Remembrance

            The wolves had left the scene of the brawl, but they would be back once they sensed it over; Kajulian wolves weren’t keen on getting between others’ fights. They just did as they were told, as the Sorcerer told them. Shay’s childhood nickname for her echoed inside the depths of her mind, diving into memories she’d thought she’d left behind. Repressed emotions, carrying her deeper into relapse, reversing all she’d worked for.

            “Jez,” he called, “come out, come out, wherever you are. You can’t hide forever, you know.” Jasteirra sucked in a quick breath before Shay wandered over to her hiding spot behind the drapery.  She closed her eyes as if it would keep him from seeing her miniature figure in the fabric. The sharp sound of the curtains being drawn made her flinch away. She opened her eyes and gazed upwards, to find her brother looming over her, his eyebrows arched salaciously. “Found you” His hand sliced through the air, grabbing for her, but she was faster. Jasteirra ducked with lightning speed, slipping under his arm and scurrying away. She jumped onto her feet, racing to the door; in seconds she found her face smothered by her mother’s warm belly. She hugged her, wrapping her short, child’s arms as far around her mother as she could. She turned her head around, to see if her brother, Shay, the monster, was still there. Shay stood by the window, acknowledging the unspoken truce between them. He met her gaze, sending her a sore glare.  That was the biggest rule—and the one that kept Jasteirra out of trouble the most often: never in front of Mother. But it didn’t matter; he would get her back later. He always did.

           She winced; the memory struck her with immeasurable force. There certainly was a reason that some nightmares were repressed. Jasteirra wasn’t that scrawny, weak, little girl any more, though. And after that day, the rules hadn’t mattered any more. Mother had died the very next day, Jasteirra’s one safe haven, snuffed out like a candle. The doctors couldn’t tell their family what’d killed her, but Jasteirra had always suspected, deep down, her own brother. That had been the day that Jasteirra had realized that her only chance of survival lay in toughening up. And that was just what she had done. Her brother hardly ever received the chance to hurt her again. And now, looking at his lifeless remains, Jasteirra smiled. He’ll never be able to hurt me, never again. 

The Great Jasteirra

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Jasteirra froze with shock, as if she’d been caught in a sorcerer’s spell. For an entire minute, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her father was dead; the king was dead; her own brother killed him; the prince killed him. Thoughts formed tangled knots in her head. Is he here to kill me? She desperately racked her mind for a solution. But the answer was clear; she’d seen the look on her brother’s, Shaelan’s, face. Shaelan intended to kill her, probably right where she lay.

            “Shay,” she expressed dumbly, her mouth hanging open. He looked at her funny, like she was stupid.

            “Jez, are you entirely obtuse?” the prince laughed, “I come here, to kill you; I have just slain our father, the king; and now I have practically slit your throat. But you, you don’t put up a fight, don’t scream, don’t even try to preserve your own precious life. You just stare at me with those doe eyes, as if it will sway me to spare you, just like old times.” Jasteirra inconspicuously inched a few steps away, totally avoiding Shaelan’s notice.  “I am going to kill you, you know. And once you’re dead, yes, once you’re gone, there will be no one to question me, no one standing in my way. I will be king, king of all Anora. What will everyone think, sister, when they hear that the great Jasteirra, the uncatchable Jasteirra, fell without a word—that you didn’t care that you would die, when you took your final breath.” Throughout his whole speech, the prince had remained oblivious to the fact that Jasteirra had composed herself, shifted positions so that she balanced on only one knee, and had pulled a dagger from her  pocket. As soon as Shaelan had ended his monologue, she pounced, throwing her knife at him. It struck him precisely in the center of his chest, slicing open his heart. Shaelan’s wide eyes stared down at the blade poking through his ribs. That will teach him not to underestimate me again, Jasteirra thought. The prince collapsed to the ground, facing the consequences of his grave mistake.

            “I thought I told you, Shay,” she mocked, “ you’re much too talkative.” She smiled, seeing the hate in his eyes. That was the last emotion he would ever feel, the fury burning within him. 

The Wolves of Kajul

Jasteirra ran as fast as she could, trying to escape the menacing creatures that were at her heels. One of the Wolves caught the edge of her skirt, pulling her down to the hard, cold ground. Her face slammed into the dirt, and she felt currents of blood streaming down her leg. She could not do it; she could not escape now; she was dead. Jasteirra put her hands to her ears weakly, attempting to block out the overwhelmingly cacophonous howls of the Wolves of Kajul.
She felt one of the beasts sniffing her side; it was nauseating. Jasteirra then heard an ominous sound from behind her, not a Wolf. They were footsteps that loomed closer every moment that passed. She sucked in a sharp breath of air, holding it. She could feel her heartbeat quickening to the increasingly closer sounds of the strange steps. But she didn’t have to wait for the mysterious being to reach her.
A loud battle cry erupted from behind her. She heard the sounds of swords clashing, a brawl being launched. Who was it that was attacking? Was he here to help her or hurt her? In a world like this, Jasteirra didn’t know who she could trust. Even her own best friends had betrayed her to the Sorcerer of Kajul. Suddenly, the sound of someone falling to the ground flooded her ears.
She feebily  pulled herself up from the ground, to see what had taken place. Laying on the ground was her own father, dead, and standing above him, a victorious expression on his face, was the Prince to the throne of Anora.
“Hello, sister.” he declared maliciously.