"It's cold."
The mummering words evaporate into the solemn sky. Named Lilith she sat with ashes around her, dead burned to the crisp surrounding her, to her, the world occurred merely gray. All the fumes of burned houses and dead have evaporated into the sky. Clouds were ready to unleash its droplets of cold water to the earth below.
It rained.
'Goosebumps on my shivering body, still some far echoes ringing in my ears, unsure whether those were of slaughtered people or soldiers. The remaining fire died as the rain washed the mist of smoke. I wanted to scream, but couldn't find any courage to do so. My eyes wanted to seek my father Luka, but I was too afraid to see more dead people and shut my eyes—it was going to be okay—I spoke to myself countless times, my father would come to save me, I was sure of it. Loud trotting horses closed into me, of course, they were the noble army.
The Noble Army was rarely seen in this country. They only served the Nobles of the country, while they may be different from the Grand Royal Military who were responsible for fighting wars for the country—they were the second most powerful army of the country. Yet, they did not play any side in the wars nor were they commanded to police the state, on the contrary, if they did without the approval of their respective Noble family, they could face heavy punishment but death. They wore navy blue uniforms with a Gorget with the name and emblem of their commanding Noble family.
Two soldiers, mounted on their white and brown horses, looked at me, as my eyes spun to them, they had a smile. They looked at me with pity, perhaps not knowing what to do with me yet one of them offered his palm to me, as a gesture of kindness. The rumors about them were wary, they often had crimes on their hands but never were they judged by the law of the country because of the intervention of their Noble families, but some good ones have had history in their names. Perhaps the ones offering their gestures were not the bad ones. They promised to help me find my father, and at that moment my heart finally heard the beat again, my body felt warm again, and my eyes felt hope again. They help me flee the surroundings, to a place far from there. Then…
I was raped.
The night was tainted with blood. My hands were tied behind to a barn pillar, and their rash fingers over my cheeks grabbing them with full might, he whispered if I were to scream my throat would be split open and my insides sold in the black market. My soul felt every single one of their disgusting touch. Despite their warning, they tied my mouth with a piece of cloth and muted me. They tore my clothes and left me naked. Unable to scream, I felt like my body was devoured by countless insects.
IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS
Every single ounce of my soul screamed. My vision came dark and blurry, every inch of my body wailed for help. I would rather die than endure any more of this perhaps were the words my heart spoke to me over and over. I counted every second like it was an eternity of misery. I screamed behind the piece of cloth and seconds after I was hit with a strong force of punch by one of them. The agony started to devour me as I lost my visions, being thrown into the vast empty abyss, everything occurring no more than black and a mere silhouette of the person who could save me, I only had a picture of my father circling in my head, begging and whispering for his aid, for someone to show up and save me but no one came. I lost my ability to think and my muscles were numb.
It was painful.
As my consciousness left me I couldn't remember what happened afterwards. The next time I woke up screaming in terror. I was in a carriage of a cage, half of my face was covered by a white fabric, leaving my eyes open and mouth hidden. Those two soldiers were not there, rather some more people dressed the same as me and all women. I then realized my clothes were different, a mere white cloth over my whole body, the carriage was riding somewhere unknown. I had a thirsty throat, my tongue felt tasteless, and intense aches in every inch of my body. Another passenger had a pouch of water, and as I asked them for it she ragingly refused and slapped me on the face. The driver struck a whip on her, yelling at her to behave, and then whipped me for doing the same. I didn't feel any pain for some reason perhaps it did not stand against what my body was already feeling…
The ride traveled for several hours even after the sunset, in the dark until a glimmering city came into sight that had walls all around it. Never in my life have I seen a city this large nor walls this big surrounding it. We entered it slowly as some eyes spun to the carriage, pity in their gaze and gasps of sympathy on their faces. I heard a ruckus, and when my eyes spun the notice came that not only our carriage was headed. Some more occurred to view, many more carriages full of women heading to a straight pattern, but there was a loud wapping a few steps away, before our carriage halted everybody, as if he was telling them to stop this journey.
I couldn't see his face but he had Golden Hairs, and the drivers seemed quite wary of this young lad. He wore clean and fresh clothes of carving gold wires, of course, he was someone of a high status, yet he stood for people. Even people in my old land were not as kind. Who was he? I wondered. Afterwards what they shared between them in their language. I was still learning Artelian hence to catch every phrase of their exchange of words was hard for me but after much dispute between them, the young lad whispered something in his ears by his ally on his side. He let out an exhausted breath carrying disappointment. And so the carriage moved while everyone had their eyes fixed on him, he spun to me for a mere second, and I could see his eyes were different as if... Golden Sunflowers resided within them.
On the way to the last stop, my vision became hazy, and the ache in my muscles left me spineless. I felt sleepy and before I knew it I was in the realm of dreams.
The country she was born in was south into the seas, far from any wars and enemies but agriculture. Their country was often called the dying nation, as it lost its reserve of water on a daily basis. My father had land so grand that my eyes could not see the end to it but it never nourished any wheat, vegetables, or fruit. The rain was a once-in-a-year phenomenon and even then it does not bear any results. My father Luka sold all of his land in mere a coin of gold which was only enough to travel here, Artelia. He worked as a laborer for many years, and this place started to become my new home. Artelian was a complicated language and she could understand a limit of it, but never to comprehend a factual conversation without using many gestures while doing so. Although my father taught me that despite not knowing their language he could still work hard enough to buy a land of his own in this country. It was smaller than what we had in our homeland but nonetheless, it was beautiful, green grass as far as the eyes go, flourished by flowers of every kind, the swaying gusts and the sky blue pouring down its blue tint all that to the end of gazes.
When my gazes tear out of the world of dreams. I was sold on the highest bid.
It was an auction of human slavery. Chandeliers above in the grand room of the castle of gold as the soft violins play in every corner as if it was a festival. Folks dressed in luxury and golden-wired clothes—mostly men along with a few old women—glasses of wine and rum across their hands and drunk when their every wiggling step hinted at it. A grand stage before them as everyone waits for the great opening of slave auctions. As the lights darkened and left the room in raven black but the chandelier above the stage. Eyes spun to the podium where the auctionist stood and so the show started. They laughed when each bid was placed on slaves upon stage. A grand stage of red curtains revealed the slaves along the exciting drums ringing from every corner as if it were a show. Some lights—of unknown craft—shone on them. A slave stood in the middle of the stage with a covered face and body from a white piece of cloth as it was torn in an instant to reveal them and applause occurred from every corner of the grand room. Naked, the slave's bid rose, but tears and agony ran from her eyes making the slave ugly, whip struck her, implying her to stop crying or there would be another, and everyone laughed.
Behind the red curtains stood me, chained to a wall, both my hands and feet, lined with others at the end. Of course, there was terror in everyone's eyes but I couldn't feel any. Ever since bloody night, my nerves have stopped working the way they used to. I didn't fear or had any thought in particular, merely some tingling tones circling in my head.
It was I next, after many auctions I was the last remaining. My chains were open and guards covered around me, I marched to the light peeking through curtains. The first step unraveled my thoughts to feel the floor was made of plywood, smooth and well-cleaned, not nearly like what resides behind the curtains. The glimmering lights shone bright over my head and my eyes struck the mob before. I had a piece of cloth on my face and self.'
"And today's last auction, ladies and gentlemen. The rare human that has fallen from heaven itself, carries the eyes of Violet Roses, The Skin of Soil. The most beautiful creature of all, I present to you, The Fallen Angel."
Her clothes and mask were torn apart, leaving her naked and facing the crowd. She yet has shown to care about it, as the lights shining over her were too bright, making her blind to view before, but to her ears, nobody laughed like before. Like every occurrence they did when slaves were humiliated, making their sanity wither, the crowd of well-suited mocked them—soaked in drunken ocean of wines. That the power each of them wields, ruling the land was the blood they were born in, perhaps less than some mere pebbles to them any slave they preserve. That was the power the Nobles of Artelia possessed.
But, even them, may have the wonders hidden from them, that the world was still unique, the carving of heaven still had the triumph that they may never see.
Lilith of Land of Rab.
Was carved by a fairy tale with a chisel of myths, hence the girl before their eyes was a wonder of earth. Lavender gaze she wanders, the dark skin upon her, those silky hairs, she was no mere slave, she was as the given name—The Fallen Angel. The beauty so unfathomable that it moved each of their souls. There was no such price that could be placed on such a piece of work. Many of them left their drunken moments away and occurred sober just merely looking at her from afar.
They clapped.
Cheers in the room of countless nobles, some drunken, some sober, yet knowing or unknowingly clapped for the presentation, baffling on her beauty. Lilith, when her blindness wanes, her Lavender gaze opened to see the elites cheering for her. Screaming her name, The Fallen Angel, her gaze of that Violet Roses, her skin that had Soil Mixed in them.
'I heard a tale from my father, the tale of a blind man building the tower of God, reaching that absolute…'
-Pinnacle.
It was the day Lilith gained the knowledge of her beauty. She stood alone on the stage of lights.
She had a smile.