Emily's POV
Emily felt as if her mind was being being split into five different parts, all at once.
A part was thinking about the villagers in Saalnia, who she thought of as family.
A part was thinking about her parents.
A part was thinking about her older brother, Emilio.
A part was thinking about Jack.
And finally, a part was thinking her being a witch.
Not to mention all the grief she felt.
Her journey with Durthon and his men should had been existing, as Emily never left her small village before, but it didn't phase her at all. She's barely paying any attention to it. She didn't even show any reaction to having to sleep in the open in the cold while on this journey, even though that was her first time doing something like that.
Was it because she knew she was being taken to the capital, Arixalum, to likely be executed on the crime of being a witch? Not really. Emily felt as if she didn't have a reason to live on anymore, so she wasn't really afraid of the thought of dying.
My parents died, Jack died, the villagers hate me...what's even the point of wanting to live?
Though if there was one thing that made Emily a bit hesitant of dying, it was Emilio. If she died, he'd be all on his own, though again, will he really want anything to do with her if he learned she was a witch? Emily was afraid to find out the answer to this.
I wish I told the villagers to tell Emilio I died if he came asking for me. I don't want him to know the truth. I'd rather he thinks I died along with our parents.
"Here you go. You should eat." Durthon said as he handed Emily a wooden plate of soup, snapping her out of her dark thoughts. She took the plate slowly from his large hands.
"...Thank you." She said in a voice so low, she wasn't sure if Durthon heard her.
Emily, Durthon, and a handful of his men gathered in a circle around a crackling fire. The remnants of a day's journey lay scattered around them as they settled into a makeshift camp, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on their faces. The air held a subtle chill, and the scent of pine lingered from the surrounding trees. The crackle of the fire intertwined with the distant rustle of leaves, creating a soothing symphony of nature as the group prepared to call it a night.
After a minute of silence, Durthon's gaze ascended to the vast expanse of the night sky.
"We should reach Arixalum tomorrow morning. It's your first time in the capital, correct?" Durthon inquired.
"Yes." Emily replied, her voice lacking vigor.
This makes it the third day since Emily set off towards Arixalum with Durthon, and during these 3 days, he and his men never treated her cruelly. And while they weren't cruel, they weren't exactly friendly either.
This makes it the third day since Emily embarked on the journey toward Arixalum with Durthon. Throughout this span, neither he nor his men subjected her to cruelty. Yet, their demeanor didn't extend to warmth either. A guarded vigilance surrounded Emily, even in the quiet moments of her repose. Emily could feel they did not trust her.
They always kept watch over Emily, even as she slept. They made sure she was never truly alone. Emily felt as if they were both guarding her and guarding the world from her at the same time. Conversations were borne out of necessity only, and some men even avoided eye contact all together, as if some feared the potential witchcraft she might wield upon them if their eyes met with her.
Emily could not help but find it a little funny how some of these knights feared her, thinking she's this powerful witch who can easily cast a spell and kill them, as she knew the truth was the exact opposite. It's them who can kill her anytime.
"Where will you take me tomorrow?" Emily suddenly asked. This was the first question she ever asked Durthon since their journey started. The man turned to look at her, not looking too pleased.
"Nowhere pleasant, I can promise you that." He responded.
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The next day dawned with the two suns in tandem ascent, casting a radiant glow upon the horizon as Arixalum, the grand capital, slowly unveiled itself. Emily stood at the edge of the city gates, her gaze wide.
Arixalum, the capital of the Kingdom of Arixad, was a sight Emily has never seen before. The city's architecture blended tradition with practicality, comprised of sturdy stone structures and winding streets.
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The buildings, though not towering, stood as testaments to craftsmanship, adorned with simple carvings and symbols. Emily has never seen houses that tall before. The streets were paved with cobblestones, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet and carriages. Market stalls lined the thoroughfares, showcasing goods ranging from crafted tools to basic potions.
People mingled in the streets, each with their own trade and purpose. Merchants peddled their wares in wooden stalls, and artisans crafted their goods in small workshops. Emily has never seen so many people at one place before. The culture shock of Arixalum almost made the girl forget all that happened to her for a minute.
As Emily delved further into the heart of the city, still riding Durthon's horse with him, she encountered the hum of everyday life. The scents of bakeries and simple street food wafted through the air. Residents, dressed in practical and well-worn clothing, went about their daily routines.
In the central square, Emily found a bustling marketplace where farmers from the outskirts sold fresh produce. The rhythmic sounds of hammering and the chatter of vendors created a lively atmosphere. The city had an unmistakable vibrancy
Despite the simplicity of her attire, Emily stood out among the city dwellers. Her plain gown drew curious glances, a stark contrast. Knights guiding her around her around also did little to make the girl be noticed less.
"Where are you taking me?" Emily asked Durthon the same question she asked yesterday. She hoped this time he'll actually tell her.
"The Knights Garrison. One of them, that is. The one near the royal castle is off the table." Durthon responded, his gaze steadfast ahead. He navigated the bustling street with a purpose, leading his horse with measured steps to avoid any chance encounter with passersby.
"And... what awaits me there? Are you going to kill me?" Emily voiced the question that had silently echoed in the recesses of her mind since their journey began.
Durthon stayed silent for a minute.
"Likely so. Yet, it won't be my hands tasked with snuffing out your life, witch." Durthon retorted, the words laced with an icy detachment.
Likely so?
Emily wondered for a second why Durthon worded it like that, but she decided she must be reading too much into it.
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"Here is where you'll be staying for now." A knight declared, his tone carrying the weight of cold finality as he gently ushered Emily into the confines of the iron cell. With a resounding clang, he closed the formidable gate the moment she stood ensconced behind the unyielding bars.
"Oh..." Emily's subdued exclamation hung in the air as her eyes swept across the cell that would be her room in the Knights Garrison.
The room, if it could be called that, was a stark embodiment of restraint. Dim light filtered through a small, grated window, casting feeble beams that barely illuminated the cold stone walls. The air hung heavy with the musty scent of captivity, and the only furniture in the small chamber where thee meager straw pallet strewn against the corner, and a wooden chair that looked as if it's about to fall over any second now.
As Emily tentatively stepped forward, the cold floor beneath her feet offered no solace.
I wonder how long I'll stay here. Durthon did say I'll be put to trail.
Emily slowly sat on the wooden chair. There were nothing for her to do but get lost in her own thoughts, for better or for worst.
Naturally, her mind yet again started wondering towards her village, her parents, her brother, Jack, and her being witch. She was exhausted and wanted to stop thinking about it all, but her mind did not listen.
And just like that, two rough days in this cell passed. Knights brought Emily food and water everyday, though they always made sure she drank all her water first before handing her over her meals. Emily realized they are being cautious. She assumed they thought she would be able to control the water they give her somehow if they weren't careful. Emily thought it silly at first, but then....
But could I? Can I really control water? It's not like I ever tried it before, though again, it's not like I knew what I was doing back when I first used these....powers of mine.
Emily still found it hard to accept she has such powers.
On the third day of Emily's confinement, Durthon, accompanied by a man previously unknown to her, approached the cell where she stayed.
As the heavy footsteps neared, Emily cast her gaze toward the approaching duo. Durthon, with his intimidating and rugged visage, remained a familiar and foreboding presence. However, the man by his side stood in stark contrast—a figure of unexpected beauty amid the austere surroundings of the cell. He appeared to be in his mid 20s, and Emily found him to be beautiful.
The newcomer's long, blond hair cascaded down his back, neatly gathered into a ponytail that swayed with each step. His features were refined, bearing an air of elegance that sharply contrasted with Durthon's hardened demeanor. His eyes, a shade of deep blue, held a certain warmth that seemed out of place in the stern setting of the Knights Garrison.
"So is this her?" The beautiful man asked.
"Yes, this is her. She's the witch who killed all the bandits my men and I were after." Durthon responded.
The beautiful man arched an eyebrow, his tone laced with playful disbelief. "How shocking, a little girl like that really managed to beat you and your men at doing the job."
A flash of anger crossed Durthon's face. "Shut your mouth! Didn't you want to talk to her? So go ahead!" Durthon shouted. The tension between the two men was palpable, leaving Emily with the distinct impression that they harbored a mutual disdain.
"Sure, but do you mind giving us some privacy? I'd rather talk alone with the girl." His blue eyes met Emily's, and she couldn't help but be momentarily captivated by their depth.
Who is he? What does he want with me? He's so beautiful, I thought he was a woman for a second.
"Fine, but remember, you only have fifteen minutes!" Durthon grumbled as he walked away, leaving Emily and the beautiful man on their own.
"So, girl, what's your name?" He asked with a soft smile on his face.
"E-Emily...." She responded, her voice weak.
"What a pretty name for a pretty girl. A girl like you really doesn't belong in such a place."
"N-No, I'm a witch....I should be here." Emily said, which she could tell made the man frown from behind the bars.
"Is that so? Though from what I heard, your power was the reason any people from your village survived." The man said, trying to cheer up Emily.
She stayed silent.
"My name is Thandor. Thandor Whitethorn." he introduced himself, a warm smile gracing his face.
"Wh-What do you want with me, Thandor? Are you the one who's going to kill me?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Oh no no, nothing like that. If anything, it's the opposite. I'm going to save you and get you out of here. I promise you that." Thandor reassured. Emily felt as if his soft smile was illuminating not just the room, but also her heart somehow. She couldn't explain why, but his gentle demeanor almost brought tears to her eyes.
Just who is this man?