Shadows of Fire

                                                                                        (Part I)

                                                                                      Chapter I

                                                                                         Jenny

Hinesville, GA

6 months ago

7:45 PM

            Once, the house could have been described as beautiful. Artistic, even. Before the accident had occurred, it clearly was one of the crown jewels of the neighborhood. Perhaps, in better days, it would have played host to neighbors sharing lemonade on its broad porch, as they watched the neighborhood kids play on the front lawn. Now, however, the place was a wreck.

Its white-paneled walls were now crumbled to rubble, streaked with ash and the rough red bricks now exposed. Only two shattered stumps remained of the twin white columns that guarded the porch. The entire second floor was gone, leaving only the empty shell of the house’s walls, and a few charred remnants of the first floor. A badly burned bookshelf lay on its side near the shattered hole in the wall that once was a window, adjacent an almost unidentifiable lump that once was an armchair. A table leg, bold and battered, amidst a pile of collapsed ceiling tiles, almost like a shrine to its tenacity. However, despite the desolation of the ruins, there was still life present.

Crouching amidst the rubble, digging through the ashes, was a young man. His patch-work leather overcoat pooled at his feet, fanning out like a cape. Slung across his back was a broad, round shield, with a starburst pattern emblazoned in silver upon its pitted and dented surface. His shaggy, rust-red hair was bound up in a pony-tail, covered up with a battered leather cowboy hat. Beneath the wide brim, stormy blue eyes glinted, and a determined expression on his face encompassed by a roughly-trimmed goatee and bushy sideburns. He looked young on the outside, but in his eyes, he seemed to be ancient with experience and hardship.

Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for, as he sat back on his heels and pulled a burned, battered helmet from the wreckage. It was painted a faded red, its cheek plates and T-slit visor delicately etched with intricate silver Celtic knot-work. Across the dome, a Chinese dragon was emblazoned in gold, arching and looping in an endless weave. In the back, the aeration vent was dangling from a single rivet, almost torn out entirely from the helmet. The man handled the helmet with care and ease, as though he was quite familiar with it.

His lips wrinkled into a grim frown as he lifted it up, looking into its empty, cracked visor like it held all the knowledge in the world. Suddenly, something imperceptible shifted, as though the world suddenly was holding its breath in anticipation. The man put down the helmet hesitantly, like it was made of glass. Without looking back, he stood to his feet, with a soft clatter of concealed armor plates, and spoke.

“Hello Cassandra.”

The growing shadows behind him sighed, and almost as though she had always been there, a young teenage girl stepped out, clad in a black sleeveless dress.

“Hello Daddy.”

The man turned to face her, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. Cassandra was short, barely reaching up to the man’s shoulder, but the waves of overwhelming emotions emanating from her boosted her height. She was deathly pale, contrasted by her long, crimson hair and her grass green eyes. Her arms were scarred with many overlapping cuts, long since faded. While she was fairly scrawny and looked like the wind would blow her away, her fragility was belayed by the savage glint in her eyes of defiance and the stubborn will to live.