Angel of Darkness (DARKNESS #1)

III

Four Years Later
Asteaia, Lysithea
Unnamed.

Yara cried as the man tugged her arm roughly.

"Let us go, whore!" He yelled as she shook her head roughly. "Please," she begged, tears pouring from her eyes. She didn't want to leave the only home she knew, but she had no choice. Yara was too old now, and she couldn't stay with the orphanage's cook any longer. Being the assistant cook wasn't so bad, despite how badly she longed to journey outside. Most days she didn't even see sunlight as she worked round the clock preparing food.

And now she was to be married to some old man, and she was only 16.
Lady Celia had barged down one day, saying that some man had paid generously to marry her. Dragging her up the stairs, she landed Yara in the predicament she was in now. Despite being funded by the King, the orphanage was not a nice place. The orphanage often received boxes of supplies from the order of the King, but Yara was unsure of what happened to them, or whether there was anything in them at all. She had never seen any of the supplies other than the day they were delivered. She had heard people in town say that the King's funding of Asteaia was merely to save face, and that he wanted them all to rot.

Perhaps that was the truth. Yara had heard pieces of stories told by the few merchants and travellers that had been outside the Kingdom's walls. Stories of demonic and tyrannical kings, empires that destroyed themselves and the people within them, and dust that held the secrets of long forgotten times. Whatever the case was, Yara didn't question it. She knew bad things happened to those who poked their nose in Lady Celia's business. The Lady was extremely strict, and anyone who went against what she said risked being kicked onto the street. She always wondered what happened to the baby that needed her in the orphanage all those years ago, but was too afraid to ask. She hadn't seen him in ten years, but after she was reassigned to the kitchen, she never saw him again. Lady Celia threatened to box the ears of anyone who mentioned the subject.

The man she was to marry was nasty, with yellowed teeth and pasty white skin. He had to be at least triple her age, and his leering looks and wicked grins made her skin crawl. He continued to drag her down the street as she fought against his bruising grip on her sepia coloured skin. "Let me go!" she cried, continuing to fight. Some of the townsfolk cast a brief, unconcerned glance, but none intervened on her behalf. "You're not getting away any time soon, little strumpet," he sneered, smiling a revolting grin back at her. Thinking quickly, Yara stepped towards him. The man leaned in, brooding at her actions. She winked at him, before bringing her knee up, right into his crown jewels.

He hollered in pain and released her. Seeing her freedom, Yara lifted up her skirts, far more than would be considered decent and darted towards the fence, which guarded the dark, forbidden forest. Everyone in Asteaia knew the stories of the forest, and no one dared enter for risk of life. No-one who ever entered the forest came out again. Her heart pounded in her chest as her legs pounded against the dirt. Dragging herself over the fence, she hissed as her leg scraped against a nail hanging ajar from the fence, leaving a trail of blood behind.

"Don't think you can get away from me that easily, whore! I'm not afraid of some silly old wives tale of haunted woods," the man yelled after her, quickly clambering over the fence as well. Yara screamed at the sound of his voice and began sprinting through the foliage. The forest was extremely lush and the undergrowth was thick and difficult for her to run through. She didn't dare look back and continued running, deeper and deeper into the forest.

Hiding behind the trunk of a thick tree, she paused and wheezed, desperate to catch her breath. Hearing the sound of a horse galloping through the forest, she quickly looked around. Perhaps it was one of the king's men. She hoped that was true. The ambassadors to the King were always kind when they visited, unlike the Asteaian councillors. But fear struck her at the idea of being alone with the King's men.