~PROLOUGE~
SEREN~
The faucet dripped. The familiar sound that reminded me I was home, that pulled me out of the sounds of clinking swords and screaming men. Drip. Drip. Drip. I was home. Drip. Drip. Drip. The wet stone wall behind my back sent moisture to my clothes making my shirt stick to my skin. Drip. Drip. Drip. The shelves that held jars of pickled meat and dried spices shook next to me as maids clattered around above of my cellar. Thats were they put me. The kings celebrated slayer, his royal blade. I killed for him.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
This is peace they say. This is the reward. They dress it up in fancy metals, empty thanks, and women batting lashes like i’m something they understand. Not that I care for the rewards. I dont kill to earn gold stars, I kill because that is what I am told to do. And I always follow rules. I lean forward, fingers twitching. My swords beside me, untouched but not far. Never too far.
I used to fear dying, now I fear disorder.
The door opens. Footsteps, not soft, not apologetic. Someone’s coming.
Good. Maybe they finally remembered what i’m for.
