy that the redhead breathed as she continued to hit her.
Helpless fawns in the background pleaded for Narratha to show Olisha mercy.
"Do not kill her!"
"Narratha, stop it!"
She would not listen. Punch after punch, she battered Olisha's face until her nose and mouth were a bloody pulp. The elder gasped for air, spitting out specks of blood across Narratha's chest. The redhead smiled as she loomed over her, delighted to see the commune's respected leader fall to her hand.
Another strike to the face followed – and a surge from the group came running out to save her.
"Enough, Narratha!" Shouted Kintarra, one of the young adults. She threw a blast of fire at the killer, but Narratha deflected it, ignoring the flaring pain that her worm palms had faced.
Without saying a single word, Narratha fired back, and the blast she was able to expel struck Kintarra in both her legs. The other fawns had to watch in horror as the surge's knees and shins exploded from the incredible force. She let out a scream as blood gushed down her calves, and as she fell, the redhead followed up with another string of power.
The center of Kintarra's chest blasted apart steadily, traveling upwards from her sternum to her collarbones. The splintering of bone acted like shrapnel against the soil, while her muscles and lungs were peeled apart instantly. A burst of crimson signaled the obliterated heart that once powered her body, and in its destruction, the fawn dropped to the ground – dead.
More fawns cried out to her, "Why, Narratha?! Why are you doing this?!"
Olisha had watched the killing, and to protect the rest of the commune, she raised her arms and surrendered to Narratha. "Please, do not hurt them! Kill me, instead!"
Narratha's palms had been cut open by the attack that she had unleashed. Despite the injury, she angrily turned her attention toward her elder, shoulders raised and fists clenched as she approached her. Her voice growled with venom, "You feeble…weak…old woman!"
Olisha received a kick to the side of her ribs.
"My days of listening to you are over." She grabbed Olisha by the jaws, snarling through her teeth as she spoke to her, "I should kill you, but you will be the only one who will live." Narratha shoved her head back to the dirt as she let go. "This commune is over."
She kicked Olisha again, forcing the elderly woman to her side. Narratha grabbed the large, white fur cape along the fawn's back, using her foot to keep her victim's body down. With both her hands, she pulled up and tore the cape off her. "You are not fit to lead. This belongs to me now. It is your turn to suffer."
With Olisha still rolling around on the ground in pain, Narratha removed the cape that she already had on, and affixed the one she had stolen onto her shoulders. It was the final insult to injury. Her way of refracting the humiliation that had been brought upon her.
She turned to the other fawns, who were all huddled up and crying at the loss of their elders and respective sisters. With a deep breath, Narratha's green eyes glinted at them all, and the look of hatred on her face was clearer than ever before. "You have chosen this. All of you have. You wish to be defiled and killed? Then, fine, enjoy the fates you have sowed for yourselves, cowards! I will no longer shed my blood, sweat, or tears for you. I have a greater purpose now, and I will avenge every fawn who believed in themselves who is not here today because of our elders."
She glanced at Olisha again and spat at her. "This is all your fault."
Olisha's hands shook in the air as she feared what Narratha may do next. "No more violence, Narratha…"
The redhead grinned. "Words will not stop this, you fool. I kill because you allow me to. Such is the way, is it not?"
She turned to the rest of the commune. "It would be wise to run, as I will return, and more of you who cling to our old ways will die. You are on your own, now." As soon as she uttered those last words, Narratha's body dispersed, and she was gone from view.
Her stomach was full.
Present Day
"After that…" Olisha tried to push her body up in her chair. "Everything changed. None of the fawns felt safe here. They all ran away, hoping to avoid what Narratha would do to them. Over the years, I heard the stories told by fawns and poils that wandered by. I knew that Narratha was still out there, killing."
Gibbin covered his mouth as he lowered his head. "She is a true monster."
"No," Olisha informed him. "The fawn I saw that day was not the one I loved. It is the blood that has corrupted her mind. Fawns were never meant to eat each other. In Narratha's case, the blood of surges granted her the powers she always wanted, but it is mentally destroying her. She grieves for Balia, but she is poisoned with hate, and the blood is making it worse."
Even after all the carnage that she had witnessed, Olisha still held faith that Narratha's soul was not lost. The memories of the loving, yet, lost fawn would not be wiped away – even after her fall from grace.
Cassandra took Olisha by her hand. The brunette cupped her fingers around the elder's palm, holding it close as she sought guidance. "There has to be something that can be done about her."
Olisha heard what Cassandra had to ask, but her mind seemed to pay more attention to something else. The warmth between their hands returned, and the fawn's grip on her hands tightened. "You died not once – but twice."
"I'm sorry?" She did not know what to say.
"In your world, you were thousands of insects, joining together to become a woman who once was. Those flies, all those fragmented flies, carrying a piece of your life as their own. A fawn's magic can only focus on one life, but you are many. Now, that you are here, you have been given the chance to live again."
What does that mean? Why is she talking like that?
"Olisha," Cassandra begged. "Please, explain this to me. What do the flies have to do with this?"
The elder hummed as she brought Cassandra's hand closer to her chest. A bright glow emanated from her palms as she held her. "You were never supposed to be in this world. If I send you back to yours, you can change things. If you stay here, you can change things. Narratha thought that she was re-shaping fate, but fate is an illusion. You, Cassandra, are an example of that. You can choose whatever life you wish."
I can choose my life…
Olisha kissed her hand. "I am too old. I cannot stop Narratha, but I can bring you to wherever you wish to go. My senses are great, and if you wish to go back to your world, I can take you to the moment you desire to return to. If you stay here, I can bring you to Narratha. However, no matter what you choose, that will be it. I will not be able to do it again."
The elder smiled at her with confidence. "Make your choice, dear child."
All Cassandra could think about was the life that awaited her back at home. The moment she returned to that castle, Locwitary would have been a distant dream. She would be back inside that cold valley. Miranda's plan would slowly be coming together, and she tried to think about how she would save Bela and Daniela from death.
She even considered, for a brief moment, returning to the life that she had before that. Maybe, she thought, her original family could be saved. But, as that thought progressed inside her head, her hope faded faster than smoke in the wind.
We were all doomed from the start. My family. Bela and Daniela. Those maids. We were all supposed to die. Ethan stopped Miranda, at the cost of his life, but it was all already done. As long as the cadou lives in my sister's heads, they are bound to Alcina's will. We were nothing but flies. That castle was filled with the ghosts of dead women, who were trapped in a tragic moment that would never stop. I will go back home, and I will die again.
A set of tears fell from her eyes.
All I've been thinking about since I got here was returning home, but Olisha is right: I have died twice. My home is gone. She knows something that I don't, and she is trying to tell me that there is more than I know. Wait…I see it now!
Olishia suddenly spoke, as if she had heard everything that Cassandra was thinking, "Narratha could never let her past go. You did. You are no longer lost in the shadows."
Cassandra looked at her as her lips quivered. Her glassy stare was met with the green glow of a fawn wiser than anyone else. This was the moment that would define the brunette for the rest of her life.
I've come to terms with what has happened to Bela and Daniela. I know that they are gone. I cannot bring them back…
Olisha smiled with a comforting warmth in her gaze. "One fate at a time, Cassandra."
The brunette nodded as she chose her path. "Take me to Narratha."
Gibbin stood up and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Cassandra, wait! What are you doing?"
"I need to save Leta," she answered.
"Narratha will kill you!"
"As she will kill you," Cassandra released Olisha and stood up. "But you have a home here. Acomb. Those people need you. The fawns here scattered, and Narratha hunted them down. What was the point of Acomb, Gibbin?"
He squinted his brow in confusion. "It was a place for everyone…to come together."
She smiled at him with a somber look. "They are scared, and they need someone like you to guide them. I saw the way they listened to you. I saw how much you loved them all. We both have killed, and we will spend the rest of our lives fighting for forgiveness. There is a boy out there who can give you that. For me…everyone who could forgive me already is dead."
"Only the dead can forgive," as you once said, Lia…
He remained defiant, unwilling to see this young woman venture out toward her death. "No, you stay here!" The man was beginning to grow upset. She could feel the sadness in his words. "Too many good people have already died! Let me make that sacrifice!"
She took him by his hands. "Many more will die without you. I've lived a long life, Gibbin. Longer than you would ever know. If mine ends here, then it ends. But, I owe it to Leta to die for her, if I must."
The butcher began to cry, and Cassandra gave him a final hug. "Thank you for everything that you've done for me, Gibbin. I wish I had met you in my world."
His large hands patted her thin back as he embraced her. With a long inhale, he sniffled on his words, "We'll hunt together, someday. I promise."
The brunette let one more tear absorb into the fabric of his shoulder. "We will. Until then, my friend…"
As they parted ways, Cassandra grabbed her bag off the steed and moved to take Olishia by the hand again. The fawn placed her other palm on top of the brunette's, and the flow of blue energy was already starting to conjure. The elder addressed her choice as the waves of magic circulated around them. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Cassandra took a knee and drew a breath. She had already lost so much before she came to this world. Miranda had cost her a life with the family that she would never remember. Her second death tore her away from Bela and Daniela, who died with broken ties to a once strong bond. Then Milo, Vasan, and Lia were the next to perish.
With Leta in Narratha's grasp – the child would surely be killed.
She had lived both of her lives surrounded by the pain of loss. In those, she was powerless to fight it. Now, in this second chance to live again, she found herself with the option to change things. She was no longer confined to the shackles of her broken soul. Those chains became wings, and like the blue birds up above, she would soar toward the light.
"I'm not losing another sister."
"Before I do this, I just wanted to tell you that Lia loves you. You gave her the life she deserved. She lives on because of you."
Cassandra's voice broke, "Thank you."
"Thank you," Olisha replied. "Now, are you ready?"
"I'm ready."
The blue aura that flashed around Olisha and Cassandra's hands began to overtake both their bodies. She could feel her form becoming weightless as every single atom was displaced from where it belonged. Just like when Lia would transport her, her world became an ocean of illumination, and in a blink – it changed.
…
Cassandra's body was already re-forming before she could process that she had left. Her consciousness was the last thing to return, but her body could detect the touch of the cool wind around her. When her eyes opened, they beheld the dark grey skies above. It would be nighttime shortly, and the particles of dying light evaporated upward from all around her.
Olishia's hand was still joined with hers, and when she looked down, she could see that both of them had finished forming. The first thing that caught her eyes was the brief glow of blue that went out from between their palms.
"Olisha, where are we?"
The fawn's eyes were closed, and her mouth was still. She did not move or breathe. Cassandra sighed with remorse as she laid the elder's hand down on her chest. Olisha was not lying when she said she could only take her to one place.
"I will save her. Rest in peace." The brunette placed her hand against the fawn's cheek, granting her a moment of compassion to herald her transition from this life. Another step forward – another life lost.
Too many have died. How many more?
As Cassandra rose, she laid eyes on an ancient castle about a mile away. The field around it was a graveyard of trees; shattered and old. The soil was salted from the untold number of people that had died on it. There was no doubt in her mind that Olisha had brought her to the region of Deas. The air reeked of rot, likely born from the festering wounds of a shameful moment in this world's history.
The castle looked like it had been the scene of a major battle generations ago. It was small, similar to Milo's; stacked high upon itself like a tall house. The four corners of the roof were home to gothic spires, like the ones her own had been adorned with. It was a foreboding sight, but she knew that this was where Leta had to be.
It made sense that someone like Narratha would have sought refuge in uninhabited territory, such as this.
Cassandra threw her bag over her back as she prepared to make her way toward it. Her sickle stayed firmly held in her grip, the blade glinting against the fading light that broke through the heavy clouds. As she set her eyes on the structure ahead, she filled her chest with confidence, though her mind cradled uncertainty.
Despite this castle's age – Cassandra knew that it was filled with nothing but blood and death.
NOTES:
So, this is the beginning of the end! Cassandra will find herself coming full circle as she becomes the one to venture into a sinister castle, searching for a child that she must rescue.
This chapter capped off the origins of Narratha's blood lust, as the cannibalistic fawn began to evolve into Locwitary's fiercest serial killer. Cassandra is about to go head-to-toe against an enemy that she has never faced before. She is walking straight into a den of killers, and the events that will take place inside this castle will be the most harrowing moments that this story will offer.
It all ends here.
Breaks in timelines? Does that explain what happened to Bela and Ethan in Fragmented Fears? Yes…and no…
The mystery is starting to unravel. Some very big info was dropped in these last two chapters 😉
As for Flies, the next chapter will arrive on the 16th.
Follow this story on Archive of Our Own to see the latest artwork that was created for it!
Thanks for all your support that has inspired me to expand this story into a trilogy. You guys have been the best readers that I could ever ask for, and I am thrilled to have you all on board. When this is all done, I plan to continue writing on this site, as it has been such a great success. I've met some really awesome writers and people so far, and I can't wait for the future! Hope you all enjoy your weekend, and stay safe out there! 😊
