Prologue

It was no choice of man, but heavens never ask the weak for permission. It was no life for mortals, but death was the only other way. Fighting for survival only meant death was a bit farther, as none ever got to truly live. The stench of blood was thick as any day if not thicker, but to desperate people that smell was only a reminder of what would they become if they didn't fight: more blood, bones, forgotten ash. To the people left breathing, every dead body was the path they had to step on, because it was that kind of world, where one either kills or is killed.

The day was welcoming dawn but a thick cover of clouds made everything dark grey. There was no rain, just silence and death in the air. That suffocating silence lingered too thick to hear the cries, too dark to mind the pain.

"Surrounded by walls, there used to be the mansion house of a rich man among this lingering death. The man had hired many experts for protection, but in the end, personal strength was what really mattered, as people fight only for their own survival. The man was attacked one day, but he felt safe, hiding behind the back of those he had hired. He foolishly believed he would be protected, that they would fight for him. He learned it the harsh way: that people fight only for their own sake. After the attack, things weren't going well for the man's side… And he was foolish to no end. Seeing that they weren't going to win, he wanted to tell those warriors to take the others and run away, that he would hold by himself the responsibility for his weakness, but before he was able to utter a word, his head was severed by none other than the strongest of those hired mercenaries. Following his lead everyone stopped defending against the enemy and started attacking the people of the mansion. It didn't take long for them to reach the heart of the building, where the wife and the mother of that man were hiding. The slightly hunchbacked old woman was taken care of quickly with a sword slash, but the young wife was raped before being cruelly killed. It was a one-sided massacre. No one could have lived through that…

But…

…

…

I'm still alive, father..."

Two small hands shivered visibly. Two bloodshot, tear-filled eyes stared helplessly, as two streaks of tears fell down unstoppably. A small body bent until it looked like a ball, so small and pitiful, while holding tightly in a hug the remnants of the dead, a single severed head among the other corpses, the head of the one it had called father only a few hours ago. Bent as it was with the head touching the ground hopelessly, the small body shook along with its powerful yet quiet cries. The crying didn't stop for one whole day. Only after all the tears dried, did the child stand up unsteadily to finally reveal the small dirty baby-face of a six year old girl. A dizzy spell attacked her but she didn't fall, as she kept her father's head at arm's length right in front of herself, giving it a stare with two clear beautiful beady eyes. The eyes were tired, and worse, blurry and dry from the tears, but they shone clear because of a new found determination. If death is the only other way, then the choice is survival. If only the strong can survive, then attaining strength is the only way to go.

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The girl slowly put the head of her father next to her mother and grandmother. Because grandmother had hidden her below those old heavy clothes she was wearing, she was able to survive. The weakness she had felt on those moments was the sourest; it had made her chest painful and together with the tears stuck in her throat it had gotten tight enough to suffocate her.

But no more.

No more weakness.

She didn't want to feel helpless anymore.

As she stood before her family's corpses, she took a few steps back to give herself space, and then she bowed deeply and kowtowed before them. She stood like that for a few moments before rising slowly. Another tear slid down her cheek, even though she had thought they had dried up after that much crying. Not wanting to cry again, she gritted her teeth and grabbed a shovel. With bloodstained clothes and unsteady steps, she made her way towards a clearing, and like that started digging. She started very slowly not being able to dig much, but soon she gained a tad bit of pace. Every time the shovel hit the ground, another tear threatened to be spilled from her eyes and each of those times she bit her lips a bit before gritting her teeth even more. Not wanting to let tears spill again, she started singing in quiet whispers.

"Tears show no weakness only show pain

But only the weak cries twice for the same

Blood, blood take the sin away

Too heavy and it makes the heart sway

Death, death take away the fear

Only in strength will our path be clear

And of bones my castle be built

Killing enemies, one doesn't know guilt

And of ash may my road be paved

Fallen in the road may the soul be saved

Pain sees no color, only sees the gray

But only the weak cry for yesterday.

Blood, blood paint the path red

So that I'm reminded of the tears I've shed

Death, death dance this black song

Please corner me into becoming strong

And of bones is this sword I swing

Eye for eye, bone for bone I become king

And on ash stands my kingdom high

And to the dead I sing a last lullaby...

Cry…cry *sniff* this time *sob*…"

The deeper the hole became, the more the tears spilled, but she didn't stop to wipe them, and slowly continued her work. Hours passed mercilessly. Where the child dug before, now was one big hole with three bloody bodies lying inside. The child stared blankly at the three, before a wisp of wind blew for the first time that day and a drop of rain fell right on her dirty cheek, startling her awake. Her eyes focused instantly and she raised her head to the sky to confirm the coming of the rain, and then looked again at the ones in front of her for barely a second before closing her eyes and bringing her hands together in a short prayer. After that she picked her shovel up again and started pouring soil upon them covering them beneath the ground that would become their resting bed. Then she marked the place with a piece of stone and next to it she planted a single branch, hoping that it would, sometime in the unforeseen future, bloom.

After that, the girl wandered around the building, burning and offering a prayer to every dead person she encountered. Only after she finished, she started to scavenge for food amidst the remains. She ate what she found and after that collapsed. It had been two days straight. Only desperation and sadness had kept her going for that long. Other than those, the only thing left in her small body was exhaustion.

….

The world holds the weak in no regard, the strong see them as nothing more than animals, heaven might as well call them insects. But whether they know or forget, weakness is always the starting point of everything. It's from where the path of strength begins.