Ghosts of the Past - Part 1

     ”What do you mean, your battle is nearing your end?” Torvald’s eyes were wide in confusion.

     The Darigan Kyrii shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a senseless comment of mine. Nothing you need to worry about, anyways.” Despite trying to sound confident, the hesitation was clear in her answer.

     “But of course it’s something I need to worry about!” The Darigan Nimmo's almost skeletal wings flapped out indignantly. “You're our captain! If something happens to you, we’re as good as dead!”

     “Torvald…” Sylvana couldn’t help but stare at the scout in slight surprise. Despite his young age, it wasn’t like Torvald to raise his voice, especially at his captain.

     “Without you to lead us in the next battle...the Darigan Citadel will take another loss in this war. We've already lost so much, then and even now. If we lose this war, we’ll lose everything. Our land, our pride and our people. W-We can’t...” Torvald’s voice started to quiver slightly as his eyes went to the ground.

     “We can’t afford to lose what little we have left.”

     Sylvana couldn’t hold back a sigh at the Nimmo's rather heartfelt plea. Even if he was just a scout (and quite a young one at that), he knew full well the consequences of war. War was nothing short of hell, and it only ended with violence, bloodshed, and above all, death.

     “Listen to me, scout.” Sylvana peered down at the young Nimmo, her crimson gaze strict, but not cruel.

     “So long as I’m captain of this squadron, I will never leave my comrades behind. As captain, it is my responsibility to bring victory to the Darigan Citadel and ensure that you all make it home to your families. This responsibility also extends to looking after you.”

     Torvald fell silent. The resolve in his captain’s eyes were clear, despite her earlier hesitation. Nodding, he gave Sylvana a firm glare of his own.

     “I understand, Captain.”

     “Very good,” Sylvana nodded as she reached for her axe. “Now, we must be going. The battle is drawing close.”

     - - - - - - -

     That conversation marked the last time Torvald would ever see his Captain again. A massive explosion of dark magic destroyed everything in sight, with Sylvana at the centre of it all. Torvald himself was thrown back a great distance, one eye burning in indescribable pain and the rest of his body on fire.

     But the last thing he saw before falling unconscious was his Captain, the one pet he placed his utmost faith into, running away from the soldiers and comrades she’d swore to protect.

     At that moment, Torvald realised what a liar Sylvana was.

     Though it had been years since Kass’s betrayal during the second Meridell-Darigan War and that fateful battle, Torvald hadn’t forgotten that conversation. He was a young scout of seventeen years old at the time, he surely didn’t understand what Sylvana was talking about. It was a consequence of young age, being blessed with blissful ignorance.

     Now twenty-two years old, he now understood just what she meant. But he clenched his fist at the thought of it, all while his wings flapped out behind him in barely restrained anger.

     Torvald’s gaze was peerless as he stared at the darkened horizon, arms folded in front of him. Dark clouds covered the near entirety of the sky, not allowing a single ray of moonlight or even a single star to shine through. The screeches of Darigan pets filled the tense air, but the Darigan Nimmo hardly noticed it. Behind him, three Darigan Unis stood, clad in dark armour. Torvald himself was clad in black and gold armour, while a longsword hung at his side.

     “Torvald.” The Nimmo turned around at the call of his name. A towering Darigan Yurble greeted him, clad in dark crimson and black armour. Numerous scars tore across his purple fur, with an especially large scar tearing across both eyes. His long silvery mane and beard were tied back in a shortened braid, all while a large axe hung behind his back. Beside him stood a Darigan Lupe in completely black armour, with a pair of short swords at both hips.

     Torvald narrowed his eye. “Is it time, Gunnar?”

     The elder Yurble nodded. “It is. Our orders are clear, if you recall?”

     The Nimmo nodded. “We find and bring back that traitorous Kyrii for due punishment. That is, if Meridell hasn’t already sentenced her to death.”

     “Nonsense,” the Darigan Lupe spoke. “Our scouts tell us that she is living in Meri Acres quite peacefully.”

     Hearing the Lupe's words sent a snarl tearing down Torvald’s throat. How dare she have the audacity to leave peacefully after abandoning him and her fallen comrades. She didn’t deserve to live, let alone live in a land she once tried to destroy.

     But that wouldn’t matter, once she was captured again. Once in chains, that traitor would face due punishment for her unforgivable crimes. And Torvald would relish watching every second of it.

     - - - - - - -

     Sylvana let out a breath as she bent down to pick another berry, rays of light brightening her otherwise muddy-coloured fur. The sun, though bright, was starting to become shadowed by darkening clouds. The other farmers had told her of a potential storm later in the day, but she thought little of it.

     There was work to be done, and it would be done, no matter what the weather was.

     As she carried the basket back to the small farmhouse, she could see a figure walking in her direction: her adoptive father, Elijah. It had been hours since the pair had gone to the central town of Meridell to pick up food, and the two had remained distant from one another. Though her heart wanted to talk to him, Sylvana knew that the distance would help give Elijah time to think.

     While the two were in Meridell, Arya, Elijah’s wife and the closest thing Sylvana ever had to a mother, passed away.

     Close to the farmhouse stood a large tree. It was a large oak, and in the springtime, lovely white flowers would bloom from it’s twisting branches. At the base of the tree stood a makeshift gravestone. It was composed of two flat rocks stacked on top of one another, with a Loveberry and a single daisy placed in front of it. As Elijah approached the Kyrii, Sylvana found herself unable to look away from the small monument. Elijah, noticing his daughter’s wayward gaze, spoke in an attempt to bring her back to reality.

     “Dinner will be ready soon.”

     Sylvana hardly noticed the old Ogrin’s words as her ears fell sadly atop her head. “I’m sorry, Father.”

     Elijah raised an eyebrow in confusion. “For what?”

     “I shouldn’t have gone with you to Meridell. I should have stayed here. If I did, maybe-”

     “It is not your guilt to bear.” Elijah shook his head as he rested a hand on Sylvana’s shoulder. “What came to Arya was beyond our control. You are not at fault.”

     “I know. But...I still feel responsible. Like I could have done something more.”

     “You are not at fault, child,” Elijah repeated, giving Sylvana a gentle smile. “We are responsible for our actions, both past and present. You have done nothing wrong, my daughter.”

     The past. Hearing that word made Sylvana shake her head in denial.

     “I wish that were true.” She took in a shudder-like breath as she felt tears spill down her face. “I miss her, Father.”

     “As do I, child.” Elijah came to embrace the young Kyrii in a hug. “But never forget, Arya is still with us, underneath that tree. Even if we were not able to see her one last time, I am grateful that she left this world in peace. She was fortunate to depart in her sleep, and I will always treasure the time we spent together. And one day, I will see her again, and you as well, my daughter.”

     As Elijah hugged her, Sylvana held the Ogrin closer, her wings extending out to hug him beside her arms. It was a habit she possessed even as a child. It reminded Sylvana of a shield of sorts, as if her wings were protecting her father figure from any impending dangers.

     “Do you think...when springtime comes, she will be the one to bring the flowers?”

     Elijah gently separated from Sylvana’s hug, retaining his gentle smile. “I know she will.”

     Despite looking at her father, a moving pair of figures out of the corner of her eye caught Sylvana’s attention. She looked up, and a large dust cloud ran down the dusty path at breakneck speed. Though it took her a second to discern what the figures were amidst the dust clouds, when she did, Sylvana felt her heart drop to her stomach.

     “Father,” she suddenly spoke, her voice stern. “You must go.”

     Though Elijah's face was now gripped by confusion, he knew better than to question his daughter's sudden tenseness. Turning around, he quickly made his way back in the farmhouse, with Sylvana watching as the door shut behind him.

     By the time the dust clouds ceased, the figures now stood in front of the farmhouse. A trio of armour-clad Darigan Unis snorted, while their riders stepped down to stand before Sylvana.

     The towering Darigan Yurble and menacing Darigan Lupe were intimidating enough as is. But of the trio, the one that intimidated Sylvana the most was ironically the shortest and least imposing. But seeing his crimson glare behind his helmet made Sylvana clench her teeth as she whispered a single, tense word.

     “Torvald…”

     To be continued…