Lore (Rewritten)

Prologue II - Part I

She stared blankly at the sand castle in front of her. Self hatred flowing over her mind, what was wrong with her? Why did her father ignore her and her mother abandon her? At least she had her cousin, always doing things with her in his own way.

Her job in the world she lived in? Nothing. Just train, train, train. What is training worth when no one will appreciate your accomplishments? Staring intently at the sand castle in front of her, she thought about destroying it. She could if she wanted to.

Just a quick movement of her arm and the fragile thing would collapse. Did she destroy it? No. Did her father destroy it? Correct. In seconds a leather boot crushed the puny sand castle. The girl didn't flinch or cringe. She looked up at her father with no expression.

"Why aren't you training, Ciracle?" Her father asked blandly.

"My muscles ached and the magic was fizzling from my dehydration and overheating." The girl, apparently named Ciracle, said.

"I forget how young you are." He said. He extended his arm to help Ciracle up, she grasped his hand and pulled herself up.

"Uncle! You are needed in the War Meeting Hall." A loud thundering voice called out.

Ciracle let go of her father's hand and brushed sand off of her dark green and maroon dress.

"Is that so, Nephew? I will be there soon then." Her father called back.

Her father walked briskly away, his coat tail slapping against the wind. Ciracle frowned, tilting her head watching her father stride away. The smell of ocean water drifting under her nostrils, along with the heavy noise of water falling. Her eyes flickered, a sudden burst of confidence jolting through her nerves. A very stupid and risky idea formed in her mind, usual of her to think of such ridiculous ideas and play them out. She didn't consider every scenario. Only the scenarios she wanted, not the horrible ones. The horrible scenarios always happen, though. Always.

Her eyebrow twitched, along with her small nose. She stared at where her father and cousin walked hurriedly away, she slowly began to walk. Not bringing any attention to herself, she began to walk faster once she reached the tree just a few feet before the city's gate. She thought to herself that her uncle was watching her from the giant tree in the middle of the city holding up terraces of villages, markets and even the palace itself. Of course he was watching her, what a silly girl Ciracle is, is she not? Thinking that the all knowing father, sitting atop his throne at the very top branches wouldn't suspect she was up to something? Something that broke one of the most sacred laws of which the penalty is death? Of course he knew, he always knows.

But did the little girl consider that? No, of course not. She's a silly little girl, her head tainted by the blandness of her father's word and her own self hatred. No room for imagination, yet she continued to walk. Knowing very well what would happen if she got caught. But then again, who are we to judge the actions of a little girl done with life when her life hasn't even happened yet? Ciracle continued to walk to the palace gates, nodding to the guards who nodded back. They wouldn't suspect a princess would be intruding into the Mens' sacred hall, the War Meeting Hall. She knew all the stories of women maids accidentally intruding in on a meeting. How could she forget the screams of them. How could she forget standing at her window, grinning madly as she watched them be tortured to death. Now before you get any ideas that the silly little girl is insane, she is everything but that.

She continued to walk down the golden corridor. She waited at a pillar for the guards to walk by. Once the heavy foot steps of barbaric men went away, she darted at full speed through a wedge big enough for her to fit through in the door of the hall.

Quickly hiding in the shadows she looked around for a blind spot for all the guards. She quickly noticed one, the only problem? It was right behind the throne. She gulped breathing in and out, quickening her thoughts, putting together a perfect tactic in her head. She cautiously slided across the gold wall, thankful for no friction between her dress and the wall. Then her shoes squeaked. The men in the room looked puzzled, Ciracle froze then slid back to the door.
Then it happened. For a brief moment, her father made eye contact with her. An emotion she never felt before, rose up from that locked place in her soul. Dread was that emotion's name. The feeling when you know something bad is going to happen and you can't stop it.
On that day, Ciracle just a ten year old little girl, was going to die painfully.