Chapter One
Miracle Child
Her eyes still sting from the tears she cried an hour ago, the remnants dry upon her rosy soot-covered cheeks. She cannot go back to where she came from, and there is no place for her to run, but still she has to flee. Everyone is gone now, everything in flames. There is nothing left but ash and tears. She has to keep walking for there is nothing left to do. She is utterly alone in the world. All she can feel is the bitter cold as she walks endlessly through the woods; the only living thing in an empty world of white. A mixture of glacial air and lingering smoke causes her lungs to ache, her rasping coughs blowing out in white clouds. Her whole body is frigid and stiff, as cold as the snow that is all around her. She notices that even the morning sky above her is white, vast, and empty. She continues on, her stockings soaked through, and her feet past feeling, numb.
She lost one of her shoes a while back, walking over a bunch of fallen branches. Her foot had slipped into a crevice, and when she tried to pull her foot back out, her shoe did not come with it. Her little arms were too short to reach the shoe, so she had simply left it there. However, walking with just one shoe proved uncomfortable, so she took it off her foot, holding the lonely shoe clasped in her hands and pressed against her chest.
The blackened soiled clothes on her back are her only possessions in the whole world. Her short dress, once sunny-yellow trimmed with frilly white lace, is now dirty with ash and dried blood; the lace is gray and singed. Her once-white stockings, now gray with holes burned away in places. Her green winter coat, musky with the smell of smoke, is still in pristine condition. Around her neck, she wears a gold chain necklace with an oval-shaped locket branded with the symbol of a burning rose and the name Gwenevere engraved upon it. The locket is the only tie to her past, the only remnant of her identity.
She hasn’t seen a single soul, no towns, no houses, and no roads. She makes her trek toward an unknown future, leaving behind her painful past. An image of her mother’s beautiful face creeps into her dazed mind, making her want to start crying all over again, but she holds back the tears.
“Crying never got the world to stop spinning,” her father had once said. Or at least she thought the man was her father. She had only met him a handful of times; he always came to visit their little cottage late at night. She would see him only briefly before she was sent off to bed, and he was long gone before she awoke the next morning. Nonetheless, she learns quickly not to cry, pout, or go to him for comfort. He is always serious, worried, and cold.
If he is my father, then why didn’t he live with us? Why did he feel like a stranger? Why wasn’t he there when the fire came and ate up everything? A father is meant to protect his family.
Her eyes begin to water. She sniffles, forcing back the tears, pushing the memories away. It is better that she forgets them and leaves them behind her, and so she does. With every step she takes forward, she puts more distance between herself and the world with which she once belonged. Hour after hour goes by and fatigue makes it easier to shut out all thoughts and feelings. She thinks of nothing but walking in a straight line, as the wind blows through her long black hair.
Brushing the errant strands out of her eyes, she sees a man, a tall dark figure lurking amongst trees ahead of her. One moment she was alone in the forest and then suddenly the stranger is there, watching her. She blinks several times but the apparition remains. She hesitates only a moment then continues. Not wanting to show her fear, she avoids his eyes.
He looks warm in his long, black, trench coat, tall leather boots, and black suit. But something about him is wrong, frightening. With a dark unnerving determination, she senses his gaze follow her wherever she moves. A bone-deep chill comes from his direction. Quickly she deviates her course slightly off to the right, planning to simply pass him by.
As she comes closer to the dark stranger, he makes a quick move toward her. She bolts, breaking into a wild run. The forest becomes a blur around her as she speeds forward in a headlong dash.
Keep running. Don’t look back. Panic carries her farther and faster than her exhausted legs can go on their own. The hood of her green coat flapping in the wind behind her. Coming over the crest of a hill, she trips on a rock, and stumbling, falls. Helplessly she tumbles like a rag doll. The world spins around her as she rolls down the hill, hitting rocks, tree limbs, and tree trunks as she goes. Sharp needles of pain shoot through her as the dead dried plants along the hillside cut into her.
She lands with a thud, a loud ringing crack echoing through her skull. She finds herself lying limply in the middle of a narrow canyon road. After the first wave of pain washes over her, she opens her eyes to see where she has wound up. But her eyes are drawn to the stranger in black standing at the crest of the hilltop, looking down at her. She goes cold inside, numb by fear as well as physical pain. He smiles at her.
“Gwenevere,” a voice whispers on the wind.
Then, all at once, he is standing at the bottom of the hill, just across the canyon road. He smiles again.
“Don’t be afraid, my child. I am your salvation.” He speaks in a silvery voice. The sound of it makes her blood turn to ice; her skin loses its warmth, and fear beyond reason races through her. “Just ask and I will take away your pain,” he continues, his eyes black as pitch, no light reflecting from the sun above, no pupil, just black, just emptiness.
“Who are you?” she trembles with a small voice.
“You can call me Luc--” Suddenly, a vehicle turns around the bend coming toward them, catching them both off guard. Frantic for help, the girl struggles to her feet, limping toward the speeding car and away from the stranger with the soulless eyes.
The car breaks, coming to a tire screeching halt just feet away from the lost child. A man hurries out of the driver side door, rushing toward her, his young wife staring out the windshield in horror. The husband reaches for her and the girl crumbles into his arms, weak.
“Good God! What’s happened to you? Where are your parents?” She looks into his clear blue eyes and feels safe. Turning to look over her shoulder, she begins to point at the man following her, but the road behind her is empty.
“We’re going to take you to see a Doctor, alright?” the kind man asks, not waiting for her reply before he hefts her into his arms and carries her to the car. He stows her gently into the back seat, hurrying to retake his place behind the wheel.
His wife turns to him, panicked. “Well, did she say anything? What is she doing out here like this?”
“She didn’t say anything,” he replies. “I think she’s in shock.”
The man calls back to the child in a reassuring voice as he starts the car and speeds down the road toward town. “Everything’s going to be alright, okay, sweetheart? You’re going to be alright.”
“What’s your name, honey?” The woman turns to smile weakly at the girl. But the child stares back at her, dazed.
The dark stranger had spoken to her in her own speech, but this young blonde couple speaks in a strange tongue, a language foreign to her ears. The attractive woman continues to speak to her, but the girl can’t make sense of her words. She seems to be asking her a question, but the girl is too distracted. Flurries of images pass through her mind, thoughts and feelings that are not her own.
The woman continues to chatter, but the girl is oblivious, as the world grows still, dark and empty.