A-Z April Fantasy Flash Fiction, part 16. Character: Arancia.

Have you read the previous parts? Please do so :3


For the first time in so long, I said my evening prayers. The last time had been together with my family, gathered around the fireplace, holding hands. Nobody held my hands this time, except for the Good Lord. We were going to battle. The “we” meant Legande, his men, and also me.

The thought alone was enough to make me tremble. I was not ready. I would never be ready for such reckless violence that a fight entailed. My very soul rebelled against the thought; they could not send me, why would they, I will not go, this had to be some mistake!

Yet, it was not. I silently cursed the fireball that had so suddenly shot out from my hand two days ago. I had not been thinking at all, only wishing for a fleeting moment that I could not only give away this formidable strength, but use some of it myself. With a careless gesture I found out that I could not only gift new life, but also death. The fireball had appeared as I snapped my fingers, and it had flung across the castle courtyard, hitting an unfortunate man, who died on the spot.

Legande had witnessed this, and though the loss of the man aggrevated him, it was obvious that he was pleased with this development. Fire, as I later learned, was the vampires’ weakness. Our people had always struggled to bring those monsters, the spearhead of the ‘Nairan fighting force, down. I now presented yet another new hope. Normally, my age and my gender would have both exempted me from fightig, but this was now out of the question.

I watched the men as they prepared themselves for the our last night in the castle, before being shipped off to the front. Most of them seemed calm, perhaps too calm even. As if death’s claws were already around them, but would only suffocate them if they resisted…

This is not our last night, I tried to tell myself, but to no avail. My pulse beat a loud, frantic beat and did not let me sleep. I sprung out of bed, and spent the night pacing on the battlements instead, imagining what I would say to the Good Lord, in the event that I was killed, and I met him in the afterlife.


Author: nairama

writer, reader, archer, blogger at The Notorious Southernland

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