Red Raze

Fly High

1094 AC

The Mountain loomed over the city, casting a dark shadow across the mass of people gathered near its base. The highest point of reference from the city streets, the immovable bulk of the Mountain was always and forever the guardian of the city's western border.

The sun dripped a dying red death behind the Mountain's sharp body as Yoongi slipped through the tight crowd, pushing to get a better view of the wooden stage that had been assembled earlier in the day. He was short for an 8 year old, but what he lacked in height he made up for in agility. He crouched low and twined through another pair of legs, bare knees scraping the dirty cobblestones as he aimed for a break in the rows of people. The crowd loosened and he found himself tumbling toward the foundation of the stage.

Yoongi gripped the hard wood and hauled himself off the ground. This close, the stage was taller than he was. Tall and wide enough to fit a line of twenty men across if they were all standing shoulder-to-shoulder.

But there was no line of men.

Not this time.

This time it was just his mother, standing alone, hands forced behind her back as she stood completely still in the cold shadow of the Mountain and faced the murmuring crowd. Yoongi knew the reason she didn't move was because of the thick rope that circled her neck. His eyes traced its path from where it sat around his mother's throat... up, up, up to a sturdy wooden beam. He wanted her to look at him, she was so close, almost within reach, but she didn't move, and he was too scared to call out.

Yoongi reached for the person next to him, yanking the man's arm. "What's happening to that woman?"

The stranger glanced at him, swearing under his breath before grabbing Yoongi and shoving him back into the crowd. "Get away from here, kid. You don't need to see this."

Of course I need to see this, he wanted to yell. That's my mother!

But his mother had always warned him to be careful of what he said to strangers.

If you don't know them, don't talk to them, don't even tell them your name, Yoongi. Some people may use that against you and take you away.

And it must be true. Because strangers had taken his mother away, just the other night. They had come right into their shop and stolen her without a word of explanation.

Yoongi's aunt had been over for dinner that night, and was downstairs with Yoongi in the ceramic shop when the strangers had arrived. His aunt must have known to listen, because as soon as the front door had begun to click open, she'd yanked him out the back doorway, and slapped a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

The strangers had only found his mother that night, alone in the upstairs kitchen.

And now she was standing on that stage with a rope around her neck, alone again. Yoongi didn't know what was happening, but he could tell that it was bad.

He hadn't done anything the other night, but this time he had to do something.

Yoongi moved out from behind the man again, prepared to shout, to run, to do anything— anything to create a distraction. But just as he gathered his courage, the crowd rippled, and a commanding figure emerged, her gaze settled on the stage. Yoongi's eyes followed the woman, something in his gut telling him to keep absolutely still. He watched as the stranger made her way onto the stage, boots thudding ominously with every step. The black cloak settled over the woman's shoulders fluttered as she turned to stare out into the crowd. Her piercing gaze demanded silence.