Prologue - Kali

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The people of Lok are losing their minds, insanity spreading like the plague.

Brothers and daughters turning themselves in, pleading that it wasn't their fault. That they were forced. Though, the guards aren't so quick to believe them.

Their loved ones are dead, after all. There are no signs pointing to anyone else and showing up covered in blood doesn't help your case.

I'm not sure what's been going on, but I've been praying to Selki to spare my soul. Whatever the cause, it's ravaging my small town and overwhelming our people with chaos and strife.

Despite this, my life must go on as normally as possible. My mother and I own a small stand in the market, setting up before dawn and leaving well after dusk to try to make the most of our time. It's barely enough to get by with, but there's no other options. Not for us. Not in Lok.

"We haven't gotten a buyer in half an hour, mama," I point out. "It's time to pack up."

"Ay, mi deyaga, that just means we're bound to have one any minute now."

Mi deyaga. My dahlia.

"Alright, mama. Five more minutes."

She sits diligently in the front of our stall, prepared to convince the next person walking past to stop and buy something. While she waits, I begin to pack up the days worth of stuff I brought with me from home.

The back of the stall is open to the alley, quieter than the front that faces the main street. There's not much to be packed. My small set of knives. Some fruit to take home. A few loose coins.

There.

There's a shadow slinking around the walls of the alley. This alley's a dead end. Why would anyone be back there?

"Hello?" I call. No answer

I continue to grab my bag, moving a little faster than I had a minute ago.

Whoever it is, they're watching me. I can feel their gaze burning into my back. I can see them inching closer every time I look away.

They stop a couple feet away from the edge of my booth.

"What do you want?" I ask.

No response. They just cock their head to the side, curious.

I begin to back towards the front of my stall. They match my pace. Suddenly, they pull something up towards their mouth.

A pinching pain in my arm. A dart.

"What?" I mumble. Dizziness begins to take hold. I stumble into a crate, spilling apples across my path.

"What is this?" I yell. "What did you do?"

The shadows ebb off of the figure. He's smiling. The bastards smiling. He's proud of himself, but for what?

I right myself as I begin to weave my way through the fallen apples. He doesn't try to follow me this time.

"Mi deyaga?"

"Mama!"

I break into a run at the sound of her voice. She comes into view a second later, her brows knit tight.

Kali.

"What happened?" My mother questioned. "I heard you yell. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mama. I got scared. That's all," I reassured her.

KALI.

My head began to throb. I shook my head, blinking back the daze. What's going on?

My mother pat my arm as she strode towards the back of the stall in search of her own bag. I followed her, not wanting her to go back there alone.

I braced myself as I followed around the corner, preparing to run into the figure again. But they weren't there. Only shadows remained.

But the weight of the dart still clutched in my hand sent a shudder through my spine.

The throbbing refused to relent. KALI. KALI. KALI.

"What do you want!" I screamed, head down and eyes closed.

"Kali? What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, mama. Grab your bag and let's go."

"I'm worried about you, mi loseta."

Mi loseta. It's the nickname she's used for me since dad died. My life.

"There's nothing to worry about."

I shrugged the bag off my shoulder, only half aware of what I was doing, and set the dart on the table next to it.

"Kali."

"I'm okay mom, really," I pleaded, beginning to rifle through my bag.

"No, Kali."

"What, ma?"

She bent down and grabbed the dart from in front of me. She held it in front of my face accusingly.

The throbbing recedes as a chilling calm settled over my bones. "You weren't supposed to see that."

"Kali, you're scaring me," she whispered.

Kali. You know what I want you to do.

My hand settled around the hilt of a knife, dragging it out of its sheath.

My mom's eyes widened at the sight of it, and she began backing away from me. My own mom was frightened of me, and I wasn't not even bothered by it. Why wasn't I bothered by it?

"Mama. Don't back away from me."

She didn't stop walking. She's refusing to look at me.

"Mama," I beg. "Look at me."

She dragged her eyes back as if it took every ounce of her energy to do so.

The knife was still clutched to my hand. I don't think I could've drop it if I tried. I kept my pace steady as I walked all the way up to my mama. Using my empty hand, I stroked my fingers down the side of her face.

My vision went fuzzy. It was as if I'd entered a daze.

You know what I want from you. The voice is unrelenting, but it was right. I know what is expected of me at this moment.

"I love you, Kali," my mama breathes.

My hand moved of its own volition, placing the knife sharply against her side. A tear spilled out of the corner of her eye, and the knife slid home between her ribs.

Blood quickly coated my hand, spilling onto the ground as her eyes glazed over and her knees gave out.

"I love you too," I murmured.

My mother's body sat at my feet, staring blankly at the ground.

Good. Good.

My vision cleared as I realized the severity of what I'd just done.

"No. No, no, no. Mama!"

I dropped to my knees next to my mother's body and gently wrapped her into my arms, bolting through our measly fruit stand and out into the open streets of Lok.

"Help! Help me, please! My mama!" I scream.

Two guards broke away from their posts, swiftly running towards me as I fell to the ground and held my mother close.

I don't remember what happened next. All I know is that my mother was taken from me, and they blamed me. They thought I was the one to do this.

I know she died by my hand, but that wasn't me. I would never kill my mama. She was the only love I ever knew, and now it's just me. Alone. In an empty cell, forgotten in the back of the jail.

I'm a shell of who I once was, and I don't even know who's to blame. 

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