Under the crescent moon's dim light, a boy was hand in hand with his mother, getting dragged through the snow. His eyes were dull as he looked behind him in the direction of what was once his home. All that was left of it was the smoke that plumed over the trees. His eyes widened as he noticed something shooting toward him. His mother's hand shot in front of his face before he had the chance to identify the object. Unless the sharp dagger poking through her hand was the object.
Blood ran down her snow white palm. Blood…he looked down at his body, and he was covered in it. When did that happen? Memories flashed through his mind. Oh, that's right. The blood that covered him from head to toe, that’s what was left of them. The screams he heard while he hid underneath the ruins of his burning home. Tears ran down his face, agitating the burns that had yet to heal. There were splotches of burned skin everywhere, underneath all the blood.
"Survive,” his mother whispered in his ear before she threw him back as if he weighed next to nothing. He landed in the snow and slid through it until he had a view of his mother, fighting off at least a dozen of the monsters at once. The “humans" his mother called them. She looked fearless — she looked furious, like a blizzard of violence.
Something grabbed him from behind, yanking him by the hair and holding something cool and up to his neck. His captor snickered and yelled something in human tongue from behind, and his mother turned. The rage in her eyes was paralyzing. He could feel cool steel trembling on his skin before a dagger landed in the snow in front of him.
A mace smacked into the side of his mother's skull, forcing her eyes away from them, and his assailant fell to her knees, taking deep breaths and trembling as if he had just been saved from drowning. Asura looked down at the dagger in the snow, and he felt something break inside of him. He quickly picked up the dagger and plunged it through the kneeling human’s neck.
He looked up at him in shock, unable to breathe through the torrent of blood in his throat, but for some reason, the pitiful look on his face only filled him with rage. He yanked the knife down and out, leaving a large gash in his neck. Blood spouted from the wound, spraying all over his face and chest. Tears fell from his eyes as he kicked him to the ground and began mauling him. By the end of it, his face wasn't recognizable anymore. Asura fell to his knees, out of breath, and he cried. He hated crying, it made him feel weak, and every time he did it he hated himself a little bit more.
He wiped the tears away, doing little more than smearing blood over his face, and he stood. He turned and found his mother bleeding from what seemed to be everywhere. Despite her sorry state, she looked more ferocious than ever, and the last three humans were reluctant to approach, as if she were more dangerous than they'd given her credit for. He glanced down at the red dagger still in his hand before stepping forward, making an audible crunch in the snow. His mother turned with a glare that sent fear rippling back through him. He took a step back, bit his cheek, and ran, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind him. And then there were four.
Cella glared up at the humans that had hunted her down and destroyed everything that she’d worked for… almost everything. Her mind flashed back to the child that she had raised to be able to survive on his own no matter the circumstances he may find himself in. He would survive, she knew he would. Her on the other hand… that was an entirely different story. She felt like she should be dead by now, and the only thing holding her together was her rage, but that wouldn’t be enough to survive this. All she could do now was buy enough time to ensure his escape.
The three humans stared down at her with contempt, as if she were a lesser being, and in their minds she was, despite what she had done to a large chunk of their fighting force. In the center was a blonde young man with thick navy blue lines tattooed over his entire body. It was all connected and probably done at birth, starting from his head and running down to his arms, back, torso and legs. He wore robes of blue and gold that matched his green eyes, and she could tell he wore armor underneath them just by how bulky they were. The man had no weapon on him, but his contemptuous smile indicated that he clearly held his power elsewhere.
To his left was a woman, silver hair and eyes grey as steel. She wore plain steel plate armor that covered her chest, legs and feet, leaving her arms mostly uncovered, most likely for maneuverability. She scowled down at her, as if her very existence was bringing her physical discomfort. She held a thick broadsword in her left hand.
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To his right, a wiry man with brown hair and amber eyes that seemed to glint. He wore layered leather armor with a cloak covering most of it. She could tell what to be worried about from him due to the quiver slung around his back, but she made sure not to be too locked into expectations. Expectations lead to disappointment.
The blonde one twitched, instantly grabbing her attention. His hand emerged from beneath his robes and pointed its palm at her. She felt…nervous. The man’s tattoos glowed an ominous blue, and he smiled at her — not a second later a beam of light struck her from the sky. She fell to her knees with a cry of pain as her skin was singed from the heat. The weight was heavy, and the pain was fierce, but she’s dealt with worse…so much worse.
She glared up at them, a calculating hatred burning beneath her eyes as she stood underneath the weight of the beam and charged forward. Although the weight was lifted from her shoulders, she swore she still could hear the beam trailing behind her; if that were the case then she would simply have to keep moving.
The man placed his other hand on the woman’s shoulder. She glowed light blue for a moment before she dashed forward, and in an instant the distance between them was gone. She swung her broadsword at her in an arc and Cella held her arm up. The blade cut through her thick skin to the bone, and the force of the blow sent her flying back. Two arrows, aimed at each of her eyes while she was still in the air. She tilted her head down and let the arrows lodge into her skull before she crashed into the snow. She rolled to her feet, pulled the arrows out, and went back on the move, narrowly avoiding the beam that relentlessly hunted her down. She heard something whistling through the air and felt her hairs stand on end. She ducked and turned, letting the broadsword cut through her hair rather than her neck before springing up and slamming her fist into the woman’s jaw. The woman reeled back in shock, and Cella used the newly made space between them to raise up her foot and kick her in the chest with all her might, launching the woman even further away than she did to her.
She didn’t even have time to process her small victory before a blade was thrusted into her back, right through her heart. She gasped a small breath as the blade was torn out and the beam of light caught up, forcing her to her knees.
She spat out a glob of blood and concluded that this was probably the end…how disappointing. She noticed the woman she had kicked limping over with a dent in her breastplate. She raised her broadsword above her neck, intent on decapitating her. Yes, that would definitely kill her. The sword came down. She shifted to the side and the blade only cut through about half her neck. Blood turned the snow red, and the beam of light was still relentlessly pummeling her. They didn't want to give her any chances it seemed.
The blonde human was laughing as he looked down at her, saying something in his human tongue to his friends. It was all so muffled and blurry; it felt almost unreal. The woman placed a foot on her head, unbothered by the beam of light that was making her life so insufferable, before she raised her sword up again. Far off in the distance, as she laid in the snow, something caught her eye. Perhaps it was the slightest bit of movement in the bushes, or maybe the glint of light reflecting off of something's eyes. She didn't get time to think about it.
Her head was separated from its shoulders, but at the last second, the brown haired hunter noticed where she was looking and followed her gaze. He quickly notched an arrow and sent it into the bush. After a moment of deafening silence, it seemed there was nothing.
Asura sprinted through the woods, out of breath with an arrow in his shoulder. He suddenly felt nauseous, fell to his knees and dry heaved. He’d already expelled his insides a while ago. He rolled over and lay on his back, letting the snow cool down his body. He grabbed some snow from around him and smeared it over his face, wiping off the dried blood and tears to the best of his abilities. He was hungry, thirsty and alone, and the last memory he had of his mother was her being beheaded. The thought made him nauseous; he rolled over and vomited up what little spit and stomach acid he had left.
He was going to roll over until he swore he could hear leaves rustling and branches far into the distance behind him. He stood back up, one hand still gripping the blood caked dagger, and ran. He didn't know where he was running, he just was…until he tripped over an exposed root, just barely avoiding the arrow that flew over his head. He stared up at it in shock for a moment before launching into a sprint, just barely avoiding the next two arrows aimed at his back.
He weaved between the vines and trees as he ran, always just barely avoiding death. He heard the telltale signs of the gorge’s rushing waters and changed course toward it. Something pierced his calf, making him fall forward into a roll down a steep hill. The arrows in his shoulder snapped, and he cried out from the pain. Tears welled up in his eyes, and as he neared the bottom of his fall, a sudden desperation flowed through him. The will to survive, and to take everything from them. Everything that they had done to him, he would ensure to return two-fold — three-fold! He would make sure they shuddered in disgust at the sound of his name!
His cries of pain transformed into screams of desperation as he forced himself to his feet. He could hear the river just ahead, louder than the sound of his own heavy breathing. As he neared the cliff, three arrows pierced his back, and his mouth opened to let out a scream, but no sound could be heard over the raging water. He fell and let the darkness consume him.
