She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
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Zephrya didn't care about what was around her. She just heard the wind rush in her ears as she tore forward toward the general, sitting haughty and unscathed on his horse while his men sacrificed their life for his safety and pleasures. His eyes gleamed, as if he'd been waiting for her this whole time - waiting to carve her wide open with his own hands.
She yanked Xenta's reins, pulling her to a stop before the man. He wore a helmet, which hid his face from view. But his eyes were a steady, dark gray, like the raging thunderclouds. Zephyra pulled her lips back in a growl, tucked her knees into the black mare's sides, and lifted her sword before her in the way Daeto taught her. She'd been trained by the best swordsmen and weapons masters of the tribe, and she was the top of every single class. It was a great achievement for her at such a young age, she'd been told, but it never felt like enough.
And now she was facing her greatest challenge. She hadn't fought in serious battles before - all the older and more experienced warriors took care of that. They always came back with victory, and occasionally the ripped flag and the head of the leader of the opposing army. She always admired the generals and the way they carried their honor like it was the most precious thing in the world to them.
The general before her grinned, showing two rows of crooked teeth. She glared at him in disgust. If he were to anger her any further, he would have no teeth left. His bony fingers adjusted their grip on the leather hilt of his unpolished sword, the look on his face promising inevitable violence, which caused her heart to lurch uncomfortably against her chest. She took a deep breath, locking her eyes on his arms, waiting for his first move.
And then he struck - a quick, unfocused cloud of movements. She could barely keep up as he lashed out, his sword swinging toward her head. She ducked reflexively, a hand going to the dagger tied to her leg. But before she could recover from the previous attack, the man was already lunging toward her, his horse crying desperately underneath him. She veered Xenta to the side, dodging the blow. The blade slipped past her ear, the blunt end grazing her skin. She raised her own sword now, stepping back a few paces to analyze the general's quick moves. He smirked once more, clearly thinking she was afraid to go against him.
She was. Zephyra was utterly terrified. But she blocked his attack, clinging onto Xenta's dark mane for support as she flipped her arm out at him, aiming for his neck. She missed, and she blinked, shocked. The general used that moment of distraction to stretch out his arms and fling his sword at her, a vicious glint in his eyes. Her arm was crushed below her and she had no room to heave her blade up to stop the weapon midair, and the dagger was useless in her hand as she needed to hold on to the reins to ensure she wouldn't fall. Unable to think up anything, Zephyra did the last thing anyone sitting on a horse in a battlefield would do. She jumped.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she dived downward toward the soil, her hand letting go of Xenta's reins. But the fall never came. Instead, her startled mare pitched down beside her and Zephyra's leg caught onto the straps of the saddle. She dangled from her horse's back, her head spinning as the blood rushed down to her brain. The soldiers and warriors were a gust of colored wind that sped past. She arched forward, hopelessly trying to reach for the reins. But Xenta was still sprinting across the field, the general not far off with his sword pointed directly at her. She was running out of time, and her life would be lost if she was suddenly dropped. She couldn't allow that.
