Prince Kristian's Honor

Chapter 20

  Alone

  The cell was cold, damp, and dark. The smell of rotting straw mixed with sweat hung heavily in the air. Allisia shivered, trying to fight off a growing sense of despair as she sat in the corner as far away from the barred door as she could get.

  She tried to stretch out her sore muscles. The bruises on her arms and legs from where Ferral had kicked her still hurt. He had only beaten her twice, preferring to play tricks on her mind. He wanted to break her spirit more than her body.

  Her shock had finally subsided. It returned occasionally when Ferral let some of his new experiments loose in the dungeons. The door to her small cell was locked and barred from the inside rather than the outside. The mad sorcerer found it quite amusing that she was forced to lock herself in to keep the dead away. He had put her down in the dungeon as another form of degradation, giving her a false sense of hope by placing the locks on the inside of the cell. It was her choice to make; should she try to escape knowing the dead might be outside the door or lock herself in the small cell and hope Ferral might return to help her?

  She often heard them, their feet shuffling down the corridor. It was completely dark in her prison, but they always managed to find her. They would pound and scratch on the door, trying to use bars and chains to tear the door apart. Just as they were about to break through, Ferral would call them back to him using his new powers, and she would be left alone, wondering if it was safe to open the door. In the end, Allisia decided to leave it barred. No food or water came during the time she was alone in the dungeon, and she began to grow weaker, but she refused to abandon hope.

  Allisia prayed to God for salvation. She prayed that Kristian was safe and that the things Ferral told her about her brother and her people were lies. It was hard for her to remember what had actually happened. It was hard to understand what was real and what might be a dark thought in her mind. She clung to the possibility that either Kristian or Justan was one of the survivors.

  Ferral was obsessed with the fact that three men had survived the battle. She had heard him order his commanders to use the entire army to find and kill the fugitives. His anger at not finding them quickly was enough to give him the strength necessary to control the dead. Allisia saw him walk among them untouched, flaunting his power. Their grossly disfigured bodies swayed precariously as they stared in dumb silence at their master. The servants and priests that were required to be near Ferral were also protected from the monsters by his magic. The king of Belarn had threatened many times to let the creatures loose on those that failed him. It was enough to keep the remaining citizens of Belarna silent and obedient.

  She had no idea why Ferral put her down in the dungeon. Maybe he saw the glimmer of hope in her eyes when she heard that some had escaped the battlefield. Or maybe he just wanted to lash out at someone to inflict pain and misery for his own pleasure. She did not know. Allisia realized her best hope of surviving and eventually escaping rested solely upon her own shoulders. So far, she had no plan or even any advantage to use to her benefit. As long as Ferral kept her in the dark and guarded by the dead, she would remain his prisoner.

  Footsteps echoed off the corridor’s walls outside her cell. Allisia sat motionless, trying to stop even her breathing lest it give her away. The sounds stopped in front of her door, and the handle clanked as someone tried to open it. The princess pulled her knees up to her chin as she waited for her tormentors to leave. But they didn’t.

  “Princess Allisia,” a ruff voice called out. She sat in the dark, afraid Ferral was playing another trick on her. The voice called again. “Princess Allisia, are you in there?”

  Afraid to answer, but longing for someone, anyone, to talk to she answered, “Who is it?”

  “It is General Derout. I have brought you some food and water.”

  The sorcerer’s right hand, she thought. The man responsible for the deaths of thousands of my countrymen. Allisia did not move out of her corner. “How do I know this isn’t another one of your master’s tricks,” she challenged.

  “I’m alone, except for a serving girl. And he’s not my master. I’m no dead man to be ordered around like a puppet.” There was a pause as the man thought of something else to say. “Other than that, you will just have to trust me.” The voice broke off waiting for her to reply.

  Allisia stood slowly on wobbly legs and moved toward the door. Her muscles ached from the cold and wet conditions, but she forced herself forward. Swallowing down her fear, she grasped the locking bar and pulled it back. She quickly went back to her corner waiting to see what would come through.

  Powerful rays of light burst through the crack in the door as it was pushed open. The light blinded her and even as she sank into her corner trying to hide from the light, she knew he could see her. The general entered and stood in front of her. The servant girl with long black hair dimmed the lantern then, and Allisia could see the big armored man, his single top knot of hair resting over his massive shoulder.

  “Princess Allisia, I’m General Derout, and I want to help you,” he declared.

  She yelled back at him, defiantly. “I haven’t been here long enough to fall for that one,” she laughed, her voice cracking from dryness. The small and gentle servant girl knelt beside her and handed her a cup of water. Allisia grabbed it quickly unable to hold back any pretense of control. She drank it quickly gulping down every drop.

  When the cup was empty, it was refilled and placed beside her on the floor. Then a pale hand gave her a bowl of bread and fruit. When the princess reached out for the food, her hand touched the other woman’s fingers. A cold chill rushed through Allisia instantly. She gasped pulling back her hand in shock.

  Allisia looked up at the face of the beautiful, young woman. She was little older than the princess, not even twenty years old. Her black hair was pulled back through a scarf and hung over her shoulders in long wavy curls, but her skin was very pale and cool, and her eyes seemed distant, almost empty. Allisia flinched reflexively away from the other girl who did nothing as she waited for the bowl to be taken out of her hands.

  “She will not hurt you,” Derout said. “Yes, she is dead. Well, mostly dead … I think. The girl was one of Ferral’s earliest experiments. He has never come closer to maintaining the appearance of beauty over death. I suppose his current plans don’t call for the subtlety of something as wonderful as this little girl.”

  “What … what is wrong with her?” Allisia asked still reluctant to accept the bowl of food. The girl continued to wait patiently with no sign of concern on her face.

  “She was near death when Ferral cheated her of her chance to escape him. He used his limited knowledge of the black arts to sustain her. Now her soul is trapped between this world and whatever lies beyond death.” Derout stepped closer squatting down between Allisia and the dead servant girl.

  “He has always been fascinated by death and ways of controlling it. To him, control over the dead is a symbol of his power. It’s his way of exerting control over his neighbors, over the other kingdoms in Erinia. But after creating this girl … so many years ago, Ferral lost the knowledge of how he had been able to create her or more like her. He has been searching for the means to create monsters to serve him ever since. When he regained the favor of Belatarn, Ferral acquired the knowledge and power necessary to create his new army. He now has an army that will destroy our world.”

  Allisia was truly saddened by the other girl’s fate. She was also afraid. In an odd way, she thought Ferral’s crime of trapping this poor girl’s soul in her body, where she was neither alive nor dead, was much worse then making puppets out of the soldiers that were already dead. They did what Ferral wanted, but felt no sorrow or pain. Did this girl feel things the same way Allisia did?

  “It’s horrible that she is a prisoner in her own body. Unable to truly live or fully die,” Allisia commented sadly. Finally, she took the bowl and thanked the pale girl.

  “Why are you doing this? I’m sure your master would kill
you if he discovered you were helping me.”

  The experienced warrior shrugged and sighed, admitting he did not completely understand his motivations either. “I’m not ashamed of what happened to your people or my part in their deaths. Kingdoms will always be at war. I’m a warrior, after all. And I strongly believe it’s Belarn’s destiny to be the greatest kingdom in Erinia. But,” he hesitated looking back toward the door to ensure no one was listening in. “He has gone too far with his use of black magic. I used to think his resurrection of the ancient cults would revive our culture, unite our people. Their passion for this old god, along with Ferral’s magic, would create a drive in them that would give us the power to sweep across the land and reclaim what was once ours.”

  The man in charge of the elite Black Guards and the Belarnian army raised his head, the vision of his people conquering other lands filling his mind. “I thought we would crush the Erandians and the Duellrians and claim your lands for our own. Then we could influence the old kingdoms of Mesantia once again.

  “Belarn was once the most powerful kingdom on earth, you know. People throughout Erinia bowed low to the earth out of respect as we rode through their towns.”

  “You mean fear,” Allisia corrected. “Fear that their lives would be sacrificed to an evil and false god.”

  The general raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. He shrugged, “Probably, but our ability to influence so many others through sheer force was incredible. No kingdom has ever done that besides Belarn. None.”

  “Being remembered as the one kingdom that destroyed everything in its path is quite an honor, I’m sure.” Allisia was angered by his rhetoric and was certain she did not want his help. She turned away, looking at the girl who stood motionless by the door. Derout would not let the conversation die.

  “We were strong and proud centuries ago, and we’ll be that way again …”

  “But?” Allisia asked in feigned curiosity.

  “But Ferral has succumbed to the powers that Belatarn gave him. He has learned how to do things that a man was never meant to know. Soon it will consume all of us. There will be nothing left worth conquering.”

  Allisia could not deny that Ferral had lost his grip on reality. His atrocities stretched the very fibers of nature and threatened the lives of millions, but there was more behind Derout’s offer for help than what he was telling her. “Why are you really helping me, Derout?”

  The warrior leaned toward her, excitement filling his voice. “Ferral is not only consumed by magic. He’s also consumed by your beauty.” Allisia sat upright, the disbelief plain on her face. “In part, he wants to possess you because you are betrothed to the Erandian prince. Ferral enjoys tormenting you because he knows the young Erandian fool can do nothing to stop it. But,” he said as he looked at her slender neck and long hair, “he also wants you for himself. You’re beautiful and innocent. For now that is enough to captivate him. Later, he will try to take one or both of those things from you. Eventually, you may end up like this little girl.” Derout nodded toward the servant, chuckling.

  Allisia hated the man in front of her now more than ever before. It was obvious he was only seeking an opportunity to increase his own power. She would only be able to count on him for help as long as he could profit from the experience. He was cruel and cared for no one but himself. The princess began to tire of the conversation. “What do you want?”

  “For now … nothing. When the chance presents itself, I will help you escape. In the chaos that will ensue, I will kill Ferral and take his throne of bones for myself. Then Belarn will become the great kingdom it was destined to become.”

  Allisia was skeptical. “What makes you so sure my escape will cause so much trouble?”

  Derout smiled, showing long, yellow teeth. “Losing you will torment him. It will be a personal insult, and he will do everything in his power to get you back. His focus, his power, his demon bitch will all be concerned with just one thing … getting you back. And that will be my chance.”

  She felt a darkness begin to wash over her. Someone else was entering the room. Allisia looked beyond the general to see the sorcerer-king, himself, standing in the doorway. No one else was with him. None of the dead things accompanied him. Yet, there was an oppressive weight in the musty air. Allisia found it difficult to breathe. He also looked different to her. He stood without assistance, finally recovered from casting his terrible spells. But his head was bent forward as though it was too heavy for his neck to support and his eyes were ringed by dark circles. He seemed lucid, yet, haunted. The costs of his new powers were obvious. They were sucking the life out of him.

  Derout stepped close to her face, his foul breath hitting her full force. He was still unaware of Ferral’s presence. “Just remember who helped you, little princess. You will soon have no kingdom to go home to. Your only hope of survival will be through me … you better be grateful,” he said, sticking his tongue out toward her in a grotesque gesture of sexual desire.

  She cringed away from the man. Derout looked a little hurt, but then he smiled, “At least I won’t turn you into a rag doll to be used whenever I want.” He started laughing and just as suddenly stopped again.

  He finally seemed to sense the danger he was in and turned around faster than Allisia thought possible. The general waited anxiously for Ferral to speak, not knowing how much the sorcerer had overheard.

  Ferral smiled wickedly as he stared at Allisia. “Even if I had not sensed you were up to something, Derout, and followed you down here, I still would have known of your plans.” He looked at the servant girl, giving her an appraising smile. “I see everything she sees.”

  “My Lord, you misunderstand. I was only trying to add to her torment by tricking her into trusting me.” He licked his lips nervously, the moisture gone from his mouth. “I did it for your pleasure,” he pleaded.

  “Don’t attempt to save yourself by sinking to even new lows, Derout.”

  The general had known Ferral for years. He also knew how ruthless he would be in passing judgment on him. It would be better, he thought, to save himself now while the king was alone and unprotected. Swiftly, Derout pulled free a dagger from his belt and rushed his king.

  Allisia watched the events unfold in front of her as if she were watching a bizarre play. The cruel general raised his hand to thrust the dagger deep into Ferral’s chest, but just as he brought his blade down, with all of his strength, the servant girl sprang into action. The small and delicate girl jumped up involuntarily and stepped between Ferral and Derout’s dagger.

  Allisia gasped as the long metal knife entered the girl’s chest and buried itself to the hilt. Derout tired to pull the weapon out and continue his attack, but his hand began to ache. His fingers curled up like wilted pedals on a flower. Sharp pain filled his body as the crippling affect spread up his arm. Unable to control his muscles, his body began to shake, and then he fell heavily to the floor. Ferral laughed, enjoying the scene.

  He slowly approached Derout’s stricken form. Paralyzed, the general could do nothing but blink his eyes and gasp for air. Ferral stepped over him and turned his attention to the dagger hilt protruding from his servant’s chest.

  Effortlessly, he pulled the blade from her body. He examined it for a moment then let it drop beside Derout’s paralyzed form. The Duellrian princess watched in horror and shock as the girl looked down at the hole in her breast. The girl saw that there was no blood coming out of the wound and was able to show emotion for the first time in many years. The feelings came slowly as realization finally sank in that she was not human. She looked at the ghastly hole in her breast, down to the sharp dagger on the ground and, surprisingly, back to Allisia.

  The girl’s eyes opened wide in shock and fear. She opened her mouth to scream, and at first nothing came out, but her pain and sorrow could not be restrained by Ferral’s powers any longer. Her voice finally came to her, and she filled the room with a terrified shriek. Her blood-curdling scream frightened Allisia
and surprised Ferral.

  The girl finally turned to him and begged for answers. “Why? Why?” she screamed in agony. Then she gasped. The dead servant girl remembered what had happened.

  “Julia,” her mother called out, “there is a long line at the well. I guess everyone is getting what they need for the celebration.” She grabbed a large vase and handed it to her daughter. “Can you quickly walk down to the shore and get me some water?”

  Julia frowned. “I just put on my new dress,” she complained. “I don’t want to get it dirty right before he sees me.”

  “I’m sure he won’t notice anything other than your pretty face,” her mother replied. “Besides, with your grace, I am also sure that you won’t get a spot on that dress.” She nodded toward the Utwan Sea. “We live closer to the shore than anyone else. Go to the creek and fetch some fresh water.”

  “Fine,” Julia answered, giving in.

  The girl walked along the path that led from her home toward the sea. There was a small creek with fresh water nearby that emptied into the Utwan. Few villagers ever came down the small path her father had made into the side of the hill, and it sometimes made Julia feel uneasy to walk here alone.

  “But it’s a lovely day and not very far,” she coaxed herself.

  She smiled, thinking of what her betrothed might say to the rest of the village during the feast. He was usually very shy, but he always knew what to say to make her happy. Perhaps today, he will say something so eloquent and romantic that we will not have to wait another month for the wedding ceremony. Perhaps the elders will allow us to marry today, she hoped.

  “Cairn and Julia are a perfect match,” most of her parents’ friends would say. Her mother would agree. They were both dreamers.

  Julia wanted to see as much of Erinia as she possibly could see before she and Cairn settled down to make a family. The young girl had an adventurous spirit, and she normally talked her love into doing things he might not normally do. Cairn always felt slightly uncomfortable around others, especially if people were gathered in large crowds, but he would do anything for Julia.

  He might even find the courage to say something wonderful without being nervous, she hoped.

  Where Julia was outgoing, Cairn was intuitive. The young boy easily grasped complex problems, solving many of the village’s most unique challenges. He was also gifted with the speed and agility of a mountain cat. Cairn might not have a warrior’s fighting spirit, but he was not afraid to tackle risky jobs.

  Julia remembered how he climbed up a thin rope and then hung upside down for half an hour just to rig a new pulley system. Fixing the grist mills hauling system earned him the respect of many of the men in the village, including her father.

  The two had been close since they were little children, and they always knew they were meant for each other. With Cairn’s increasing reputation within the village, they had no problem openly declaring their love for each other. Her parents did not object.

  Julia knew it was Cairn’s happiest memory. Her love had worried over what he would say to her parents for a week. When the time came to talk to them, he did not have to say much. They already knew what he wanted and welcomed him with open arms.

  Splashing and a cursing voice abruptly interrupted her daydream. Julia was startled by the unfamiliar voices.

  “How long can a kid hold his breath?” a young, gruff voice asked.

  “Much longer than I like,” replied an equally young but melancholy voice. “Hurry up and get it over with. We need to start back toward the capital before my father suspects something.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the first voice acknowledged.

  Julia was horrified by what she heard. She wanted to run and tell her father, but felt drawn down the path. Julia crept through the trees until she could see the waters of the creek leading toward the sea. A group of Belarnian soldiers sat on their horses watching one of their men holding a small boy under the water. By now the boy was no longer struggling to reach the surface. His body was limp, his fingers floating to the top of the water.

  Julia gasped out loud at what she saw. She quickly realized what she had done, but it was too late. The soldiers turned their heads and quickly found her. She saw each of their faces. She saw the hate that filled their eyes. Julia took a step back up the trail.

  One face in particular frightened her more than the others. A young man, perhaps thirty years old, smiled warmly at her. He pulled long strands of hair from his face and then smoothed out his mustache.

  “Hello, there young lady,” the Prince of Belarn called to her. “Do you know who I am?”

  Julia stood there frozen, afraid to run.

  “Do you know who I am?” Ferral asked again with more force in his voice.

  Julia nodded quickly, still afraid to say anything.

  “Then you understand that we are here conducting royal business. This incident has nothing to do with you or your family. You could say I am doing God’s will,” he smiled at her again.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Julia stammered. “I … I didn’t see anything, and if I did it was none of my business.”

  Ferral laughed, “Ha. That’s very good … very good. What’s your name?”

  “Julia, Your Highness,” she replied quietly.

  “Julia,” Ferral repeated. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” He waved a hand up toward the path she had come down. “You may go.”

  She stood there meekly, afraid that one of the prince’s men might shoot her in the back with an arrow. Julia found it hard to breathe and was about to cry.

  “Go!” Ferral barked at her.

  Julia sobbed for a brief moment before starting up the path. She held her breath for a long time, wondering if she would soon be killed. When it seemed the prince and his men would not come after her, she started to run. Julia ran as fast as she could back to her home.

  Ferral sat there watching her until she was out of sight.

  “Your Highness, you really don’t think she will keep quiet, do you? There is a village just up the hill. By the end of the day, over a hundred people will know what happened,” the man in the creek said.

  “I know, Garnis,” Ferral sighed. “She was just so beautiful, and I didn’t want to see her die … just yet.” The prince frowned, saddened by what he would have to do to keep his murder secret.

  “What do you want us to do, Your Highness?” Garnis asked.

  “Ride into the village and kill everyone,” Ferral ordered.

  “Everyone,” Garnis repeated to make sure he had heard correctly.

  “Yes,” Ferral acknowledged. “Julia has given us a way to cover up our little incident. We’ll claim she was the daughter of the nursemaid we killed back at the castle and that she kidnapped my brother. When we finally caught up to her she drowned Aron in the creek and then fled to her village. We were too late to save him, the poor child, but we hardened ourselves and destroyed all of those that harbored the young girl.”

  Garnis smiled; he was one of Ferral’s most devout supporters.

  “Why he decided to have another child now I can not fathom. My father will actually thank me for killing them,” the prince added. Garnis remounted and got his men ready for the attack. Ferral reached out to slow him down. “I want her for myself, Garnis.”

  “The peasant girl?” Garnis asked.

  Ferral nodded, lust filling his eyes. “Bring her to me unharmed.”

  “We’ll need to scout out the village then and make sure we develop a better plan. These men,” he nodded to his soldiers, “aren’t known for their precision in attacks.”

  “That’s why I like you, Garnis. You know exactly what you and your men are good for. You will be handsomely rewarded when I am king.”

  Garnis bowed deeply. “Just keep me near you, Your Highness. I would hate for you to become angry with me someday. With your noble ambition to take the throne and your ability to cast spells and all … I quickly learned who deserved my loyalty. May Belatarn bles
s me.”

  “Spoken like a true believer,” Ferral responded.

  When the soldiers she had seen earlier in the day came rampaging into the center of the village, she knew there would be no escape for anyone. She was so afraid of what the prince and his men might do to her and her family that she had not told a single person, not even Cairn. Her promise not to tell anyone what she had witnessed meant little to them. Julia knew they were there to erase any possible evidence, as well as, witnesses of the small boy’s murder.

  As the carnage got worse and Julia realized they were not just there to kidnap or kill her, but to massacre the entire village, she tried to step away from everyone else. Julia hoped the leader of the Belarnian soldiers would recognize her and focus his anger on her instead of the innocent people she knew. It was hard to find the courage to move away from the tables where her father and mother were still cowering. Most of her friends and neighbors were in shock and could not comprehend what was happening. Even Cairn stood dumbfounded until she began to move.

  Garnis was on top of her quickly. He rushed in and grabbed her before she was more than a few feet away from her parents.

  “You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, girl. You’re the lucky one today, though. The prince wants you for himself,” Garnis told her.

  “No,” Cairn shouted as he jumped and leaped from table to table trying to save her from Garnis and his men. He knocked the leader from his horse and fell on the ground next to her.

  The wind had been knocked from her chest, and she could not get enough air in to warn Cairn to stay back. Julia already knew what her fate was. She did not want the one that she loved to suffer something worse. Julia reached out to him, but it was too late. Cairn was already starting to stand. He meant to face Garnis and defend her.

  The idea was somehow noble and foolish at the same time. Even Julia understood how uneven the fight would be. Garnis was a trained killer. He felt no remorse. The bigger man was also heavily armored and carried a large sword. Cairn had no armor and no weapons. Julia could not let him die for her.

  Had I warned the village, she thought, perhaps none of this would have happened.

  Julia struggled to her feet and jumped between the two men. There was a lot of pushing and shoving. She saw angry men with wide, toothy grins. She saw Cairn’s concerned face and then the big man hit him hard with his spiked glove. Cairn fell heavily to the ground, blood covering the side of his face. Then she felt a sudden ache in her breast.

  When she looked down to see what had happened she was surprised to see the dagger sticking out of her chest. Garnis seemed just as surprised as she did. He even seemed confused and upset. She knew things had not gone quite the way the man intended. The lieutenant rushed over to the younger soldier that had stabbed her. He struck the man heavily with his glove and then stabbed him in the face with his sword.

  He then walked casually back to her and pulled the dagger out of her breast and let her fall. Julia’s vision began to narrow and blur. She had difficulty breathing.

  I don’t feel any pain, she thought. She did not even feel her body fall heavily to the ground.

  Her hand lay next to her face, and she saw the blood that covered her fingers. Her blood. “Remember me,” she whispered to Cairn, “I love you.”

  Julia saw him laying next to her, his face a bloody ruin, like her dress. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him one last time, but she could not. Her life was slipping away fast, and she would never hold him again.

  “Cairn! Cairn!” she shouted over and over again. “I remember what you did,” the servant girl screamed at Ferral.

  “I remember what …” Julia was crying so much that the words caught in her throat. “God, why have you let this happen? Why?” Julia crawled to where her master stood. He looked down at her and smiled cruelly. She reached a shaky hand up to his boot and then pulled hard on his clothes.

  “Please, kill me. Kill me!” She clawed at the sorcerer’s robes, sobbing. Allisia reached out hoping to comfort her, but Ferral snapped his fingers, and the girl fell to the floor as lifeless as Derout.

  Allisia saw the tears streaking down the girl’s face as she laid there on the floor staring mutely back at her. While Ferral was focused on the two still forms before him, Allisia searched for the dropped dagger. Thinking quickly, she reached out to hold the girl. She was lifeless and Allisia would have thought she was finally dead if she had not suddenly blinked. The servant girl’s eyes shifted in and out of focus unable to center on anything. Then they finally lost the spark of life in them and faded once again back to a dull gray color.

  Ferral roughly pushed Allisia aside with his boot as he examined his two victims. He raised his hands as if lifting an invisible weight, and they came off the floor. Floating effortlessly, Derout and Julia left the room at the direction of the sorcerer’s hand.

  Allisia sat motionless, staring at the madman. “I hate you,” she said vehemently.

  “I hate you!” she screamed in rage. Ferral finally seemed to notice her and bowed.

  “Allisia, I’m sorry I have neglected you for so long.” He gasped, feigning surprise at the poor conditions of her cell.

  “I think you have been humbled enough. I will send for you soon, and you can live in luxury once more. However,” he warned turning on her, “do not forget that I hold more than your life in my hands. I hold your soul.” With that he left the dungeons, laughing to himself.

  Allisia moved her hand to the side, revealing what she had been able to hide from the king. She picked up Derout’s dagger and put it within one of the pockets of her ragged dress. She knew that if she were going to survive, the only person she could depend upon was herself. Allisia wished she was not alone as the forgotten lantern began to dim. She wished her father and brother were alive. She wished her country’s soldiers had not been slaughtered. She also prayed Kristian was alive and thinking of her. Then the lantern’s light completely faded and she was left alone, again, in the darkness.