((TW: Blood, body horror, death, all that fun stuff))

It was sunny and warm, sunlight bleeding through the boughs of trees in golden rays. The birds sang their happy songs, and the sound of a babbling brook filled the air with joyous noise. The wind was a lovely breeze that billowed her dark hair out like curtains on an open window. Berries populated countless shrubs and bushes, cherry red and ripe. And among the laughing weeds, wildflowers craned their faces up to the sun and danced in the wind with her. The clearing was nice and wide, enough for her to jump and dance and sing to the tune of the world, its heartbeat loud and clear in her head and her heart.

“Anora!”

Violent flashes of red, the tearing of flesh, vicious shadows.

This is where she belonged. This is where she always belonged. She did a twirl and lost her footing, collapsing into the soft grass with a laugh, louder than she’d ever laughed before.

She reached a hand up to the sky, saw the clouds from between her fingertips, like reaching out to touch sheets of baby blue satin. The clouds were so close she could almost touch them. And the sun, ah, the sun— like the loveliest sensation on her skin, warm and delightful and so sweet. It made her glow, illuminated by such a pretty light in the sky, second not even to the moon.

“Anora, what did you do?!”

I want to fly. I want to fly. Give me wings to soar to the heavens, and meet the sun I yearn so much for.

Between her fingertips, still raised to the sky, the day began to darken. Dark clouds, heavy and suffocating, obscured the sunlight Anora was basking in. And her hand began to blacken, too, and her fingers twitched, and the muscles in that arm convulsed, spasmed, and Anora watched in paralyzed horror, dread gripping her heart as her arm snapped backward, forward.

And with a gasp— air knocked from her lungs— her arm burst outward in a spectacular spray of blood and tissue, staining her face, her hair, and her skin.

“Anora!”

—

Harsh hands grabbed at her shoulders, their grip harsh and urgent, claws digging into her skin. Anora was gasping, breathless, her eyes hot and heavy with tears. She was wet— water? No, blood— and her nightgown clung to her skin, heavy, suffocating. Her arm!— she hugged herself, feeling both her arms, her own fingers digging into her skin. Everything hurt, everything hurt so badly, and it was dark— darker than it had ever been before, like she was in a thick, black fog. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“Anora?” A voice called, urgent. Those hands in her shoulders— those claws— turned soft, caressing down her arm. Anora looked up, making out the face of her mother. “Mommy?” The girl asked, but her voice was dry, like she had been screaming. Her mother’s face was red, tear-streaked and furious, and desperate— worried, maybe.

They were on the floor of Anora’s room, dark as pitch, an inky fog descended upon them. They were both covered in blood, but Anora couldn’t tell if she was bleeding, or if her mother was bleeding, or if both of them were. Her mother brought Anora into her arms, embracing her tightly, her chest rising and falling like she was stifling tears. Anora was still gasping for air, like she had been drowning, hugging her mother so tight it would’ve hurt.

From over her mother’s shoulder, Anora saw a body— a lady with yellow hair. She, too, was covered in blood. It took Anora a moment before her heart seized in her chest. Everything stood still, time, space, everything.

“Meyri?” she choked out, chest heavy.

Her Fey handmaiden. Frozen, on the ground. Her eyes, blank, staring directly at her in an impenetrable stare. Her body was contorted in painful ways, her neck craned backward like her spine had been snapped. Her arms were in a similar state.

“No,” Anora said, the darkness closing in on her, painful jabs into her brain as she struggled to remember. “No, no, no, no, no…” she said, her breath getting heavier, shaking her head profusely. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She felt like she was gasping for air.

Flashes of red. Flesh. Blood. Pretty, pretty, glimmering. Darkness. Eyes, staring from the shadows. Did you do this? Did mommy do this? Where’s the monster?

Kehru moved quickly to hold Anora’s face in her hands. “Shshsh, it’s okay, baby,” She spoke, a bloodied hand petting the girl’s hair affectionately. “Meyri will be fine. And you’re alright.”

“No she won’t,” Anora insisted, shaking and sobbing, struggling to free herself from her mother’s embrace. Everything was suffocating her. The darkness descending upon her. “Meyri’s dead. Meyri’s dead.”

Blood. So much blood. And darkness, like an inky, suffocating fog. Watching Meyri’s limbs snap and crumple. Her horrified scream. Silence.

Kehru pulled Anora’s head to her chest, shushing her and petting her hair more insistently. Her heart was beating fast— Anora could hear it in her ears. Her mother was afraid.

Afraid of her? No, no, no, no, no—

Shaking violently, with eyes stinging with tears, Anora managed to pull away and scrambled away from her mother. She tripped twice trying to stand, once on the hem of her nightgown, second on the blood that covered the floor. But she got up, she got up despite her mother trying to pull her back down. “Anora!”

She had to get out. She had to escape. Her head was pounding, her heart hurt and pounded and burned in her chest. And she couldn’t escape the pain all over, and it felt like she was dying. Her vision was blurry with tears and the darkness obscured her path. The only source of light came from her large window, with its wide glass door and balcony. The moon was high and bright, and it was the only thing she could see.

Even as she walked on unbalanced feet towards her window, she could feel the darkness grab at her, trying to pull her down and suffocate her.

She pulled open the balcony door, blood staining the bronze handle and all the fine glass.

Anora would give anything to fly away. She would give anything.

There were foreign hands at the side of her head, pressing into her temples as a sharp jolt sent her falling backwards.

And then it was dark again.

—

Anora had a quiet dream. She was walking in a line of countless men and women through a winding stone abbey, sunlight bleeding through panes of glass and an endless forest beyond. Through corridors and hallways with gorgeous, ancient tapestries, stone staircases lit by the sun, through open courtyards with countless flowers.

—

When she woke up, she almost didn’t recognize where she was. She was in her bed, the warmth enveloping her like a pleasant hug. It was daytime, with dark sunlight cascading into her room and bleeding through her shimmering curtains.

Anora lay there for a while, coming to her senses. It was quiet, but she could hear birds chirping outside. Her vision was clear and bright, her room well-lit as if the darkness she felt suffocating her had never existed.

Was it all just a nightmare?

She could barely remember what happened. She remembered dreaming, and the darkness, and the blood. She remembered her mother holding her, and she remembered a body.

Her eyes widened and she moved to sit up.

A flash of blonde hair, red, red, red.

Meyri!

The moment Anora attempted to rise from her position, she was met with a terrible pain that seemed to come from all over, like sharp stabs everywhere all at once. That’s when she realized she was covered in bandages beneath her nightgown, tightly wound around her chest and back, and down both of her arms to her elbows.

She couldn’t move, so she resigned herself to remaining in this position, not wanting to feel the pain.

“Daddy?” She called, voice hoarse.

Silence.

She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, stinging and aching.

“Mommy?”

Silence.

“M-Meyri?”

Blank eyes, staring back at her.

Silence.

She managed to turn into her pillow, quietly sobbing and shaking. Alone, alone, alone.

—

When she woke up again, it was night.

There was a tight grip on her hand, and when her tired eyes turned to see why, she was greeted with the face of her father, tear-stricken and worried. Exhausted.


“Daddy?” She asked, unsure if she was dreaming or if he was really there. Senri’s eyes betrayed his joy, but he only offered a small smile in return.

“Good evening, sweetie. How’re you feeling?” He asked gently, his grip on her hand loosening as if suddenly conscious of how tightly he was holding it. His hand would go to move some strands of hair from her face, his touch always gentle despite the calluses and scars on his hands and fingers.

Anora tried to sit up again, only to be met with pain again. Senri was quick to put a hand on her shoulder to relax and keep her laying down.

“Everything hurts,” she admitted, memories fighting to break through her mind again. Meyri. Meyri. Dead. Anora’s eyes started to sting again. “What happened?” She asked.

Senri was quiet for some time, glancing over his shoulder as though the topic was taboo.

“Where’s mommy?” Anora asked, instead, remembering her mother, covered in blood, holding her.

The worry must have been evident in Anora’s expression, because Senri was quick to reply this time, his thumb rubbing against her hand comfortingly. “Your mother is alright. Resting. She exerted a lot of her magic and energy trying to keep this house safe.”

Anora waited for further explanation. Senri took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. He looked nervous, uncertain.

“There was an… attack. Something took down all our magical defenses and got into the house. It killed Meyri and hurt you in the process. We aren’t sure what it was, exactly, but we’re trying to find out. It seemed to have escaped quickly, and no matter where I looked, I could find little trace of it—”

“So it’s still out there?” Anora asked, fear gripping her heart. Meyri’s limbs, all twisted and—

“No, it’s gone. It won’t be able to get back in, I promise. I won’t let it hurt you again.”

He gave a reassuring smile, petting Anora’s hair affectionately. He spoke again, something solemn in his voice. “I failed to keep you safe, once. I won’t fail a second time.”

Anora’s heart began to settle. “I know you won’t, Daddy,” she said, and gave him a small smile in return.

—

Soon, Anora wouldn’t remember the events of that night, or this conversation with her father. Memory waxing and waning, images so horrific in her mind that the visions became locked away.

But Kehru would remember. And Senri would, too.

But to Anora, this was just a nightmare. A bad dream. And as Anora moved on, Senri would too, confident he could protect her next time.

There wouldn’t be a next time. Kehru made sure of that.

Security was increased tenfold, the shroud strengthened, protective barriers put up miles away from their home, layers upon layers of magical fields designed to keep unwanted visitors out.

Keep everything else out, and keep Anora in.