The Blood King

Chapter 1

Neytiri

"Once, a long time ago, before the time of the great kings, there was the age of the ancient kings. The kings that ruled a faraway land, from the sky. Benevolent and kind, they ruled their people and their kind — justly and fairly. That is until man grew greedy, and ambitious. Coming into contact with methods of the dark world, they slayed the unsuspecting kings and their families, destroying the era of peace and bringing us into a new age. An age of fear and destruction-"

I roll my eyes as I listen to the gasps of the children. This is Gran's favorite story. The story of the Ancients and their kings. She tells it at least once every new moon. And the kids always act the same as if they haven't heard it before. I press the cool stone against my blade, running it along the edge as I've been doing the whole night.

I was once fascinated with these stories as well. But everyone grows up eventually. And I had to much sooner than everyone else due to the simple fact that I am different. Cursed. The people of this village hated me the moment that Gran brought me into the village. And they let that be known. The only reason that I am even here is because Gran needs me. Her husband died years ago, and now that she's gotten even older, she can barely take care of herself anymore. So I do.

"Ok children. It's time to go before your parents begin to worry," she says softly.

I smile at the groans of disappointment that fill the room. But I keep my back to them. The children of this village are curious little things. They constantly wonder why my hair is white. Why my eyes are blue. Why my skin is brown. Their parents tell them constantly it's because I am cursed, and to stay away from me. But they don't listen. At first they would come to Gran's tent because they were tying to see me. Now they stay for Gran. Which I don't mind seeing as she could use the company.

I listen as the feet scurry out of Gran's hut, leaving us alone. There is no sound other than the light crackle of the fire at the center of the hut, and the sound of the stone as it scrapes across my blade sharpening it.

I pull it up, letting the flames cast an orange glow on the steel and inspect it before I set it down.

"You would think they would be tired of hearing that fairy tale," I laugh.

Gran smiles at me, shaking her head. Gran is an older woman. Old enough to be acknowledged as the village elder. But she gave up that title for the village crazy lady the day she defended me to them. Even though they hate me, they never told on Gran for harboring me. But as I've gotten older, I can feel the hostility for me growing. And I fear for Gran's safety. I fear that they were keeping my existence a secret out of respect in the past. But that respect has shifted into fear of the new king.

"It isn't a fairy tale, Neytiri," she says as she bends over picking up the small bowls the children left. I shake my head moving to help her.

"You used to believe them, Neytiri. What happened to you?" she asks. My smile slowly falls and I shrug.

"I grew up, Gran." I say. I move to stand, but Gran places her palm over mine with a sad expression on her face.

"Growing up, and growing ignorant, are two very different things my sweet child," she says softly. She runs her thumb over the symbol on my cheek. Fifteen years ago, I ran away from here. Everyone my age ganged up on me when the village head died. They said it was my fault because I was cursed. They pelted me with rocks, and harsh words, and I ran away.

I don't remember anything beyond that other than waking up, with Gran's worried face staring down at me, and a new symbol on my face. It was just the ammunition the villagers needed to call me a curse. I pull away from her, moving to place the bowls in the basket.