Athon from above was a sight to behold. The Cassien river split the city in three islands attached to a crescent of mainland with bridges, winding its way north to south, splitting off east towards the open ocean. The slither of land up against the open ocean, the port district, was bustling with tiny ants. The setting sun turned the water orange and pink.
A summer breeze swept past her. The arches of an ornate bridge, separating two towers of the palace, framed the city. The city wall seemed small from such a distance. The houses felt less crowded and entwined.
Wait. There are fewer houses. Anelle thought.
Anelle looked towards the Mareket district, entire streets were missing. Little Sia, the district where Emera went to buy spices from Siahon, was a field of grass covered in grazing tilks.
Anelle tried to turn her head. She couldn't move. Her body was still looking out over a city that felt both familiar and foreign.
Anelle could feel her body. A pair of heels were digging into her ankles. A long dress swept the floor around her. The dress cut straight down falling off the edge of the corset. Large pieces of fabric, with slits, were fashioned as sleeves. A low neckline exposed her chest to the wind, a large jewelled necklace close to her neck drew the eye upward. Matching heavy earrings grazed her shoulders, perched precisely, not to get tangled in the ringlets of her hair.
Anelle felt taller, not just because of her heels. Her limbs felt different; her legs were longer and her forearms could reach further.
This isn't my body. She thought. Is this a dream or a memory?
She turned, walking down the bridge to a set of doors made of white stone. Two figures were carved into the stone reaching towards each other. As she walked the doors opened inwards, forcing the lovers apart.
She continued into a larger corridor. White stone was carved into beautiful sculptures lining the ceiling. A long decorative rug ran the length of the hall. Busts of colourful stone, in rusty oranges and crimson, set at regular intervals along the corridor.
She could hear two pairs of footsteps taking up position behind her. A familiar presence that helped calm her beating heart. They walk to the end of the corridor. She slowed and her shadows quickened their pace to open the doors. Anelle caught a glimpse of them. Both a head taller than her, the same short haircut, one brown and one black. The physique of swordsmen and blades to match. Pristine white uniforms with bright red half cloaks over their left shoulders.
The door led into the second floor balcony of a grand throne room. Chandeliers hung with crystal. Below all was silent. The metallic smell of blood enveloped the room. She ran to the railing, looking down at the carnage below. Anelle wanted to run, close her eyes and cry but her companion refused. She could feel her last meal trying to resurface, unsure if it was the memory or her own. Her eyes scanned the room of corpses. Swirls of emotions washed over her as her eyes recognised faces in the bloody crowd. Searching…
"Octavia…" She whispered. Her eyes stuck on the small body in a blue dress, stained crimson.
The zing of metal brought her attention to the second floor. Swords drawn, her shadows now stood facing each other. A broad stroke met with a parry, the two men struggled with locked swords.
"She's one of them! Why do you defend her?" The brown haired guard spat his words, his eyes filled with murderous intent.
"She will be useful and you know it!" The black haired guard shot back.
"No! NO! We will rebuild anew without their dirty blood and flames!"
She looked back over the balcony, searched the corpse, looking for imperial uniforms. All those people died but not a single soldier or guard lay among them. This wasn't an attack, this was treason.
A sense of calm washed over her. The path ahead becomes clear. Her mind reached within, pulling strands of thick energy out of her inner lake. She reached out a phantom hand towards her defender. White flames erupted across his shoulders. He screamed, a carnal scream from his soul. She enticed the flames to dance over his body leaving nothing in its wake. He fell to the ground, his charred remains added the smell of burnt flesh to the air. The white flames continued to dance across his back consuming his remains.
Sword in hand, her would-be attacker fell backwards. His eyes wide. He opened his mouth and closed it again. "You…You were unable to…" His lips trembled as he lifted his open palms and uttered a silent prayer.
She stood perfectly still. But Anelle felt her contort the flames. They jumped to the attacker, catching on his ankle, slowly winding their way up his leg. He screamed in agony and she revelled in it. A wide smile cut her face in two. The flames moved agonisingly slow as they consumed him, keeping him alive for as long as possible. His screams quieted to a moan before they stopped. His corpse lifeless as the flames consumed him entirely.
"I hope your souls rot in the abyss for an eternity." She said and spat on their corpses.
She turned, extinguishing the flames, and ran across the balcony. She broke into a sprint dropping her shoes. She tore at her ears, scattering the jewels across the floor, her necklace joined them.
Her anger slipped for a second. Tears falling in waterfalls. Everyone was gone. Her mother and father were dead. The image of them covered in blood sitting on their thrones burned into her mind. Octavia's excited smile at being allowed to attend. Her small frame sticking out from the pile of bodies.
Lavish corridors turned to servants' halls. A labyrinth. Far too empty.
They were warned.
The fateful words that changed everything.
"Wait until the setting sun…"
His charming smile and words laced with sickly sweet poison.
He did this.
Dane Chalieu.