𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖🅷🅴🅻🅸🆇

I dashed through a forest, densely populated with pines and speckled with spruces, running from a knife-wielding mad man. One small stumble meant death. How did I, nineteen-year-old Aliya Archaki, end up in this situation? I wish I knew.

I looked back upon the last ten hours. It had started like any other day. I ate some eggs for breakfast, went on a run, and then made my way to the orphanage. Every Saturday I volunteered to read to the children housed there. I had felt a special bond to that old manor and its inhabitants, seeing as I was also raised within its walls. It was around noon by the time I had finished everything up. An odd buzz had been hanging in the atmosphere from the moment I stepped out of sight of the building.

The orphanage was nestled deep in an evergreen forest, to provide some sense of security for the children dwelling there. However, that also meant there were plenty of spots for hiding. . .and for stalking prey. Unfortunately, I seemed to be the prey in this scenario.

Once the man jumped out of the bushes, I ran through the woodland in the opposite direction. I lost track of time as I swerved and sprinted, trying to get this guy off my tail. By then, I was getting winded, but the man behind me kept chugging on, full speed ahead. He must have had superhuman stamina. I turned around a bend in the beaten trail and was met by a lichen-covered log. I leaped, but not fast enough. My foot caught on the hurdle. Throbbing, my heart rose into my throat as I tumbled face-first toward the ground. I quickly wiped the accumulation of dead leaves from my face and turned skyward. My pursuer stood above me, his knife glinting maliciously in the rays of sunlight that filtered through the canopy of treetops.

I sat frozen, my life flashing before my eyes. While reminiscing, I realized the terrible truth; nobody would even notice I was gone, nor think to look for me. I would end as naught but an ink spot in the manuscript of history. I grimaced, ready to accept my cruel fate. Shutting my eyes tightly, I waited for the cold embrace of death. Time crept by at a painfully slow pace.

Overhead, a sharp breeze sliced through the air. But. . .it didn’t feel like just any old breeze. I peeked, fearing what sight I might behold. Instead of gazing upon the face of a menacing murderer, I saw a look of pure terror plastered on the stranger’s face.

Beyond him, I saw the shaft of an arrow protruding horizontally from a tree, its tip firmly lodged in the bark. Another projectile whizzed by the man’s head, creating new wind currents with its rippling fletching. It flew toward the log over which I had tripped and exploded in a cloud of blue smoke at the moment of impact. I felt a hand firmly grip my shoulder, sending a frigid shiver down my spine.

I froze like an antelope in headlights. The hand jerked me out of my stupor, causing me to rise to my feet with much coughing and sputtering. I surveyed my surroundings and beheld my savior. . .or perhaps they were my captor. All I could make out was a figure garbed in a black, hooded cloak. Typical villain attire, am I right?

“Who are you and what do you want?” I stood my ground and demanded.

“Call me Chase. No time for details. Just follow me. We have to get moving,” he asserted, retiring his silver bow to his back. He grasped my hand and dragged me forward. “That won’t stop him for long.”

I tried to protest, but no sound would issue forth from my lips. We ran. We ran as fast as our legs could possibly carry us, and my original attacker faded in the distance. We ran until my lungs felt as though they would burst. My leader went onward, his eyes set upon the distant goal. Eventually, the trees dissipated, and we ran toward a small trailer, which seemed entirely out of place. It sat in the middle of a clearing, lonely and decrepit. To my surprise, we turned in its direction.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to yell and run in the other direction. I wanted to flee and go back to my normal life. However, I had a feeling that at this point, after what had transpired, I would never see my old life again. I also felt drawn to the small trailer, like a moth to a flame. For some reason, it seemed like my only chance to find safety.

Chase, my cloaked leader, rapped loudly on the white-washed wooden door. It opened inward and revealed a man. His dark ebony hair hung low, almost veiling his gloomy, unfeeling grey eyes from view. The two argued, seemingly about my untimely emergence. My head swam with so much confusion and shock that I could only pick out a few phrases here and there. Something about “one of us” and “he’s not far behind” pierced through the fog enveloping my mind.

The house-dweller glanced over Chase’s shoulder and scanned me from head to toe. His gaze rested upon my hair. By now, I had gotten used to confused stares. My hair was quite unusual, after all. It hung behind my shoulders, its color like a field of blooming lavender. With the world in the state it was, most people simply assumed that I had dyed it this color. However, that was not the case. In fact, I had tried to dye it to a more inconspicuous color, such as hazelnut or blonde. No matter what brand I used, the dye always washed out immediately. My hair was strange like that. He stared into the deep purple nebulas which perpetually swirled inside my irises, flecked with constantly shifting stars. I stared back, my eyes boring into his. He gave up and turned back to Chase. I must have been quite intimidating.

I moved to speak up and explain my situation, but my voice caught in my throat. Instead of defending my case, only a small sound squeaked out of my lung. Chase and his friend jumped in alarm as I felt something warm trickle down my back. A strange metallic taste filled my mouth. I coughed, trying to catch my breath that seemed to be draining away. My vision doubled and swam, as I heard Chase and the house-dweller yell commands. Their voices sounded like we were at opposite ends of a long, dark tunnel. Chase dashed in my direction as I teetered to the side and the house-dweller armed himself with shining, stout, dual daggers. He stepped out to meet the same man who had ambushed me earlier. He wielded a pair of blades, one of which was bathed in blood. At the sight of his weapon, the realization of what had happened finally registered in my mind. Ah, yes, that was it. I had been stabbed. My vision darkened. The last scene I saw consisted of Chase hovering over me. He seemed to be speaking to me, but I couldn’t make out what he was trying to say. My world went darker than a cloudy night in Antarctica, sending my consciousness spiraling into the swirling abyss.