“I’m heading out now!” the boy exclaimed, dashing for the front door without delay.
“I’m going out too!” followed Lyvina, only a few steps behind.
“Just be careful, okay?” Mom answered, sticking her head out of the family dining room the two had just exited.
“I will!” the boy agreed in a flash, an excited grin on his face as he flung the door open to the outside world.
“H-Hey! Wait for me!” Lyvina called out, chasing after him. “I’ll see you later, Mom!”
The streets of Carnifex were bustling with more activity than Lyvina had seen in a long time. From what she had gathered from her brother—in between the moments he wasn’t choking down his breakfast—a small trade caravan had just shown up in the village with items of all kinds, including delicacies and goods from the lavish east. Without a doubt, this was the most exciting event that the village had experienced for months, even more exciting than the knight’s arrival.
Glancing around, she spotted her little brother fading into the distance as he sprinted towards the open market at the centre of the village, which was abuzz with activity like never before. Sighing, she threw out the idea of browsing the new merchants together with him.
Still, I better catch up to him before he gets into trouble, Lyvina gave a sisterly smirk before racing to catch up.
“Hello, Mr Simms!” Lyvina enthusiastically hailed the local innkeeper idling outside his establishment. He was a kind-hearted man and was a true pillar of the community, always interested in the travellers passing through. In fact, most people seemed to treat him as if he ran the whole village despite merely running the inn. Clearly the power of the man pouring your drinks.
“Good morning, Mrs Overdale!” Lyvina warmly greeted the lady who lived next door, her bags overflowing with the morning’s shopping. Their families would often get together after church and go for meals at the inn.
On nice days though, when the sun shined bright and cosy, they would picnic in the fields near the borders of the village where the sun, grass, and flowers were too beautiful to ignore. Lyvina’s mouth watered just thinking about the tasty treats she would bake for them, a true angel in the kitchen.
“Hey there, Mr… erm…” Lyvina struggled for a moment, before realising the man was a new face in the village, one of the traveling merchants. His clothes were fancier than any of the locals, that was for sure, adorned with expensive furs, luxurious silks and a feathered hat to boot.
He must be one of those merchants from the East. They must have travelled so far to come here! Lyvina marvelled, though she wondered why such fancy merchants would stop in such a dull village as this. The resettlement region was such a drab place, after all. Nothing like the big cities she planned to visit the moment she was old enough.
Oh, I know, I’ll just ask them! she thought, making a mental note to strike up a conversation with one of the merchants the first chance she got.
The village centre was a hive of motion. Carts and wagons from the trade caravan were laid out in a circle, twelve in total. Outside the wagons, some foreign traders had set up makeshift stalls to sell their wares, away from the hustle and bustle building up around the main caravan. It was around one of these stalls that Lyvina caught up to her brother, only sightly out of breath for her efforts.
He’d joined forces with the other children of Carnifex in harassing the middle-aged stall owner for his finger-licking products. His sweet tooth always drove him to the confectionery stalls first, though she wished he would behave a tad more responsibly with his money. If nobody stopped him, he was bound to spend everything on the first item that caught his eye, then whine about his lack of funds for the rest of the day.
He's just finished breakfast, and he’s already after sweets, Lyvina gave a wry look that told a thousand tales.
“Honey apple! I want a honey apple!”
“Can I get a sugar melon, Mr?”
“Where are the cookies?”
“Can I try an angel bun? Pretty please?”
A symphony of demands and questions barraged the amused-looking stall owner, as every child vied for his attention.
“Woah-woah-woah, children. Two hands are all The First granted me, I’m afraid,” the man spoke playfully, clearly a veteran of many such situations. “Now, why don’t we get down to business.”
In an unexpected display of leadership, the man organised the rowdy pack of sugar-starved children into an orderly line. He swiftly doled out the goods while collecting payment without a single shove, shout, or tantrum. It was nothing less than impressive, even to her eyes.
Unfortunately for her beloved brother, he found himself drawing the metaphorical short straw at the back of the line, all the money he intended to spend grasped firmly in his palm, impatiently awaiting his turn. Lyvina attached herself to the end of the queue and spoke to her beloved brother.
“It would be nice to walk together with you every now and again you know, you big dummy,” Lyvina chastised him. Like always, however, he decided not to grace her with a response. Despite being the mature one, his cold shoulder routine left her with a slight pout. He may be a brat, but he was still her brother, so she forgave him.
The line shunted forward inch by inch, with every child tucking into their freshly bought sweets the moment they got their hands on them. Their eyes filled with delight as their tastebuds danced with joy at the delicious treats. When, at last, it was their turn to speak to the candy man, Lyvina could already predict what was about to happen.
“And what can I get for you today?” the man asked politely.
“One of everything!” her brother exclaimed, as Lyvina rolled her eyes.
“Oh? A big spender I see. That would be twelve Copper Saturns, if you please.”
“He doesn’t have that much,” Lyvina added her commentary before her brother could defend himself.
“But… I only have 5 Saturns,” he stated with a sadness etched with confusion. Leaving nothing to chance, her brother activated his hidden weapon: the puppy dog eyes, the same ones he used in the past to convince the uninitiated that he was the hardest-done-to kid in the village. Unfortunately for him, it was an act everyone had long since adapted to. Lyvina herself had stopped buying it long ago, and the stall owner seemed all too familiar with his trickery as well.
“Well, I can certainly get you two different items, little one, but with only a single Saturn left over, I’m afraid you’d be out of luck.
“But, If I spend all my money here, I can’t buy the wooden sword from the cart!” he informed the seller, as if it was somehow his problem.
“A wooden sword, huh? Ah, you must have the fiery spirit of a knight burning within you, am I right?”
“Uh-huh! August even said he’d train me when I’m older!”
“Is that right? Well-well, if the knight of these parts sees your potential, then it must be true,” the stall owner smiled. “I think my good friend Markus over there is selling those swords for 5 Coppers a piece though, so you’ll need to choose between becoming a knight now, or eating one of my famous honey apples,” he mused with a chuckle, a joke which her brother didn’t share in the least.
“That’s not fair! Why can’t I have both?” He stomped his foot, a tantrum incoming.
“Hey, hey, there’s no need to be like that. I’ll tell you what, little one. Why don’t you purchase that sword you’re looking for. Then, if you are brave enough, you can test your skill against me. If you manage to impress me, I’ll give you an angel bun for free.”
Her beloved brother didn’t even attempt to hide his excitement. He let out an overly dramatic gasp that would put the thin-skinned old crones of the village to shame before squeezing out a high-pitched, “REALLY?!” He didn’t wait for the answer, not that any answer besides “yes” would have registered. With renewed determination, he rushed off to wade through the crowds. Just like that, Lyvina was left behind once more.
“There he goes again,” Lyvina muttered to herself, grinning a half-smile. She supposed her nice day out with her brother would have to wait a little longer after all. Looking at the sweet stall, she considered thanking the man on her brother’s behalf, considering he had the manners of a feral goblin.
The thought crossed her mind to order a couple of angel buns herself; then, when her brother inevitably failed whatever test he’d be facing, she could swoop in as the fantastic older sister that she was and save the day. While it was a nice plan that would definitely earn her some big sister points, it did mean she could miss out on a one-of-a-kind treasure just waiting for her to purchase. With little else to hold her back, she began to browse.
By one of the large carts, two men stood atop the platform surrounded by a crowd of locals. Despite many in the gathering being full-grown adults, their attitudes appeared to mimic those of the children, though without anyone to organise them. The two traders, completely rushed off their feet, were taking orders, running into the back of the cart, grabbing the item, and then running back to the front to make the exchange. Listed atop the cart’s canvas—as well as by the wheels—was the list of all the items they had in stock.
The other carts appeared similarly swarmed with people, each with their own list of items and prices. Sure enough, among the impatient crowd was her excitable brother, pushing through the sea of people to reach the front of the cart selling the ever-important wooden sword. For a moment, she stuck her hand out, ready to call out to him, but quickly realised its futility.
Travelling from price board to price board, she found little that suited both her budget and desires. Were it possible, she wanted something with a pony or horse on it—her favourite animal next to unicorns, a species that unfortunately no longer existed after The First sealed all the mana away for good. A sad truth, but The First was busy saving humanity from the elves and false gods at the time, so he couldn’t be blamed. After all, he was sure to have made many mistakes while keeping the world safe.
Besides, even if unicorns weren’t around anymore, she’d always have her unicorn hairpin—one she’d had for so long she’d forgotten how she ended up with it in the first place, and the one that she’d never take off without a fight. Mother would always chastise her to at least take it off while bathing, but something that insignificant would never part her from it.
Perhaps it was fate then, when—among the many items this cart was selling—she spotted a book titled The Tale of the Last Unicorn with a small note stating “Heavily used” written beside it. A crude depiction of a unicorn’s head on the cover of a book was also present, intended for those villagers that didn’t know how to read, though she wasn’t sure who would be buying a book without that skill.
What does “heavily used” mean? She pondered but paid little mind to the warning. The book was within her carefully saved budget, and she intended to purchase it.
Unfortunately for her, that cart happened to be the busiest of them all. Dozens of people were swarming the back, each fighting for service. She, however, was undaunted. The book would be hers, even if she had to do as her brother did and worm her way through the crowd.
Still being small for her age, she took her chance, and weaved her way through the legs of the adults around her, moving through the small cracks in the crowd like a cat, until she popped out at the front of the cart. Her hardship was far from over, as now she found herself bidding for the attention of the overworked traders against the loudest half of the village.
Knowing this wasn’t the time to meekly wait for service, she waited until one of the merchants finished their transaction before raising her voice to grab his attention.
“Erm, excuse—” Her weak voice was quickly overshadowed by Mr Hadley, a man who lived on the other side of the village to her, asking for white tablecloths. The merchant acknowledged the request, disappeared, and came back with the item, only to be stuck haggling the price.
I better try the other man, Lyvina thought cynically, knowing Mr Hadley would haggle for the price of dirt if he thought he could get a better deal.
“S-Sir! Can I please get—” she tried again with the second trader, but Miss Fitton rudely stepped in front of her, demanding to be seen, shouting, “Stop messing around and bring me the damn dress already!”
After several more fruitless attempts, Lyvina lost the resolve she once held and decided to bow out while she still had some sanity left. Her head hung low from her failure to even be noticed when she exited the crowd. It was unlikely the book was going to be sold, or at least she hoped it was. Perhaps, after the morning rush, she would stand a better chance.
Putting some distance between herself and the noise of the trading carts, she heard a familiar voice.
“What do you think of that?” her brother boasted confidently to the candy stall owner, showing off his skills with his new wooden sword. A small crowd of his friends and random onlookers had gathered around, watching the show.
“Ah, so you’re a little knight after all, very impressive indeed. However, it will take more than that to impress this old trader. I’ve seen it all, young one—Humans, Elves, Demis, Yaapons, Orcs, Goblins, and everything in between. And during that time, I’ve picked up a few things,” he reminisced, an air of authority hanging about him. Then, from behind his stall, he drew his own wooden sword.
“So, young knight, why don’t we have a little duel to decide whether you are worthy to earn your treat,” the man spun the sword in his hand in a blatantly flashy fashion before assuming a fighting stance. The crowd of mostly children ate it up faster than his products, roaring with cheers and excitement, much to the joy of the stall owner.
Lyvina, rediscovering her smile at the display, ran up to join the crowd, scoring herself a front-row seat for her brothers’ performance.
“If you lose, I’m taking over!” Timothy confidently declared.
“Show him who’s boss!” Isaac joined the shouting.
“You can do it, Jason!” Becca cheered.
Jason?
Not one to be left out, Lyvina joined in on the cheering. Cupping her hands to her face, she yelled her support the loudest, as a big sister should.
“Come on, little brother! I believe in you!”
“Ready?” the stall owner asked, a confident yet delighted grin on his face.
“Always!” Lyvina’s brother responded, launching himself at the stall owner like a fearless hero of old, his weapon held aloft in the air, ready to strike down with a mighty power swing. The man, seeing through the plainly obvious move, simply stepped out of the way just as the boy committed to the attack, providing a light tap on the boy’s back as he fell to the ground.
Not giving up, her brother swung his little heart out, waving his toy sword in every direction possible in the hopes of scoring a hit. The man never even flinched, confidently dancing around or parrying every strike her brother could throw at him. Up high, down low, it didn’t matter; he was simply too slow.
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“You’ve yet to land a blow, little knight,” the stall owner remarked playfully.
“That’s because you keep moving! Fight me like a man already!” Lyvina’s brother exclaimed in clear frustration.
“Very well, if that’s what the young knight wishes,” the man agreed with a mocking bow. “I promise not to move from this spot. Is that fair?”
With those conditions set, Lyvina cheered for her beloved brother with all her might as he charged his opponent, ready to thrust the rounded tip of his sword into the man’s chest.
“Is that all you have to offer?” the stall owner taunted, his confidence unwavering. “I thought a young knight like yourself would be more creative.” In a flash, the stall owner swished his sword to meet the strike and knocked the sword right out of her brother’s hand. The eyes of the crowd watched as the loose weapon tumbled through the air, before plummeting straight towards Lyvina.
“Aaahhh!” Lyvina flinched, her eyes closed tight as she threw her hands out in front of herself to block the incoming strike.
A few moments passed.
She opened her eyes, puzzled as to why she hadn’t been struck with the wooden sword. She was sure it was heading right towards her before she closed her eyes. Glancing around, she spotted the sword lying on the ground, looking a little worse for wear after its encounter with the hard surface. A little confused, but overwhelmingly relieved that she wouldn’t have to explain another big bump on her head to her mother, she turned back to her beloved brother, who was already rushing over to check on her.
“Don’t worry about me, it looks like the thing just passed over my head—” She stopped talking as her brother passed straight through her to retrieve his sword.
W-what? Lyvina’s eyes sprung open, as her brother rearmed himself behind her.
“You’re not playing fair,” he announced to the stall owner, much to the man’s amusement. Lyvina, sure she must be seeing things, tried talking to her sibling again.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just because he’s older—” her brother phased through her body once more, returning to the battlefield. Slowly, she turned her head to follow him, unable to blink, processing what just happened. There was… something...
Lyvina, not understanding, not wanting to understand, called to her brother again.
“E-Ethan?” She called but received no response. A dark realisation began to take root—one that she desperately tried to bury again.
“Ethan, please, turn around,” she pleaded, her right arm outstretched as her brother continued walking away, unaware of her. It was there, it was on the tip of her tongue. It was something she’d forgotten, yet never wanted to remember. If she could just get her brother to speak to her, to turn around, to simply acknowledge her, she would be fine, everything would be fine.
“Ethan? Ethan! ETHAN! PLEASE! LOOK AT ME! SPEAK TO ME! PLEASE, DON’T DO THIS TO ME!” Lyvina screamed to the world that didn’t care, in a world that couldn’t. “ETHAN! ETHAN! ETHAN! ETHAN!” she screamed with tears in her eyes as she watched the boy she called her brother taking another fighting stance with the stall owner.
Oh, that’s right, she thought as her eyes became glassy and cold, without the strength to even stand.
It was all fake, she remembered.
I’m dead.
---
Seated at the edge of the table, Lyvina watched the boy she called her brother and the woman she called her mother indulge in a meal she could never participate in. The boy, whose real name was Jason, was recounting his swordfight with the stall owner, though her weary mind kept drifting in and out of the conversation.
“And then, I got him right in the chest!” the starry-eyed boy exclaimed excitedly. “And he fell to the ground and surrendered! That’s how I won the angel bun!” Jason finished, omitting the part where he had gotten his butt handed to him multiple times before the nice man took a dive to spare his feelings.
“Oh my, you’re just my perfect little knight, aren’t you?” the mother, Maranda, replied, her smile as warm as the sun.
Lyvina simply observed, no longer caring for the family she once convinced herself she was a part of. Having been trapped in this village for so long, she was certain she had lost herself in every fantasy she could possibly imagine at this point—innkeeper’s daughter, travelling merchant, wild child, even playing a hero once before. It never mattered, however. In time, they were all brutally crushed under the harrowing reality that it was always fake, a self-imposed delusion to keep herself from breaking in the never-ending loneliness of her existence.
Her name was Lyvina, a child whose true mother and brother were long since dead, yet she was unable to pass on, bound to the same village she had spent her entire life in, cursed to wander its streets forevermore. Unfortunately, that’s all she really remembered about herself. The faces of her family, the friends she used to play with, her favourite foods, music, books, and even the reason she had died was lost to her.
But not the method.
Lyvina wandered into the mother’s room, not wishing to hear any more of their conversation. There, she passed by the mirror kept on the simple dressing table. Though nobody else could see her, she could still observe her own reflection.
A little girl with raven black hair and tired red eyes, wearing a red dress with her unicorn hairpin adorning her dark locks, stared back at her. It was there, plain as day, that she saw it again—the ugly purple band that ran across her neck. Softly petting the area with her bloodied fingertips, her thoughts drifted back to the blurred history of her life.
Was I a bad person? she asked herself, not understanding why she was put to death. Why did they have to hang me?
This reflection she saw in every mirror was simply too cruel, always revealing what she truly was and never the person she wanted to be. Just once, if only for an instant, she wished she could glance into the mirror and see a reflection that showed true beauty, one that everyone would love and treasure, instead of this horrid person who always met her gaze.
The front door opened, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house.
“Dad!” Jason could be heard sprinting for the man before he’d even shut the door.
Dad…
“Hello, dear. How was work?” Maranda asked from the doorway of the dining room.
“I think I taught that old forest a thing or two. Should have enough wood to last a winter,” the giant of a man replied, playfully tussling his son’s hair.
After spying on their happy reunion, Lyvina found herself unable to stay in the house, an overwhelming urge to escape overtaking all other thoughts plaguing her mind.
No longer denying her true nature, she phased through the wall of the house to make her escape, finding herself on the street she knew all too well in her small prison of a village.
Over the decades, or perhaps even longer, she had attempted to escape countless times. However, whatever was preventing her from going to the Heavens, the Echo, the Underworld, or even the great void of nothingness between it all, was the same force anchoring her to this place that held no happiness for her.
With little else to occupy herself, Lyvina once again wandered to the village centre. It was possible a few trinkets she missed could hold her attention for a time. Who knows, if luck favoured her, someone from the village might even purchase the book she desired, and she could spend some time reading it alongside them, following the pages she couldn’t touch herself.
Trading had died down since the morning, and the chaotic crowds from a few hours ago had vanished to their homes—much to the relief of the poor merchants working the wagons. The current assembly of people consisted of local farmers, drawn to the village to sell their abundant produce, yet inevitably lured to the exotic wares the foreign traders were carrying.
It was then, while searching to see if the book had been sold, that she saw them.
Speaking with the merchant stood a man, his honey-brown eyes matched with his hair tied into a ponytail. By his side, with her arms crossed, was a woman—likely his girlfriend—looking sinfully underdressed in what could only be described as a bra and short shorts.
It was a sight that once might have provoked Lyvina to blush, but her untold decades of undeath had made her numb to such trivialities. She had seen it all, allowing her to coldly analyse such situations without the unnecessary moralistic baggage.
Lastly, there was—
“Who is that?” Lyvina spoke aloud, surprised by the final person in the trio.
It was another girl, rather slender in appearance, with a demeanour so passive Lyvina doubted she could harm a fly. Her outfit appeared a tad oversize for her frame and, all told, did not appear flattering. Yet, her eyes and hair were another matter. In all the time she had spent in the village, observing its mundane inhabitants, she had never come across anyone like her. Her mismatched green and red eyes and her contrasting black and white hair were all strangely beautiful, but in a way one might find an ancient dungeon or castle ruin alluring in its destruction.
They don’t look like farmers. Who are they? Closing the distance, Lyvina overheard the conversation.
“Here,” the brown-haired man told his half-naked companion, offering her the newly purchased purple cloak.
“Wait, what?” she responded rather strongly to the gift. “You’re buying me clothes now?”
“It’s like you said, if we’re going to be traveling together, it’s best you don’t look like you’re ready for, erm… combat.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Anyway, just take this so we can get going already.”
After accepting the gift, the girl, appearing to mistrust her boyfriend’s intentions, examined the item thoroughly before donning it. After checking herself out, she leaned forward toward the man, placing her hand on her head with two outstretched fingers over her eye, one above and one below, forming a peace sign.
“How do I look?” she asked playfully, a bright smile blessing her features.
“Better. I’d say it even suits you,” he retorted, keeping a cool face, much to her chagrin.
“That’s not how you compliment a girl! You should say something like, ‘That looks sooo good on you,’ or ‘I never realised how beautiful you look,’ or even ‘I think I’m falling for you’.”
Drifting away from the lovers’ tiff, Lyvina moved closer to the mysterious girl, listening in on her conversation with the now freed-up tradesman.
“… Excuse me,” she asked in a mellow, passionless voice.
“Hello, young lady. How can I… help?” the man said, his tone shifting slightly upon seeing the girl’s peculiar appearance. His customer seemed unfazed, however.
“… I want that book,” her delayed response came as she pointed to one of the items listed on the sale board. Lyvina’s ears perked up at the discussion.
“Which book would that be? We still have a few left over.”
“… The cheap one… with the horny drawing.”
“The horny—Oh, Right, wait there a moment.”
Lyvina surged with excitement. She feared the book would be left unsold and hauled away by the caravan. Yet, the truth of the matter soon dawned on her: Though the book had been purchased, it was done so by a group of travellers that had little reason to remain.
“Hey, Vine, you buying something?” the boyfriend called over, despite his lover still appearing unhappy with him. Vine nodded.
“… Lyric told me to preserve all knowledge… So, I’m keeping this one safe.”
“Safe from what?” he mumbled, slumping his shoulders.
The tradesman returned at that moment with the book in hand. Apparently, ‘heavily used’ meant the damn thing appeared as though it would rot away in his hands at any moment. Even in this state, however, the girl never batted an eye at its condition, calmly reaching into the bag by her side and pulling out a full Silver Crown for the book.
“… Here.”
“Erm, the book’s only 4 Saturns. Do you have anything smaller?”
“… They’re the same size though?” Vine tilted her head.
“Vine! We talked about this on the way here!” the boyfriend loudly exclaimed.
“… Ohhhh,” she passionlessly acknowledged, putting away the silver and bringing out the exact amount requested.
“Why anyone would want that is beyond me,” the tradesman muttered under his breath, before turning away.
“Great! Now let’s grab something to eat already. I’m starving!” the girlfriend announced.
“Sounds like a plan,” he nodded along.
“… Hungry,” the mismatched girl added, presumably talking about herself.
Lyvina watched the group of hungry travellers heading towards the inn. They would remain for a time to rest and recharge, but like all travellers to Carnifex, they would soon depart for greener pastures, and beyond her ability to follow them. She’d be forced to witness the one thing that held any chance of joy in her cold, empty existence disappear from her life.
“Please…” Lyvina called to them. Her mind was clear, with no delusions to impair her judgement or provide false hope that her plea would reach them. Yet, she still persisted, hoping for that one something, that one anything to carry her voice to them, to the girl holding the book, to let them hear her. “Please, don’t go.”
Lyvina’s hands reached out and—
“!?”
She touched her… She touched her!
Lyvina’s eyes grew wide at the sensation of touch feeding her mind, rewriting all the rules she had come to know in her long, cold existence in this land. Somehow, even through the veil of death, Lyvina had managed to touch Vine. Flinching in surprise, the girl spun around, her emerald and scarlet eyes scanning behind her for the culprit, before landing on Lyvina.
“C-can you s-see me?” Lyvina stuttered out, so many emotions welling up inside her like a bubble about to burst.
Vine didn’t respond to her words, however. Instead, she simply stared at Lyvina, her eye’s growing larger by the second, rivalling Lyvina’s in scale.
“You can see me, right? Can you hear me too? Please! My name is Lyvina, and—” She paused as Vine wordlessly retreated, an encroaching look of terror overwriting what had been a constant state of neutrality.
“W-wait!” Lyvina lurched forward, unwilling to let the one person—perhaps the only person in existence—that she could interact with disappear. Grabbing hold of the girl’s wrists, Lyvina held her in place.
“Don’t go! Please! Don’t leave me alone!” Lyvina begged, her expression a jumbled mixture of emotions, tears of both joy and desperation wetting her eyes. Vine had yet to answer her, however, instead panicking at being restrained, attempting to break away.
To leave her alone.
But she wasn’t going to let her go.
Exerting more strength than she had ever tapped into before, Lyvina clutched Vine’s wrists tighter, and tighter, and tighter. Even she was shocked by how much power she appeared to possess, but there was little time to question her good fortune.
“Please stop panicking! I promise I won’t hurt you, but please stop trying to run!”
During this time, Vine’s party noticed her absence and were already returning to collect her, hastening Lyvina’s desperation.
You can’t escape, you can’t escape, Lyvina’s mind insisted, refusing any alternative, despite Vine’s persistent attempts to break free. With little other options, her vice-like grip grew even tighter, to the point she could feel Vine’s very bones about to give way. Under the mounting pressure, Vine dropped the book to the ground, causing the already fragile piece to lose a chunk of the hardcover on impact.
“Vine? Is everything okay? You just dropped your book,” the man from her party asked only a few feet away.
The mismatched girl looked behind herself briefly, before turning to face Lyvina. Quietly, she finally spoke to her “… Whatever you are, please, let go.”
Lyvina felt her stomach drop, her body running cold. These were the first words ever directed at her in her eternity of loneliness. “Whatever you are”… Why did she say those words to her? In her eyes, was Lyvina not even human? The only person who could talk to her, who could see her, who could make her feel alive again, didn’t even see her as human. Lyvina felt a tear run down her face, her grip loosening for only a moment, before clamping down with all her might.
“You’re not going anywhere!”
She felt the wrists giving way, about to break under the force of her raw strength,
Suddenly, blue lines of unknown origin started consuming Lyvina’s arms, quickly racing through her hands, forearms, reaching past her elbows in a matter of seconds. A spiderweb of strange blue markings covered just over half of her upper limbs.
“Wha—” Lyvina never managed to finish her question, as both arms, covered by the strange blue lines, shattered to pieces in a single, resounding crash, like a glass doll that had just been broken.
Lyvina was thrown to the ground, staring in disbelief as her arms were reduced to shards in front of her. Time itself appeared to stretch in that instant, granting her enough grace to gather her thoughts. Even as Vine’s companions reached her, even as she apologised without an ounce of passion to them when collecting her book, and they departed to the inn, Lyvina remained seated in utter shock. It was only when she raised her arms into view, discovering the stumps they had been transformed into, that she truly understood what had been done to her.
“Ahh—AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!“
Collapsed in the middle of the street, Lyvina wailed like a banshee, the pieces of herself scattered on the floor like leaves from a tree.
“Why?” Lyvina pleaded, looking back towards the girl for answers, only to see her shrinking back fading into the distance. She glared at them with a seething hatred like no other, grappling with the weight of her body without her hands to steady her.
“Hey, what do you have left in stock?” the voice of the customer asked behind her, catching her attention. He spoke as if nothing happened, because as far as he was concerned, nothing had.
Why don’t they care? Why does nobody ever care? … Why, why, why, why, why? Lyvina’s mind demanded answers, as everyone continued their daily lives as though she never existed. For the longest time, she had managed to keep herself calm, and even content on occasion in her prison by escaping into fantasies of her own making. But, all these feelings of resentment, of anger, of pain, of envy, which only grew harder to contain as the years passed by, had now come flooding to the surface.
“I hate them…” Lyvina admitted quietly to herself.
“I hate them,” she reiterated for a second time, far surer of her statement.
“I hate them, I hate them, I hate them!” Her words turned into a feverish chant that only gained momentum the more she continued.
“I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! I Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem! Ihatethem!
I HATE THEM ALL!!!”
Lyvina paused, gasping for air she didn’t require—like many things in her existence, just another reflex that made her feel alive. Nothing could change what she was, however; nothing could end this nightmare.
She had so many locked-up emotions to release, so much to say about the injustice of it all. But, even after shouting her hatred for the world to everyone around her, it was all just so unsatisfying, an exercise in futility. Pointless.
What did the people around her care if she hated them when they didn’t even know she existed. She felt like a bug, a parasite, crawling around other people’s houses, nourishing her own existence off their lives, their experiences, their moments of joy and happiness.
Except, she was giving herself too much credit. Even a bug had more influence than her. After all, bugs could eat food, bugs could have kids, bugs could kill other bugs… bloodfalls, they could even get noticed by humans, all so much more than she ever could. That meant, she must be even lower than a bug in everyone’s mind.
Lower than a fucking bug.
“Why…?” she asked herself once more, the soft pitter-patter of her newly formed tears hitting the ground as her will finally broke down yet again.
“Why did she break my arms…?”
“Why did everyone abandon me…?”
“Why did they have to hang me…?”
Delusion, heartbreak, delusion, heartbreak, delusion, heartbreak. For an eternity, she lived only for this torture, in this dull little village. Punished for a crime she couldn’t remember, locked in limbo by a god who didn’t care, and forced to watch other people’s lives, both long and varied, pass by within the arbitrary borders of the village which formed her cell.
All the while, she could only look in the mirrors to see how hers was cut short, a constant reminder hanging around her neck. All for something she had forced herself to forget so long ago.
“I’m sorry…” she said, her tone soft and weak. “I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please… forgive me.”
There was no response. “I’m sorry.” There were only the sounds of life passing by around her, “I’m sorry.” As though she never existed. “I’m sorry!” As though she was never alive at all.
The darkness once more consumed her mind.
“Please… somebody… save me.”