“Do you think she’ll make it?” I heard the muffled noises of a younger voice speak—It sounded so far away… like it was rooms upon rooms separated, with only the faint echoes of a whisper tickling my ears.

  The rest of the world was akin to a familiar, black void. Light couldn’t find its way to enter my eyes, the world itself felt numb—Like my skin refused to feel, sending only an itching sense of numbness to my mind.

  “She has a good chance, foretold are… uniquely resilient.”Another muffled voice answered the first—The tone was far more masculine, older, matured in its wisdom.

  “How do you know?...” The first voice asked but never received an answer, instead, they gave their own. “Right… Forlorned...” They eventually sighed the words out, giving way into silence once again.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed after those words, minutes, days, weeks, months—I had no way of being certain of anything, at least other than the fact that time simply continued a ravenous march forwards. Its uncaring lust to reach the end of its journey guided it and I was left behind, hearing nothing but the faintest echoes of the world around me.

  But eventually sound graced my ears again—It was a soft scuffling of wood scraping upon wood, squeaking into my ears in an uncomfortably high pitch. It dragged on for several seconds before halting momentarily, then once again the sound reached my ears before a dull click followed it into silence.

  “Still asleep?...” The first voice I had heard days ago spoke softly, the clatter of metal soon greeting my ears after their words. They took in a deep breath before sighing out their next words as little more than a mumble. “Guess that’s not too surprising.”

  Soft sloshes of water next greeted my ears, the sound of metal shifting and creaking before another splash reached my ears.

  “Let’s replace that bandage then…” The voice whispered out as splashes continued tickling my ears. Soon after a cold sensation washed over my abdomen, making its way towards my hip. White-hot pain followed the instant it approached my wound, I felt my body tense up—My back arching nearly to its limits while muscles spasmed from pain.

  My jaw clenched down, my lungs burned and screamed for air that wouldn’t enter them. The pain kept growing but my body wouldn’t obey a single command I tried to send into it, not until the pain reached such a precipice that my already blackened world grew darker.

  The world entered into a silence, one so intense that my ears were left ringing. It was like an endless scream of a thousand bats all echoing inside of my skull, the cacophony growing yet louder still. My head pulsed and ached, beating against the edges of my skull like my brain wished to pound its way out of the skeletal mass.

  That was until thin slits of light broke in through cracked eyelids—Like twin sunrises gracing my sensitive irises, blinding rays of golden light danced in through open curtains to cast their gaze across my bare skin. It lay across me like a warm hug, soothing and calming my aching body from the confusion that had first graced my mind.

  “Where am I?...” I wondered silently. I sat laying upon a set of clean silken-white sheets. A soft wooden bed frame stood around me, holding me within its caring grasps, near the edge sat a short lip that saved me from rolling out of it. Just next to my side sat a small round table and a cushioned stool.

  The room itself was petite, the tight walls were barely two bed-lengths across and maybe three deep. A second table sat at the furthest end of the room with a well used candle sitting upon it, the candle still flickered out its embering cinders with all of the might that the dying flame could muster.

  Gradually, my gaze travelled back towards myself—Falling down my body, and upon the once grievous wound. Thin bands of cloth sat tight against my chest and groin to cover the smooth flesh, my hip however was mummified within heavy layers of bandages stained red and yellow from the leaking liquids still escaping the wound.

  I could feel how the flesh was torn asunder underneath, how the bandages sat in such a way that they didn’t leak into the wound. I could feel how much the wound had already healed, it certainly no longer pierced clean through—Instead it was maybe half a claw deep into my flesh now.

  “Huh…” I mused, the words finally escaping my dried lips while I shifted slowly. My voice was rough and gravely, feeling utterly unnatural to use. My arms pressed back against the bed, freeing my numb wings from the constant pressure of my own body bearing down upon them. My tail moved around, curling upon my lap while my good leg pushed forwards in order to shift my weight backwards.

  With a content sigh I rested my head backwards, the very edges of my horns lay gently against the wood-framed wall while my shoulders rested softly against the headrest of the bed. Turning my head to an angle, I gazed out the open windows.

  An entire town lay bare before the window, desolate within the white sheets that sat layered upon the buildings. Water gently trickled down just out of reach of the window frame, clattering downwards off of an icy spike until it hit the snowy surface floors beneath where I sat.

  Only a handful of chimneys offered smoke into the frigid air, but not a single soul walked the well covered streets. Only a single path was even visibly cleared, marked only by the well trodden steps that crossed its length often enough to press the snow into a dark-blue layer.

  Trees sat in the distance, encroaching upon the outermost edges of the seemingly abandoned village. The trees lay completely stripped of foliage, only white wind-whipped frost caked their outer layers of bark, leaving nothing but dazzling sparkles to greet my eyes.

  A sigh slowly worked its way from my lips as boredom crawled its way into my mind. The dull and ever-present throbbing ache of my wound still itched at my body, it was an annoying whisper that kept me just distracted enough to prevent even the slightest feeling of relaxation.

  Boredom luckily didn’t last long, maybe only a few minutes after it first began to settle in it was replaced by a hopeful feeling for something to happen. The gentle, padding echo of footfalls creaking old and decaying wooden boards gradually made their way into the tight chambers of the room I found myself in.

  Each heartbeat another step fell, each step was closer than the previous. The sounds stopped just before the door, with low shadows visible underneath the tall gaps along the edges of the frame, and with only a soft knock the wooden surface swung open.

  My gaze settled upon a young girl who froze in place with a metal tray in hand, my gaze like a basilisk left her frozen in place with shock. Soft blonde hair framed the edges of her rounded facial structure, her pale cheeks were decorated with dark freckles that splattered across her face messily. Bright blue eyes sat wide and round in her skull while her jaw opened and closed rapidly in search of words that didn’t come.

  She couldn’t have been older than fourteen, just reaching the age to take on the appearance of a woman while still being very clearly young.

  “M-M-Mason!” The young girl finally managed to shout out. Her words held a mix of fear, hope and shock—She dropped the tray in her hands, a loud clang echoing across the room before she turned and ran back out the way she came.

  I listened in silence to the clamoring steps as they hurried away from me, the crashing sounds of her rushing down old wooden floors.

  Slowly, I shifted my gaze down, taking in the scattered belongings of the tray she had left behind. The metal plate lay bare upon the ground, a shattered porcelain bowl sat scattered near it with steaming water and medicinal rags surrounding it on all edges.

  “Strange…” I thought silently, my gaze shifting back towards the barren wall across the foot of the bed. The gradual ringing that replaced the noise of the room settled into my ears as a constant to the background. Only the faintest sounds of distant conversation reached my ears, peaking my curiosity as I focused on them.

  The words were far too faint to make out—The only detail I could gleam was the faint familiarity of the subtle masculine voice whilst they approached.

  “Did she seem coherent?” I heard the masculine voice inquire, the creaking of steps following his words when they became audible.

  “I-I think so? She was at least looking around… and moved from where she was laying,” The girl answered, her shaking voice struggling to choke out the words. “She was… terrifying…”

  “Mmmm…” The masculine voice hummed in response, cutting their conversation to an impromptu silence.

  Turning my gaze back to the doorway, I saw the shadows of the two figures approaching slowly. A stifled, annoyed sigh escaped from the lips of the man who soon came into view. His eyes were firmly planted on the broken bowl at his feet.

  He was rather tall, close to a foot taller than the young girl—Yet I could tell that he was likely nearly a foot shorter than I was still. His face was chiseled like a statue carved of stone, with broad shoulders and defined arms sitting just under it. His entire physique was brought together by the piercing, crimson eyes set softly in his skull.

  He wore plain clothes, a tunic overtop of a thicker undershirt. The ends of his shirt were tucked into well fitting leathery pants, looking more than warm enough for the light weather.

  As he stepped gently over the section of shattered porcelain and splattered water, he spoke calmly.

  “Salutations, Foretold.” The man—Mason, spoke with respect and mild trepidation in his voice.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but found the words locked in the back of my throat. It was like I couldn’t speak…. no, I didn’t know how to speak yet. I had to wheeze out several bursts of wind, sounding more like the cries of a dying bird before words broke free of my lips.

  “Fore…told?” I asked, my tone still coming out guttural and gravely. But the question got through, leaving Mason’s voice to contort into confusion.

  “Aye, Foretold,” Mason paused for a moment, thinking over his next words. “Do ye ‘ave any memories, lass?” He asked in a more cautious tone.

  “I… do not believe so.” I answered honestly, I couldn’t remember anything—At least nothing more than waking up in the cavern, and now here.

  “Shite…” Mason muttered under his breath, letting out a heavy sigh. The young, blonde girl to his side met his gaze with a worried look to her eyes.

  “Do ye at least know who ya’ are?” He asked with a more defeated tone now.

  “I am I.” I replied simply, my voice quickly growing more fluid to use—It took only a few words for me to imitate a similar, feminine tone to that of the girl. But, mine also felt more refined in some way, perhaps, more mature described it best? However, Mason didn’t seem to appreciate, or understand my answer at all. The absolute bewilderment on his face said it all, I had apparently answered his question wrong.

  “Thas…” Mason let out a sigh, bringing a hand to the ridge of his nose. “Aye, guess I should explain some things. But do ya’ at least got a name fer yerself?” He asked with some desperation.

  “I… do not think so.” I answered after some time spent thinking. I couldn’t think of something like a name that felt like mine, nor did I know if I had one already.

  “Alison, ya can go. Get some rest, calm down—This’ll take some time,” The girl, Alison, nodded to Mason’s words. She didn’t waste much time to turn around, excusing herself from the situation as quickly as she could. “Aight… where shall I start, nameless Foretold?” Mason asked as he pulled a chair away from the plain table against the far wall.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Why do you call me ‘Foretold?’” I asked with curiosity in my tone, settling my gaze upon the man now sitting not too far from me.

  “Aye, guess thas a good spot to start,” Mason nodded simply, pausing for only a moment before continuing. “Ye had some words talkin’ in yer head when ye first woke up, aye?” He asked.

  “Indeed… It sounded like a prophecy, stating what I shall do.” I answered with a smile crawling across my lips—For some reason, when I thought of those words I felt complete. LIke some part of my very existence was linked to them, linked to the completion of those words.

  “Good. If ye’ weren’t tol’ how ye’d die, then yer’ a ‘Foretold.’ Yer among a narrow group of those lucky few, only three other ‘Foretold’ are alive, a’least as far as I know,” Mason answered with a soft smile on his own lips. “Means ya got some powers, no clue what they may be—But if ye just woke up and killed an Echo? Then ye damn well are a strong’un.”

  “Echo?” I asked again.

  “Tha’ critter ye killed, big, scary, ran ye through the hip? Thas’ an Echo, terrible things that’ll kill villages who don’t know they’re comin,” Mason nodded along to his own words as he spoke. “‘Sides the Foretold, ye got ‘Forelorned’ like maself, we get told at a ripe ol’ age how we’re gonna die. Get some fancy little powers, most of the time we’re just a hardier bunch than the normal folk.”

  “Anythin’ else?” Mason asked as he leant back in his chair, raising the foremost feet of the chair off the ground to tilt against the wall.

  It was frankly a lot of information for me to take in at once—My mind whirred, ideas turned and ground against each other to take in all of the information that I could from Mason’s words. But a question was still gnawing at me incessantly.

  “Why is this town dead?” I asked the question burning on my mind.

  “‘Cause this little hovel on this hillside is known as Journey’s End,” Mason answered with a grimmer tone. “People only come ‘ere to die.”

  Silence hung heavy in the air after Mason finished speaking—I felt his eyes burrowing into my side, that heavy crimson stare that had a palpable presence to it. It wasn’t unlike standing before the gaze of a hungry predator, waiting to pounce on its prey.

  “Guess it’s mah’ turn to ask ye’ a question,” Mason stated as she leaned back forwards into his seat. His gaze fell even heavier upon me, demanding my own eyes to meet his. “Whas yer prophecy, lass?”

  I turned my head to him, meeting his gaze again for the first time since he entered the room. My gaze narrowed upon him, evaluating why he wanted to know. I felt trepidation at the thought of telling him, as if it was a sacred thing I should cherish to myself alone.

  “Ah…” Mason muttered, nodding his head. “I can tell ye’ mah own, if it’d make things easier for ya.” He offered without much further elaboration.

  “That would be… preferable.” I answered him with a curt nod.

  Mason fell silent, turning his gaze down to the ground—A deep breath went into his lungs, expanding his frame for several seconds before a heavy exhale brought it under control. He repeated this motion a few times before he finally began to utter some words.

  “The winds whisper, a death in their tow. Fall to the ashes, protecting those you hold dear.” Mason spoke with conviction to his words. They were no mere suggestion of fate, but an immutable fact to him—An inevitable truth that had yet to be, it was his fate, and he clearly believed it.

  “Yer next,” He forced out with a wry smile spreading on his lips. His head turned up, settling his gaze upon me once more. His eyes were filled with expectation, maybe even a sort of child-like wonder alongside it.

  “I… suppose it is,” A soft smile encroached on my lips when I spoke. Turning my gaze away from Mason, instead opting to watch the ceiling while I spoke. “Cataclysm approaches, the earth trembles. The clouds part, so the stars may watch. The night falls still, three eyes cast their ears to you. The Throne of Cinders lay barren, devoid of any crown. You alone shall ascend, you alone shall wear, The Ashen Crown.” I recited the words spoken to me, they came without thought—They were ever present in my mind. Every waking moment, I felt those words whispering in my ears.

  When my gaze slowly returned to Mason I was surprised to see shock across his face, his eyes sprawled wide open.

  “Yer… Yer spose’ te’ claim tha City of Cinders?” Mason asked with all the shock painted on his face filtering through his voice. His eyes were wide as saucers, like twin pools of crimson blood.

  “City of Cinders?...” I asked, tilting my head to the side curiously.

  “An… ancient city, one that has long since sat in ruin,” Mason explained before standing up. “Thas.. I think thas enough for today, if ye’ can walk, then head downstairs. We took the liberty with tha’ Echo, butchered it, used the leather to make clothing for ya. I… I need time to register that. So, please, go meet the people in town.” Mason quickly left the room after he finished speaking, leaving only the sound of footsteps in his wake.

  “City of Cinders?...” I wondered silently in my head. It certainly sounded like somewhere that would have a Throne of Cinders in it. But the prophecy itself was a mystery, it was fact, that much I was sure about—But what it was a fact of, I couldn’t say.

  “Maybe… a little more rest.” I muttered to myself. Using my good leg I pulled myself back down into the bed, shifting my body around until I could find a comfortable position. Surely I could afford a few hours of rest, especially when something almost told me that my wound would be healed in just a few hours more.

  My wings folded over my body like a great, black blanket. They blocked out all of the light I could hope for, allowing for gentle breaths to guide me into a far more restful slumber.

  —

  “The flames of envy guide your talons, the pursuit of wrath fills your blood. The ashes rain heavy, the horizon covered in hate…”

  Words whispered into her ears, emerald green eyes opened in an abyss of ash. She felt heat, hatred, envy. This world was hers, this city was hers. And yet… A challenger lived again.

  “Will fate finally tell me the second half?...” She wondered silently. Her body was still weak, painfully so—She had to rest, she had to plot. Her fiery envy would never fade, not so long as she could breathe.

  —

  Warm light woke me from my restful slumber, the golden rays of a late afternoon sun shimmering their wrathful gaze through the thin membranes of my wings. The light was just enough to bring mild discomfort, forcing my eyes open in order to take in the world once more.

  However, far more than the annoyance of the light—I was quick to notice the pain, or lack thereof in my hip. As my wings unfurled form their warm embrace around my frame I extended an arm, gently running my sharpened digits across the slightly yellowed bandage across my hips.

  There was no sign of the injury that had once sat there, no divot or even discomfort at the pressure I applied to it. Even as I tentatively shifted my leg there was only the slightest stiffness in the joint, raw and unused to being used.

  “So it is healed…” I silently mused, satisfied at the capabilities of my own body. Although, I did wonder just how quickly my body could heal when needed. With a slow breath inwards I pressed my arms back, shifting the pressure enough to gently ease myself upright once more.

  I was far from confident in my freshly healed limb, leaving me to ease pressure onto it as I stood up gradually. Relief washed over me when I felt the full strength residing in my limb, the entire range of motion was so complete that I easily balanced on it and shifted around.

  I began first by hopping side to side, testing just how substantially I had healed. I bent my knees before quickly extending them out to jump, feeling the strain rush through the bones and muscle alike as I was airborne before the sharp pressure shocked through my body upon landing. Yet, it wasn’t painful—It was only a mild, momentary discomfort that faded before I could even before another hop.

  Again and again I repeated the simple motion, pushing my body to any extent that I could reach with it. My movements only came to a halt when a loud crash reached my ears.

  I turned my head around, frowning slightly as my eyes settled upon the rubble behind me. My tail found its way, crashing through the table that had once sat against the wall, now it was little more than shattered planks and pieces of lumber.

  “Whoops…” I mumbled a little, feeling only a little bad about the broken merchandise. I did wonder for a solemn moment if Mason would be annoyed, but I simply shrugged as thoughts chased it away.

  “My leg is healed… I guess I should go and see what those clothes were…” I glanced down at myself, once against registering the very thin layer of bandages covering the lumps on my chest and my groin. Frankly, I wasn’t sure why I needed clothing, but, if Mason said I should wear it, then I saw no reason not to do so.

  Without much further thought I began padding forwards, reaching my hand towards the door—Just to jump back when it swung open for me. Reflexes overtook myself, my body lowering while my claws outstretched themselves, poised to strike… Until I saw Alison.

  The girl stood, utterly petrified while looking up at me. Her head was nearly the exact height as my chest, her sapphire eyes were wider than saucers, terror was plain on her face.

  “A-A-A-Are… Are you alright?” Alison sputtered out, I could hear, maybe even feel the terror in her tone.

  “I’m… fine?” I offered, confused.

  “What… what was that crashing sound?” Alison forced out, her terror shifting towards worry.

  “N-Nothing!” I answered hastily, more than satisfied with my absolutely, utterly perfect truth!

  “What did you break?...” Alison whimpered out. She tried to step into the room, but I immediately moved my body to block her path.

  “Mason told me you made clothes?... I’m not sure why I need them, but if you made them for me—I like the idea of gifts.” Talking as naturally as ever I brought a smile to my face, reassuring Alison of my total innocence.

  “Please… don’t smile like that,” Alison whimpered a little again, her anxious eyes turning harshly away. “It’s unnerving when your teeth look like a sharks…” Alison took in a deep breath as she turned around, clearly believing my perfect truths.

  “Oh, alright.” I put the smile away, keeping it in mind for later use when I might need it.

  “I… did make some clothes—” She cast a quick glance back at me, her pale face flushing red after examining my body. “You need clothes because it’s considered improper to walk around without them, most species… barring Demons and a few others, have things that are best not shown in public.” Alison answered as she turned her face dead ahead, beginning down the hall with grace in her steps.

  I had to physically duck to fit through the door, even lurching my head forwards a small ways in the hallway that came after the door.

  “Mason asked me to be your guide… so… please just listen for today?” Alison asked in a pleading tone, though her gaze remained the direction she walked in.

  “That’s… fine? I’m unsure why I would need a guide, this world seems simple. And if it’s not simple I can learn.” I was frankly, a little confused why Mason deemed me as needing a guide, albeit, I wasn’t about to reject it either.

  “Good…” Alison let out a sigh of relief, padding down the stairs slowly. I followed silently behind her, curious of her intentions, but silent all the same.

  The stairs let their displeasures be known as I walked upon them, every gentle step down that I took was followed by a prolonged aggravating groaning noise. The faint sounds of some cracks were only a little quieter than the sound of my tail falling down each step behind me.

  Alison visibly winced with each step I took, the pained shrieks of the stairs bringing her some level of pain as well.

  “Over here.” Alison said as she stepped off of the stairwell. We had descended two floors, leaving us in a much, much larger room than the one I had slept in.

  The walls were all made of cobblestone on this floor, the finely chipped edges put together and sealed with layers of wood resting every few paces to reinforce them. Circular tables sat scattered around the room, each of them was surrounded by a series of chairs. The forefront of the room had a large bar stretching across it, a cabinet behind it and a pair of push doors one step further.

  Alison pulled my attention back before my gaze could wander for too long, snapping her fingers to regain my gaze on her.

  “Yes?...” I asked, blinking a few times while I walked over.

  “Your clothes.” She stated, gesturing to a pile of leather and cloth on the table before her. Alison stepped back from the table, gesticulating even more from the pile back to me.

  With a soft nod I stepped forwards—Without any hesitation my claws tore through the uncomfortable bandages, leaving them to spiral around my frame and fall to the ground. Alison let out a short shriek, turning her gaze away as I pulled the pile of clothes up.

  I couldn’t help but grin when I saw them—They looked amazing! First, I put on the pants, they were made of the thick, gray leather of the Echo; they even had the same texture as its hide. Next I pulled over the thin cloth shirt, it wasn’t anything special but it did space out the much heavier leather tunic that fell over the top of it.

  The tunic tightened around my midriff with a set of strings, holding itself firmly in place and even offering a little protection. And lastly, which was by far my favorite part, was a cape! It sat at a slightly strange angle, casting only over one shoulder, but it was extremely light, and very fun to run an arm through.

  “Warnings next time!” Alison chastised as soon as I finished dressing. “What if Mason was in here?!” Alison continued, shock plainly painted on his face.

  “So what?... The bandages weren’t hiding anything.” I shrugged, looking back towards the exit with a grin. “Does that mean we can go now?”

  “I… guess it does,” Alison relented, a heavy sigh breaking free from her. She was left shaking her head from my words. “What did I get myself into…” I heard her say in little more than a whisper, clearly not meant for me to hear, but I replied anyway.

  “I don’t know!” I answered helpfully.

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