The Lost Heir's

Chapter Seven

“This day, five centuries ago, the veil to our world was torn asunder by the nefarious force called magic. This day, from the abyss, did the beast of horn and fur and scale creep atop our earth. They wielded claws and fangs, cursing us and sought for the blood of us all!”

“We pushed back the daemons, with faith and steel! Sword and ax! With righteous glory did we force the beasts from our lands, and sealed them back in the fiery pits that sired them. However, after so long, the stars foretell our destruction once more! The inhuman creatures that sought our lives scratch at our very walls.”

“They have grown clever in their absence, for now, they send others to their place. Ones that use devilry and illusion to hide among us, weaken us from within.” The speaker turned and gestured to one of the men, who pulled a figure from behind their ranks. A woman dressed in nothing but a ripped smock and a leather bag on her head. The cowled man knocked her legs out from under her, forcing her to her knees and held her by her hands behind her head. The speaker turned to the masses once more, his eyes burning with an intensity that made Aria uncomfortable.

“Look upon the face of the deceiver!”

He ripped off the bag, and a startled gasp rushed through the crowd, followed swiftly by panicked screams and praying. The woman was no older than Aria, her face beaten and bruised with blood running free from her mouth and cheek. What they all saw was silver hair, sheared short by the edge of a knife and her long, pointed ears. Aria held her hand over her mouth to stop her voice. Hushing it as she gnawed on her finger as she looked upon her own kin.

“Gaze upon this, the devil of mankind.” The speaker demanded harshly. “Look upon its inhuman, slitted eyes. Eyes of a serpent, of a deceiver! This is the face of our enemy, hiding among you with our face in its place.”

“Please,” a racked, painful filled sob left the Elderblood woman’s bloody lips. “In the name of the gods, I beg you. No more.”

The man’s answer was a swift backhand, blood streaking on the cowl of the man who held her.

“You speak of gods and mercy. Devils have no such privilege. There is no god for you,” He approached the crowd and revealed a silver dagger. The blade glowed malevolently in the now lit torches of his men. “Know this, brothers and sisters. The Migaret Halo will defend the people from the devil’s filth. With silver and fire, we will purge them from our lands. With salt and divine water, will we purify the earth which they corrupt with their presence.”

He turned back to the Elderblood woman; her tear-filled eyes searched the crowd before they landed on Aria. The woman pleaded, begging Aria to save her, as the speaker dragged the silver dagger across her throat. The life in her eyes drained away as her body slumped forward, blood running down the front of her smock, drenching the cobblestone floor. Time froze as Aria stared at the dead woman, the image of fear in the woman’s eyes imbedded into her mind.

Aria sharply turned away, a sliver of fear creeping its way into her heart. She’d seen enough, she’d heard enough, and she wanted out of there. She pushed her way through the crowd and stopped on the edge, looking back to see the Migaret Halo men dragging her body away. With her back facing the mob, she heard them begin to go into a frenzy. The sound of stamping feet and hoarse shouting rang in her ears as she quickly escaped the rapidly violent crowd, screaming for the death of all non-humans.