[SilverWings]

Synopsis: Someone turns traitor and massacres a city called Ithacania. A girl, cursed with a second mind, another voice, begins to kill...

- Chapter 1-
Early Bloodshed

Blood ... There’s not enough blood. We need to see more blood!

Lexine studied her opaque arrow ardently, betraying a hint of uncertainty for the first time. She noticed how delicately the weapon was constructed. Miniature flowers were carefully engraved along the sides and the sharp arrowhead was securely placed at the tip. The girl gave a long, heavy sigh that vaguely displayed her suspicion, and brushed a burgundy lock of hair from her face. She was not one to enjoy the company of others’, usually staying silent in conversations and sitting in the furthest corner of a gathering.

Lexine clearly remembered asking Deron to return to the tavern at exactly sundown, and he was already more than fifteen minutes late.

With disinterest she observed the ceiling, her mind completely in a different pattern of thought. She stood up from the chair she sat on and walked over to the dusty window, opening it to look outside at the central fountain. The anxious citizens outside in Central Ithacania were still clutching to their simple yet prized possessions. They were preparing to leave their hometown, in hope for a better life. Limited food supplies were left and people were starving. The city of Ithacania was no longer occupied by gentle and tranquil spirits, but engulfed by the ambitious devils that inhabited the underworld.

What are you doing, wasting your time here? Go out and fulfil our desire.

‘Shut up,’ Lexine hissed angrily, thumping her head with her fist. Silence once again filled the room until that voice came into her mind again.

You’re wasting time, Lexine. Don’t be a fool; move and do what must be done.

‘I said: shut up!’ she shouted, slamming the window shut with a bang. She slumped on a small comfortable bar stool, examining the crystal glasses that were neatly placed on the antique wooden shelves. Her unique pallid skin rubbed against the rough surface of the seat as she sat herself upright. Many bottles of liquor and alcohol were still full of their contents, but they were covered in dust, so no one bothered to buy them. People never visited her father’s tavern anymore, except Deron and a couple of addicts.

Ever since the death of her mother twelve years ago, it was only her and her father, Natas, running the only tavern that hadn’t turned into a brothel in Ithacania. It was too sudden for Rebecca, her mother, to die of a heart disease.

Are you angry at me, Lexine? Ha. Since when have you begun to ignore me? You should be grateful; my help has saved your life many times.

She brushed the short burgundy bangs out of her eyes and didn’t respond. The pale horizon stared back at her, its orange light seeking for an entrance through the windows. Its luminosity flared directly in her eyes and Lexine jerked her head sideways, keeping her sight a fair distance away from the radiance. She straightened her brown skirt and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging herself tightly for warmth. Fingerless gloves adorned her scarred hands, black tights hugged against her legs underneath the skirt and an olive shirt that covered her chest, but revealed her stomach. It had no sleeves; only two straps that draped over her shoulders. Her opal eyes stared at her toes as her thoughts came to her friend: Deron. He didn’t have that much time on his hands, especially now that he was the official bodyguard of Princess Bridget. Lexine rolled her eyes at the thought.

She hated Royals.

Deron didn’t know of this, of course. He would probably go mental if he ever discovered that she despised the people he served, the people he respected and looked up to. But what was there to respect and look up to? Lexine knew that the Royals were gifted in a way, just as everyone else in the world was. However, she couldn’t put herself in a position to actually like them, considering the amount of ignorance they had on the recent killings in the city. Food had been stolen, livestock slaughtered and villagers tortured. Everyone in the city was in a panic while the Royals ignored the outside world, only aware of the rich possessions that surrounded them. That was why she greatly loathed them. Their deaths seemed, and were more important than the deaths of soldiers who risked their lives in conflicts. The Royals stole every possible glory someone else deserved. And it was thanks to the Ithacanian Royals that the city was starving and was suffering from the torment of bandits.

Once again, Lexine stood up. She put on her leather boots, which reached her knees, and walked across to the door. She opened it cautiously, peeking at the line of houses, hoping to at least hear the loud clanking of Deron’s armour. She looked up and noticed that the sky grew darker than usual. An ominous shadow stretched across the town like a tall, dark tower. Its darkness was menacing to the eyes and it consumed the living like a spreading disease. Cold air passed through the streets like hands, reaching out to touch each person with its frostiness. Lit torches turned off as the wind walked by.

Lexine remained still and listened as the silence reeled onwards. Her breath grew heavier as each second went by. Her fingers trembled as a full moon took shape and as the sun crawled below the mountain peaks. And then –

The horn blew.

‘We’re under attack!’ cried a nearby officer. His message was spread throughout the whole city in an instant, multiplying from one person to another.

People scrambled everywhere like frightened insects working in the middle of a rainfall. A small child burst out of a nearby house, running for his life. Rogues shot out, chasing him, brandishing swords and spears. They wore tunics with a red flower imprinted on their shoulder: the hanera. They scouted the area cautiously, their blades held in their hand firmly, daring anyone to approach. The shrilling sounds of screaming and wailing pierced through Lexine’s ears like a needle. Wooden houses started burning in agony, the fire sniggering immorally.

A massacre was about to take place.

Stunned by the scene unfolding before her, she ran back inside, took the long bow that lay on the bench and secured the cloak that was draped over the bar stool over her shirt. Lexine didn’t need to think twice because it was pointless. Enemies were invading a city; a girl was in her tavern with a weapon in her hand, with the power to help save lives. Why else had she trained for so long? Being needed when needed was a duty she gave herself. As long as people were saved by her abilities, there was no better reason than to fight. She had always wanted to prove how strong she was and show it to the world.

She flung the door open and slotted the arrow that she held in her hand into the nose of the bow. Yes! My time has already come! No, don’t think like that. I don’t want people to die. But–

Lexine’s fingers slipped and she let go of the arrow instantly. It struck a bandit in the neck, mercilessly. It didn’t matter how many people she killed. There were enemies that were assaulting villagers; they had to be stopped. That was the only thought she carried in her head as the victim’s comrades stared at her doubtfully. Lexine smirked and she could feel the pleasure of triumph arise. Arrogance was probably the best word to describe how she was feeling and maybe not just pride. They all charged at her with claymores wielded in their hands, pulling her out of her thoughts. Lexine responded by hurtling full frontal, her dagger and bow in hand.

Good girl.

She attacked the first outlaw, stabbing one of her many daggers into his chest. He fell down with a thump, but Lexine didn’t care. She showed the same mercilessness she showed before. She pulled her blade out and continued her way through the paths of Ithacania, threading through the militia that killed every living soul.

‘Why?’ Lexine muttered, threading through the panicking crowd of villagers. They pushed past her hastily, attempting to reach the port where empty boats floated, ready for departure.

In the middle of her thoughts, Lexine stopped; the area was clear of enemies. She spotted two soldiers talking with one another behind a wooden cart holding bundles of hay. The expression they displayed and the gestures they exuded showed that their conversation was quite important. Perhaps what they were discussing would somehow guide her to the leader.

Lexine wanted to stop this massacre at all costs. She was only one person; her abilities alone weren’t enough to save all the other lives that were being stolen. The only solution she could come up with was to stop the leader, stop the massacre. She crouched behind a wall and listened to the soldiers’ converse.

‘Where’s Frey?’ asked one of them, whose voice was low but soft.

‘I have no idea. He’s off with a man,’ replied the other one with a rasping tone.

The first man snickered. ‘A man, you say?’

The second soldier nodded. A woman sped by and he aimed his spear at her. At once, she collapsed onto the ground, dead. He went on. ‘Yeah. Some father of some important girl.’

Astonished, the first soldier asked, ‘You mean the girl we’re here for?’

‘Yeah,’ the other soldier replied. ‘She just killed a couple of our men before. Soon, when she goes looking for her father, Frey’s gonna deal with her.’

Lexine gasped. They were, no doubt, talking about her. But what was more unbelievable was that they did all of this just for the sake of capturing her, whose life probably meant nothing. But if they had gone through all this trouble, or was it simplicity, then maybe her existence did prove to be of some importance. Lexine was about to leap up at them, but suddenly a new thought struck her.

Her father.

All she had on her mind was the small cottage that lay near the borders of the city. Lexine attempted to head towards her home, but was stopped by a whole pack of outsiders. She yelled out in frustration. She really needed to go back home to check if her father was fine. Couldn’t they understand that? Full of rage and resentment, she pulled out her split arrows. Before the outsiders had any idea of what was happening, they suddenly realised that they were a heap on the ground, twitching and gasping for breath, writhing in pain.

A demon. Lexine was a demon. She wanted to keep killing and killing. A new feeling, a feeling she had never experienced before was starting to make itself known to her heart.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

The voice crept through her ears like a chant, the same cruel voice she had known for years.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

And then the chanting stopped. She paused as she lowered the weapons. The Voice entered her mind yet again, but it said something different, something more wicked. A black figure stood at the back of her mind and a pair of red eyes flared inside the darkness. And Lexine knew this person, this creature. It had spoken to her many times before. But this hour the Voice had changed. It had never sounded so nerve-racking or daunting until now.

Blood ... There’s not enough blood. We need to see more blood!

The Voice was right. Lexine could feel burning desires to slice the soldiers’ throats. None are to be spared, she told herself. No one was going to survive the path she took. No one could stop her and live to tell to tale because she wasn’t going to let it happen. She wasn’t going to let these soldiers murder the Ithacanians without a better reason. She could feel responsibility and blame chew at her head as she bounded to her destination, without further interruptions. But people had been killed, people who had nothing to do with it, people she didn’t even know. And it was all her fault they died. Lexine wanted to kill every single one of them. She had too; it was no longer a choice now for her; it was a command.

Lexine ran past burning homes and ashes flew at her face. Heat made her slower and she could feel her skin being boiled alive. Her face felt bubbly and irritable with trickles of sweat that kept falling from her scalp. Smoke glided everywhere, in every single place. Cinders dropped from the roofs and jumped up like an abnormal blizzard. Finally, she caught sight of her home. Three last steps until she’d reach the entrance.

Lexine flung the mahogany door open and her pupils shrank at the petrifying sight of her father. Everything was just way too sudden for Lexine to acknowledge, just too sudden for her to believe.

First it was the massacre and now it was this.

Blood was gradually staining the floor. Lexine screamed at the top of her lungs and fell to her knees. She didn’t care if she would be found by enemies or if harm came to her. Nothing mattered anymore. Her real parents had abandoned her and now her foster father lay dead before her very eyes, after being carelessly attacked by heartless people.

Lexine could feel her heart throb at the deathly sight in front of her. She was too late. While she had been too busy wanting to kill, she never took the time to think about other people. Was she a monster? Lexine coughed and vomited on the floor. The scene of her father’s blood was cruel, so cruel that she just wanted to close her eyes and wish it all a nightmare instead. She didn’t want to face tomorrow; she couldn’t. Lexine knew that it wasn’t possible for her to do anything without her father. She could feel an icy emotion freeze inside her. It’s so cold, she thought, even though the flames munched on the walls and banqueted the city.

Lexine scrambled to Natas, her father, and stroked his cheek tenderly as her salty tears fell silently onto his pale face. She closed his eyelids.

‘Why did you die? You promised me that you would never leave my side the way my mother and father did … you promised …’ she sobbed.

Between her tears of distress, Lexine stopped.

‘You never died,’ she said to herself as a realisation occurred. A thought processed through her mind like a machine. The Voice abruptly finished her sentence. Its sound was so cold and it felt evil and intimidating.

He was murdered.

It was an act of murder, a definite crime. Lexine could feel hatred grow into her mind like a poison, a virus. Her heart was pounding in anguish of another loss, and her tears refused to come out any more. Was it suicide that would satisfy her, or was it something else, something more unforgiving? There was only one answer she could come up with, only one solution that would make her feel happiest.

Revenge.

The appeal of revenge was mouth-watering. She didn’t just want to get back at the killer. She had to. She didn’t know exactly who did it, but she would soon unmask the person’s identity. She would soon come across him. And when she did, she would send him to the second world where the gods dealt with the trial of guilt and innocence. Lexine cursed the murderer. She cursed the person with dreadful words that she was sure the heavens could never find to forgive. But that didn’t concern her. Natas wouldn’t have wanted her to do this, but it wasn’t for him.

It was for her.

How were people supposed to live knowing that their father was killed? Not only that, Lexine had the name to the murderer. It increased her chances of finding him. All she needed was to feel fulfilled. A gap so hollow was dug into heart, the hole in which the love for her father was supposed to live in. Now it was empty and loveless. Nothing could fill it.

Nothing can fill it except revenge itself.

Again it was the same croaky and alarming voice. It entered her thoughts uncalled for. But it didn’t bother her. This voice, this stranger, was actually helping her. It was telling her what she should do. It was giving her something to live for. What it said made her pleased because the words were the words she wanted to hear. She had wanted someone to tell her that she was right, that seeking revenge would bring her joy.

‘Don’t try to stop me, Father. I have to do this.’

After a short moment, Lexine stood up, bow in hand and dagger in the other, full of determination and vengeance.

‘My, my, quite a speech you had there.’

Lexine turned around incredulously to see an emaciated man, around his mid-twenty’s, leaning on her kitchen doorway. He was clapping slowly and his voice dripped with sarcasm. Although he was hooded, Lexine could see his grey eyes staring at her maliciously and his mouth curving into an evil smile.

Lexine knew from several visits to the church that judging a person by one look wasn’t fair. But nothing was fair in life. Her innocent father was dead, killed by whose hands she could never find to appreciate. But it was so obvious.

This man was Frey.

This man was her father’s murderer.

That was the sudden impulse that came to her mind.

‘Why did you do it?’ Lexine demanded. Her opal eyes sparked with intensity and her mouth was dry. Her body felt compelled to lunge at the man, and she was tempted to thrust her dagger into his flesh.

‘Whoa! Take it slow, Lexine. Your father died by his own weakness.’

In a flash, the girl was at his throat, her trusty blade already held an inch away. He smirked sourly as the hood uncovered his face. Suddenly, Lexine felt a cold sharp edge pushing its way into her body. Blood spilled from the wound as his sword slid out. She stared down at her stomach. From where she stood, she had no idea how deep the cut was or how fatal. He twisted her arm and she fell onto the hard wooden floor, dropping all her weapons. Lexine groaned and summoned every ounce of strength she had left to stand up.

‘Damn it, stop coming out!’ she hissed as she pressed her hand onto the wound, attempting to stop the bleeding. The man just laughed. The sound of mockery stung her ears and she hated herself for it. It was just laughter, was it not? But what Lexine wanted was revenge. She couldn’t afford her father’s murderer to make fun of her, when it was she who wanted to make fun of him. Lexine squinted and concentrated on getting up. No matter how unbearably painful the injury was, she forced herself up, her eyes slowly opening. She dropped slightly but held her ground firmly. She was back on her feet again, withdrawing another dagger from her boot.

[Lubesh]

stood up from the chair she sat on

Bit supefluous since we know what a chair is for.lol

I will have to finsih this tomorrow. buut ur wriitng/storytelling is great! I'll be back, hope u r.

[SilverWings]

LOL thanks again for the tip!! My friend and i have actually finished the story and have printed it and are hoping the publishers will accept it!! ^^

[Zoidberg]

Ya know, this story reminds me a lot of Princess Mononoke. And quite frankly, Princess Mononoke is my most favorite movie of all time.

This story was excellent, but just a couple questions. How does Lexine have the voice in her head? Was she born with it? Is it a demon? Is it a telepathic link and not something inside her head?

It would have better if it included a little more background of the hanera (and should that be capitalized?) but if you have the whole story going to someone, i guess thats ok.

When you said:

A demon. Lexine was a demon.

Did you mean figuratively or literally? Did a demon have anything to do with the way she was acting? Was the demon actually a metaporic symbol of her hate and rage?

Once again, excellent story, and if it gets published, I could easily see this as becoming an anime.

[DanHill]

awsome story. and you said you printed it. awsome

[Celluloiddream]

Very long and detailed, but thats whats good about it. I enjoyed the demon thoughts a lot.

[Randomgold]

This is a great story, a fine beginning to something larger. But there are two things I noticed that could be fixed: 1) In the beginning, when she's looking at the arrow, it seems a bit ornate for an arrow. 2) During the attack, you first call the Hanera rogues, then later, they're soldiers. Are they an army, or something else? These are probably minor things, but still something to look at. I do want to see the rest of the story. Good luck with publication!

[FoxInari]

Nice, quick paced action, good story. I like the schizophrenia aspect, adds to the story. Good cliffhanger ending. All in all a very good read.

[Thalenchar]

Like the story alot. Couple of points though (even though you've already printed it ).
I also got confused by the hanera being rogues / soldiers. I mean, they could be both obviously, but with no background it is a little hard to tell.
Second, the part where Lexine finds her dead father. I seems there are a couple of lines between her and us (the reader) realising her father is dead. Might just be personal preference, but I just thought that didn't work so well. Maybe you could let her and us realise it at the same time, or us a little before her?

anyway, good luck with it being published.

[DarkPhoenix]

This was interesting. I liked it. Good work

[a&Ω]

First thing I noticed enough to comment on was this:

"She stood up from the chair she sat on and"

I'd personally do it like this:

"She stood up from the chair on which she sat, and"