In the town of Water’s Bastion, peace is the norm. The people expect it. Guards patrol frequently as ordered by Baron Embers. Women feel comfortable walking alone at all hours of the day. Children play in the streets. Men toil at their work, respected by both their peers and family.

It was only two decades ago that civil war ravaged the lands around Hopeful Lake. The baron at the time had seceded from the kingdom when he was ordered to abdicate his role. The refusal led to a devastating two-year campaign that ended with a single leader, Captain Johnathan Embers, succeeding where many had failed.

Many still remember the constant air of death that loomed over their lives. Women were hunted in the streets. Children were killed needlessly. Men were drafted regardless of their fighting experience. Evil took hold across the lake, ensnaring the region in terror.

But now, the newest generation cannot remember a time when there was no peace. Such is the desire of any parent for their offspring.

“I’m hungry,” a child, likely around the age of eight, complains to his mother. His stomach growls as if to reiterate his distress.

The mother, ever smiling, leans down towards her child. “How about eating at that place you like downtown? They say a new food from the castle has finally made it onto the menu.”

The child’s eyes light up. “Yes! Please!”

Nearby, a group of men stands around just outside a large bar. It’s overcrowded with people. They jeer, sing, and cheer as alcohol overwhelms their systems. Inside the tavern itself, bad decisions are made between men and women as they sneak away to quieter places, acting solely on drunken, hormonal decisions they’ll likely regret another day.

Teenagers and young adults mingle out in the open moving between shops or talking in happy groups. A school is positioned in the middle of Water’s Bastion that everyone of any background is allowed to attend for free education. Incentives are given to those who wish to learn trade or agricultural roles.

Water’s Bastion is a beacon of safety, uncorrupted by politics like in the South nor held to the whims of invasion from countries and creatures like in the North.

Sadly, in peace, humanity forgets the past in favor of the present.

Two women around the age of seventeen talk with one another as they parade through the streets. Crowds of people swarm the areas around them. Vendors call out their direction offering products for sale. Men sling them foolish, flirtatious words. The girls are attractive, they know this, and today’s interactions are nothing new for them. They continue to move about, chattering, letting nothing distract them.

“Do you know anyone with an invite to the engagement party?” asks the first woman, Laurel. Short, fluffy brown hair bounces around her oval, cute face.

“Sarahi is going. Her brother is single and of age,” says the second girl, Rayne. Her dark hair normally falls seamlessly over her shoulders. For today though, she keeps it tied in a tight ponytail.

“He doesn’t have enough standing to marry the baron’s daughter,” snorts Laurel, scoffing at the information. “Besides, he’s an ass.”

“He wants to try. A lot of men do. Everyone says she’s beautiful, intelligent, creative, and a good cook. What man wouldn’t want her?”

“She’s recently turned eighteen, correct?” Laurel asks.

“From what I’ve heard.”

“It’s a little late to be getting married.”

“Like we’re ones to talk.”

“We’re not nobles,” corrects Laurel.

“True. But still. Do you have anybody?”

Laurel frowns.

“Same here,” complains Rayne. “Men these days only want someone easy.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“It’s not a shame to have standards. Do you know what they call girls who whore themselves out constantly to men? Pregnant.”

“There are ways to prevent that.”

Laurel scowls. “Are you going to use the baron’s daughter as an excuse to lower your standards?”

“Of course not.” Rayne shakes her head. “Being total prudes isn’t helping us though.”

And right she is. Rayne and Laurel have wonderful personalities. People generally like talking to them. They’re both attractive, slim, and they come from good families.

Then why do they act the way they do? Simple. Sarahi’s brother, previously mentioned, is a good five years older than the girls. Sarahi is a mutual friend to both Rayne and Laurel. When they were younger, they’d stay at her house. They’d watch as Sarahi’s elder brother would bring in women, cherish them, take them to his room, then kick them out crying in a revolving cycle. Needless to say, it soured their impressions of men.

Laurel frowns. The fact that she isn’t arguing is a sign that she at least agrees with Rayne on some small level. They’ve both noticed it for a while now. Friends of theirs that paired up years ago are starting to prepare for their futures. Wedding invitations will soon flow out like water. Laurel and Rayne are falling behind society’s expectations. That factor provides them with a significant amount of anxiety they’ve not yet vocalized until now.

Rayne and Laurel look backward at the men who cat-called them. They’ve long since forgotten about the girls, but the girls have not forgotten about them. They stare back, seemingly annoyed they must even consider them as feasible options for mates.

“I’d rather just be with you,” Laurel mutters absent-mindedly.

“Same,” grumbles Rayne.

They shake their heads. Walking away, they continue to mutter about “males” and their hatred towards them.

At an intersection, Rayne and Laurel split paths towards their respective homes. The streets have grown sparser with activity now that they’re at the edge of the inner ring of Water’s Bastion. It wouldn’t be odd for the sounds of their own footsteps to be the only accompanying melody.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Laurel waves to Rayne before trudging away.

“Later!”

Alone now, Rayne pouts. She stares at her shoes in annoyance. “Idiot! You had the opening. She said she’d rather be with you! Why didn’t you act more serious?”

And, as with all things, there are other factors weighing on the girls’ minds that give them pause when they hear the word “love.” At least, there are for one of them.

Darkness has begun to fully set on the day.

Only a few stragglers remain in the streets. None of them pay the others any mind.

“That was a sign. I have to say something next time. I can’t keep holding back how I feel,” Rayne mentally readies herself. “We can never marry, but I don’t think that matters. Not to me. As long as I’m with her, I’ll be happy. There doesn’t need to be some official thing to signify our love if it’s real.”

A man sleeps on the ground. His cloak covers his entire body while his hood remains over his head, acting as a sort of cushion preventing him from grinding too harshly against the ground.

Rayne passes him without a word. Her mind still lingers on her interactions with Laurel.

“Hmmm?” the man groans. “Oh, excuse me…miss?” The words are kind. Unassuming.

“Huh?” The girl blinks. She notices the man for the very first time. “Y-Yes?”

The cloaked man stands. He rubs the back of his head. His face is still largely hidden thanks to his clothing, but she can see a mess of hair shaded around his face and head. “You got the time?”

“O-Oh, yes.” Rayne nods. She reaches into her pocket for a small watch she carries with her.

A hand latches over her face.

Before Rayne can even shriek, she is dragged quickly between two houses. Her body is lifted up effortlessly by the man’s single hand. Shocked by this, Rayne’s words choke in her throat. Her back slams against a wall as a face grows nearer to her own.

“First, I’d like to express my deepest apologies to you,” says the man. “Normally, I’d be a little more selective in my prey. You’re not really my type in these matters. Alas, I’ve been out of the game for a bit. I need some easy practice. You’ll have to do. Don’t worry, I’ll treat you just as well as all the others. It’s only fair,” the man coos as if consoling a child. “I already have a place lined up for our entertainment. I may mess up a bit. Yes, quite a bit. I am out of practice after all. Oh? Did I already say that? I think I did,” the man mutters awkwardly. “It’s better to mess up on you than the one I want. Oh, she’s special. I’ve been waiting on her all my life. I want to do her right. I can’t mess up. I need to focus. It might be the last. It may be the last. It will be the last. She will be. But not you. You’re just another woman.”

Fear stuns Rayne. She’s unable to breathe. Her ability is further suffered as the man’s free hand clenches around her throat. The life drains out of her as she succumbs to darkness.

It would not be her last time conscious in this world.

She would awaken again.

Unfortunately.