Scars of Legends

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑰 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒓

Ismene Yarrow never sat by the fireplace while her mother read her bedtime stories, and her father sat beside them, drinking whatever he drank. She never had the luxury of believing in happily ever after or prophecies destined for someone. You write your own stories. That was what she always thought. Nobody wrote them for you, and nobody wanted to write them for you. If you wanted a happy ending you had to work for that happy ending.

Her disbelief in fairytale endings grew when Thyrialis was cast into eternal darkness. The once mythical world, forever destined never to see the sun, daytime flowers, or the majestic animals that only roamed the soil when it was bright.

The darkness made it hard for Ismene to find the path as she jumped from tree to tree, watching as a few lew branches and leaves fell to the ground each time her boots landed on the next branch. The trees were blowing in the wind and the stars shined bright in the sky, smiling down at her. The moon sat up there by itself every hour of the night, wondering whether it would ever see the sun again. All of Theyrialis wondered if they would ever see the sun again.

The town was quiet; the only evidence that anyone lived there was that most houses and gardens were well taken care of. Her house wasn't one of those houses. She was the only one who lived there: her mom went missing years ago and her dad was out there exploring the country somewhere. "Exploring" was the wrong word. He ran off to go find a way to lift the curse when it happened. Ismene was only 7 at the time, and that was about 10 years ago.

She climbed through the window that refused to close since she left her key in the house. Sometimes that broken window came in handy. Her house was as messy as Ismene left it which was comforting since it meant that no one broke in while she was gone.

Her sword went back onto the wall, but she kept the dagger up her sleeve in case something happened and she didn't have time to grab her sword. That was the only thing her father advised her to do before she left.

Ismene caught her reflection in the mirror: her black hair was disheveled and had leaves poking out of it, her eyeliner was smudged, and her pants were ripped and dirty. She looked like she went to war rather than just climbing a few trees.

"You're gonna get caught if you keep sneakin' around like that, Mene," Archer said as he poked his head through the window, a toothy grin plastered across his face.

Ismene shook her head with disapproval but winked at the boy, "Careful Archie, you keep watchin' me like that I'm gonna think you're obsessed."

Archer's face scrunched into something that could be seen as disdain, "I ain't obsessed with you, that's disgusting."

"Good. Now, get lost. Run along to daddy you spoiled brat," Ismene snapped, "Bet he's lookin' for you by now."

The kid stuck his tongue out at her and Ismene stuck it right back out at him. Archer was an annoying brat, but he was a very entertaining neighbor. Plus, he knew that she was underage and living alone. When her dad left she told everyone that her grandma was taking care of her so she wouldn't be taken away. It would've worked if Archie wasn't such a snoop. She liked his sister though; Alyssa. She was one of Ismene's best friends.

The boy ran off back towards his house, the three stories looking like a mansion next to her shack. Okay, it wasn't a shack. Ismene had more than enough money. She sold whatever she killed but didn't eat, and sometimes she acted as a soldier or bodyguard and protected whoever needed help. For pay, of course, she wasn't going to do any job for free.

Ismene wasn't the most popular soldier. She was more like a plan B. If someone was lost in town and needed help, everyone always directed them to her.

Ismene Yarrow: The last resort.