"Balia?" Achan heard the father calling her out of the haze. The memories ended.
Abalia quickly jumped down, sending a sad smile up to Achan before making her way towards the father. As she passed his grave once more, and noticed the different flowers on the black coffin. Achan's was coated with them, the air filled with their sweet fragrance. Abalia bent down beside the shroud of blossoms and presents of passing, and procured the flower from her hair. She prudently placed it at the head of the coffin, and then proceeded to walk to the dark dreary vehicle.
Achan felt warmth as he saw Abalia's small, unwholesome smile. He jumped down and leisurely walked towards his coffin a little ways behind her, in no hurry to catch up. As he got closer to the beloved sheltered mass he saw it, the flower she placed. He gave a bit of a smile as he recognized it, a rose tea with a message singed on the pedals. Reading it, he understood. He perceived that while being the smallest, her rose was the most beautiful and genuine gift of all. The war was about to begin.
Achan walked home that day, not arriving till late at night. It was all so strange, almost like a dream. But not in the way one would wish, but as if it was all so fast it couldn't have been real, the feeling that you would forget it if you didn't constantly recall every detail. It was torture.
He spotted his house from the end of the block and froze as he spotted a shadow by it. He searched for Abalia as he heard her call out, "Wait!" she ran towards the mysterious shadow.
"Why are you here?" Abalia questioned as she stepped even closer to it.
Abalia's question was left unanswered and disturbed by the sound of hooves. Achan had heard of them before. Stories were his mother's gift to them. And she told two facts about them, they never missed, and you never lived through the night. Though this fact only mattered if you were lucky to live the second you hit the ground.
Achan stood incapable as Abalia stood still, her body relaxed as one lifted his bow. Achan knew Abalia couldn't dodge it, no one could. Even after her surrender, her body protected her, making her dive to the ground. He watched as he waited for her scream, it never came. Seeing the arrow wiz by her Achan contemplated the matter. "Shoot!" And just as quickly as the arrow pierced his heart, the centaurs were gone.
He lay in the grass; Abalia stared at his face faintly. Achan slowly walked towards the boy his sister hovered over. She leaned down to him and stared at his eyes, before putting her lips beside his ear, Achan listened, "Are you from the Mansion?" The boy fought to answer, as his body shivered uncontrollably. Abalia looked to the ground at her mistake. She had a feeling of defeat in her; the gods had taken another victim.
The victim was left with his eyes open; his lips once choking for air were dry as the grass beneath him. His body was a limp dummy. His skin the color of snow, once blood has spoiled it.
"What made him so dangerous? Is this what you want?" Abalia screamed, "A little boy dead in the streets at night?!" she cried out hysterically. Achan watched as Abalia closed the little boy's eyes and lifted him up in her arms. He was heavy; soon he was moved to her back. As she walked to her house she remembered Achan.
He carried me on his back, parading through the house. Our laughs continued through the halls echoing like monsters in the night. It has been forgotten that I was the little girl being carried, and I have been replaced by a young boy, no longer living. I carry my brother's blessing turned to a burden; the feeling of failure haunts my being. Our laughs are my curses to the sky. No more echoes of monsters in the night, only ones lurking through the darkness. As for him, my brother, he is encased in the mind of my father. Captured and waiting.
