"Everything is a target," says the hunter. "No matter where you look." The hunter's son says nothing, and closes his eyes.
— Richard Silken, THE STAG AND THE QUIVER
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WHEN THE EXECUTIONER LIFTED HIS SWORD, the boy felt two hands come behind him to shield his eyes and cover his mouth from screaming.
It felt like the last bit of mercy he would experience.
"Don't look." The voice of an older woman whispered to him, covering his eyes from seeing his father's end. The boy stopped struggling, resigned to hearing the swish of a sword and the dull sound of something terrible.
He felt the woman whisper again in his ear. "Asiel, oh Asiel." She said, her cold hands still covering his eyes. How did she know his name?
Asiel—the boy, could feel her drag him back as the crowd moved forward around him. She still did not remove her hands.
"You have experienced great pain, Asiel." The woman's voice whispered,"Oh, and how you will experience more."
"Who are you?" His muffled voice said, he knew he could not scream. Even at seven winters old, Asiel was wise enough to know that he could not afford to draw attention to himself.
She ignored his question. "Flee west, Asiel. Tell no one of this history of yours. You will have your vengeance." He felt her lean over him, her presence like a burning fire in the winter air. "That empty feeling in your chest. It is the absence of your power. But you can still get it back."
Two days ago a strange hunger had set in him. Ever since the usurper had killed their king and destroyed the heart of their nation— his power was gone. He no longer had the ability to command elements at his fingertips. His father, a man who could once tear apart mountains, was reduced to a hollowed corpse at the end of a mundane sword.
"Run. Run, Asiel." He was only seven winters old. He didn't know how to run. The farthest he'd been was the next city over.
"Flee west." She repeated. "Seek the anchor of chaos and life. Then you will have everything and more given back to you." At that she pulled her hands away, leaving Asiel to open his eyes to the executioner pulling another man towards his death. His father was gone. All that was left a red stain in the center of the stage.
The woman was gone. Like she was an apparition.
He did not scream. He did not cry. All he did was repeat her words. Run. Run, Asiel.
It was then that hollow feeling in his chest turned to something else. The absence of his power gave fruit to fit a darker thing. A determination. A will for revenge. A promise to become what he once was— to become even more divine.
With a mixture of the strange woman's words and the dull sound of an executioner's sword still ringing in his head, Asiel looked to the western horizon.
He ran. ..
A/N:
well.
hope you guys enjoyed that! first chapter is up :)
