Catina never had a reason to hate her strange appearance. Her golden hair and deep brown eyes- eyes that could be mistaken for red- had never caused her any misfortune. Until one night, the great conqueror arrived- a man who wanted the world for him...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
They say your life ends the moment you hear the rush of hooves within the night.
The sound of cascading heels, noises of horses and their heavy breathing- the wind stilling- the world stopping- and the silence that comes after. When the movement stops, so does your sphere of living.
And then, in a rush of tangible life- it comes crashing down.
Chaos always is inevitable after peace. It's never realized, but the two go hand in hand.
That night began like any other night. The ending always is what makes it different from the rest.
Because deep into the darkness, when creatures should have been dreaming-
The sound of rushing hooves was heard.
And the battle cry of the coming army- waking us from the peaceful slumber of sleep.
* * *
"Separate the women and children- men go to this side." The male's voice rings into the night, his command the incentive the warrior needs to move forward and push me aside, away from my father.
"Papa-,"
"Go with him," his eyes plead with me to listen.
I watch in mute horror as the rest of the men are lined up- the few that remained within our hidden village that had always been safe from the evils of outside. Tucked away, and nestled within the bosom of the mountains. Hidden in her crevices and obscured from wandering eyes.
Or so we thought.
These foreigners were strange, yet it was that said strangeness that made me recognize who they were.
All the males were covered.
From head to toe- the only feature of their body naked for view were their eyes and the brows that rested above them. Everything else was veiled in thick garbs. The color looked to be once white, but dust from travel and riding long had spread the stain of dirt and grim onto their clothing. The hiding of their bodies only made them seem more mysterious. More threatening. More dangerous.
The clothing made me weary. I only knew of one tribe that dressed in such garb.
The Onism Tribe.
Even our small concealed village had heard word of their movement. The conquest that they were achieving. It had been one of awed fear, listening to the stories of how much the nomadic tribe had grown in power. Which other tribes they had defeated and merged into their own to expand their numbers.
We just never imagined that they would come here.
Just as my thought enters, I notice a change within the warriors. The men still. I follow where their eyes go and feel the breath leave my lungs at the sight of the figure that is astride. Riding over the others, his whole body covered. Yet there is still an unearthly shift in power that possesses him. No man should contain this much power in his hands. The sky should open up and swallow him whole, just to prove who could win.
