HIDDEN

Sharp tinges of pain danced up and down her spine, her muscles twitching as the pounding in her head worsened. Not having enough strength to get up quite yet, she continued laying on the ground shaking, willing her eyes to open. Pain filled her joints, signaling that her body was slowly awakening. Eyes still closed, the girl began to shift around, stretching herself out with the arching of her back as if to get up but the sharp pain that shortly followed the movement caused an immediate stiffing of her body.

Lying still for just a few moments longer, her small body shaking from the biting chill of the winter’s evening, she began again, with the slightest movement of her hand. Slowly but surely, the child moved her arm, which had been resting across her abdomen, towards the ground on which she lay. The small movement was grueling, every nerve burning, every muscle aching for her to stop. Just as she had managed to lift her entire hand up off herself, her strength seeped from her arm, sending her hand to the ground with a thud.

Pain shot up her arm, but along it came her senses for beneath her hand, the 13-year-old could feel the gravelly surface of the earth. Palm down, she gently began running her hand against the surface, gravel giving way to moss, until her fingers ran into a wooden surface. Where am I?

She racked her brain searching for a hint, eyes closed to the world. She drew a blank, bringing her hand up as her head began to throb. That movement alone seemed to set her on fire, but what followed next had sent her howling. A set of arms hooked themselves under and around her shoulders before they dragging her backwards and dropped her as abruptly as they had lifted her, the pain forcing her eyes open, and another cry to leave her bluing lips.

The smoke could be detected even before the light of its source could be seen against the night sky. He was hours out, yet the starry sky seemed to have been blackened by the ever-growing cloud of smoke. Damn, that mercenary. He botched the job, the soldier thought, considering how easily he found he was able to pick up on the fire.

Finally on scene, the boy gave a small gasp, finding the scene not as he had expected. The magnificent house of the marquess Kraiton burned where it stood, but surveying the land, to find that the fire had yet to spread to the woods around it, told him that the fire had been set mere hours ago: not what had been agreed upon. The commander would not be happy about this.

However, the commander was not his concern at the moment. Fully knowing that soon enough the others would soon join him, the solider set to work.

Overwhelmed with pain, she continued to lay on the ground shaking, eyes watching the dancing stars slowly twinkle out of view. The ground heated up and her face felt flush as the wind blew the heat of the flames her way. Still finding herself unable to get up, she began to move her head violently form side-to-side. To her tight stood a tree, tall and mighty, its roots wrapped around her as if to serve as a shield from the rest of the world But to her left, she saw the body of a young man, face turned away from her, and on his lower arm, a mark of what looked to be an oddly-shaped willow tree. Just beyond him, she could see the silhouette of a man stood upright, walking away from her. She tried crying out, but as it was the first sound that had eft her body, she fell into a haggard cough.

Having seemed to have heard, the silhouette stopped, and turned around. The fire being her only source of light meant that she could not make out his face, but she was able to see him lift his hand up to his lips, warning her to stay silent. He, then, turned and continues about his way.

Glancing back down, she then tried to call out to the man next to her but found she could not. Frustrated, she resorted to try to rise and make her way over to him. But raising up off the ground seemed more of a torturous task than it should have.

Mere minutes past, but it felt like hours as she tried to raise her body of the ground. Finally, managing to drag herself up and against the trunk of the tree, facing the man, she immediately gasped out in horror.

He stood watching as the scene unfolded, his right-hand man next to him and the rest of his men behind. Over fifty bodies littered the ground between him and the forest. Fifty bodies yet knew with a certainty that the entirety of the household had not made it out of the fire. Those who did seemed to have expired from smoke inhalation soon after. “GO! There must be no survivors,” He growled.

HE glanced from body to body, shaking his head up as he worked his way through the crowd. Over and over again he repeated this action. He shook his head again, before he began to look around. His eyes scanned the drive once more before he slowly began to spin around, looking at the ground behind him finally settling on the burning manor. He turned around, facing the bodies once more, before he began to move up the drive, towards the tree line and towards her.

A frustrated grunt left him, as he reached the final victim mere meters from her. He shook his head again, before a look of pure rage crossed his features. “Dammit, two.” He looked around frantically once more, before kicking the body in front of him, earning a disgruntled sound from the recipient.

A gasp. The solider standing to the side flinched ever the slightest, immediately correcting his form.

“Did you hear that, boy?” He demanded turning towards his man. “What, sir? No, sir,” the seventeen-year-old responded stiffly.

He glanced around his eyes searching the tree line for a few moments more before he turned back to his prey, studying the man lying at his feet. Towering over the half-conscious noble, he glanced over the body. He looks so innocent, nothing like a Kraiton should, he paused, before scoffing and reaching back for his claymore. His mission was to rid the world of the foul line of Micheali Kraiton, before they rid of the world. He’d be damned before he let even the youngest of the line, a mere girl, survive.

He aimed his weapon, pressing the tip of the blade at the boy’s throat. Reaching to his side, He pulled out the rifle he kept hidden, aiming for the center of the forehead. Glowing blue eyes looked up at him, stunning him for a moment.

To find himself staring straight into the eyes of the first-born was something he never expected. The boy at his feet seemed to be daring him to continue, and he was never one to shrink from a challenge. He fired.

HE felt no emotion, he couldn’t. This was his DUTY.