PROLONGE

I shivered through the familiar tremble of cold in the night, the lonely essence of the winds cruel duel against the winter.

I curse these times as I coodle myself close to my chest in the unfamiliar winter, life slipping to bliss. Focus. I whisper. Take your stance. I exhale. Blow. My mind is cursed with dreams caged to the eyes of another, blood, murder, savage calloused hands, and blurry surroundings. A late evening filled with nobility, my sister Sienas coming of age party. I celebrated my eleventh birthday alongside it. My father, an infamous hunter, hunted the Rusalka that had been living in the Sevia rivers. Her ***** bloody body was on display conveying a hearty message from my father, ‘Beings of the spirits are deathly creatures, this is what is to happen to the stupidity your kind possess when you trespass our lands’ My blood went cold as I watched my father and his mates clink there wine glasses and torturing the half dead creature, making her subordinates watch. Throwing punches to her ribs, changing the nails pinned against her wrist, and…rape… torturing her throughout the night. She had done nothing, and I knew my father fabricated the story of trespass, their murderers just as much as our mortal kind. Yet I watched her still living body, I watched her whisper to her soldiers while nailed up by her wrist. The bloody water soldiers knee bent in front, no emotion, not a flinch when broken glasses were carved into their body. I didn't say a word, as I watched them so evidently plan my fathers murder in their ancient language. Her tongue was soft, when she slipped words to her soldiers, then she lipped ‘retreat to Tali hands. I looked to the soldiers, to my father, and then to her. And I walked away. That was the first night, the first brutal glimpse of a man being gutted out by tongue, his supposed wife said the words ‘with mercy of mother, thou shalt not covet, condone me through your veil great Svalinn, as the axe collided with her head. I awoke, vomiting on the wooden floor boards. My sisters awoke that night and screamed for my father, but when they scattered to find him he was dead in his study. The Ruslka disappeared with her three soldiers, and I wondered if the man I dreamt about was him. It wasn't. The guilt stormed inside of me, I told my mother what I'd witnessed that night. I was so very young and something inside me told me my mother wouldn't dare blame me. I was replaced by the Rusalka, I was eleven, left with no one,  tortured for months. The people blamed me for murdering the infamous hunter, I carried deep cuts from my back to my thighs, bruises coated my once clear pale skin, help me, anyone please. But no one answered. Two years passed and my time was up, the torturing worsened, I wanted to die. Yet as they pinned me above the bonfire in our long yards, to my death, I cried out... ‘help’ and closed my tortured eyes. Then a scream, a mortal scream, blasted through the cuttings of my ears. My eyes exhausted, tired, I heard my sister's cries, Siena’s cries, holding my younger brother in her hands. I cursed myself, for letting my brother be exposed to this horror. But I didn't cry. I refused to cry. I watched them evacuate safely, and as a water soldier cut down my ties I whispered. “Not that carriage, leave them, please.” And he silently nodded, vanishing into thin air. That was the night it began, the Ruslka arrived in front when the rural area only consisted of dead bodies, dead mortals, towering. She said, “We are trained soldiers, we took notice of your eyes in a second that night” her eyes sharp and edged, crimson red blood eyes watching me on the floor. “I am no fool, and you weren’t either that night child” She sighed, then I remembered the lipped words. Retreat to the Tali lands. “My debt is paid.” Was all she said. “Please” I pleaded as she began to walk off. “Kill me” She halted, I could feel her pity, not a word when she turned halfway. Our eyes briefly touched, I swam the crimson rain of her resentful eyes. And begged. “I want to die, Please. Please.” I tugged through my ripped shirt to my heart, bleeding from every end. “You're so young, so naive. These cruel people tortured you, yet you forgave them, you let them. Your weak” She spat, and she was right. I never blamed the townspeople, my mother, my fathers brothers no matter how much I despised them. You'd think broken ribs and bones, blood drenched every second of every day, and cuts so deep you could my bones were enough for me to fight back. “Sima…” Her guard said, he gave me a warning stare as I challenged her eyes. “Your father is a foolish bastard, your mother is a selfish wench. And your sister–” I lunged before she could finish the sentence, I just barely scratched her cheek as her soldiers tugged me down. “Don't you dare…bring my sister into this… you don't understand what she's been through.” Flashbacks of the past rushed through me, Siena hiding me from my fathers rage… “I like this one.” Ruslka chuckled, licking the blood from her cheek. “Let's take her.” Her final words as she trotted into the darkness. “Sima you can't be serious, she's a mortal! You are already being tracked down, a mortal girl should be the least of your worries.” The soldier barked from darkness. “Did you not hear what I said? Plus I haven't had this much fun in years…” Her laugh faded with her steps, and I was saved by Ruslka and her three soldiers.

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