Feyra:

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Screams of anger, wail throughout the night, the essence of rage, plague the ether, felt by mages and sprites alike; Deep darkness; fills the skies all around a quaint little Hamlet, and in the center lies an unlit stake, a Hue'tinx' scarred and burned hands, and ankles bound at the top, a crowd of humans gathers 'round, all shouting obscenities, wielding torches, farming equipment, and whatever else they found to be sharp or blunt, a mob. There are other Hue'tinx bound off to the side, scars, burns, and bruises could be seen on the bodies of all of them as well' Two were a couple, a third, their child, and a fourth was a lone hunter' The couple, along with their child, wore commoner clothes; lastly the hunter who wore simple leather armor with a cloak, one of his two horns were broken. This was a frontier farming village, content with just existing, the noble that lorded over this village cared not for his people' long as they paid their tithe, they could live uncivilized for all he cared. "W-why mus-" "Shut it, you fucking devil!" One of the Hue'tinx tried pleading, only to be hit in the back by one of the villagers. The Hue'tinx child, a little girl, was sobbing, which fueled the mob, the couple' on the hand, although wavering, was attempting to remain calm' The hunter, being the one kicked, was glaring knives at the human who had done it, a smirk on their rage-filled face was visible, enraging the hunter. The mob had begun chanting the words "BURN THE MAGI!!!" The crowd on one side parted to allow a figure clad in a large black cloak wearing a mask resembling that of an avian skull' The robed person was carrying a lantern and a sickle' The person was a death acolyte of the god of souls Iztar, "quiet!" The death acolyte had spoken' After a long minute, the acolyte had continued, "Poor soul who has been forsaken by the living that surrounds you short of kin, do you have any final words for those among the yet, still breathing that you care for?" The priest asked, "Yes" was all the poor girl bound to their still yet unlit pyre' Could respond with, "Then by the will of Iztar speak, for your transition to the valleys of death to be..." he paused for a moment while searching for the right word to use, "merciful," the bound girl winced at the last word the acolyte had used, "Feyra? If you can hear me, wherever you are, I love you." "I bless you with a spell of bliss' to ease your transition," poor wretch, the acolyte muttered under his breath before turning around towards the village chieftain. The mob was unhappy with the spell being cast' however, none of them were bold enough to vocalize their feelings, "you may commence, chieftain." The acolyte spoke' to the villager to his left, "'bout damn time these THINGS got what was coming to 'em," the chieftain emphasized. The chieftain, who wore blue overalls, grabbed a torch from a man to his left before walking to the stake, "Greet Iztar for me, will ya?" The man had said, in a sarcastic tone, before tossing the torch on the ground, lighting the nearby wood, "Layla!!!" The hunter screamed with sorrow. "Yeah!!!" a large portion of the mob had yelled out. The bound Hue'tinx child, next to the hunter, looked away only to have their face forced to look at the stake by one of the villagers in the mob; the bound Hue'tinx could do nothing but watch the flame slither its way up the stake, towards to the poor girl, feeling her feet getting hotter and hotter, Layla prayed to the gods for her sister's safety, she knew the others who were bound could not get away without facing a similar fate as her, all she could hope for was the chance that her sister, Feyra, could run away before she was found and be burned, or worse, she never knew why humans hated her kind, the hatred, the distrust was there long before her birth, before her parents, and before their parents were born, it was there, it was predictable what types of things they would do, just not how it would be delivered. The fire had finally found her; after a long grueling five minutes, the fire had finally touched her foot, and she started feeling pain, massive pain at her feet; looking down, she could see crimson embers, like blood from the gashes along her limbs, "what?" Was all that she could think of when; seeing the remnants of burned material; she had felt fire in the past; whenever the local drunks would try to drive her family out of the village, whenever they would force her limbs into the open fire, it was painful, yes' but after some time, she had developed a lesser fire resistance however, this fire was burning more painfully than when that kind of torture was first used on her. She tried to hold in her screams, but when the flames reached her ankle, she could no longer it; letting a scream of agony out, she tried to think of her sister, but neither the fire nor the mob would let her, with flames crawling higher, and screams not satisfying enough being made, the villagers started to throw more timber onto to growing pyre, crimson embers started rising more and more, somehow raising making the fire more painful, the girl let out screams, the type of which could be commonly heard when children are snatched by the blood starved creatures of the twilight. A house on the hill, in the distance, a little girl peaking through a hole in the attic; seeing a bonfire in the middle of a large crowd, the fire, sprinkled with red embers, finally overtaking the wood; the girl looks off to the side towards a portrait, of a family of violet skinned people, each having a pair of two horns, then down, in her lap is a small; painting of two girls, her and her sister, with tears falling on the picture she uttered one word, Leyla.

Stolen story; please report.

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Waking to the sound of embers crackling, her heart beating at a higher rhythm, "Another dream," Reyla drowsily muttered as she rubbed her eyes, "It's been; ages; why must they be reoccurring," she questioned the world, "a new one?" a soft, voice asked her, looking over, Feyra saw her sister, who was sitting next to her, leaning against a barrel. Her sister was hidden by a heavy, dark cloak, wearing a plain, cracked mask; the mask; contained a minor rune of structure; to keep it from splitting more, Feyra ignored her question. "Didn't I tell you to stop going there," Feyra questioned her sister upon noticing the drying blood stains on her apparel, "But we need the money," Safra complained, "Not from them; we don't," Feyra lied, "and besides, healing you costs more than what you earn, in a week," Feyra explained, "then don't heal me I'll endure, I've done it a lot, why stop now," Safra complained, "Because they will never stop using you for whatever they want, and we both know how bad they are and how they will stay," Feyra scolded, "I don't care what you say, we need the money and no one else will pay us, and the adventurers guild doesn't accept people who can't do anything well," Safra claimed, "then stay here and study the books I get, don't you want to be a necromancer?" Feyra ordered, "I already have, I would look in the library, but we both know that they don't accept our people," Safra said, "Fine! Then wander around, scribble, experiment, whatever, just something other than go back, and I'm not talking about working in the red-light district," Feyra conceded, "Fine!" Safra accepted. "How long has it been," Safra asked, "Since? Eleven years, give or take," Feyra answered, "I can scantly remember their faces," Safra commented with sorrow, "I was only eight when it happened; you were four," Feyra said, "Been tough since, been tough," Safra said, "That it has, that it has," Feyra agreed, "Get some sleep," Feyra order, "Alright, I will" Safra accepted. "Now that I'm awake, I might as well; do something," I say; quietly; after standing up, I look around. The camp; they occupied had barrels made into the shape of a makeshift barrier, mats of hides litter the ground; to provide flooring, extras, forming flat piles; that is their excuse for bedding, and a fire lined with stones, calling the center of their camp, home. Safra on one of the piles of animal hide, an empty but warm pile of hide; where she just was, and another empty one on the opposite end of the camp, "Guess; they're on another quest," I comment; I looked to the right and frown, "Need to go hunting soon, the stores only have one rabbit in it," I say, looking at an open chest, "Might as well get on it now," I say, walking over to a small chest, next to my sleeping mat, opening it up, I reach in and take out a bag with a strap, I open the bag and put in my hand, "Good, it's still there," I say, taking out a book with engravings on the cover, the cover being simple leather, after putting the bag back into the bag, she put the strap over her head, to let it hang, "Now, maybe I'll find a deer or something big like that," I say, before leaving the campsite.