Mikleo 2

Those two kids appear in her dream again, but this time their faces as washed out. She is in this familiar village again, but she knows not of its name and origin. There is something tingling at the back of her mind whenever the night flower reclaims her vision in the dark. The night is full of festivities once more, with plenty of food to be shared and enjoyed together and people dancing around the bonfire merily. But this time, something is different. The peaceful village is raided by evil. Nayla does not know why it is happening. Perhaps it is because of what Mikleo had said in her waking moment — about the death of the people in his village. Lunarre shows up in her dream, his presence as menacing as she has first seen him — all fangs and sharp claws, ready to rip any of this targets apart. They people run away from him, but he manages to catch up to every single one of them, killing them in one single blow. The villagers are helpless against his attack. Even as her mother tries to save her, she can not. The mother and daughter attempt to run away, but the murderous monster catches up to them. They sprint towards the outskirt of the village, almost approaching the forest, but her mother suddenly trips. “There you are,” he says loomingly, catching up to them. “You’ll never have us!” Jade defiantly exclaims. “We shall see.” A pair of lips twitch to form a half moon, revealing rows of sharp teeth. A a split second, he stands right in front of them, claws ready. He unsheathes, his arm moves so quickly that little Nayla can barely register what has transpire. Blood spills from her mother’s neck. She watches as the woman falls next to her on the ground, lifeless. The much younger version of the girl is in shell shock, unable to muster the courage to move or speak. Silent tears threaten to spill from her yellow golden eyes. She knows that she should be running away, but the girl refuses to leave her mother alone. Not again. When she tries to reach out to her mother however, she discovers that her hands are soaked with her blood. How did . . . ? Nayla takes a good look at her palms, before discovering that the size has become way too big to be that of a child’s. Her nails are long and sharp, just like Lunarre. She turns around, reaching for the sign of his presence, but the only one she can see is her dead mother’s body and herself. Nayla continues to inspect the situation, until she discovers something else even more dreadful. Her hands are the ones who have taken her mother’s life. She is a killer. Cold drenched her upon the realization. When she wakes up, the sound of crackling fire and chirping crickets fill out her surrounding. Her eyes settles on the burning flame, before she catches a pair of purple eyes staring at her. She is so disorientated from the cruel nightmare, yet Mikleo's presence somehow gratifies her. Her head is still pounding when she begins to speak, feeling like thousands of nails are being punctured to her skull. “You’re awake,” she says, her heart quickening out of surprise. She expects everyone to have already been sleeping by now. “You were . . . boisterous,” he counters. “Oh sorry, I was having a nightmare.” “Yeah, I could tell.” “It was disturbing. I was dreaming of my mother.” When he does not say anything, she continues. “She died, you see. Someone killed her.” She does not know why she is telling him, a stranger, about all of this, but she just needs someone to talk to right now. “But then, in this dream, my memory became distorted. It revealed to me that I was the one who killed her.” “That can’t be. It’s just a dream,” he says, trying to reassure her. “I know.” Silence. “I was very young when she died,” she says again. “I was only five, when that guy came and took her away from my family. It has always been me and my dad ever since.” Mikleo does not have anything nasty to say this time, and she appreciates that. Instead, the boy seems to be in a deep thought. Something about what the girl says does not add up, and it is bothering him. Then, his eyes slowly lit up, finally figuring something out. “The killer. Could he be Lunarre? Is that why you want to kill him so badly?” Caught off guard, Nayla pauses. She did not expect to be revealing this piece of information when she tells him about her mother. She finds it hard to stare at him now. “I think I need some air.” The brunette gets up without waiting for a reply. The brunette simply takes one of the horses, and heads into the forest. She does not know how long she has been riding. She just need some time for herself. Then, once she has her mind clearer, she stops the horse, only to discover that she has been into the deepest part of the forest. She can see no light, less much the shadows. The city should be by the other side of this woods, yet the trees are surrounded by darkness. A nasty growl erupts from afar, scaring the horse. It kicks off its front legs suddenly, tipping Nayla off her balance. Her grip is loose, and she falls, tumbling down on the earth. Mud stains her clothes, but that is the least of her worries. Whatever the creature is, it moves fast, with all the animalistic sensories at its disposal. Scared, the horse runs off, leaving the girl alone in the wild forest. Nayla lets out an audible gasps when she can hear the sound of it breathing down her neck. How can it get here so fast? She does not hear its footsteps, only its low growls and heavy exhales. The girl panics and she stumbles back, but her action only seems to draw the creature towards her more. Thick, abundant air greets her, its maliciousness oozing off, causing her body to begin shaking in terror. She is so unprepared. She has no weapons, and her position is at a disadvantage. What is she going to do? And to make matters worst, she can’t see it. She can see the footprints it leaves on the ground, however, but it is not good enough to predict when it will attack. Like a feral animal, it circles around its prey, before deciding when to go for the kill. The girl’s heart hammers in her ribcage like it is about to explode. If she does not die from the hellion’s attack, she will certainly die because of her heart, seeing at how fast it is beating. The malevolent creature suddenly lets out a loud growl, its voice travels fast and strong. Its paws scratch at the mud, preparing to attack, before launching itself towards her in the speed of light. Nayla dodges, but just barely. She can only depends on her other senses, guessing from the air pressure and sound it produces. The hellion turns, before charging her again. The girl tries to avoid its attack, but she moves too late. As a result, she is hit on the side by the hard brawled monster. Her body flies several feet away, before hitting a large tree bark by the back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her muscle burns, and her vision is getting hazy. Yet still no help comes her way — not that she is expecting any. She left without telling anyone, and she is not sure if she can depend on Mikleo. How can he know that she is in trouble? He is probably already sound asleep by now. Will this be her bitter end? Will she die here, in the forest, without exactly the revenge for her mother’s death? The searing thought bothers her, so she courages herself to get back to her feet. One of her legs almost gives up on her when he tries to stand, get Nayla forces herself to be still. She needs to defeat this monster, if she is going to defend her live. Think of something, Nayla. There must be something she can do. Then, she remembers spotting a sharp edge of a tree branch. Its size is large enough. Perhaps, if she can lure the monster towards it somehow, she can kill it? But will it really work? Won’t its senses be able to warn it of danger? Before she can pounder on her chances, she is forced to flee from the spot, as the creature is charging at her again. This time, large claw marks tear the tree that used to be behind her, the cut deep enough to make the tree tumbles to the side, before slowly crashing to the earth. That could have been her head. Nayla sprints through the forest despite the aching pain from her muscles. Her arms, body and legs hurt, yet she wills herself to keep on going. The hellion swings its arm towards her, but Nayla dodges, though just barely. She gets a few scratches on her upper arm as a result, but that is nothing compared to the damage that it can do to the tree which takes most of the impact from the assault. The girl keeps on abstaining herself from its advances, despite being hurt pretty badly. She will crawl if she has to. She can not die. She promises this to herself. At least not until she kills Lunarre. She owes that much to her mother. Her footing misses a wild, thick tree roots on the way. Pain jolts through her when the back of her feet collides with the rough radix. One second she is running for her life, the next she falls down. Not there yet. Nayla braves herself to glance back, only to be greeted by the sight of a frightening hellion rampaging towards her, its lips pulled to reveal sets of yellow, incisive teeth and lurid, starveling eyes. A scream is caught in her throat, her mind becomes hazy and her breathing rages. This is no longer something human she is dealing with. It is a monster. Yet she wills herself to get up and get going. She has no time to lose. Quick, before it gets to her. Then, when all seems lost, she can finally spots the tree up ahead. The girl rolls down. The hellion follows. Its sight is too focused on its target that it misses the spot the sharp edge of the tree bark. As a result, the pointy edge punctures its heart, stabbing so deep it has to time to dodge, killing it instantly. Its body still involves as its life ends, dark putrid blood seeping out from its gashing wound. Nayla still can not see it, but she knows when something is dead. The creature is not chasing her any longer, but a sudden chilling thought clouds her mind. She just killed someone. The hellion could have been someone. He might used to be a living, breathing person, with a family and friends waiting for him to come home. But she had just killed him, erasing any chances for the guy to go back to his old self. She had no any other choice. Unexpected tears slip through her eyes, distorting her vision. She has been preparing herself to kill someone, but she is now shaking and crying uncontrollably once she does commit the murder. It was not him, she tells herself. That is why she is so shaken up. She is not prepared to take the live of anybody else, except her mother’s killer. She does not know why this is upsetting her so much, yet she can feel herself mentally losing something. She has went past the point of no return. She is a murderer now, just like him. More tears flow. No, not like him. Never like him. Unlike her who has just killed for survival, his kills for pleasure. As the girl stares down at the disappearing body, her mind finally registers something she fails to acknowledge before. She can see the hellion. She can see. This means . . . However, before she can reform any further thoughts, she loses her energy. Her back shags. Her body feels so heavy, the pool over her, weighing her down. She stares at the ground, her eyes somewhat half open. Her ears manage to catch the sound of a panic Mikleo. The white-blue haired boy rushes towards her. She can feel a pair of arms pulling her over their lap. The last thing she sees is the sight of those beautiful purple eyes, before her vision goes dark. . . . . . She has seen those eyes before. The night of the full moon at the rooftop was not the first time she has seen them. She has meet Mikleo way before that. Same thing with Sorey. She knows that their colorings are too much of a coincidence to ignore, though her consciousness is always so distracted in revenge. But now that she is forced to be kept in the dark, trapped in her dream with no way out, does she finally has the time to contemplate about the things she has seen. Those dreams are not dreams. They are her memories — well, some of them, at least. Her mother did died by the hands of Lunarre, but that is not the big revelation over here. It is about her past, which occurred way before her mother was taken from her embrace. Jade had took her to a village of seraphs before, called Elysia. That was how she met Sorey and Mikleo. They have started to get along even back then. They were too young to remember about each other, but Nayla somehow finds herself floating into these resurfacing memories. But this goes even much deeper than that. There is a reason why her mother knows the path to Elysia, and how they were able to get there. That is because she used to be from the same village. Jade was a seraph, and Nayla knows this because she used to watch her mother performing magic in front of the little girl. Water bending, the woman likes to call it. Nayla remembers watching from the kitchen table as her mother uses the water to clean up the dishes. She liked to perform my waving her arms widely, as if she is dancing or conducting a music. The water is her art, and she dances beautifully. The girl remembers watching just how happy her mother was, showing off her skills to her daughter. Little Nayla would always clap for her mother in every performance, and they both end up laughing and having fun together. Her mother also took her to bath at the nearest river. When they saw no one was watching, sometimes her mother would even gave some water performance. Her mother was skillful in moving her arms, bending scarves of water like they are part of her body. Back then, the girl knew no better, simply ecstatic spending time with her other. What they did not know was that one of the village girls ventured into the woods to deep, before finding her way nearby the small family’s house. That was when she saw what Nayla’s mother was doing, then went ahead and told everyone in the village about it. There was quite an uproar after that, with everyone believing that Jade was actually an evil witch, coming to their village and about to destroy the small peace and balance they had in their distance lands. But of course that was not true, yet the villagers made assumptions of their own. They were powerless and afraid, and the only thing they had in mind was the preservation of their lives and livelihoods. The family was in the deep for quite some time after that. Nayla’s father is very protective of wife and child, so of course he would do everything he could in order to protect them, including convincing the villagers of the false “rumors”. It took some times, but the villagers eventually became resilient, blaming the whole thing for “a child’s vivid imaginations”. Over the years, they eventually forgot about the uproar, but some still remembered. That was why they were still wary about the family, and no one ever dared to get too close, afraid and suspicious that it could still be true. And ever since then, Jade stopped using her powers. She looked sad though. Not using her powers was like not using a part of her limb. Little Nayla understood that her mother missed doing what she liked, and she also became sad for her. The little girl wished that she could do something to cheer her mother up. She had sacrificed to much for their family, including giving up using her magic. There must had been something she could do. Perhaps her mother could still perform inside the house. But Jade was too concerned, not wanting anyone to ever caught her in the act again. They were lucky that it was only a child who witnessed it. What would have happened if it were an adult? No, she was too afraid of making the same mistake. She could not risk putting her beloved family in danger. Not again. What if the villagers wanted them out of the village, leaving their house and livelihood behind? What if they wanted them all dead instead? The parents were so scared, they even preventing their children from playing with Nayla. The girl must admit, she did feel envious of the other kids who were able to play and interact with whoever they like, but Nayla told herself that her parents were enough for her. She was not a greedy child. She knew that she could not have everything. Figuring out that they might need to leave the village for a little bit until everything died down, Jade took her daughter to her origin. Plus, the woman thought that it would be a great chance to adjust Nayla to her world. After all, her baby girl was a half seraph. She would want to play with children her age also, who were not afraid to approach her. The village must have children her own age as well, if not older. That was when they spent some time away in Elysia. Jade’s murder took place not long after they went back to their small, nameless village. It was a tragedy that stroke the father and daughter badly. Her mother had been the glue and warmth in the family. Ever since she was gone, things had become odd. Empty. Cold. She felt the distance between her and her father. They used to be so close, but not anymore. His reasons were because he was busy with work. He could not spend as much time playing with her anymore. Nayla was forced to grow up fast. She had to take care of herself, because the neighbors are too afraid to help take care of her. Nayla had to know how to bid well in the house alone, for hours everyday from when her father departed to work in the morning and came back by dawn, or sometimes even darker. She had to cook for herself, wash for them, and even went as far as to clean the entire house alone. Though over the years, she eventually became used to it. Yet every hug, every kiss on the cheek, and even every smile felt forced. Strained. Secluded. Eventually, Nayla begins to realize what it is that bothered him so much. She is just like her mother, and he was afraid of her. But why? If he doesn’t like seraphs that much, why would he go ahead and marry one? That just does not make sense, but it is the only explanation she can think off at the moment. It’s not that that, though. Nayla sees a bright light shining through, engulfing everything, before revealing more secrets. In the waking world, Nayla’s circlet is shining bright, so vibrantly that it blinds whoever that land their eyes on it instantly. They can feel a very powerful magic oozing off from the piece of artifact, spilling, looking for a body to possess. It sips into Nayla’s mind, sinking and pouring memories into her mind. Yet again. As a result, her body convulses, rebelling, trying to protect its host from the unknown source. Yet there is a certain degree of familiarity that it can detect, knowing that it means no harm, before allowing the light to entirely seeps through Nayla’s body. A new scenery appears. It becomes dim again. Wherever she is, it is quieter there, much more peaceful. She can hear the soft rustling of the trees outside, down to the person snoring next to her. It’s her dad. She remembers insisting on sleeping next to him in those lonely nights. She wanted to make up for their lost time together. He had been even busier ever since her mother died. The ceiling’s structure is familiar. She finds herself staring along and deep into it, before realizing that it is the roof of her house. She is back in her hometown again. But why? The sound of steps disturb her sleep. She raises from her bed, before slowly creeping out of the room. She has this sense of urgency, the need to protect those who are under her roof. She knows, for some reasons, that whoever is hopping on the rooftop is bad news. She heads out to investigate, only to spot a dark shadow waiting for her arrival. He stares descendingly at her with underestimation in his demonic eyes, smiling down at her as if he can see the invisibleness that she knows not. Those are the eyes that show fearlessness, and she is ought to be concerned of what he is capable off. “Who are you?” Her voice is heavier than usual, sore. Her body is back to the adult version again. “Does it even matter? For someone who is about to die?” “How dare you?” “How dare I? Was I the one who betrayed her village and ventured out of her inhabitant? Was I the one who started living among those disgusting humans, pretending to be one of them? Was I the one who escaped from the responsibilities and duties owed to my people? I don’t think so.” He clucked disapprovingly. She licks her dry lips. “Did my father send you?” Father? Why would he send for this guy? Wasn’t he just sleeping next to me? Is this one of those nonsense dreams again? “Nope. Worse. It was one of your enemies,” he tells her. “Which enemies? I’m afraid I have made too many of them,” she admits. Wait, what? Why is she saying this? She has not many enemies, except for one. “Who I am and who sent me does not matter. What matters is that I’ve been ordered to kill you. You’re in my list, and I have never disappoint.” He tilts his head to the side, revealing wide sinister smile. She gulps. Her throat suddenly feels very dry. This guy is not playing with her. He is serious, and he wants her dead no matter what. She is suddenly overwhelmed with this strong need to get away. It is not safe to allow him to be here much longer. But before she has time to make a move, he takes a step first, plunging head down, rampaging towards her in the speed of the wind. His sharp claws aim towards her face, ready and steady. He hisses at her when his claws suddenly collide against a hard metal. She has no idea where she gets this big a*s sword, but it is there when she calls to it from the back of her hand as she watches Lunarre leaps down to meet her. There are a lot of complicated carving created on the surface, and its silverish smoothness reflects, omitting an unavoidably potent dangerousness from it. She can not explain the next few things that happens after that. It is like she is an entirely different person, yet she still knows what exactly she is doing. They move so quick. Lunarre keeps launching repeated attacks at her, his sharp blows raining down on her like crazy. But for some reasons, the her in this dream is able to keep up with his attacks. She is an equal, if not much more stronger than the despicable mercenary. The thought brings an oddly satisfying feeling in her heart. “You’re a hundred years too early, if you think you can defeat me so easily,” comes her words of confidence. She is smirking down at him while he keep trying to attack her so vigorously, slashing, scratching, and waving his arms furiously. Yet every time he advances on her, she will always make a counter attack just in time, causing his sharp claws to collide against her wide sword, the sounds of metal clashing against metal is the only thing that fills the night. “I wonder how well you can talk, once I’ve killed your family,” he responds with a threat, despite losing in the fight. “I will never let you,” she says through gritted teeth. “It’s all about seizing the chance,” he grins menacingly. Their battle might be imbalanced in terms of physicality. But when it comes down to who has the upper hand on their wits, it is clear who the winner is. The disadvantage bothers her more than it usually does, yet somehow she surprises herself by keeping herself cool and keeping up her defence. The hellion is a humanoid fox, but he is nothing but a bud who has not taken his roots just yet. It will not be difficult to up him. She does not know why, but it feels as if she has done this plenty of times before.  Her dream self starts picking up the pace, pushing the hellion against the corner. He almost falls from the edge of the rooftop, when the sound of a child calls for her. The back of her mind recognizes the sound, yet she can not really put a finger to its origin. Whoever is calling her, she has this certain maternal instinct that urges her to protect the child. Not matter what it takes. Against all odds. Against all logic. She needs to prioritize the child’s safety. She has not meet this child yet, but she knows that it is the right thing to do. Strange. She has never dreamed of anything like this before. Nothing that involves her having a child. Despite that, her inner mind tells her that it is hers, and her dream self even knows it by heart. What is this? Some sort of her inner wishful thinking? That somehow, deep down, she does wish for a normal life? She does not have that much time to ponder on the thoughts, because soon, she hopes down the roof and takes off into the woods. The assassin, being the one at task to take her life as it is, chases down after her as expectedly. She goes deep into the jungle, running past many large trees, the scenery around her becomes a blur as she speeds through the depths briskly, moving like a racing horse. Tall, wild grasses and tree branches scratches through her arms and legs as she breaks through them recklessly, not caring about what happens to her. The safety of her family is her first priority. If it means that she has to escape into the dangerous forest at night in order to achieve her goal, then so be it. Perhaps she can even defeat him easily this time, now that they are away from potentially damaging the house and its inhabitants. And now that she is away, she can finally release her power — though most probably not to its maximum extend, as she is not far enough for that. She reawakens her sword, releasing waves of powerful might. And in an instant, as she closes her eyes, her full senses raise from its slumber. When she closes her eyes, she can feel the jolts of every frictions created between stones, pebbles and sand. She can feel the wind, blowing through the air, free and forceful, brushing against her skin and going pass through every objects, its coarse unchanging yet abideful in a way. Her hears can hear the sounds of water, rushing through the river bank in a fast and steady steam, heavy and uncontainable. She can even feel the heat of the igniting flames from far away, burning through manmade lights from every home in the village. Every elements that surrounds her becomes her power, her senses growing stronger by the seconds as she feels her neuron resurfacing, returning back back to life. Oh, how she misses this. It has been a while since the last time she used her powers. She does not know how it is possible to miss something she never had, but she is experiencing the feeling. It was like all that happened these past years have been her being caged for a decade, and she turning into a bird who could not fly. She longs for this feeling to return, of having the will to control the them, and the freedom to breath and move as she pleases that comes along with it. Even breathing this very crisp air feels just like the first, longest time after an endless thunderstorm. These elements are her nature, and she is their mistress. Welcome home, old friends, she greets back the realm in exhaustive force. Her family means everything to her, and she is not shy to make sacrifices when it comes down to their safety — including breaking an oath she has taken upon herself. The danger has to be eliminated first. If she doesn’t, he will simply just come back another day again. She has a feeling that she has dealt with many people in similar nature to this hellion creature. Not only are they bloodthirsty and chaos hunger in nature, but assassins tend to chase down their targets until they get to them. If she only defeats him and lets him get away, he will just return the next chance he gets. And the next time, she might not be so lucky as to detect his presence earlier. He could have make an ambush the next time, and she can not allow such thing to happen. The sound of their echoing combat rips through the forest. Both are equal in stamina, but at least as far as the first half of the encounter. Unlike the fox hellion, she is blessed with the powers of the elements. She has the nature to assist her, and she is not afraid to use it to her advantage. This causes his defence to be completely tested. They even lost count on how many times he has been pushed back by her, though he keeps insisting to going back to attack her no matter what, like a cockroach that refuses to be killed. She is not so lenient with her intent as well. Surprisingly, despite having such not-so-noble purpose, she is not tainted by malevolence. It is because she has been through plenty of training to avoid dropping herself to such a level — she knows this fact by heart. Though however, there comes the time when she becomes so preoccupied with the thought of defeating him that by the times her mind registers it, she is already hearing her daughter calling out to her from the direction of the house, worried and urgent. Lunarre smirks from the sound of course, knowing that if he gets to the child first, he can use her as a leverage to defeat her. She can not allow this to happen, so she starts picking up her pace, slashing her swords towards him with refined and stronger intend. Though for some reasons, the more determined she becomes, the less accurate and weaker she becomes. The assassin knows this, and he feeds on her growing recklessness. “What’s the matter? You’re getting weaker,” he says tauntingly. “Shall I fetch your daughter first, then?” “You! Stay away from my daughter!” “Or perhaps I should kill your husband first?” he adds, jeering his claws against her sword in a particular nasty angle. Husband? She fights back, pushing the sword until they are locked down in a dangerous proximity, the edge of her blade this close to kissing his neck. “Don’t you dare harm my family!” Lunarre does not look like someone who is about to die. There is a certain smug fearlessness in those wild, demonic eyes of his that speaks volumes of his confidence. He narrows his eyes, looking past her, seemingly to detect something from far away. His long pointed ears move in emphasis, before he announces, “They are getting closer.” She scowls. No, get back. He takes that split moment of distraction to push her back, slapping her sword away until it escapes from her grip. The weapon flies high across the field, spinning in sharp turns, before embedding itself into the ground. Frustrated, she extends her arm, intending to move the earth to her will. The ground crumbles and throws the sword back up according to the motion of her arm muscles. The sword flies back towards her waiting hand. But she can grab a hold of it, Lunarre makes a counter attack. Too close. It all happens so fast. One minute she is ready for battle, and the next he has his sharp claws sinking into her chest. She coughs up blood. She looks down, only to be greeted by with nasty sight of her bleeding chest. Blood spills everywhere, staining the front of her dress. No . . . . From the distant, she can hear the sounds of her husband and daughter calling out to her. She only has a few seconds left. Her jaded eyes witness as Lunarre pulls his claws away, wrenching out more blood and muscles. He must have damaged her internal organs. That is the only explanation why a novice like him is able to defeat an experienced warrior such as her. Once he is satisfied with that he has done, he steps back until he disappears into the brushes, leaving no signs of his presence behind other than the gaping wound on her chest. With shaky hands, she reaches to the piece of cold jewelry in her dress pocket. Thank goodness she always keeps it there. In trembling fragile joints, she closes her grab around it, transferring all that is remained of her into the object. Her last thought is the face of her daughter. She looks so happy smiling up to her. Sweet, darling Nayla . . . Her own name echoes in her mind. She needs to know. . . . . . She wakes up cold and wet, tears drenching from the sides of her face. Sadness sweeps across her mind, overwhelming her with the sudden lost. She was with her mother — no, she was her mother. There is no denying it. It was her mother’s last memory that she was seeing through her own eyes with.  Her heart is broken all over again. Seeing the memory makes her feel like she is losing her mother all over again for the second time. This isn’t fair. Why did this have to happen? Somewhere in the background, far away and detached, she hears the sound of a male voice calming her down. His voice is soft and soothing, yet possesses a touch of masculinity as well. It touches her deep in the heart and mind, and it relaxes her, guiding her back to a warm comfort. She clings into the embrace in the dark, making it her safe haven. “Shuush, it’s okay. You’re alright now.” He touches the top of her head, brushing her hair with his fingers slowly. The gesture resurfaces a heart-wrenching familiarity to what she was used to experience. The kindness remains her a lot of how her mother used to embrace her, when she was awakened at the dark of night, overwhelmed by nightmares. Just like her, the protective arms circle around her back, engulfing her like a guarding shelter. This feeling is just too much. It reminds her of what she has been missing all these years. She wants it back. She does not care even if this will only last for a few short moments. She does not care who is embracing her right now. She only wants to keep this warmth familiarity for as long as she can. “Don’t leave me,” a sore, whimpering sound escapes from her lips, sounding like a desperate plead. Her fingers reach out and grab a handful of fabric, clenching around it rashly. The person does not seem to mind that she is pulling their clothes this hard, as it seems. “I won’t. Don’t worry.” The hand strokes her hand reassuringly. “. . . Promise?” she asks again, sounding like a child. “Promise.”  Nayla ends up crying herself back to sleep again, where more memories flood in. . . . . . It is daytime now. They have just woken up, bodies still in their nightwears. She is brushing her daughter’s hair — no, this is her. She is seeing from her point of view, Nayla has to remind herself. She looks down at her younger self. She can not be any older than a few years, yet she looks so happy and content, adorable, like a little angle — her mother’s words. They are sitting by the bed, facing outside to the gradually rising morning sun. “Mama, when can we visit the seraf village again?” “It is pronounced ‘seraph’,” her mother corrects her little self kindly, though Nayla feels herself saying those very words. It is all an oddly nostalgic experience. “And as for when, I am not sure either. Although, there is something else that you should know.” Before I erase your memories, another sound echoes in her mind. “What is it, Mama?” Nayla small around eyes stare up at her mother curiously, though her mind is halfway preoccupied by what kind of hairstyle her mother with give to her this time. It is a surprise, her mother says. Nayla used to like surprises. Now she does not know how she feels about the entire thing. She does not think she likes it anymore. What else can her mother possible hides from her? Erasing her memories? Why? Is this because of the assassin? From the looks of it, this memory occurs before the attack. But why would her mother decides to make Nayla’s young self forget? Why can’t she keep her memories? What other secret is the mother hiding from her daughter? “Do you remember how the people in Elysia can control the elements?” “You mean the water magic? The flame magic? And not to forget the wind and earth magic?” “Yes, darling. Those.” “Of course I do,” she giggles, the sound ringing to her own ears. So this is how her mother sees her? Nayla tries to hold back the tears in her eyes, but the yearning is just too much. “Well, you should know that it must be kept a secret. About their existence, and about their powers. No one should know about this, no matter what happens,” she tells the little girl. “Okey dokey,” little Nayla sings-a-song. But then she feels her mother yanking her back and around, making the little girl faces her seriously. Eyes to eyes staring intensely at each other, golden brown to another. They have the same skin tone and eye color, but other than that, Nayla is all the way like her father, in terms of their lively personality and hair color. Her mother adores that about her, but this is a life and death matter they are talking about right now. “I am serious, Nayla. You must not break this promise, no matter what happens.” Her mother sounds angry and frustrated. She can feel the grip on her shoulder growing stronger, digging into her skin. “Okay, Mama. I promise.” She does not like her mother like this. She looks scary. Nayla remembers that feeling now. Despite knowing that her mother’s emotion is not directed at her, it still frightens her younger self. “Is that what you want to talk about, Mama?” Her mother loosens her grip, eventually realizing what she is doing. She is not sorry about that though. It slips her mind, as there is a more urgent matter she must let her daughter be aware off. “No, there is something else you need to know.” “We are the same with these seraphs, in a way, and there exist people who are hunting as down for this very reason.” She can feel the sadness oozing off her own heart, in sync with her mother’s memories when she speaks of this matter. Yet, she also feels a tiny hint of happiness beating at the same time. These are strange, contradicting feelings. “Why?” “We are a rare breed of seraphs with very special powers. All of those magical powers — over water, fire, wind and earth — we can command them all. We are different from the other seraphs, because instead of only being able to control only one element our entire life, we can grow to master all four elements.” “Woah! Really? How is that possible?” “It is because Mama can do it.” She stops brushing her daughter’s hair and brings her closer to her lap, turning the little girl to face her. “So, as Mama’s daughter, you can do it too. You have an Omni-seraph blood flowing through your veins.” “Omiraf?” little Nayla’s untrained tongue tries the foreign word out. “Omni-seraph,” her mother repeats, and Nayla tries to copy until she can.  “And remember, you can not let anyone know about this. Not even your friends.” “But I don’t have any friends!” she exclaims. “You will, someday,” she watches herself reassuring the little girl through her mother. “You’ll have lots of friends. You will even have a friend like Mama has your Papa. You’ll live in a house just like this together, and the two of you will have a little angel like you are to Mama and Papa.” “But Mama, I don’t want to leave you guys,” she whines. “It’s alright, Nayla.” It is strange to hear herself calling out her own name. “It’s normal. All the other kids will do the same also. You don’t expect to spend the rest of your life in here forever, do you?” “I like it here just fine, though,” her little self says stubbornly, and her mother can only chuckle from that.