The Fallen and the Marked
1562 Words
Ivar strode through the silent forest, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves.
Perched upon the broad branch of an ancient oak, Raziel sat lazily swinging one leg. The moment he spotted Ivar, a wide grin spread across his face.
“Brother.”
The word had barely left his lips when Ivar’s dagger flashed through the air.
Raziel leaped from the branch just in time.
The blade missed his heart but sliced across his upper arm before embedding itself deep into the tree trunk behind him.
Raziel glanced at the blood trickling down his sleeve and let out a disappointed sigh.
“You’ve gotten slower.”
“I told you,” Ivar said coldly. “Don’t call me brother. I never want to hear that word from your damned mouth again.”
Raziel merely smiled as he stepped closer.
“We share the same blood, whether you like it or not.” His pale eyes gleamed. “You can’t erase that.”
“I warned you never to come here.”
“And yet…” Raziel spread his arms. “…here I am.” He took another step. “Why are you here, Ivar?”
Ivar’s jaw tightened.
“You’re the reason I came,” he said. “To send you back to Hell.”
Raziel chuckled.
“Tell me, brother…” He tilted his head. “Why am I the only one denied a taste of Heaven?”
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then the ground exploded beneath their feet.
Ivar closed the distance in an instant, drawing another dagger from beneath his cloak. Steel flashed toward Raziel’s throat.
Raziel caught the strike with a black blade that seemed to materialize from the shadows.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the trees.
“So... Have you tasted her yet?” Raziel asked with a grin.
Ivar twisted his wrist and drove his knee into Raziel’s ribs.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
Raziel staggered back only a step before retaliating with a sweeping kick.
Ivar ducked beneath it.
The kick shattered the trunk of a nearby pine.
Raziel laughed, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Do it while you still have the chance. You may not get another one. I might take it from you.”
Ivar answered with action.
He hurled three silver daggers in rapid succession.
Raziel deflected the first with his sword.
The second grazed his shoulder.
The third buried itself in his thigh.
His smile faltered.
“So…” Raziel muttered, pulling the dagger free. “Those actually hurt.”
Before Raziel could react, Ivar was already behind him.
His fist slammed into Raziel’s back, sending him crashing through a massive boulder.
Stone erupted into countless fragments.
Raziel emerged from the rubble, blood trickling from his forehead.
“You always force me to get serious. I really hate it.”
Raziel frowned.
“No…”
“You can’t keep me out forever!”
A crooked smile slowly returned to his lips.
With a powerful beat of his massive black wings, he tore free before the sealing spell could fully bind him. A violent gust swept through the forest as he soared into the sky.
Within moments, his silhouette vanished into the clouds, leaving only a swirl of dry leaves drifting to the forest floor.
Ivar remained motionless, breathing heavily as he watched Raziel disappear into the sky.
⸻
Amelia woke with a start, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. The events of yesterday in the forest had returned to haunt her dreams, leaving her heart pounding even after she awoke.
She lay motionless, staring at the wooden beams above her. As memories of yesterday flooded back, her pulse quickened. The forest had been unnaturally silent except for the crunch of leaves beneath her feet.
Then she had seen them—The shimmering black wings—red eyes gleaming through the tree trunk. Hidden among the shadows was the faint outline of a human face framed by jet-black hair.
Her mother’s sharp voice shattered her thoughts.
“Why are you lying there with your eyes wide open? Get up, you lazy girl!”
Amelia sighed and climbed out of bed. The icy wooden floor sent a shiver through her body, forcing the lingering dream from her mind.
Life had never been easy for Amelia’s family. Her father worked tirelessly, venturing deep into the forest to gather wood for the village market.
Amelia helped by collecting herbs, adding whatever little she could to the family’s income. Even so, poverty lingered in every corner of their modest home.
Because of their low status, Amelia had few friends. The girls of Riverfield often looked down on her, calling her unworthy of their company. Yet behind their scorn hid envy. They could never understand how a poor village girl could possess such striking, almost angelic beauty. Amelia ignored their whispers, carrying herself with quiet dignity.
After a simple breakfast of porridge, she stepped into the small garden.
Her mother had planted vegetables in the patch before their house, and watering them was Amelia’s daily responsibility.
Beneath the window of her room bloomed a row of flowers she had carefully nurtured herself—a rare splash of beauty amid hardship.
As she bent to water them, something caught her eye.
A feather.
Not an ordinary one, but enormous, sleek, and black as midnight. It shimmered beneath the morning sunlight as though woven from silk and shadow.
Amelia picked it up, running her fingers along its smooth surface. It was unlike any bird’s feather she had ever seen.
A chill crept down her spine. Her mind was just about to venture into the yesterday's incident. A sharp voice bring her back.
“Amelia!”
She turned to find Lucy hurrying toward her.
Lucy was the only person in Riverfield who had never cared about wealth or status. They had grown up together, sharing secrets, laughter, and dreams.
While the rest of the village judged Amelia, Lucy stood beside her. Her father was a merchant who often traveled, but Lucy’s kindness never wavered.
To Amelia, she was proof that genuine friendship could survive even in a world ruled by pride and prejudice.
“What are you doing here?” Lucy asked, out of breath. “Your mother’s looking for you. She’s angry again.”
Without a word, Amelia slipped the mysterious feather into her apron pocket. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she wasn’t ready to tell anyone about it.
“I’m coming.”
Together, they hurried back toward the house.
Her mother stood at the doorway, arms folded across her chest.
“Why are you so slow?” she scolded. “Does it take all morning to water a few plants? Your father needs help at the market, and I have to leave. The food is ready in the kitchen. Eat on time, keep an eye on your brother, and finish the rest of the chores.”
Her voice hardened.
“You’re not a little girl anymore, Amelia, so start acting like it. And stay away from that forest.”
“Yes, Mother,” Amelia replied, lowering her gaze.
She knew better than to argue.
Her mother gave Lucy a brief nod before disappearing down the winding path toward the village, leaving Amelia standing with the strange black feather hidden inside her pocket.
After her mother left for the market, Amelia and Lucy gathered the pile of dirty clothes and made their way to the nearby stream to wash them.
The stream wasn’t far from the house, and the narrow trail behind Amelia’s home wound along the edge of the forest.
The crisp air carried the earthy scent of damp moss and blooming wildflowers, while birds chirped from the treetops.
They stopped at a shallow bend where the clear water flowed over smooth stones.
Amelia knelt by the bank, dipping a piece of cloth into the icy stream, while Lucy rolled up her sleeves and began scrubbing a shirt.
“Did you hear?” Lucy asked, breaking the peaceful silence. “The king is hosting a grand ball next week, and everyone in the village is invited.”
Amelia looked up in surprise.
“Really? But we haven’t received an invitation. Are you sure it’s for everyone? Maybe we’re not included.”
Lucy shook her head, scrubbing the shirt with enthusiasm.
“My father told me everyone in the village is invited. No one has received their invitations yet—they’ll arrive soon. Can you imagine? The king inviting commoners like us? That’s never happened before.”
Amelia rinsed a skirt in the cool water, her hands moving absentmindedly.
“But why is the king hosting such a grand ball? He’s never done anything like this before.”
Lucy smiled, clearly pleased that she knew something Amelia didn’t.
“It’s Prince Caspian’s birthday.”
Amelia frowned.
“But why would the king invite everyone? That’s so unusual. Since when does he celebrate the prince’s birthday with commoners? It still doesn’t make sense.”
Lucy shrugged with a soft laugh.
“Who knows? Maybe he’s trying to show everyone how kind and generous he is. Or maybe he’s just bored and wants a huge crowd to impress.”
Amelia smiled, though the explanation did little to satisfy her curiosity.
- Writer
