Chapter One: Graylow
Strawberries, the sweet yet sour taste of the blood-red berries danced across his lips. A soft and gentle frolic. It relaxed his body under the setting summer sun and the colours that painted the sky in a masterpiece of oranges, yellows, and pinks. They reflected in his eyes as a warm gold set over the stretch of meadow around him. The waves upon waves of grass he lay among, swayed ever so slightly like a calm ocean, occasionally brushing against him. Tickles and tingles blossomed on the soles of his feet, the tips of his peaked ears that listened intently to the whispering winds, brushing his subtly rosy cheeks and calloused fingers that mindlessly traced the lines of his Terra Clan birthmark upon his chest.
Kaydence was at peace. Nothing but the sound of the surrounding trees’ graceful ballroom dancing could be heard, not the sounds of the animals he’d usually hear scampering and scavenging in the roots of the trees, or under the foliage of the woodlands. Not even the choruses sang from the various breeds of birds that made their homes in the canopies of the twisting boughs, the distant chatter of the fae villagers he’d grown up knowing, or the constant humming presence of farming tools. It was tranquillity that only Lirren could provide.
Heavy silence weighed down the very air he breathed with sweet mixes of daisies, tulips and lavender riding the winds, dowsing him in the deliciously sickening aroma. It would undoubtedly draw him further into a reverie, surely lasting the night while he would watch the skies morph and darken, and the nightlife awaken for their congregations.
His father would be approaching soon. They often watched the stars together and although living apart, it was their way of spending time with each other, without having to talk. It was special, it was home.
He listened out for crunching footsteps and the bristling of the barley, yet nothing came. Maybe he was running late with work, he thought. There were preparations to be taken care of for tomorrow’s Harvest celebrations, although his father had assured him it wouldn’t take long.
Kaydence remembered the events he wouldn’t attend, choosing to lie in the meadows instead, lending an ear to the distant singing and melody of flutes as people clapped and cheered to the dances of slurring fae. His father would try to get him to join in, and it would no doubt be a recurring theme of conversation tonight. Part of him liked the fact that his father still tried to encourage him and include him in the village, but the other part of him wished he would spare him the ever-deepening embarrassment and unkind thoughts that passed through his mind afterwards.
As the sun sank lower against the distant, soft peaks of the hills, his lips mouthed the words of an old poem he memorised, the words floated away as they were read, like he was reciting it for the heavens and any ears that were listening in. Line after line, the stanzas read aloud, each word with a meaning and memory despite them not being his own. He remembered the dusty smell of the books and their thin pages, he could still feel the smooth texture of every page his fingers turned, it was ingrained into his memory much like where he lay. It was a place of comfort.
Reaching the end of the first poem and some others that often followed in his quiet recital, it drew his mind to the fact that his father was never this late. He had always made sure to save nights for them because family was important; it was at the core of all the teachings he had been taught.
Distant rumbling noises, which pulled at the reality side of his euphoric mind, were most definitely not normal for a rural village. A loud bang hastily followed, erupting out of the hillsides. Birds once hidden among the rustling leaves took flight in fear as distant screaming surged in the air.
Sitting bolt upright, his relaxation at an abrupt end, leaving his soft bed of flattened grass behind, Kaydence’s eyes scanned his surroundings, looking for the origin of the thunderous chaos. That’s when he saw it, the smoke rising just over the hillside, drifting and dispersing over the silhouetted tree line, into the air on a backdrop of the setting sun.
The colours weren’t so at ease, they almost seemed angered by the disruption, harsh streaks of red cut through the now paling pink blush. It had been one thing his father had been sure to teach him: the sky never lies or deceives. He was taught to trust it and that it would never lead you astray, to use the stars and sun as a guide.
Kaydence’s pointed ears twitched, picking up on disturbances in the air. Extending his hands to the ground, he let his gold-tinged nails slip beneath the grass, his eyes falling closed. Vibrations, the drumming of countless feet and heavy thuds could be felt running through the very fibres of the earth. Honing in on his other senses only discouraged him more and reduced any hope he had in the back of his mind of it just being a misunderstanding.
Screaming, he heard screaming. Wails of mothers and children and the howling of men crying out tore through the night. Even from where he knelt, the pain and desperation in their voices were clear. No silence was left, no soft glow of the sun or the delicate and easy feelings. The only light came from the distant embers of his village slowly being decimated.
His eyes snapped open, one a deep sky-blue pooling with distress and panic, the other amber gold seemingly glowing with the heavens’ stars ready for battle, ready to silence the screams and asphyxiate the burning glow. His bare feet hit the earth, tearing through razor blades of grass and over the rough dirt and rugged rocks. He could feel the rumble of the distant battle, smell the burning of wood and the metallic stench of blood mixed with the bitter earthy smell he was so familiar with. All of it now tainted with death.
The sound of the screams never faltered. With every unsteady step he took towards the treeline, the sounds of metal clanging and gunshots rang out through the air. Even running through the trees, the clawed fingers of the branches grabbed and scratched at his linen shirt, as if to stop him going any further,r as the deceiving roots tripped his already off-balanced body. It was like nature was either trying to stop him and force him to watch or trying to save him, although he thought of neither one being an option he’d consider. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and taste the bitter dread erupting within him, the taste of strawberries long forgotten.
There hadn’t been a war for over twenty-one years, not since the protective measures had been signed by the King and the human government to protect all of Arravan. Yet, standing on the hillside, the brisk wind whipping at his golden curls, Kaydence looked down upon his village and witnessed the broken accords.
Trucks scattered through his burning village, some loaded with steel cages holding fae he knew, while others fought relentlessly against the invading humans with whatever they seemed to be able to get a hold of, farming tools being an easy option. The villagers desperately aimed at the enemy, as their children whimpered and wept in corners, hoping they’d be overlooked. Some were too shocked to move from the cold corpses of relatives, as their blood soaked and stained the earth they had learned to respect and care for.
He started running, ignoring the thumping of his heart, and charged into battle, not caring to think if he’d get out alive or fall with his kind.
One body fell as he struck him with a small hunting knife, pulled from his belt. Pulling out the sharp blade, blood already soaking his hands, Kaydence hesitated in a temporary shocked daze.
He had never taken a life before, not a human one at least. Nothing could have prepared him for it, not even his small hunting trophies he had acquired over the years, or the practice his father had him take part in.
His feet were bloody and the rest of him muddied, but it mattered not when, in his peripheral vision, he spotted his father, the leader of their village, Bregan. He was fighting with rage he had never been exposed to. Each slash wielded with his muscular arms rendered its victim either severely injured or killed them there and then, their bodies collapsing around him in a heap.
Breathlessly Kaydence fought, not daring to stop for a second, continuing to push on towards his father, seeing him surrounded with no way out. Even with Bregan cutting down the circle around him, more assailants seemed to take their place with the knowledge of his stature in the village.
Eyes locked ahead, Kaydence failed to remain vigilant to his surroundings and was soon tackled down to the ground from behind. All he could feel was the cold ground and the body above him holding him down. He could see the fallen lives, all staring blankly ahead, some with mouths open in screams that could no longer be heard, and others calling out to loved ones, their words now lost and left to memory.
With a deep breath, Kaydence pushed himself up, the man falling backwards, landing with a squelching thud. In one quick and clean motion, the knife that he had retrieved from the ground was driven through the attacker’s chest. straight into the heart with no regret or remorse.
