When Everything Changed
Seven years ago.
Amara had gone to sleep surrounded by the warm love of her mother, gentle strokes of her hair smoothed her as her eyes fell shut after a long day of learning the ways of the noble woman. Amara found her teachings tedious and dull but as with everything, Amara put her everything into being the best and making her parents proud.
An almighty clang of metal swords startled Amara awake. She found herself cocooned in her thick luxury blankets and although that would normally make her feel safe, she felt fear begin to seep into her bones. Something was wrong.
Throwing herself upright and clinging to the blanket as though it was protection, Amara listened. The clashing of swords was growing closer. Amara asked herself if it was coming from the gardens and if people were coming here to the house. Confusion mixed with her fear, her father was highly regarded with the King, why would they be under attack?
A full body flinch flew over Amara when her door was roughly shoved open. Relief washed over her when she saw her parents. That relief didn’t last long when Amara saw their fear and panic. They were both still in their nightclothes, they had only just woken Amara realised. All of them unprepared for whatever was happening.
‘What’s going on?’ Amara whispered through trembling lips.
‘Amara, they are fighting against our King. Someone is trying to take his crown.’ Amara’s father whispered back with a calm voice. That calm voice was deceiving though, because Amara could see the terror in his eyes. All Amara could manage was a deep swallow and nod.
Amara thought about what her father had said. Her father was a highly regarded member of the King’s court, he would be a target. No. They would all be a target. Gods have mercy, they would be murdered. That’s what the clashing swords are, people trying to get to her family to kill them all.
Amara didn’t hesitate when her father lifted her small teenage body into his huge frame. He was always big for a fae and her rather small for one. At this moment Amara didn’t care about her petite body or the fact she could easily walk as a sixteen year old, she was grateful for the soothing, protective touch of her father.
The three of them ran through the corridors towards the back door in the kitchen. Amara continued to listen as she clung to her father’s shoulders. The fighting grew closer, harrowing screams were now filling the air. Whatever was happening outside Amara knew she didn’t want to see it.
Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to block out the screams. It was her mother’s soft voice which cut through the noise. ‘Amara, your light.’ Amara pried her eyes open and saw that the corridor was blanketed in darkness. Blisters of decay were starting to appear on the ceiling above them.
With alarmed eyes Amara saw that the tiny white flower inside her necklace pendant was beginning to wilt and turn black. Forcing her eyes closed she steadied her breathing. Amara grasped her necklace like a lifeline and searched for her light. Slowly the darkness which had appeared because of her fear receded. The white delicate flower was no longer wilting but alive and bright.
‘Good girl.’ Her father said, causing a small smile to curve on her lips. Amara’s smile didn’t stay long because when they got to the kitchen and their exit, a huge soldier stood in the door frame. The doorway that was meant to be their escape.
With steady hands Amara’s father placed her feet on the floor and pushed her gently into her mothers arms. Pure terror radiated through her as Amara studied the soldier, blood was dripping down his sword tip, his shining metal armor was splashed with droplets of blood. Blood that was not his.
Amara’s grip on her mother’s arms tightened when she looked into his eyes which were framed by his metal helmet. A helmet Amara once thought was magnificent, the huge pointed sides mimicked the fae’s pointed ears and were almost like wings either side of his head.
This soldier’s eyes were cold, detached, almost empty. He was here for one thing, their deaths and Amara felt it in her bones, he was going to succeed.
‘Leave my home.’ Amara’s father commanded, his step forward placed him in front of Amara and her mother as a protective shield. Amara’s mother whimpered, but Amara was silent, helpless.
The soldier didn’t say a word, instead he raised his sword and swiped. Amara’s father dodged as her mother dragged them further into the kitchen away from the soldier’s deadly strikes. Amara’s heart was racing but the rest of her body was frozen, she was utterly petrified.
Her darkness was appearing again, the corners of the room beginning to grow unnaturally black. Amara’s mother sensed it and grabbed Amara’s shoulders, turning her forcefully to face her.
‘Use your light and run. Hide Amara, survive!’ Her mother’s words were firm and unfaltering. Amara tried to comprehend what her mother was asking of her. First she was confused, mother wanted her to use the magic she’s always been told to hide. Then realisation hit and Amara’s eyes widened in horror.
Mother wanted Amara to use her magic to escape, to leave her parents behind. Leave them to die. No, Amara thought over and over. Amara tried to look at her father who was desperately shielding the huge barricade of attacks. Amara’s mother firmly held her chin and pulled Amara’s focus back to her.
‘He will find you. Now go! Use your light and RUN!’ The words all blurred together as Amara ran towards the door, digging deep inside her past the darkness that was threatening to drown her until she found her light and propelled it forwards.
A flash of bright light erupted from Amara in a short burst, enough to temporarily blind the soldier and her father as she ran behind them to the door. Amara’s bare feet hit the cold grass and she ran away from the doorway, from the kitchen, her parents and her home.
Amara’s legs moved fast, replaying her mother’s words, ‘run, hide and survive.’ The smashing of furniture and dishes from the kitchen slowed Amara’s steps and she turned ducking behind a brick wall on the outskirts of the garden to watch the door of the kitchen.
Moments passed before Amara heard heavy footsteps walk towards the doorway. Please be father. Amara begged in her head, but as the moonlight shone down it reflected on the heavily armored soldier, armour that was now red. His sword was dripping with even more blood.
A scream tore from her lips. Amara knew she should have been quiet and when the soldier’s gaze snapped to her she knew she had been completely stupid. Amara stumbled to a stand and began to run again. There was no time to mourn or grieve her parents because heavy footsteps were quickly gaining on her.
With panted breaths Amara wished she had asked her father to train her in physical strength not just her mind and the useless attributes of a wife. She was helpless. There was no way she could outrun that soldier.
So instead Amara stopped and faced him. Her body trembled but she tried to muster all the strength to be brave and face her parents murderer face on. The soldier stopped a few steps away from her, his eyes void of all emotions and feelings.
‘Stop!’ Amara said sternly. It was the only word she could think of. As their eyes locked Amara saw something flash across his eyes, emotions swelled inside him for the first time, fear and regret. Amara couldn’t understand it or think about it, she only focused on the fact his blood soaked sword fell to the ground.
Desperately Amara forced her darkness down as she tried to not think about the fact it was her parents blood on that sword. Amara stood tall as she continued to face the soldier.
Through gritted teeth the soldier finally spoke his first words. ‘Run Amara! More are coming! Run!’
The fear in this powerful man was vast and it’s what made Amara turn and run. She had made it to the outskirts of their home, the part where the gardens met a forest and turned.
With wide, confused and horrified eyes Amara watched the soldier lift his sword and plunge it into his chest. Falling to his knees he looked at Amara one last time and mouthed the word ‘run’, then face first landed on the blood soaked grass at his feet.
