❝ NO NAME - WIP - DNP ❞

[pѕycнopaтн]

Foreword ↷
Hello guys, so I'm not being
big-headed looking for my
fifteen minutes of fame.
I'm submitting this to the
community for feedback.
I want you to point
out the flaws. Ok? So, I'm
not great at these things so
I should stop typing.

E N J O Y ➸

⧒⧓⧔

⧒⧓⧔

If you have any inquires, send me a personal message. If you want to give me feedback send a personal message when you can. Please don't post here, I'm going to make a post elsewhere if needed. A chapter will be posted every week on Sunday.

[pѕycнopaтн]

Winter was always harsh. Always unforgiving. Always relentless. This one was worse; I could sense it, my fingertips as they brushed the moist, cold air. I could feel the blizzard on the air. This winter; would bring death. The cottage was cold in the mornings when I woke up, Evan was yet to wake up and fuel the fireplace downstairs with the fire wood stacked in a small pile next to the hearth. I reached for my cloak resting next of my bed roll and wrapped it around my poorly made tunic and pants. I picked up my bow, throwing knives and arrows which rested on the wall next to where I slept. My bow was slung over my shoulders, my knives stashed in a pocket inside of my cloak, and my arrows were in a pocket on the outside of my cloak, to ward people away.

I treaded between the gaps of my father and brothers bodies in their bedrolls, to get to the rotting ladder we used to get downstairs. I gently climbed down; wincing at every out of place movement it made, in case it completely crumbled into a pile of damp, rotting sticks. My feet then found themselves placed pleasantly on the wooden floor. I smirked, and let my hands stray away from the ladder. I picked out a wishbone from my pocket.

My fingers wrapped around one of the two branches which erupted from the middle joint. Mother gave this to me when I first started hunting, I remember her kind face and what she told me as she caressed my cheek.

She flashed her dazzling smile at me, her smile was so beautiful and never failed to make me feel safe. "Raye, I'm travelling today, so I won't be able to tell your father where you are. Leave that on the table so he knows you're hunting today." She pulled out a wishbone from her pocket, and placed it in my palm, then with her long fingers the gently squeezed my hand shut over the wishbone. Her fingers pulled away, but they were still warm to the bone from where she touched me.

I remember my confused expression, "Why a wishbone?" I opened my palm and examined the surprisingly clean bone.

"My mother gave it to me," Mother said looking down at the floor sadly, her smile wavered and the corners set into a straight line. "Look after it. True wishes are made with bone, that's what she told me," Mother bent down and hugged me tightly, she then gripped my shoulders and made me look her in the face. "Promise me you'll only use it when you have to. Just snap the bone."

Mother's hands left my shoulders and they found themselves at her side. She turned away and began walking through the door. A tear slid down my cheek, "Mama, I promise..." I whispered, but I knew she didn't hear me.

Then her figure left through the door, her red cloak trailing behind her as she walked out onto the stone path. That was the last time I saw my mother alive. The next day, a blooded red cloak was left on our doorstep, my mother no where in sight.

I felt my fingers find my arm and hold it there while I stood still looking at the floor. I moved towards the counter space we had on the other side of the room, on one of the surfaces was a dish with a bite of stale bread placed on top of it. I held the bite in my small hands and put it in my mouth. The bread was dry and tasteless, and my body refused to swallow it, but it was the only food we had and eventually my body gave up to the temptations of famine.

My expression was established into stone features, I had to catch something, anything to feed my family. I pulled my hood up and stepped out into the cold.

The bitterness of the air was seeping through my poorly made clothes. I pulled my cloak closer to my body as I trudged through the snow, it was high, as it settled a ways below my knee; but higher than my ankles. I was lucky my boots were higher than the snow. I didn't want any moisture soaking my bare skin, leaving me to die of an illness and leaving my family dead.

I had to hunt. I found the trunk of my tree and I began to climb it, getting higher with each of my movements. I sat down in one of the lower branches of the fir, but it was still concealed from all view.

Time passed. The clock kept ticking. Nothing. I felt my body tense from desperation. I didn't want to fail, I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to return empty handed, to see my father's disappointed gaze. To see my brothers pout over there not being food. My fingers were turning red, I was shivering crouched in my tree.

I sighed as I remembered the spring market which always came from the south during the months of spring to trade in the north, spring was the easiest season to hunt. Creatures were common here during those months, and normally I caught more than one kill at a time. I traded my spares with the butcher for as much coin as he'd give me, and normally it wasn't a lot. But, I had killed a stag and he wished to use the horns as decoration, but he had not enough coin for it and he offered his bow and arrows, and I accepted. Though it was easier to hunt with those I still preferred my knives.

I let out a shiver.

I pulled my fingers closer to my mouth and breathed warm, clammy air on them. Eventually they felt warm enough to work, and I allowed them to unsheathe my throwing knives. I clasped the handle tightly, scanning the horizon for a target.

I had no clue where these knives where from, they were just there wedged into my tree one morning and I decided not to question it. Their intricate design had me stumped, no man could have made these blades. They were far more intricate and other worldly, that I couldn't explain it. From the black tint to the metal, which was like no other in this realm, to the speed and lightweight of the blades. There were intricate cravings on the knives, telling a tale which was unknown to me. Or any other, and my dad's cluelessness to the blades had me unsettled, as he used to be a smith and was familiar to all blades. Except my own.

I sounded foolish, for even assuming this, but, I believed these blades were from across The Rezäh. The Rezäh was a wide body of water, spanning for days worth of traveling distance. The water was like a mirror and it perfectly reflected the sky above it. There were tales, of a land so beautiful and strange that it matched no other in our realm. There were stories and legends of its greatness; of the blades forged there, of the songs and words woven by tongues, of magikáh.

But that was an old wives tale, Mother told me those tales, but I never truly believed them. I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't. I clutched the handle tighter. Somewhere in my line of fire I heard a loud and fast crunch, like the animal was running, judging by its size I made the assumption it was a stag.

With my stomach clenched with hunger, I let the knife fly. The knife carried speedily through the air, and eventually found it's target. The stag landed with a loud crunch. Satisfied, I let myself fall from the branch and land in the snow with a faint crunch. I walked over to my kill; I heard the sounds of gasping, heavy breathing, and blood being spluttered out of a mouth. I walked faster to my kill. Anxious to see what I'd hit. Who, I hit.

"Raye!" I stopped. A shrill cry echoed through the forest, breaking the silence. The voice was familiar, I had heard it before. This wasn't happening. It was me, my imagination. I was going crazy. I wanted a reason, anything to make what I thought it was unreal. I gasped, bursting into a run, and I found myself collapsing beside my brother. Ethan.

My knife was wedged into his neck, he was panting, losing his breaths as death stepped closer to take him from me. "Ethan!" I gasped, tears welling into my eyes, "Ethan- I'm sorry, I'm-" I choked, I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. I killed him, I killed my brother. Blood was oozing slowly from his neck and flowing into a river through the snow, Ethan's blood grazed my trousers and the cloth soaked his life between the threads.

My head was spinning, my breaths quickened, my heart thumping. I knew I could breathe. But I couldn't, I can't. I felt myself drowning in invisible water. Visions of my father and Evan swimming in my face; my fathers uncontrollable rage as he would lash out at me, Evan's uncontrollable sobs as he ran away. I can’t. I can't. "Ethan!" My yell made the spinning stop, my visions pass, and reality rear it's ugly face.

"Raye," He gasped, his voice fading, death was stepping closer. I was running out of time, I would never see him again. He turned his head to look at me, his eyes filled with tears, I grasped one of his hands, cold, they were so cold. He felt like death, my little brother, the one I thought would outlive me, find some pretty village girl and marry her. To live a long happy life. Fate is cruel. This world is cruel. If there is a deity with the ability of making a paradise why isn't our s****y little world a paradise.

To teach us to be humble? We're already humble- and dying. If there was a deity there would be no suffering, but some people are too thick for their own good.

The blood was being absorbed by the snow which was drinking my brother away. Drinking his life. One sip. Another. "Don't talk-" I burst out suddenly, "you'll lose more-" I let the tears stream down my cheeks as my words turned to uncontrollable sobbing. I couldn't see him like this, not my brother.

The tears kept flowing as I remembered teaching him how to tie rabbit snares, his wide smile as we watched from my tree the rabbit, his first kill skillfully trapped before his eyes. It was a good rabbit too, nice and fat. His Cheshire grin made me laugh, but now it made me sad. I felt like all the happiness from the memory was being sucked out, forever.

He put his left hand to my face, it was moist with his blood but it was warm and comforting. "No, Raye," He gasped, blood pouring out of his mouth. "It's ok," He held up my wishbone in his other hand. It was covered in blood, my brother's blood. The brother I murdered.

I took the wishbone from him and stroked his blonde hair, I watched as he was fading, as death almost took him in his arms. His hand on my cheek dropped as he became too weak to hold it up.

"Raye, they're all gone." and Ethan let out his final gasp and death carried him away. I was surrounded in a tree of his blood made by the snow. I pulled out my knife, soaked in his blood and I fell over his body and lost myself in my tears.

⧒⧓⧔

I was suddenly alone. The wind carried away the whispers of the trees, and I realized how alone I was. How empty these woods were. The once happy feel of the forest disappeared in an instant. It felt alien to me. It didn't feel like the forest once was to me; safe. It felt dangerous for the first time in my life.

The air felt sultry and dry, all the moisture it held from before seemed to evaporate around me. The air seemed to carry the smell of burning. I gently sat upright, my hands still tightly clutching Ethan's bloodstained tunic. The sky around us was slowly turning grey with ash. strange. The air was getting thicker with it now, I had to leave Ethan's body behind. He would slow me down. I wiped my eyes dry with my sleeve, and leaned over him to kiss his cheek. My lips were chapped and rough but they felt his cold cheek when they met. I sighed as I stood up and turned from his body.

"Goodbye," I whispered under the sounds of my crying. I looked over at my brother one last time. I couldn't take the tear in my heart. So I ran. I felt the wind fly past me. The adrenaline was exploding all around my body, making my legs tear through the snow faster.

Eventually, I could hear the cackling of flames, their evil laughter and songs teasing me as they filled the ash-grey sky. By now My legs had gone stiff, the smoke was thicker here and it was getting harder and harder to breathe, my heart was thumping in my ears. These trees were familiar somehow.

I felt my breathing quicken as my eyes grew wide in realization. Shakily, my body slowly turned towards the west; through the striped, pale trees I saw the light of the fire dance in the distance. I gasped.

Papa and Evan.

I ran towards the light, Please be alive. I was begging every unnamed deity that they were alive. I let my tears stream down my cheek, my sobs were uncontrollable. I kept running, I lost Ethan and Mama. I couldn't let death claim everyone else too. Papa and Evan will be alright , I didn't believe the lies I fed myself.

My legs were desperately scrambling through the snow as fast as I could. I had to save them. I couldn't be weak this time, I was too weak to save Ethan and Mama. I had to be strong, to save Papa and Evan.

I gasped, my home was nothing more than a few beams of wood which were deteriorating from the fire groveling at their feet. The flames were dancing on my Papa and Brother's bodies. I was too late; too weak again. I looked at the flames reaching up to the sky, shards of fire were breaking off and landing into the snow; and with a sizzle they little bits of flame curled up and turned into steam when they touched the snow.

I fell to my knees, I bowed my head and cried. My head was throbbing, I felt like I was suffocating. I can breathe, but I can't. I just can't. I had my hands together in one large fist, clutching my chest as I heaved.

"Papa!" I yelled into the fire. There was no response, I screamed. I looked into it watching everything burn. It hurt, I felt like I was being gutted repeatedly. My head felt like I was being torn in two. "Papa!" I yelled again, desperate for him or Evan to be alive.
Drowning in hopelessness, I broke down and fell on my side, the snow crunching from my weight. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to die.

⧒⧓⧔

I heard the sounds of boots crunching in the snow. I felt my eyes open slowly, they were dry and opening them hurt. I didn't care. I wanted death to welcome me. I turned my head to look up at theirs, his face was completely covered by a black hood except his stubbed chin and his mouth.

"Please, kill me," I said weakly. The left corner of his lips raised up into a smirk.

"Öúanï, Luciliae," He held his pale hand over my body, "Æ Ẏeaniȃ!" He yelled, and the world faded to black.

[pѕycнopaтн]

The smell of death hung in the air, the morbid scent lingered in my nose. I felt the familiar bobbing of a horse drawn cart on a cobbled road. The buzzing of flies ringing in my ears. A gasp escaped my mouth as my dry eyes peeled open. I had been shoved onto a cart filled with dead bodies, the feeling of sick was rising in my throat.

My head hurt, the smell was making my head ring. I was breathing heavily, my heart thumping uncontrollably. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw two charred bodies. One was short, the other tall. Both unrecognizable, I knew who they were instantly.

Papa and Evan.

I felt the tears, roll down my cheeks. "Evan... Papa..." I choked. I cried silently, "Evan," I whispered, my voice too weak to carry a sound.

⧒⧓⧔

"Raye," I remembered Evan, standing by the door his chubby face set in a pout. "When will Mama come home again?" He said inquisitively. I felt his said blue eyes rest on my face, taking in every detail.

"I don't know, Evan," I smiled at him. He was so awkward, his face was round with youth, he was barely three summers old. He looked so vulnerable and defenseless. Moving my hand to ruffle his blonde hair, his face squished into a disapproving expression.
He pouted. "Hey!" He grumbled. I laughed.

I then begun to pout as my face expressed some worry, something felt wrong. It tugged at my gut, telling me to open the door. The wind was whispering to me, taunting me. Open the door. The words sounded like a hiss slithering on the air. "Raye," I heard Evan's voice beckoning me back, "Raye."

I looked down at him, he had stopped smiling. "Let's open the door and see if Mama is walking down the path," I said hastily. Evan's face broadened into the same cheshire smile Ethan had. They were truly identical. The only difference was Mama's high cheekbones which Ethan and I had, but Evan did not.

I tiptoed over to the door, Evan hiding behind me. Papa and Ethan were still asleep so we had to be quiet. I lifted the latch stealthy. It made a small sound that was barely heard, looking over my shoulder to check if I woke Ethan or Papa, I saw the room was empty. I pulled open the door.

Lying on the front step was Mama's red cloak . Dark red splotches where soaked into the material, I gasped, blood. Mama's blood. "E-E-Evan," I stammered, "G-get Papa!" Evan looked at me with tears and clambered up as quickly as he could up the ladder. I looked at the cloak, a piece of parchment with blood dripped over it said four words. Your Mama is dead.

Those words echoed throughout my life. Your Mama is dead.

Mama is dead. Mama.

⧒⧓⧔

A bump in the road make me shake off the memory. I hadn't realized that I was sitting was sitting up know in the pile of bodies. I turned my head towards my right, and I saw Ethan with his dead, glassy eyes stare back at me. My breathing quickened. That was when I snapped.

I felt Ethan's loathing for me through those glass eyes. He hated me, he must do because I killed him. "I hate you, Raye, I hate you!" I heard him say through the wind. I clamped my eyes shut and screamed.

⧒⧓⧔

The cart bobbed on, and Ethan still glared back at me. The occasional snorts from the copper shire horses broke the silence. The driver was puzzled when he saw me sitting up, as he was quite sure I was dead. He offered me a seat beside him, and couldn't stop babbling, he seemed glad for the company. I pulled my cloak closer to my body, but I left my hood down my silver hair was cascading to my waist in a loose braid.

"So, Julie," He spoke with a thick accent. I could tell he was from the south. He had trouble saying the alias name that I gave him, but he knew it was a common name in the north so he didn't question it. "Where do I have the pleasure of dropping you off?" He said with a grunt.

I contemplated my options, I should probably go to Helgræ the best healers are there, and should I become infected from the disease ridden bodies on the cart... But, Tröst was closer. I didn't fancy going into a city as large as Helgræ, so a small town such as Tröst was ideal. "Tröst," I murmured quietly.

"A woman of few words, eh?" He inquired, but his accent made his "w's" sound like "v's" and his "f's" like "th". You could tell he wasn't versed well in the common tongue. I grimaced, I didn't fancy a conversation. "No matter, Tröst is very close now, eh?" He clicked his tongue, trying to think of what to say. But no words came, and even if they did, I wouldn't have said anything.

⧒⧓⧔

The cart halted in the middle of the cobbled road, the cold air sweeping through the city made me shiver slightly but it brought in the smell of the market place. Spices and meat. Not much else was sold here, Tröst was fairly poor. I thanked the driver and slipped off the cart, he cocked his head in return and drove off, the faint clopping of his horses' hooves ringing through the streets. I noticed a hooded figure glaring at me from across the street, my body went rigid as I realized I was being watched. I pulled my cloak closer together, let him think that I didn't pay and heed towards his stalking.

He was posted outside a pub. The Stag and the Crown. The building was old and seemed to had an upper floor, suggesting that it housed rooms for rent. Perfect. With the sign swaying in the gentle breeze, which brought the scent of rosemary and thyme, I began to walk towards the door.

⧒⧓⧔

The girl began to walk towards The Stag and the Crown, her snake-like green eyes eyeing the door. She seemed so typically human but if what Nox had said is true, I should watch her more cautiously. The cold metal of my black dagger seemed comforting, as I opened the door brashly and took up my usual seat by the window. The stammering waitress asked what I would like. I'd replied with a grumble and waved her away.

⧒⧓⧔

I opened the door of The Stag and the Crown. The interior was warm due to the blazing hearth towards the end of the establishment, nobody turned to look at me as I briskly walked to a seat, and sat down. I didn't pull down my hood. I felt his eyes watch me from the seat by the window, right in the corner of the room. Two can play at that game.