A PRICE MUST BE PAID

What kind of price and to whom I never knew. But from childhood it rang out through my mind, every tragedy, every misfortune it never ceased.

I sat there at the window pondering why? Just why was I afflicted with such a curse, what price must I pay? Was it even I who had to pay the price?

The rain pounded even through my thoughts and invaded my min. the dark blue and grey mixed in the heavens and poured down as punishment. I was sure the storm was not a mere act of nature, nor part of my “unfortunate” condition.

The figure that had their backs to the very heavens they incited. Their black flowing cloak flittered violently with the wind. But they remained still.

The empire had incurred the wrath of many in its long history. But no emperor had created more than the current. His policies although great on paper were hated, the land had been stagnant for far too long. People hated change, especially the kind they couldn’t change.

The mages hated him especially so, their profits relied on draining the empire. But he took their leeching to be bad for the empire. But he failed to see the truth, a weak parasite is to be removed. A strong parasite is to be sedated, or isolated. There is no rule that states a parasite cannot kill its host, especially so when there are plenty others.

I looked away from the window and into my room, plain. That was all I felt towards it, it was just a room. I had hidden in the wardrobes when I was little, I had swung off the bedposts and chewed on the drawers. But all that changed when my parents realised, I existed.

I was no illegitimate child, quite the opposite in fact. However, the only legitimate child of a falling barony meant little when there were twelve children half of which weren’t even mothers. It always amazed me how father had survived as long as he did. I wondered from time to time whether he knew she was poisoning him.

The burden of being the heir was relieved of me when father passed, but mothers torment continued. She had always hated my energy; I was no threat, and she lauded it over me. But she couldn’t bring herself to kill me, was I not fair game? Did I look too much like her? Or was I just that fun to torture?

I looked at the family photo that haunted the space above my mirror. I was on the left, my black hair a stark contrast to the random shades of the five strangers beside me. Father stood behind me, but his hair was somehow darker, his eyes too were black. It was not a rough black, but instead like charcoal, something no painting could capture.

I had changed so much since then, just a year had passed but I had grown. I looked down at the white night gown. The scrawny arms that poked out either side and were terminated with gangly fingers that seemed inhuman for my size. I was sure that I would grow taller, but I never got enough food to do so. I didn’t look starved, just pale and thin. The only thing worth a mention on my face were a few freckles from the last time I saw the sun and my black eyes.

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

As my entire room flashed an iridescent blue I returned my gaze to the window.

I had never thought that lightning could look like it did, but I soon came to realise something. The true horror of what I saw was just a mage controlling the weather. The very lightning they brought was special… and dangerous.

The thunder brought with it a shockwave that shattered the window. But I stared on. Each strike brought with it the same strange blue, but also explosions. There was now more than one figure, and they were tearing the empire asunder.

My eyes remained fixed. There was little I knew about the empire’s armies. But I knew that the mages had gone too far.

Hundreds of strikes rained down. For a moment I wished that one, just one would strike the manor. I hoped that more damage than mere shattered windows would come to this prison. But the world was intent on disappointing.

Even as the shockwaves sent shards of glass flying at me, none hit. But it was not intent with disappointing me in just one way. No army came, no foreign aid, nothing.

The mages showed no mercy, whether imperial or peasant deaths were assured.

Villains are the true heroes of the world. A hero could burn an empire down without a single scolding in fairy tales, but in this world, they would be in fifty different pieces and across the continent by now. Yet such a horror gets to unfold outside my window, and no one comes.

I picked up the chair and sat back down at the remnants of the window. My hair fluttered in the wind with each blast, but I remained still. if the lightning didn’t kill me, perhaps the cold might?

I thought back on my thoughts. It felt weird to do so, but I was running out of things to look at. Just much of the same, streaks of blue followed by dancing plumes of red and orange.

I wondered why I even thought that they would be punished. It was unlike me to have such a blip of optimism. I had seen how those with power were treated before. the stronger they are the weaker they act, waiting for the lower levels to exhaust themselves before taking it all.

Old enemies become new heroes; old heroes become dead enemies. it was a simple process fed by the birth of the living. Everything about humans seemed wrong.

We could cause such damage, yet we only care when we hurt ourselves. We pride ourselves on being able to think, yet we killed all the creatures of legends because they could think. It was truly the favourite race of hypocrisy.

What would the incarnation of hypocrisy even look like other than humans? Maybe a mouth, or just a tongue. I found it ridiculous that the other children hated snakes. The old woman told tales of their treachery, and we said the sly were snakes.

Most swindlers looked nothing like snakes, instead the looked remarkedly like something else. They stood on two legs had two genders, and every time I looked in the mirror they stared back.

Tired, I no longer cared about what went on outside. It felt meaningless to watch, for a moment there was something to think about. But that was it, just something to think about. There wasn’t much that could make my situation any worse, it was just fine. Fine, fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine. The word annoyed me, it irked and irritated the staleness within stirring it into a storm. But even so I couldn’t be bothered.

I looked at the sparse sheets that covered my bed. I would need them and thus I looked elsewhere, there was nothing I could use in my drawers, nor on the wall, but on the floor… I picked up the faded red rug with patterns too indistinct for me to even recognise anymore.

After trying to secure it to the broken windows and failing I gave up. Instead, I opted to move my bedding from my mattress to below my bed.

When I nestled myself in the stifling space, I felt how the weight of the water on my skin. Rain had been pouring in through the window, but I had not cared, nor did I now. With my final thoughts hoping for some disease to take me quickly I drifted off to sleep.