I slowly sit up and look around,the surrounding is most familiar imprinted in my mind and lives. I am sitting on the floor (earth floor)in the middle of nowhere.... as it seems. However, this carriage path seemingly natural and bland is quite the illusion of settings,this path is a four way lane unknown to the unsuspecting. And how do I know?,I have treaded each in a life I once lived. To the west a fiery death, to the north leads a death by dissection never given the benefit of a complete corpse, to the South a fishy grave and finally the north a cold dismemberment.
Today I must walk down the path I went once when I was still in my first Life,a stupid silly abandoned girl with too much high hopes for a wretched world. Ha!,how many lives has it been?. Forcing my heeled feet to get moving,I stand up and against the cold feeling of my numb feet I walk westward where a now vague memory belies what awaits me.
For as long as I remember I have always been called Lysandra; meaning liberator however,my full name is Lysandra Cassia (a fiery flower of passion) Mae (short for mauletto) Winters and I am the second princess of Hispania. Once upon a time, I think life might have been kind to nebut , the memories are now so vague and thwarted that I only remember them as a fact, facts I keep close to.my heart. Just as one might remember a description I do know my mother was once queen of Hispania. First she gave birth to a son,a and by the time she was disposed was with child once more. The time passed and I was birthed in a rebel camp. At the age of five I was taken away, the camp set ablaze by roaring flames, the floor dyed in crimson and my mother... burned along with it.
At this time my memory thus began, I grew up all alone in a lonely little courtyard, my mother was no more and my brother.....he was the worst stab. I could have taken the scarsely veiled insult of a father I never knew outside the judging throne room, the disdain of a woman who took over my mother's throne,the infinite hatred of a sister who despises me but, all three from one who was meant to be on my side;....my own brother. In each life I suffered while he watched, I screamed yet he never listened, pleaded ,he never helped ..died!, yet he watched on expressionlessly.
"Hiss's!!!" I look down to find I have been digging my nails straight into my palm. Looking at the red cresents a mocking scoff escape my lips. Pathetic!
"One would think after so many lives I got over it"
I grew a learned young lady who could speak four different languages fluently, make a good team, stich the finest embroidery, dance with any step, play any instrument, manage accounts..... They said it, I would do it. But it never changed any of my days or nights for it seemed it rather pushed the 'zister' into more hate and despisation than I knew a heart could hold. I was constantly a victim to frames and affacked on all sides. Three months to my seventeenth birthday I was inclined to visit my brother at the war front....so said warfront I now head towards.... The details of our 'heart warming' reunion I would rather not recount.
I lived for nothing and died for nothing a good life well wasted into horrid nightmares. I know what am stepping into, a world of my own darkest nightmares and haunted past, one that reminds me of endless sleepless nights and a dark tunnel with no end. Good,as I work best in the dark.
Looking down at the marshes I have arrived at, i grimace inwardly knowing how deep and far the marshes span and how long it would take to cross it. Two hours?... Three?!
Oh gods above, remind me why my former self just had to jump off the band wagon?, it would have taken her straight to the camp and I would have avoided this trial!*sigh*
Yes going to meet your brother is important you even followed the food wagon... Thinking back, the me of yesterlives was really stupid and for the first time in many lives I begin to question being rebirthed in that particular spot over and over again. Why couldn't it have been my courtyard?,my room?, Maybe even on a tree!. Why constantly does it have to be so constant?!!!!
The sun has already dipped past the horizon, the moon soft carresses are felt under the shade of blanketing leaves. My dress is now torn,in ruins and irritating due to the dried mud that seems to have fused into it. Twigs are to be found in my hair and my skin is dirty with mud, the irritating scratches left on my skin incurred by protruding branches of thorns feels nothing compared to my sore feed adorned by blisters.
The day can't get any worse I dare say, my throat is parched, I am fiercely hungry my weak legs wailing in pain and all I want is do is collapse on a bed and rest.
However, the situation is not as tragic as it may seem to be, at least as I make it to be. The last time I was in a huge forest feeling so.. pained, I had been a rebel, my men had been killed and I was being hunted down by five hundred men if war. Wanting to run but there is no where, wanting to hide yet having no place, returning is an impossibilities for there lies a final end. The only way to go was forward, onwards till you meet your end struggling in all futility at a chance to survive.
Resting on an old oak tree I have up at the sky with a thousand unanswered questions I cannot ask, a million reason am unable to comprehend..why?I tend to ask,why is the life so unfair?,is it due to the color of my skin?,the circumstances surrounding my birth ( daughter of a rebel )?,or is it because of those things I have tried to bury for so long.... those powers that cling to soul from the day I was born and from life to life.... Or is it because of her who is of me but isn't me.
Am a different child, I know. However must different mean hurt and pain, must it mean betrayal and lonlieness. A thousand times I have cried over these questions, over these unanswered ghosts that hunt me!, over this pain that has eaten me away. Now there is no more tears to cry,no more rivers to sob. All is left in blood and gore. 'Lysandra your vengeance must be brought upon them make sure to pay these beautiful Dept of kindness a thousand folds and one'. I say to myself.
My ears prick up as I hear it, the rustle of grass, the crunch of boots and the whispers of the wind bringing along the subtle movement of intruders.
Now,..now does the real game begins!!.