They knew the truth, but chose to deceive themselves still. They knew she was no witch nor was her mother, but still they blinded themselves with their lust for blood and enclosed their hearts in false rage born of fear. This she knew for she saw it when she looked into their eyes.
These were no strong men of valor and neither were they honourable for they were usurpers and have destroyed everything she held dear to her heart.
They had taken the life of her sire the king of Arybia, slaughtered her people ruthlessly and taken as hostages the ones they did not kill. They defiled the maidens, orphaned the young and made a lot of women widows. Slowly, she dared to raise her head and suffered a look towards her mother who was sandwiched between two arrogant brutes. Her royal regalia had been reduced to rags, exposing more of her flesh than they covered. It also exposed the bruises the demons of men had imprinted on her flesh. Her mother glanced at her then, her smile weak, but fierce. The men threw all manner of vile words at her but she paid them no heed. This woman, her mother, was a strong woman. Slowly, carefully, she called her daughter's name, Myra, even as she was led to the pyre to be burnt to death like a witch.
Myra was only but a child of six seasons*, but she knew, she understood. These vile creatures who thought themselves men had taken everything from her. Her home, her people, her sire and now, by the blood they've set out to destroy her mother in the most demeaning of ways. She held her mother's gaze as the brutes tied her to the pyre. She saw courage, heartbreak, but not fear, never fear, for her mother was a brave woman. Though she also saw pain, deep excruciating pain.
Myra looked away as the men set her mother on fire. She wept silently as she heard her mother's heart wrenching cries. She looked at the reflection of herself in the puddle of water which gathered in a shallow hole in front of her. She saw a mirror of her mother's bravery, but her own pain was far greater than her mother's, for she wept for what she'd lost, what she was losing and what she was to lose still in time to come.
A/N: Hey everyone don't mind me just wanted to clarify that a year in Myra's world is counted in seasons and two seasons make one year so she is in fact *three years old.
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Fate's Woven Thread
Fantasy[ONGOING] || Featured on wattpad Romantasy reading list || At a young age, Myra lost everything she considered dear to her -her family, kingdom and people- due to a betrayal from someone who was trusted and held dear by her family. Although sh...
