"A Century Before..." by Emma Kathryn McDonald

A Century Before...

The storm was fierce.  Not the best day to climb out of a tower window.  Turi knew the rope, which she hung from, wouldn’t even take her halfway down the building, but it would at least let her in another window.

            The wind lashed at her thin, blue dress, rain soaking her through.  Black hair clung to her face.  Edging further down the rope, she tried to stay calm, ignoring the kingdom laid out so far beneath her bare feet.  Teeth chattered against the knife handle she held between them, and flesh prickled under the cold.

            A blast of wind caught her, rocking the rope from side to side.  In a panic, she tried to grasp at the stone wall.  A fingernail was ripped from its bed.  Turi bit harder into the knife handle, to prevent a scream from escaping.  Trying to push the pain to the back of her mind, she had to continue.

            Finally, she reached another gaping arch in the face of the building.  Toes touched the edge and she breathed a sigh of relief.  Very carefully, she crawled through the window, finding herself in what seemed to be the staff living quarters.  The floor was a welcome feeling beneath her feet.  Knife was removed from her mouth and fixed firmly in her hand.

            Behind her, a door swung open with a crash.  She’d been found already.  Grip tightened on the knife, blood flowing from where a fingernail had once been.  Turi turned to see her captor standing in the doorway.  Layith.  Long, raven hair, eyes glowing with satisfaction, arms calmly folded.  She smiled.  Turi shook.

            In a heartbeat, Layith had vanished, only to reappear before Turi, as if she had flown faster than the eye could see.  A long-fingered hand tightened around Turi’s throat, pinning to the wall.

            Beyond the window, lightning shot across the sky.

            Layith’s eyes gleamed over with a milky hue.  Turi could feel something being sapped from her very core, leaving her body at Layith’s command.  She had to do something.  She couldn’t let this happen…And she still had the knife.

            The blade plunged into flesh as more lightning crackled through the air.  Layith gasped, eyes returning to grey and gold.  Both women stood still.

            Blood trickled from Turi’s lips and Layith released her hold.  She steeped back to reveal the knife protruding from Turi’s chest.  A dying smile spread across the creature’s face as she slumped to the floor.  Her last words to Layith came in a hoarse whisper:

            We are not for you to wield.

            What was once Turi now lay cooling on the floor slabs.  A wet and bloody mess.  Layith lost her icy composure and fell to her knees, screaming.  Another hundred years wasted.