(This is a short story because I need to get the feel for the world, plot, and characters. This is also 5 years into the future from my previous Disordered post.)

I was sixteen when my only hope in the world died. I was sixteen when I had to protect the thing that had taken him away.

The thing was right there. The thing that had killed a peice of my heart, it was right there. But I couldn’t do anything—nothing at all. We needed it alive for the livelihood of all Disordered, and I just needed to stop being selfish. That’s all I had to do.

Why is it still here when he isn’t? The world should be fixed by now—that’s what should be happening. Not this.

The thing had taken a liking to me and followed me everywhere much to my dissatisfaction. Its eyes were no color, a clear mirror just reflecting. Its skin was gray; its head was bald, wires surfacing on the sleek surface before diving back into his cranium. It had wires everywhere actually, and its skin—outershelling—was soft enough to be like a human, but had enough that no threat could get through.

“Could you stop feeding it, Killian?” I snapped to my crew member who was cooing to the thing, the Perfect, like a baby as it opened its mouth to eat our saved rations.

Killian gave me a forwn, their hand stopping midair. “And let it starve? I’m afraid Katrina will kill me it that happens.”

The Perfect turned its head and looked at me. Instantly, I felt my hands clench. “I am very hungry, James Dire. I would like to eat.”

“I don’t care what you want!” I hissed. Killian flinched back, as any normal person would do, but The Perfect didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.

I can’t deal with this anymore.

I stood up and left the tent, ignoring the stares from both human and creature.

“Hey—HEY! James, where are you going!” I heard Killian shout. There was a shuffling as I paused, but then they yelped. I turned to see The Perfect holding onto their arm tightly. “What in the—“ Killian shook their head and turned back to me, eyes pleading. “Please, if you’re going to go and be a bitch, at least tell me where you’re going.”

I continued walking. “Into the woods.”

“Well, yes, but can you—jeez Purr, back off!”

I paused once more at that. “What did you just call it?”

Killian stiffened at my tone. The Perfect stilled as well, eyes narrowing. Killian reaches out with a hand. “Hey. We can talk about it when Katrina and the others get back….James?”

I can’t take this anymore.

“Don’t you see what it’s doing!” All my anger rushed out at that moment. “It’s making you trust it! Making think of it as your own! That’s probably what it did to Karl before it…before….” My throat started to clog up and my knees shook.

Both of us—the humans—jumped when a voice behind us asked. “And what is going on here?”

It seemed that they were back. It seemed that life had to go on.

For those of you reading this who are not Mia - her name is pronounced “Maya.”

Also, Mia, these have a snarky-insulting vibe, but I can write him a death letter too.

Screw him (acrostic poem)

Selfish, lying Calculating, manipulative Really trashy, Evil little two-faced Waste of space/time/life.

How did he not see the wonderful girl right in front of him? Is he blind? Does he need glasses? Maybe he has some kind of disability? Maybe he needs help?

**_No, not really

_**In a situation like this, I would usually feel bad for the guy. He’s missing out on knowing this amazing girl, Who’s kind And caring And friendly And loving And welcoming. It’s sad, really, that he doesn’t see that. Usually, I’d pity him for not getting to be blessed by knowing her. But this particular him? Do I feel bad for him? No, not really.

And usually I would wonder if he hates himself. I would pity that, too. Because someone who’s so horrible to other people… It’s probably because he hates himself. He grew up with a bad family, Had toxic friends, And now takes it out on the people who are too kind to hate him. That’s what I’d usually think. But it doesn’t matter how bad he feels, Doesn’t matter how he was raised. There’s no excuse for being hurtful. No excuse to manipulate someone else’s mind. So do I feel bad for his (probably) troubled past? No, not really.

**_Songsssss!!

_**I don’t know, I just thought of these and wondered if you’d like them.

1. If You Don’t Like Me by Chloe Adams
2. I Am Not Nothing by Beth Crowley
3. Victoria’s Secret by Jax (not quite your current issue, but it’s got the right “screw the world” feeling)
4. HOPE by NF

I don’t know what genre of music you like, so I don’t know if you’ll like these. You definitely don’t have to listen to them.

Pierce sighed as he heard the crashing and yelling outside his home. He knew that the queen and king of Allaver could help, but his parents were always the ones to say that the royals have a lot more to worry about than their small town.

They had responsibilities that spanned further than any of them could imagine. Far bigger than what little Pierce could conjure up. Or at least that’s what his parent said.

When he was awoken almost every night from the violence and crime, he couldn’t help but feel differently.

But he chose to try to be like his parents. Hopeful.

That was a mistake.

After the unchecked crime took the lives of his parents, him and his sister, Jade, lived on the streets. It wasn’t an easy life, but they had each other.

He became bitter. The royals didn’t know what it was like to be living in their kingdom. So far removed that he almost couldn’t blame them. They were just unaware.

When a man with a truly evil accomplice took them in, Pierce learned to shape and form that bitterness into something else. Rage. Power. Control.

With the disciplined training, he and his sister never had to be those helpless little kids, hiding in the shadows, stealing food. No, they were survivors. Warriors

The man that housed and trained them, Griffin, saw potential in them. Somehow saw strength behind the skinny bodies and scared eyes. His accomplice had a plan. A plan to attack the mighty kingdom of Allaver.

Pierce wavered. He would follow Griffin to the end of the earth, but to attack a Royal family, who were too sheltered to know anything, felt wrong. His parents’ attitude lived inside of him, a deep dark corner of his mind. That part screamed at him that this couldn’t be right.

Yet when Griffin reminded him of the loss and sacrifice the people at the bottom face, he knew he had to follow.

He never planned on attacking them. He didn’t want revenge; he didn’t want a war. But a war was brought to him, and he couldn’t just run away.

OoOoOoO

Growing up never knowing anything about the royals except their names and ages, he assumed that they were all the same.

The royal children were like fairytales parents told their own kids at night. Unreachable, fabricated characters that didn’t do anything.

Pierce believed that. Until he met Spade.

Spade is everything that he thought royals were: sheltered, innocent, and unaware.

But he was also more than that. He was passionate, goofy, observant, and sincere. Everything Pierce thought that royals weren’t.

So he didn’t tattle to Griffin about Prince Spade and where he was hiding, but it created a conflict within Pierce.

His heart shouted for Spade, but his mind screamed loyalty to Griffin. Being yanked in two different directions, it was a mentally exhausting tug of war.

Spade wanted to get back his home. Take back control. Griffin wanted to stay in control of Allaver. Make the changes that need to come.

Who is right and who is wrong?

Is anyone fully wrong?

Is anyone fully right?

He had never planned on attacking them. He didn’t want revenge; he didn’t want war.. That is until they brought the war to him. It was a double cross, a treaty had already been signed and yet they stood there, ready to attack, masking their intentions with well wishes as they left, only to command their army to climb.

Even as they climbed his fortress he felt happy, even satisfied with the conclusion. They never saw it coming, they were naive, naive to trust after years of bloodshed, unprepared for the hoards of armoured men standing atop their great wall, preparing to invade their fortress.

The king stood looking over his city, the city he saved, the city he built up from the dirt and into the skies, he looked over in dread, in regret, all he could hear were screams, all he could see was fire, his city, his home*, deteriorating as he stood in shock. The fire was quickly climbing, spreading up the flags, banners, anything it could get it’s hands on, merciless, like a bloodthirsty beast.

They had brought every man they had, their entire infantry, fire canons, flaming arrows, anything they could muster, they burned the city top down, herding all of the people to the lower levels where they could be cornered easily, a premeditated vicious attack.

It was as if the king was frozen, unable to speak a word, unable to move. The guards were already upon the invaders, he could hear their swords clashing with one another, the echoing sound of sharpened metal slicing against each other. All of a sudden there was a loud sound, wood breaking down, rocks falling, shrill screams, that array of sound seemed to snap him from his haze, he turned, taking a deep breath and hastily marched his way out, maddened, filled with rage.

Their surprise attack was cunning, they assumed they’d be victorious using their element of surprise, yet no matter their previous attacks; guard posts, storage dens, anything containing valuable items, they always seemed to lose many more than him, he knew he was stronger, before the treaty he hesitated to crush them, now filled with blinding fury his hesitation fizzled away, he would eradicate them with no shred of a doubt.

War Score Lost Lore

Far Wide In the Eyes

Twist Wish Through the Mist

See Me Then Flee

Shot Fought All for Not

War Torn Men of Corn Tessa🦋

He never liked war. War was a barbaric thing, something only true barbarians did.

So it was surprise to many when he brought the head of the leader home.

Everyone understood why he did what he did. No one blamed him.

Except for himself.

And he was found, hanging from his neck, because of something he had to do.

He had never planned on attacking them. He didn’t want revenge; he didn’t want war… That is until they brought the war to him.

Sir Aldrich gazed below from his stone balcony. What once was a clear, amicable view of the town of Sapphire Village, with houses built up to scrape the air with their imperial height, became a cloudy, bothersome vision of the ruined, shattered Sapphire Village. The foxes had rode on their black horses into the towering walls that shielded the city. The horses were powerful enough to make the walls fall as if they were obliterated by the hand of Moros. Then, the foxes rode through the town, lit torches in their hands, prepared to cause devastation.

Sapphire Village had a policy to never saunter their way into the vicious clutch of war because they weren’t appropriately qualified to battle other cities for any reason, whether it be for civil, resourceful or commandeering purposes. They’ve always been the town to flutter out of the way of the heinous road that was destruction and hellfire. They’ve perpetually managed to stay away from the glaring limelight of the crosshairs of rival cities. But today was greatly different. 

The village smelled of flaming wood from the flames lit by the foxes’ torches. The sounds that surged from the village were cut-off as soon as they were uttered, sobs, tweets and gasps. The blue sky was coated with the pain of thousands of years of arduous work and peaceful harmony damaging the once dominant town. The sapphires were all being demolished with the tremendous hammer of the foxes’ paw, making them forfeit all of their gleam and glitter that made them so luminous.

At last, it was Aldrich’s turn to relinquish the very town he had cherished for centuries. A commander fox had found him on his stone balcony, and drew his sword at him. The conclusive words uttered by the fox before it severed the defenseless commander’s head off was “Goodbye, son.” Down the head plunged into the ruined town, a fatal recollection of what could have prevailed, but ultimately never was. 

Farewell Sapphire Village, the foxes shall feast on an enormous amount of birds tonight.

He stood, overlooking the battle below him. Sword was drawn, and he held it loosely at his side. He hated this, every second of it. He had never planned on attacking them. He didn’t want revenge; he didn’t want war. Then they brought the war to him. “Are you ready?” His best friend, Matthias, stands to his left, also watching the battle below. “I am never ready,” Eli replies. He turns to Matthias, and Matthias can see the sadness in Eli’s eyes. It has aged him, changed him. He can also see Eli’s resolute will. That has never changed, will never change. Eli turns and places one gloved hand on Matthias’ shoulder. “Let’s finish this,” he says. His voice is quiet and low. Matthias can hear the sadness, the exhaustion. They have been fighting in this stupid war for five years now. This stupid, needless war that no one really wanted. Matthias also hears the anger in Eli’s voice. It is subtle, barely noticeable, but there. Matthias had a family to return to. Eli didn’t. Not anymore. Not after what they did. The catalyst to the war. Even now, five years later, the grisly scene of Eli holding his dead wife and child still brings tears to his eyes. Eli begins to slowly descend the hill. The metallic clashing of metal on metal echoes in the valley, along with men screaming and dying. Each step he takes becomes heavier and heavier. I don’t want this he thinks to himself. I never wanted this. He is now in the fray. Nothing stands in his way. No one. He has one goal in mind, and he is determined to get to him. Soldiers fall before him or move away as he moves throughout the field until he stops. There he stands. Eli grits his teeth, his mouth forming a tight line. He watches two soldiers fight before him, one larger than the other and winning. The smaller soldier falls to the ground, yelling in pain. As the larger soldier raises his sword to give the death blow, Eli calls out. “James.” The large soldier stops his deadly swing in mid air and turns to Eli. All around him, soldiers stop fighting: Eli is here! Eli raises his sword and points it towards James. James grips his sword in his hand, holds it up in front of him, and smiles. “Hello, Eli,” he says. “How’s the wife and child? David, wasn’t that his name?” Eli’s eyes flash in anger. “It’s time to end this, James,” he replies. He gestures around with his sword. “End this. Now.” James raises both hands up and in turn gestures around him. “What, and end all the fun. You were always so serious, Eli,” he says. James then points his sword back to Eli. “You could have prevented all of this if you had just done what I had asked. Instead you chose to play the pacifist card. I did what I had to do to get you out of your stupor.” Eli looks around him at all the soldiers that now surround James and him. Hundreds of weary faces stare at him. He gives James a hard look. “I never wanted this. I never wanted war. But you brought this stupid war to me. I’m ending it, here and now,” he says. His voice is still quiet, but it carries. Everyone hears him. James sighs and begins moving towards Eli. “You can give it your best shot,” he says. “Say hello to Marie and David for me, won’t you?” Eli doesn’t respond, but he lets his sword to the talking. As both men’s swords clash, they ring out like a gong all across the field. The battle is fierce. Each time the swords clash together it produces a sound like thunder. Both men are covered in grime and blood and sweat, but they don’t stop. Finally, as the sun dips below the trees in the far off distance, James falls to the ground. His sword clatters to the ground beside him. He breaths are fast and shallow as he looks up at Eli. Eli stares down at James, pity in his eyes. But there is also anger. “Do it,” James says, his voice trembling from exhaustion. Eli continues to stare at James, then takes a deep breath, letting the air pass into his lungs and out again. “I will.”

“So.”

How much can be packed into a word so short? Well… everything.

Her ‘so’ meant everything. A question, even if it wasn’t really posed as such. An acknowledgment, one of actions too awful to simply fib away. And an opening.

This was where he should tell her. Where he should tell her why he’d given Alex the box, why he’d done anything with the hunter’s son at all. Why he had tried to do… anything.

He’d only wanted to help, really.

He’d not meant to… Alex knew nothing of how dangerous that box could be, and he was dying for it. Even if he didn’t know it.

And in the end, his try was for nought. Because the hunter would know exactly who had cursed his son (he didn’t mean it, he just wanted it all to be over, he wanted to prove to someone that magic wasn’t dangerous-) and he would find them. And he’d kill them both.

Of course, it was Alex’s dad who brought the war to them in the first place, if she was truly to be believed, so in a way…

No.

No.

He could not say it was fitting. To kill the hunter’s son because he had killed their parents. Because Alex wasn’t even born yet. He wouldn’t be born for another two months.

So… why did she seem so pleased with what he’d done?

He never planned on attacking them. He didn’t want revenge; he didn’t want war… That is until they b[r]ought the war to him.

The first massacre was due to pure ignorance. Lucky for him he was not under the large dark shadow that came down from the sky and flattened most of his comrades. He could still hear the screams of his brothers crying out as the enormous foot finally lifted from the earth. Half severed bodies twitched and reached for salvation. Others scrambled around madly trying to grasp for a limb that had been torn violently off in the exchange. The long walk home that day was overflowing with moroseness. None of them had anything to say to the other… just reliving the power of the boot over and over again in their tiny heads.

The second massacre occurred at the home-front. He had been out gathering food for the family when the dark shadow cast over the anthill. He saw one of the giants leaned over the anthill. He had lit something on fire… dropped it in the hole. . . There was a giant earth shattering explosion. Walls of the home flew apart in a cloud of dirt. His comrades came pouring out, burnt half to death or worse. They only found out later that their beloved mother… the queen… had been slain in the attack.

This time it was personal.

The rest of the troops assembled under the cover of the moon by the tree. They took orders from him… listening to his passionate pleas for revenge. “They have made it clear! It is either them… or us!” He shouted to endless swarms of comrades, all of them cheering in unison. They knew… it would be their downfall. Now without a queen to lead them.. their only feeble existence could be put forth in preserving the lands for the next kingdom.

They waited until one of them had come outside. It was a large one with light colored hair. It tended to the gardens around the lands. They marched in tandem ready to attack. They crawled up onto the shadow casting giant and began to pinch and bite.

At first the giant reacted harshly and swiftly, coming down with its massive hands to brush away the attackers. The comrades did not stop… they continued to move in, climbing onto the giant at any possible spot. Others had been sent up tall bush trees to reach a higher spot on the giant. Feeling the attack the giant let out an ear shattering unnatural scream and threw her giant Iron spiked and spaded weapons to the ground and set off in a hard retreat to the land beyond the green.

He never thought he would live to see it. The day the comrades took on a giant and won. Perhaps this was a good omen… not for him. But for his sons and daughters. For the others built like him… the little ones who had to look up and cower at the foreboding shadow casting giants that looked down upon them, and killed them without a second thought.