Knight

Prologue

The sounds of pain and fear. Screams. Cries. Begging and fighting, these are all i remember. Or at least, all I think i remember...

I was only seven when they came. The Demons. They devastated us. They tore apart more than homes and families. Bodies. I remember the blood running down the streets like water. The ones who were finally silent were on fire, brown and red. Their singed bones were visible - what was left intact, that is. My mother cried. My father lay somewhere back at home. Other children were cowering behind their parents, screaming as if the shrill noise would make them invisible and untouchable.

I watched in silence, with indifference as my mother began screaming as well. As the dark figure lifted her by the hair. As she struggled against his strength to be free. To run. Simple human instinct was prolonging her suffering. Even i, a small child, knew it by my gut. And it strangely don't bother me. I don't even know if it should have.

I remember the instant her screams stopped. To be replaced by the sound of her drowning in her own blood. What wasn't pouring down the front of her now lifeless corpse, that is.

It trickled onto the floor, and over to where i lie. Numb. Silent. Left for dead.

I don't remember how long it was, but I remember that after that, after the Demon left and my mothers corpse was stranded for the rats and other beasts. I saw people. I saw them cry over my mothers deformed body. I saw them run around the room like frightened animals. I saw a bunch of men and women looking at me with a strange expression. What was it they felt?

Pity?

Sympathy?

Fear?

And after that i saw a few large men, lifting the weight that had been crushing me. Someone pulling me out of what was now a groove in the ground. I couldn't feel it, though, I remember shrieks when I was able to take a breath, and turn my head. And being carried away somewhere, at some point.

But after that? after lying half-dead in some mans arms, whisked away from my village, not even sure if i was alive myself? I remember darkness. And eventually, my brother. No one else. My mother. My father. Aunt. Uncle. Friends.

All dead. All gone, without a goodbye.

And now, it's been three years. Since i woke up, that is. I'm still "That strange girl" in town. My recovery was considered a blessing. After five years in a nearly dead state, anyone would say that. Especially since i had a 'flawless' recovery. Apparently i'd been blessed by the gods. But what cruel god would have such humor? To damage me. Scar me. Pull me apart and just leave me to pick up the mess? I haven't gone for one night without seeing that demon. Since i woke up, every night had some dream of him. Every day i see his face. As horrible as it was... i can't bring myself to hate him. I don't know why. I hate the demons. I hate their kind. Their power. Their cruelty.

But not that one. That specific one. I couldn't. Because if i were to find him, powerless, at my mercy, begging me to let him go. Would i really be better? Would I really be kind and forgiving? Would i be the bigger man everyone prides themselves on being? Everyone would like to say they would. But that's when they don't have to worry about the situation playing out. It's different to say what you're going to do, and actually acting on those words.

But i know myself. I know what i'd really do, and i wont lie to myself about it. After all, he's the reason I'm so useless. The reason I'm weak. The reason i can't help anyone. The reason I lost my vision.

Because of him I'm trapped. Trapped with my brother, in this town of hell. Trapped in rooms, or in the fields. Trapped in the midst of these stupid commoners and ignorant royals.

I couldn't even choose to leave a room myself, or to go outside without an escort. I barely remember what it was like to have those freedoms. To be able to walk without fear of falling, or hurting someone. I can hardly tell if the room is dark or light anymore, never mind which wall I'm facing or where the door is. Not that I'm brave enough to use it, for fear I'll open it to shattered glass or daggers lying under my feet. And to make life worse, i don't look blind. Apparently my eyes aren't glossy or foggy. They almost look focused. I still move them in attempts to see, after all this time, making myself look like a normal towngirl. So im taken as ignorant, foolish, clumsy. I can't help what i can't see. Im criminalized when I so much as bump into someone, gods help me if i were ever to break anything. I run into doors, walls, windows... Life is hell without vision. I can't even recall my own appearance, and what I do remember was years ago... What do I even look like anymore? Has my hair changed?

My eyes?

My skin?

I don't even remember the colors from then, nevermind what they would be now. And I sometimes wonder if I'll ever find out...

I want to. But I'm a big girl now, and I know the difference between fantasy and reality. More or less.