The sun rays were warm and spread out across the silent valley to paint the rolling fields in soft hues of morning light. Bare-footed, her feet danced lightly against the dewy grass along a track well known so that she skipped along to the old oak tree. In her small hands, a handful of seeds had filled her; joy sparkled in her eyes.
Looking up to the nest of the bird far in the tree, she saw two little birds chirping busily. "Good morning, little ones," she said softly. With great care she scattered the seeds under the tree, and watched the mother bird flit about for them, feeding one to her babies after another.
A warm chuckle came from behind her. "You spoil them," said her father, Eamon, leaning against the wooden fence nearby, his eyes soft with affection. He wore a simple linen shirt and leather bracers; he was the picture of a hardworking farmer. "They'll never learn to fly if you keep feeding them so well.".
But they need me, Papa. They are still too small and not yet able to fly like birds on their own wings, she pleaded, whirling around with her long braid flailing in the air. Mama used to say it is our duty to take care of those unable to fend for themselves.
Eamon's smile widened, his heart swelling with pride. "Your mother is right. She always is right." He reached out and ruffled Liora's hair gently. "You're just like her—full of kindness and light."
Liora beamed with pride at this compliment, her eyes sparkling with love. She turned and walked back to him, reached out for a post of wood on the fence and hoisted herself up to sit beside him. "Do you think I'll ever be as strong as Mama is?" she asked softly, her voice suddenly serious.
Eamon's face unwound. "Your power is different, little dove. It sits inside your heart, in how you see the world with care. Power isn't always a fight or being tough. Sometimes it is fear for others during dark hours.".
"Me, too," Eamon said, his voice breaking as he gazed out toward the far hills, his eyes welling up with dark clouds across the skies. He let his smile slip and deepen his breath as he said, "I want to protect you from everything, Liora.".
"You do, Papa," Liora said with an innocence that shines out. "You protect me every day," she smiled.
Then the moos from the far pasture cut through their silence. Liora slid down off the fence rail, stepping softly into the grass. "I am going to help milk the cows, Papa. They must be hungry too.".
He shuffled towards Eamon, his face creased and fretful. His bulk could have been many things-old and wizened-in that place.
He stood there while Liora laughed at feeding the cows and then looked up at the serious older man. Eamon felt a hollow in his chest.
Thoughts crash to a halt at the sound of footsteps approaching. Eamon turns to see the elder of the village approaching him, old man with bent back and furrowed brow. "Eamon," he mutters low, as if distressed. "We must talk.".
Eamon nodded, glancing once more at his daughter before following the elder. As they walked, the elder's face was grim. "I've heard word from the scouts," he said quietly. "Thassalor's army is less than a day's march from here."
Eamon's gut fell. "You promise me?
He nodded, his face numb. "I know, they're coming and theyre not taking survivors."
Eamon curled his fists. "We can't just sit here while waiting for them to slaughter us," he said.
The old man sighed. "Yes. But what can we do? We are farmers, Eamon, not warriors. What strength do we have to fight them?
"We can fight," Eamon said gruffly, his voice cutting with determination. "We have to. We can't let them take everything from us."
He considered him a long time, then slowly nodded his head. "We'll round up the men," he said. "We'll do what we can.".
Liora laughed over the field, sending the cows ambling toward the barn without any inkling of what was brewing on the horizon like a dark storm. Eamon watched her, his heart gnawing with a knowledge that this peace was fragile, to be broken.
She sits later in the afternoon beside her mother, Alena, by the hearth; Alena was mending onto one of Eamon's shirts. Liora attempted to sew together a tiny, torn piece of her apron with small, awkward fingers fumbling clumsily with a needle.
"You're getting better, love," Alena said, her voice filled with warmth as she leaned over to guide Liora's hands. "Soon, you'll be mending everything in this house."
Liora giggled. "I'm trying, Mama, but my stitches are all crooked!"
Alena smiled, leaned over, and kissed the top of her daughter's head. "It's not about being perfect, Liora. It is about the love you put in. Even the stitches that wobble a bit belong.".
She looked up across the fire-lit room at her mother, flames dancing in her eyes. "Do you think the birds will remember me when they grow up and fly away?
Alena stopped, placing her hand upon Liora's cheek. "Of course they will," she said. "They'll remember how kind you were. And they'll carry that kindness with them wherever they go, just like I carry my mother's love with me.".
She just dived into her mother's warm, secure home. Liora filled her world in those moments, so full of love and other little pleasures in life, but she couldn't have imagined anything else.
At midnight, Liora stands in the open door of her house, watching. She'd never seen the village this way. The air vibrated with strain, unspoken fear thick and heavy. She could see her father talking with the other men. His face serious and hard.
What's going on, Mama? she asked, turning toward Alena, who was standing behind her, worried.
Alena knelt, her fingers brushing a dangling string of hair from Liora's face. "Trouble is coming, little one," she whispered. "But do not fear it. Papá and the others will look after us.".
Liora bited her lip. "Are they evil men of the stories? The ones from Thassalor?
Alena nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, but they'll never find us, I swear. We are strong. And we have each other.".
Liora was not so strong. She was scared. She looked back at the nest and the chicks, whose chirps faded into nothingness.
"What about the birds?" she whispered softly. "Will they be alright?"
Alena looked depressed. "They will be all right, Liora, just like us.".
Still, Liora wasn't sure she believed that. She had heard stories of Thassalor's army-how they burned villages to the ground and left nothing but ash and bones behind. She'd heard whispers of what they did to the people they captured and the wring in her stomach at the mere thought.
The day had just begun with the harshest condition upon the villagers; every single person was in fear.
The first horn sounded far across the fields long hours past when the sun would reach for its midday nap in a long low sob, a cry of despair. Eamon straightened from his stance as the hammering in his chest took hold. He knew that sound. It was the sound of death coming.
Women and children were thrust inside; the doors were barricaded; men made plans for war. Eamon's hand went to his sword. His hands were shaking. His eyes went to his home, to where Alena stood in her doorway, Liora clutched tight within her arms.
"Stay indoors!" he yelled. "Don't matter what they do, don't venture out!"
Alena nodded, her face pale, but she clung to Liora and whispered comfort words she wasn't sure she believed. The earth shook where they stood, and the tramp of hooves grew loud. And now came Thassalor's host.
Hardly any time, though, and that morning line was reflected on the horizon—a dark line of soldiers marching in perfect formation, the banners flying high in the wind. At the head of the army rode Thassalor himself, a tall black-clad figure, face behind fearsome mask, black as the night horse he rode, thunderous hooves clouting upon the earth like the beat of a war drum. The sight of the army made Eamon's heart drop to his stomach.
Far, far too many. "Stand your ground!" the Eamon thundered out in a voice that quivered yet was strong, like storm. Protect our homes. We protect our family. They shouted back, with the voices that was quite very weak and sounded scared. She peered out the window; her heart thudded in her chest. She could see the black army moving forward: the banners of Thassalor's empire flapped in the wind like a bird of prey. She could even see the soldiers' faces now, cold, expressionless, killable eyes. And when nobody expected it, the attack began.
They seemed somewhat weirde There are weird, huge, humongous men holding immense logs in their hands, images Scary, Masked face. They Were Extremely Huge as compared to human size and Their Body was Extremely Thick and Muscular. Thousands of archers, large men, swordsmen, sneaky fighters, etc.
Then came without warning the attack.
Apparently Strange A few huge, gigantic men were holding tremendous big logs in their hands, seems to be Scary Face covered.
They are Very large Then Normal Human Size and their Physical body is Very Thick and Muscled.
Many archers, large mans, swords men, sneek warriors, etc.
It came like a wave of death, its leading edge rearing up in horses thundering deafeningly into the village. Soldiers charged into the village with a great roar, their blades flashing in bright light under the sun as they beat their boots thunderously on the earth. Eamon and the other men steeled themselves, their blades upraised, but it was all for nothing. Soldiers drove into them like a storm and cut them down with ugly efficiency.
Eamon swung his sword with all his might, hacking wildly at the soldiers, but he could knock down only one to the ground before another was standing upright, hacking at Eamon with a merciless blade. Eamon barely blocked the blow, his arms shaking with the force.
From the terror, she saw people screaming and the clash of steel, and still, the bellowing of the soldier. Liora clutched at her mother's hand, shaking all over her body. "Mama, what is happening? What is happening?!!
Alena pulled her close. Her face was wet with tears. "It's all right. It'll be all right," she said.
It wasn't, though.
The village was falling, and nobody could even do something about it.
As the battle rages on ground, something is amiss in Liora's sight. Birds in the nest fall silent. They stop chirping. Liora rushes towards the window and up at the nest, and what she sees digs a well of misery into her chest.
The nest had fallen out of the tree. All was crushed-it was all crushed by a falling branch-and on the ground there were dead baby birds, strewn everywhere.
No! Liora screamed, running to the door, flinging it open, racing for the tree, but her mother ensnared her in a screeching hand on each arm.
"Liora, no! It is too dangerous!"
"I must rescue them,.." she exclaimed, wriggling free of her mother's embrace. "They need me!.."
But it was too late. The birds had all died, as so many of the villagers, was dead, like her father had been dead. There in the dust, he battled to the end with the broken body and reaching for the sword yet, but still to late.
"Round up!!" Thassalor's voice boomed, a thunderous command that rippled through the burning remains of the village. His soldiers, cold and mechanical, moved from house to house, kicking down doors and dragging survivors out from their hiding places.
Two soldiers approached a small, crumbling house near the edge of the village. They banged on the door with the force of wolves hunting their prey. The door shuddered before it slowly creaked open. There stood Liora, clutching her mother's hand. Both trembled like leaves caught in a storm, their faces pale with fear.
When the war had ended, nothing was left of their village but ash and ruin. The air stank of smoke, and the sky was still darkened from the fires that devoured everything they had known. The soldiers pulled the survivors into the clearing, forming a pathetic group of the defeated. Their eyes were hollow, their faces marked with despair.
Thassalor himself rode through the village on his steed, his armor gleaming against the charred backdrop. His expression was devoid of emotion, his snake-like eyes scanning the devastation with an unsettling calm. He dismounted, each step toward the villagers deliberate and slow, savoring the moment of their submission.
Liora tightened her grip on her mother's hand, tears brimming in her eyes as Thassalor's gaze swept over them. Her mother's hand trembled, but her voice remained quiet. "Stay still, Liora. Do not draw his attention."
But it was too late.
Thassalor's eyes locked on the pair, a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His voice, like poison, slid through the air. "You are all mine now. My subjects. You belong to me."
Liora could no longer hold it in. Her small voice, filled with sorrow, broke the silence. "Mom... we lost. Everything is gone. Father's gone... even the birds." Her tears began to flow freely now, her chest heaving with sobs. "The birds in their nests... they didn't even have a chance to fly." Her small, innocent words were like a dagger to her mother's heart.
Her mother knelt down, pulling Liora into her arms, her own tears slipping down her cheeks. "I know, Liora... I know. The world is cruel, but we will survive. Somehow, we will survive."
Thassalor's smirk deepened, his sharp ears catching every word. He stepped closer to them, his shadow looming over the pair like a stormcloud. "Such touching words," he mocked, his voice dripping with cruelty. "But let me correct you, little brats. You lost because you were weak. Just like your father i saw in the battle..."
He knelt beside them, his cold eyes glinting with malice. "And you'll never freed either. You will crawl in the dirt, just like your mother, for as long as I allow it."
Liora's mother held her tighter, shielding her from his words, but the tears wouldn't stop. Liora looked up at him, her small frame shaking, but her eyes, though filled with tears, flickered with a spark of defiance.
Thassalor saw it, and it amused him. He straightened up, turning away from them with a cruel laugh. "We'll see how long that spirit lasts." He gestured to his soldiers. "Burn what's left. Make sure nothing here survives."
As the soldiers moved to carry out his orders, Liora's mother whispered urgently to her. "Liora, listen to me. We will find a way. We will escape this. You have to believe me."
But Liora's mind was swirling with sorrow, her body still trembling as the fires reignited around them. In the distance, she could hear the cries of the village's remaining birds, trapped in their nests, as the flames consumed everything. She closed her eyes, her heart heavy with both grief and the faintest flicker of something else — the will to survive.
Thassalor, mounting his horse, gave one last glance at the destruction, his cruel smile lingering. "I'll be watching, little ones. Don't disappoint me."
And with that, he rode off into the smoke, leaving Liora and her mother huddled together in the ruins of their world.
As Thassalor leaves, Liora's mother pulls her aside, whispering with urgency. "There is a way, Liora. There is Something to tell, i have an option bascially for you...."
Liora, still crying, looked up at her mother in confusion. "What do you mean? what an option"
But before her mother could answer, one of Thassalor's soldiers approached, cutting them off. "You two. Move."
Her mother squeezed her hand tight and whispered, "Later. I will explain when we are safe. Just stay close."
She had no idea what her mother meant, but for the first time, she felt a sliver of something stronger than fear.
---------------End Of Chapter 9.3----------------