In the End

Chapter 1: The Beginning

I sometimes wished that I could forget everything that had happened in my life until about three years ago. I felt certain that I could be happy if I could just forget everything else. What I wouldn't give to remove the scream that filled my nightmares or to forget the smiling faces that vanished without a trace or so many losses. It was all too much. I had had more than my fair share of loss and grief and suffering. And why? Because of what I was. Because of who my mother was. It wasn't our fault we were born like that. It wasn't our fault-

I inhaled sharply. My mind was spinning rapidly and I was being sucked into a whirlpool of misery. It happened. Quite often around this time of year. My whole life's misery seemed to be centralized around the month of November. I didn't dare to dwell too much on that. I could change it. 

Correction. I would change it.

Suddenly, I felt overcome with emotion. Tears pooled in my eyes and my lip began to tremble. What if I couldn't change things? What if I lost Weylin? What if I kept losing people for the rest of my life? It seemed so hopeless and futile. How could I change the course of my life when it had taken a turn for the worst when I was six and now, at twenty six, it still wasn't any better.

Perhaps that wasn't fair. There was Weylin. Weylin Elahn. My handsome, charming prince. My knight in shining armor. My hero. Things had gotten better when he showed up and whisked me off my feet. I'll never forget that day.

I had been traveling all night and most of the previous day. I was tired, so tired. Every muscle of my body was screaming in pain from the long journey. My mouth was parched but my body was slick with sweat. I was covered in mud and brambles, scratches and bruises, fear and despair. My mind was a fuzzy black cloud that seemed to grow heavier by the minute trying to draw me into sleep but I couldn't stop. Not until I was safe. 

It just so happened that a festival was happening on the day I arrived in Carmile. I didn't know as I stumbled into the crowded street, hoping to lose myself in the chaos, that it was a festival celebrating the success of the harvest season and I didn't really care. The only thing I knew was that it would be easy to hide there. 

I wove in and out of people-and perhaps a bit out of conciousness-willing my legs to keep going, feeling every cut and bruise on my bare feet. I snatched a shawl from a vendor's stall and a crown of leaves from a little girl's head. I pilfered a pair of shoes and an empty basket. I had every intention of filling the basket with some delicious foods, small morsels that I hoped would go unnoticed. Alas, I had used up the last of my luck. Or so I thought.

As I snaked my hand into a barrel of apples, another hand grasped my wrist and held it tight.

"May I help you?" a deep voice queried. It didn't sound angry or bothered, just curious. 

"I just wanted to look at these apples," I responded meekly. I kept my head down and tried to squirm my arm out of his grip.

"The same way you wanted to look at the shawl on your head or the cheese in that borrowed basket?" the voice accused.

My face went a deep shade of red and my eyes snapped to the face of the person speaking. Relief flooded me when I saw a pair of kind green eyes staring down at me, looking concerned but also admonishing. He wasn't one of them.

"Please, sir. I'm-"

My face suddenly flushed with heat and my vision turned blurry and black and the next thing I knew I was staring up at a woman's face. She was older than the man but she had his same green eyes. She worried over me, asking me questions, trying to help. I had apparently reached the end of my strength and could go no further. I prayed that those men wouldn't find me here, incapacitated, and take me away.