Chapter 1
The distant screams in the air threaten to drown any ounce of sanity that I have remaining. The attack on the temple started two hours ago and the building is already close to collapse. All that remains of the holy sanctuary are now two ceramic pillars that held the second floor in place. The archives on the third floor have all been burned to ash as a result of the destruction around me.
I look down at my leg that remains trapped under the heavy stone that fell from the ceiling. I slowly try to wrench it out and hear the cracking of bones. I bite my lip to keep from screaming out loud, aware of my open surroundings. I am the only one that remains alive as far as my eyes will take me and I am not foolish enough to give noise to my state. My eyes glaze over to Jove, the high priestess whose head is severed. The crimson flowing from her is similar to what is flowing from my own leg and it takes all of my will to not let the nausea creeping up my throat overtake me. Another priestess, one who I am not as familiar with, lays a few feet away from her with her neck at an odd angle. Her white hood is spread around her long golden locks - a fallen angel, I think to myself. She would almost look peaceful if it were not for the jagged neck bone sticking out.
Guilt threatens to overtake me as I remember how Jove shoved me behind a cabinet as soon as we heard the first male voices. “Don’t make a noise, and don’t come out no matter what you hear” she hissed at me. She was never one for pleasantries but she was a fierce protectress of our kind. The archives were given to us centuries, possibly eons ago by the primordial forces that made our world, though one quite knows the full history. I’ve only spent a few months in the temple, choosing the life of a priestess rather than a fierce warrior. The archives have been passed down to the fawn nymphs since we were the most accessible to guard them. The sirens would only drown them, as is their nature to drown most things that dare venture their waters. The wren were certainly not equipped to maintain ancient books given their preference for the high skies - or, perhaps since no mortal or immortal alike have seen one in centuries. The vulcans, the fire-wielding nymphs, refused and chose to hone their craft of weapon wielding in the volcanic ash lands. We have a peaceful relationship with them as they forge the majority of our weaponry for our fawn warriors.
I recite all this knowledge that Jove has allowed me to learn these past few months to keep myself distracted from the pain in my leg. I knew as much information about our kind - the fawn nymphs - as I did about the other beings that dwelled in these lands. Under Jove’s tutelage, I learned that nymphs are not the only magical beings that inhabit the realm of Mertoria; although magic would be considered an arbitrary term for what the nymphs are capable of. We seem to be connected to nature and are able to hone our abilities with the help of the land’s mystical energy.
Nymphs mature at the age of twenty-two, regardless of which kind we are - it is at this age that we are able to harness our elemental abilities. The first display of our magic becomes etched on our bodies in the form of vine-like or floral tattoos, a tribute to our power over the earth and nature. Jove was highly gifted in moving stone and had crystals etched on her wrists and neck. My mother was a powerful plant manipulator from the stories I’ve been told about her. I never met her - she died during childbirth. My father was so distraught that he succumbed to mortality and passed to the otherworlds.
Something stirs around me and I am drawn out of my trance. I search frantically around me but do not see any movement. If my elemental ability had developed I might have been able to free myself from this crushing stone. Or Jove could have moved it if she was alive, I whisper to myself. It has been exactly three months since I turned the age of maturity. Jove had once told me that it can sometimes take over a month until fawns are able to manifest their element - but the archives I read did not record any evidence of struggle past the second month. Jove had told me to pay no mind to it in her usual blanche tone, but I could almost detect the stir of worry in her pale green eyes.
The stirring around me gets louder and panic sets in me. I need to escape and run as far into the forest as I can or I may die - or worse. I remember how Jove held her ground against the two males that entered the temple. I could not see what they looked like from the cabinet I was hidden behind but their voices carried enough malice to keep me frozen in place.
“Give us what we seek, priestess, and you and everyone else in the temple remains unharmed” the male with the gruff voice spat.
“What you seek shall never be freely given” Jove countered, with that unmoving blancheness in her voice.
“Perhaps you want the same fate your - kind - in the forest got?” the second male asked, forcing the word kind out as if we were animals he came to slaughter.
“Is your threat supposed to move me? Our warriors—” was the last I heard of Jove’s voice before a giant thud echoed through the room. Then the smell of smoke filled the room and the stones began to shake. I didn’t dare run out from behind the cabinet in case the males still happened to be in the temple. I felt the floors move beneath me and the entire second floor fell with me on it. I fell two stories down and before I had the chance to flee, the third floor came collapsing down. I remember flames all around me.
I begin prying my leg out and bite down on my lip hard to keep from screaming aloud. Three pulls later - or maybe ten - my leg is finally free from the stone. I examine it, the robe that was covering it already torn off and find that my skin on the side of my calf is shredded. Beneath the flowing blood I can make out bone and ligament. I suddenly start to feel very dizzy but I force myself to my feet. I make it two steps limping and bite back another scream. I begin my route back to the forests but only make it a few more steps before I collapse to my hands and knees and shake from nausea. I don’t have enough time to get up again before I see a sharp onyx coloured sword impaled into the ground next to me. I fall to the ground on my back and see a pair of golden eyes staring at me.
The world turns to black.
