The crescent moon had finally shown itself, and everyone in Limlor -the witches continent- celebrated it. In the spirit of the celebration, Emma was let out from her prison, and confined in her old room so she could join in the joy, and enjoy the view.
She watched the crescent moon from her window with nostalgia and flashes from painful childhood memories.
She shut the window and walked to her bed, and Lying face down on it, and cried herself to sleep.
***
Dead bodies lay scattered all around the floor, people who had died trying to protect the royal family, and the bodies of those who had killed them. They had been ambushed in the midst of Spirit forest, on their way back to Limlor from Edigor.
"Mommy. Mommy. Mommy wake up" nine year old Emma said, her voice a little louder than normal, as she shook her mother's lifeless body. Everywhere was covered in blood, her clothes were soaked in her mother's blood, as she held unto the male fetus that had been cut off from her mother. She dropped the child besides her mother, and squatted beside them, blinking her big eyes innocently "mummy, are you mad at me?" She asked, her brain refusing to comprehend the situation. She sat down on the floor her arms folded against her chest waiting forher mother to react, but only the souless eyes stared back at her. She gathered her mothers golden wavy hair together and brushed her fingers through it, caressing it like how she had always done when her mother was asleep. Her face was void of tears, her long afro curls flying about with twigs and leafs nesting ontop and within. "Myrna, come here." Her father said to her weakly, leaning against a tree as he held onto his bleeding side. "Papa, mama doesn't want to talk to me." She said turning to look at him. He groaned silently, his hands stretched out towards her. "Baby, let mama alone, she's sleeping." She looked at the face in doubt reluctant to leave her mother's side "but her eyes are open." "Myrna! Come here. Now!" He said running out of time and patience. She closed her mother's eyes and picked the baby from her mother's side. She stood up and walked to her father, taking his outstretched hand. He muttered incoherently, a green bubble encasing her and the dead child, as his eyes darkened, his sclera turning fully black. He fell limply against the tree, warmth departing from him. He was dead, and for the first time that day, she saw the crescent moon clearly.
Emma woke up shivering, and sat up on the bed, drawing her legs to her blossom, her hands folded round it. 'she had never dreamt of anything like this before, never dwelt on how her parents disappeared from her life, or even thought of it, not even when it had been obvious that something had happened, and now she had remembered what she had forgotten.' She willed it away from her mind, stilling herself against the tears that threatened, but one escaped, and soon a flood of it streamed down her face as she sobbed, her body shaking without control.