500 years later - Now
Kira's pov
"Hurry up Kira," Isha yelled as she ran past me. I giggled and chased after her.
She ran inside the house and I followed, panting, "Fine, you win."
"Yay!" She squealed and I covered my ears, wincing, "so this means I'm going hunting with you tomorrow?"
"Yeah sure whatever," I said as I walked in, letting out a subtle smile.
Isha and I have been best friends since we were kids. Everyone in the village knew that. Though, to be fair, most of them only saw me as the golden heart's friend — the prophesied child destined to wield great light magic and one day defeat the darkness that haunted our village, Al'mera.
How did everyone know Isha was the golden heart?
Well, the prophecy did say that on the day of her birth, the sky would darken — an eclipse unlike any before — and the child would be born with hair of gold. And that's exactly what happened.
Isha was perfect in every way. Her eyes shimmered like amber, her skin smooth and flawless, her hair glowing like spun sunlight. Her beauty made every man stumble and every woman stare. Everyone adored her — including me. That's how perfect she was.
I was… different.
I didn't have magic like she did, or like most people in Al'mera. I was just plain. The only thing remotely unusual about me was the dragon-like birthmark on my neck and my violet eyes — features no one else, not even my parents, possessed. My mother used to call it a curse, and she made sure I never forgot it. My parents died when I was seven — but not before making my life a living hell. And yet, despite everything, when they were gone… I still felt alone.
That was when I met Isha. She was a year younger than me — bright, kind, radiant. The first person who was ever kind to me and told me I was pretty, even with my scars. That my strange features made me beautiful. She probably didn't think much of her words, but to me… they meant the world.
From that day on, I knew I loved her. I also knew I could never have her. The golden child, the chosen one — and me, the cursed orphan. But that didn't stop me. I trained harder than anyone, learned to fight, to hunt, to survive. I had no magic, but I became the best hunter in Al'mera by sixteen.
And Isha? She loved everything I brought back from my hunts. Always smiling, always curious. She'd bug me endlessly to take her with me into the woods.
If only I'd known then how much everything would change.
"I must say, challenging me to a race was a pretty smart move, Sugar," I said, pouring myself a cup of water. Sugar was the nickname I gave her, cause she's too sweet like it.
"Told you I was faster," she smirked triumphantly. I shrugged, sitting on one of the chairs.
"Yeah you were," I said, bringing the cup to my lips to hide my smile. I let her win of course, but she didn't have to know that.
She sat down opposite me in excitement, "What should I wear? A dress? No, too decent for the forest. Perhaps combat clothes with matching boots, yes. . ."
I chuckled softly as she mulled over this. Then suddenly, the door opened. I stood up and bowed in respect.
"Chief," I said and heard a low groan.
"Kira," He acknowledged me with a hidden distaste, as he strode in.
"Dad!" Isha obliviously shouted and hugged him.
"I didn't realize you two would be here in the meeting room," he spoke as they separated, a hint of disapproval. He glanced at me, a look that told me punishment awaits. I panicked, the pain on my back still fresh.
"She challenged me to a race," I explained hurriedly. I was someone who never lied no matter what. And I knew he would never do anything to hurt his daughter
"Oh, did she now?" He said, turning to her.
"Yes, and I won," the oblivious girl bragged.
"Of course you did," he smiled, then gave me a look.
I blinked. I always suspected he knew I had a crush on his daughter, and this just proves it.
"Better not go back on your promise Akali," she said my last name, causing me to inadvertently flinch. I hate that name.
"What promise?" Chief Lucas asked amusedly.
"She promised to take me hunting should I win the race," she explained innocently while I froze.
He paused, his whole body going rigid, "No, I forbid you."
"What? Why?" she asked, confused at his behavior.
He glared at me, eyes burning with silent fury, "You're not going hunting in those woods, Isha. I forbid it. Guards—take her to her room."
"Wait, no! Let me go!" she yelled as the guards dragged her out. The door slammed shut, leaving just the two of us.
"Sir, I–"
Then I felt it, a huge smack across the face. I was momentarily disoriented.
"I told you, Kira," he hissed, voice trembling with rage, "to keep her away from that forest."
The room steadied again, and I met his furious gaze.
"I'm sorry, sir. She just… really wanted to go. I thought it'd be unfair if—"
"Unfair?" His voice rose. "Do you have any idea how dangerous those woods are? How many people have vanished because of that cursed sorceress? Just because you haven't seen her doesn't mean she hasn't done unspeakable horrors. You'd risk my daughter's life for fairness?"
Lucas—the village head. To everyone else, he was a man of virtue and compassion, the benevolent leader who took in a lost orphan out of kindness. But behind closed doors, he was just like my parents—cruel, controlling, and drunk on power. He never let me forget how grateful I should be for his generosity, even when it came with a locked cell or an metal rod.
Each day was a question of which punishment awaited me. The beatings or the darkness.
Isha didn't know, and I would never tell her. Not because of his threats—but because I couldn't bring myself to destroy the perfect illusion she held of her father. For all his cruelty, I knew he loved her. That was his one redeeming trait, and somehow, it comforted me.
He had forbidden her from ever setting foot near the forest that bordered the hills—the domain of the sorceress. No one who entered ever returned.
"I can protect her," I said, straightening.
He chuckled darkly, the sound chilling. "Protect her? Dear, I know you're fond of my daughter, but don't let that childish infatuation make you stupid."
My jaw tightened. "At least I'm not a coward."
The color drained from his face, replaced by something far more dangerous. Shit. "What did you just say?"
"Guards!" he roared.
Two burly men stormed in. My stomach dropped. I knew them—and what their presence meant.
"It seems I need to remind you of your place," Lucas said coldly. "Take her to the third floor."
For a moment, I froze. Then instinct kicked in. I stomped on one guard's foot and drove my head back into the other's face, feeling the crunch of breaking bone. Then I bolted for the door as they were distracted.
A table lifted and slammed into me mid-run, sending me crashing across the room. Pain exploded through my ribs.
Right—magic. I'd forgotten.
Through blurred vision, I saw Lucas approach, smirking. The guards hauled me to my feet again angrily, one of them bleeding profusely. I grinned at him through the pain. He responded with a punch that nearly split my lip.
They dragged me up to the third floor. A chill crept down my spine as the heavy steel door came into view. I knew it too well. They dragged me in, throwing me on the floor.
The room was formally a vault, made of steel walls and concrete floors. But Lucas had turned it into his private torture chamber, moving his treasures elsewhere.
He stepped inside behind me, his voice venomous. "So bold now, aren't you? Calling me a coward. A really stupid move by the way. You forget, I saved you from those wretched parents of yours. You should be grateful. You should worship the ground I walk on. You should—"
"Can we just get on with it?" I said tiredly.
He fumed and kicked me in the ribs countless times until he grew satisfied when he heard a crack.
"Guards! Strip her!" He ordered, panting. Here comes the main event.
Their smiles made bile rise in my throat. They stode towards me, pulling me up and ripping my clothes off, leaving me in my underwear.
Lucas stepped closer, a torch now in hand. I backed up nervously, the cold wall pressing against my spine. He crouched, forcing me to turn, my face against the metal.
"How many?" he inspected.
"I-I. . .don't know," I resigned in a whisper.
His gaze roamed over the scars littered on my back—his handiwork. His pride. Each one a lesson in obedience. A part of his ways to assert power and control, something he was so obsessed with. It all began when he realized I wouldn't bow to him like everyone else did. That defiance drove him mad. He wanted to be seen as a god.
"Well," he released me and stood up, a faint, dark smile on his face, "I guess we'll have to make new ones then."
The guards dragged me to my knees, facing away. He lifted a long iron whip covered with spikes. I arched a brow. That's a new toy. I sighed, readying myself. Alright here goes nothing.
"You know the drill," he said almost cheerfully.
The first lash tore into my back, the sound sharp as thunder. I bit my lip from screaming until I tasted blood.
"O-one," I shakily whispered.
He laughed, dragging the whip out slowly, ripping flesh as it went. That's definitely going to leave a scar.
Then he stroke again. And again. And again.
Blood pooled beneath me, mingling with old stains on the floor and even the walls. The world began to dim around the edges. I lost count long before fifty-eight, but he didn't stop until I was barely conscious. Not out of pity or consideration. No, far from it. He stopped because anymore could possibly kill me—and he didn't want me dead yet. Sometimes I wonder why on earth he would loathe me to this degree.
When he finally stepped back, his breathing was heavy. "Next time," he said between breaths, "know your place."
The guards let go. I collapsed, hitting the cold floor with a dull thud. I was to weak to move. Too beaten up to remain awake.
"And remember," he added, pausing at the door, "the day my daughter should find out about this, is the day you die."
The door slammed. Darkness swallowed me. I remained on the freezing floor, the blood beneath me now cold and sticky. I briefly wondered if Isha would notice my absence, then decided it didn't matter.
I exhaled, thoroughly exhausted. My eyes could barely stay open. So I closed it and drifted into unconsciousness.
-----
I opened my eyes at the sound of the metal door opening. It's been hours since I was here. I could tell by the dried up blood.
A brown-head boy around my age poked his head in. Then he came in and walked towards me, draping a blanket over me, covering my face.
"I'm not dead yet, Peter," I dryly said.
He sighed, helping me sit up, "Honestly I don't know how you keep making jokes in this condition."
"You're no fun," I muttered as he pulled me to my feet.
"Lucas told me to let you out," he informed, as if I didn't know.
"Of course he did," I muttered. He glanced at me quietly as he helped me, wrapping my arm around his shoulder for support
"You look worse than usual," he said, "what did you do this time?"
I shrugged, "Told him the truth. He couldn't accept it."
Peter shook his head. "You really can't help yourself."
"You're starting to know me too well."
As we hobbled toward the exit, my gaze caught on a torn scrap of cloth on the ground.
"Well," I said faintly, "there goes my favorite shirt."
Peter just sighed, annoyed with how nonchalant I was being.
When we stepped out, the cool night air hit me like a balm. I inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of freedom, no matter how brief.
"New record," Peter mentioned casually. "Shortest time you've ever spent in there."
"Yeah? How long?"
"Eight hours."
I managed a bitter smile. Lucas must've realized I wouldn't survive the night. He couldn't risk the questions that would follow.