For @arcana-echoes's Echoes of the Past event ā¤ļø
ā warning for slightly graphic imageā a short story about how An's magic appears, how she get a familiar and how she venture to Vesuvia.
The moment her arm bursts into a searing hot flame, An Minh knows that her fate has already been decided.
Terrified shrieks surrounded her, begging for help. The older kid that has previously mocked her vehemently, calling her an unwanted bastard was now wailing and writhing weakly under her feet, hands clutching at his own burned face.
An screams. It hurts, it hurts so much. Her arms are burning. The skin is melting and regrowing at the same time. She collapses on the ground, tearing at her own burning arm, trying uselessly to quench the fire to no avail.
Suddenly, her head was yank back. Her uncle looks down at her, pain and conflict flickering in his wary eyes, lit up by the open flame. His trusted machete now trembles in his hand.
Yet he still squeez his eyes shut and fling the blade down.
Pain blows up from her temple, and then there's only darkness.
Hours later, An wake up. Her body feels hollow and sore, even lifting up her bounded hands takes great effort. She sits on the edge of the village, near the forest opening, chain to a stone pillar like a pig waiting to be butchered.
Between hushed whispers and the old crones chanting, familiar mumbling voices slowly register in her ears. She sees her mother and uncle and the chieftain talk with each other not far away. Her mother's eyes flashed over her, frozen in its track when An's pale irises mirrors back. She quickly looks down, her face taunted and agonized, yet also accepting and full of bitter relief.
An stares at the charred, blistered skin on her arm instead. She already knows what will happen. Has already seen it take place once before. She only hopes it will be quicker this time. The north wind soothes her with its cold embrace, carrying in it the tangy scent of old blood and the sweet aroma of grapefruit's blossom.
But the hunting knives never touch her fleshes and tendons. She doesn't get bled and cut and left outside to feed the wild. The creatures veils in shadow clicked their fang in disappointment. Her uncle and another hunter takes her chain and leads her into the forest, down the narrow path to the bustling town at the mountain's foot. She follows them, numb and hollow with ears still full of the child's broken wailing and her mother's accepting eyes seared into her brain. The grass brushes on her leg with each steps, wanting her to stay.
A black stag appears from afar, shields by shade of a crooked tree with eyes of bottomless void. Feed him the hunters, the stag asks of her, and in return, he would set her free.
An shake her head and politely decline his offer.
A green python lets her tail fall lazily on An, scales glistening like rare jade under the sunlight. Let she drink from the village well then, the python asks of her, and in return, she would give her justice.
An refuses again while gently untwining the python tails around her neck and setting its back on the tree.
A red fox giggled from its warm burrow, brazen crimson fur mirrors the scarred skin on her arm. She must allow them to play with her mother, the fox gingerly asks of her as its head split into two, and in return, they would give her love.
An pick up a chestnut and toss it at the fox head, shooing it away.
She thinks she wants to cry. She should cry but her eyes just stay dry and lost.
But then, a small white sparrow lands on her shoulder clumsily. It's a tiny thing with uneven wings and a jagged leg yet it still tries to stand taller as it chirped into her ears. Let it go with her then, it asks of her, and in return, it will give her companionship.
And this time, An accept.
They arrive at the market and she's taken to a foreign old man with dark skin and long expensive colorful robes. He grasps her face, checks her teeth and ears with a sickening pleasant smile. She's a good product, the sparrow explains what the man has said. A small pouch is handed to her uncle, heavy and worn as the old man pushes her aside to one of his servants.
"Just a moment." Her uncle's voice rang out suddenly. He kneels down to look up at her, shame overwhelmed his weathered face yet he's still determined. He hesitates, opens and closes his mouth like he wants to say something but couldn't even bring himself up to utter a proper words.
Part of An wants to say that she understands. A harsh winter is coming and a small mountain tribe will need all the help it can get. If by selling a cursed beast like her away, another child can get a bit more meat in their soup, another elder can have a bit more coal in their fireplace, her uncle's wife can get a bit more herbs and medicines to safely deliver his child this early spring then there's no need to even reevaluate. Her worth, her fate, her destination has already been decided for her the moment fiery flames burst from her arm.
But An doesn't say anything after all.
"Don't... forgive us." Is what her uncle finally choked out painfully. He's grieving.
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
izzy806
dailybridgerton
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
