When embers fall a sapph.., p.1
When Embers Fall: A Sapphic Villain Origin Story, page 1
When Embers Fall
Hailey Bryant
Copyright © 2024 by Hailey Bryant
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Hailey Bryant through email: haileyhb8810@gmail.com or through the website hailey-bryant.weebly.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Cover design: Muhammad Kaleem
1st edition 2024
To all of my villains,
your side of the story will never be forgotten.
Not by me.
Prologue
The world was always going to be destroyed. It was inevitable. Of course, it was due to nuclear war, ravaged by humans. In the year 3000, bombs wiped out almost everything. Billions of people and animals died, and destruction was all that remained. Radiation poisoned the land, leaving only one small part of the world untouched. The land was still affected by earthquakes that arose from the bombs, and rubble and ashes littered the floor, but rebuilding was possible. The thousands of humans left carved out a new life. They built magnificent castles. They created a society without technology, without violence. But quickly, the peace they had, turned to war once again.
The radiation that filled the Dead Zone created a circle around everyone, and people began to fight over livable land. Eventually, society split into two sides. Proliators and Noctifiers, who more recently became known as Defenders and Fighters. The war between them has lasted one hundred years, and now, Alcmene, the new heir to the Fighters throne, is beginning to seek power. She wants the war to finally end by any means necessary. She wants to slaughter the enemy's side, instead of making a peace treaty. The Defenders, however, are pacifists. They defend themselves against the Fighters' attacks but never forge their own. They want peace, but don’t have what it takes to earn it. Ember, the top Defender trainee, is different. She is prepared to make a new strategy to finally win.
Now, the tensions between the two sides are as brutal as ever, and magic runs through the poisoned land, threatening to change the fates of everyone involved. Only this magic is dark, and more deadly than any bomb or any radiation. Once it finds its way into someone, the costs could be catastrophic.
The world is hanging by a thread, and this war may lead to the end of it.
Chapter one
ALCMENE
Isit on the bed in my room, listening to my father berate me outside my door. It’s nothing new, but it still hurts to know I’ll never have a father who loves me.
“She will never get there. No matter what I do, that brat won’t grow up. She’s pathetic in training. I can’t have a weak daughter. She is the heir,” he tells my mother.
“She’s only eight years old, Anwir. She doesn’t understand that she will be the ruler of our people one day. For now, this training probably just seems like a bit of fun. She doesn’t understand her obligation to the throne yet, but she will. In time.” My father grunts in response. I know I will be ruling our people one day, and I've been trying my best in training. I’m just not good enough. Maybe I never will be.
I look around my room. It’s small, but to me it’s comforting. Drawings of the castle and war are scattered across my walls. I’ve never liked them, but my father insisted I grow up with them. The only drawing I appreciate is the one on my desk. My brother drew a picture of a bright and sunny meadow filled with flowers, and although he’s not a very good artist, I still cherish it. I’ve always found nature beautiful, but the storms never end here, and the clouds are filled with darkness. There are no beautiful sunsets or blue skies, only rain and thunder.
My old desk sits in the corner, covered in dust. I spend most of my time training, although that clearly hasn’t amounted to much. I close my curtains, shutting out the storm and leaving the room even darker than it was before. The only light comes from a single lantern on my desk. I lay back on my bed, thinking of today's humiliating events. I had training today, and I failed miserably. Younger kids beat me easily, as they always do, and they don’t have the responsibility to be the heir. I’m supposed to be the greatest, but I’m not even decent. I grab my pillow and cover my ears with it. I can’t stand to hear more of my parents' complaints about me. Most of all, my father’s. Even at my young age, he expects me to be as good as him. He expects me to be ready to take his place, but I’m not.
I listen to the rain pouring outside the window for a few minutes. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the weather. As I’m about to go to sleep, my door opens. A shiver runs down my spine. My father walks inside and stands beside my bed. I immediately sit up straight and force myself to meet his eyes. I squeeze my hands together to keep them from shaking. He places his lantern on the floor before staring at me with that same disappointed look he always wears when scolding me.
“I am disappointed in you,” he finally says.
I look down, unable to meet his eyes. I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to stop the tears that follow.
“Tell me, Alcmene, do you want to rule over the fighters?” I hate how he calls me that fake name even inside the safety of my room. My father never chose my real name. My mother did. But he chose my alias, Alcmene. Maybe that’s why he always calls me that. It’s another one of his power schemes. Another way to get to me.
To answer his nagging question, I don’t know what I want. I’ve never had the chance to know what life is like besides the one of the royal family. I’ve read books about kids going to school. A huge building with desks and computers and teachers. Now we have a form of school for younger kids to learn to read and write, administered in the training room by a Fighter with a heavy stutter. But after you reach ten years old, you learn to fight instead. Before the war, there was no training for kids. There was no constant fear of death. I find myself constantly wondering how different life would be without war. How peaceful.
“Father, I don’t know what I want,” I tell him truthfully. His disappointment quickly turns into a terrifying anger. I know the look. It’s the one he gives my mother, brother, or me right before he hits us. I bite the inside of my cheek, drawing blood.
He clenches his jaw, staring at me with fire in his eyes. He grabs the collar of my shirt in his fist and yanks me toward him.
“You should know what you want! I’ve made it very clear that you will take my place one day. You have no other option. You will train. You will prepare. You will sit on my throne when I’m gone, whether you want to or not!” I see sparks ignite in his glare, as his hand reaches for the knife at his waist. Oh no.
He touches the blade to my cheek, and I freeze in place, trembling under the cold metal.
“I’m so sick of your weakness in training.” He presses on the knife so the blade pierces my skin. I’m unable to move. Unable to breathe. I feel the knife slice into my flesh, warm blood streaming out of the wound.
“I’m sick of you disregarding your responsibilities.” He pushes his hand forward, digging the knife deeper into the side of my cheek. I let out a cry, and try to pull away. He grabs the back of my neck to stop me, pressing his thumb into my throat. “Move again, and I’ll cut more than just your face.” I try as hard as I can to stop showing weakness, to stop my tears from falling, but I can’t. His knife starts to slide down my cheek slowly, and I feel the searing pain intensify. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I feel my blood drip down my face to my neck. I so badly want to pull away. I silently pray for the pain to end soon. For my father to walk out of my room and never come back.
“From now on,” he releases a small amount of pressure on the knife, “you will train with me whenever I want you to. Training will come first, above everything else. That includes sleeping, eating, everything.”
I gulp. My father will be the death of me. I’ll die before I even have the chance to become the ruler. Maybe it would be better that way.
“And if you don’t comply,” he presses the knife down harder, slicing my flesh in a trail all the way down to my jaw, sending another surge of pain through my body. I clench my teeth together to hold in my sobs. “You’ll be wishing you had.”
I can only imagine what he will do to me if I don't listen.
“Is that understood?”
“Yes,” my voice shakes, and the word is barely audible.
He doesn't let go.
“Yes, sir,” I correct myself through sobs. He twists the blade before he finally lets go. He leaves, slamming the door behind him. I instantly let out a strangled cry. I wipe the blood from my face, but it continues to roll down. I grab a shirt from the corner of my room and press it to the gash. I try applying pressure, but it burns every time I touch it. I push myself through the pain, trying to stop the bleeding. I walk over to my mirror in the corner of the room and gasp. Looking at the width of the gash, it will need stitches. But the infirmary is empty tonight, and I doubt my father will let me patch it up. I hold the shirt to my face, silently crying as I let the night go by, dreading training tomorrow.
It’s been ten years since then. I haven’t changed much. I am stronger now, more skilled, a
I look in the same mirror I did when he first cut me. There is a prominent scar from below my eye to my jaw, slightly jagged in the spot where my father twisted the knife. As much as I want to forget that day, I can’t. He still abuses me, and I still take it. But eventually, one day, when I build up the courage and strength to kill him, I will. I told myself when I was eight, suffering from hunger and exhaustion from my father’s demanding training, that eventually, I would end his life. With my mother still alive, I have been unable to fulfill that promise to myself, as I couldn't live with her being in pain over his death. But soon, with my brother by my side, my father will fall. Then I will be ruling this place better than he ever could. I will lead the Fighters to a victory he could never attain.
Chapter two
EMBER
Iwake up to the sound of screaming. At first, I think I’m dreaming, but when my father rushes into my room with blood on his hands and a horrified look on his face, I jump out of bed, suddenly wide awake.
“What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”
“The Fighters,” he pants. He wipes the blood on his pants, but the stain on his hands lingers. Terror dawns on me. Every battle brings death, and I have a good chance of being one of the fallen by the end of it. I notice he is weaponless. I swallow the lump in my throat and take my sword out from under my bed, handing it to him. I put on my knife holsters before placing three throwing knives and a spool of rope at my waist. I take my dagger from my desk drawer, trying to keep my hands from shaking. My father grabs me as I am about to exit the room.
“No. I won’t let you die. Stay in here, block the door, and don’t make a sound.”
I rip my hands away from him.
“I must protect my people. I must protect Mom and Meadow. You can’t make me stay here,” I whisper yell. I try to push past him, but he shoves me back. I realize how disheveled he is. His blood-stained hands tremble, his clothes are torn, and there’s a look of horror I’ve never seen before in his eyes.
“Whose blood is that?” My voice shakes.
“You didn’t know them. Neither did I. I need to find your mother and sister. Please stay here.” He holds my sword at his side as he runs out of my room. The screams continue, and I can only imagine the number of people we’re losing. I have to fight. I’ve trained for five years to prepare myself for this day. My sister hasn’t. I need to save her, wherever she is. I’m a Defender, and right now I need to defend.
I rush out of my room, dagger in hand. I instantly see a dead body. The only time I’ve seen dead Defenders is at funerals, laid to rest in wooden boxes before being put in the ground. Usually, the deaths are from old age or illness. It’s different now, seeing someone lie in a pool of their own blood, their life gone. I wasn’t old enough to remember the last Fighter attack, but now the sight of blood and the sound of screaming brings back memories I didn’t know I had.
I keep running, and a knife flies past me, just missing my face. I see the Fighter and throw a knife back in his direction. It sticks in his arm, and he quickly rips it out, wincing. Anger floods his face, and he charges at me. I block his attack and after a few minutes of fighting, I manage to capture him with my rope. I tie him up and leave him on the castle floor, risking a look backward as I continue rushing towards the main castle doors. My heart beats faster. I need to find Meadow. I need to find Mom.
Meadow always stays out right before nightfall at the side of the castle under the trees with her boyfriend. I run outside and see that it’s getting dark. She may be out there. I incapacitate a few more Fighters on my way to the woods, barely dodging knives being thrown my way as I make it into the forest, heaving from smoke clogging my throat. The trees are burning. I find my sister’s spot in the woods and see her lying in the grass. I call out to her, but she doesn’t answer. Why isn’t she looking at me? Why isn’t she answering? Her eyes are open, but she doesn’t respond. Then I see the blood rushing out of the slit in her neck. Her body twisted like a gruesome piece of artwork. If only I got here a little sooner, maybe I could have saved her. I’m crying so hard, I can barely see. I fall to my knees beside her. She’s still so beautiful. I brush her hair from her face, begging her to forgive me for not being here. For not saving her.
Meadow. What am I going to do? I hold my sister’s body in my arms, my tears falling onto her blood-soaked shirt. Meadow was everything to me. She was a year older, and I’ve spent my whole life by her side. She grew up as a council member trainee, shadowing my father. She didn’t learn to fight like I did. She wouldn’t have been able to properly defend herself. I feel rage bubble up inside me. I need to fight. I need to kill whoever took her from me. I look at my sister, wiping the tears that fall. Killing is not our way. She wouldn’t want me to kill someone as vengeance for her. We’re supposed to capture the Fighters unless we have no other option. But I don’t care.
“I’ll come back for you.” I place a kiss on her forehead, and close her eyes with my fingertips. I give her boyfriend beside her a long, sad look before I race out of the woods, with my sister’s blood staining my hands. I hold my dagger tightly, itching to use it.
When I see the nearest Fighter, I don’t hesitate. I strike him with my dagger and clip his shoulder. He stumbles backwards before lunging at me with a sword. I dodge his attack, rolling sideways and cutting his leg. He falls to one knee and I stand back up. He looks me in the eyes before I slash his throat. The sword easily rips through his flesh, the blood at first an outward burst, then a rich red stream. When he falls, I relish the sound of his body hitting the ground and savor the feeling of power and strength. He bleeds out, adding to the pool of blood on the grass.
I look at the Fighters in battle. They’re winning, but we still have a chance. I think of my sister. Even if we win, I’ll have lost her. The person who was always by my side. Just as I’m about to run into the conflict, I see something that stops me in my tracks. My father kneels by the castle doors, like he was just about to make it to some ounce of safety before he was attacked. But he isn’t injured. He’s crumbled on the ground, and I hear him sobbing. I see who he holds in his arms and a gasp escapes my throat.
It’s my mother.
I rush over to them, and barely feel a knife slice my forearm as I run. I sit beside my father as tears run down his face. His hands shake as he presses on the gash on my mother’s stomach, made by a sword. I can tell it’s too deep. Blood runs out of the wound, and my mother’s eyes close slowly. Her nails are coated in blood and dirt, like she tried to fight against whoever killed her but failed. Her skin is pale and clammy. Blood drips onto my skin. Fighting continues around us, but the Defenders push back, keeping us shielded. I don’t move. My father doesn’t speak. Life seeps out of my mother and he hugs her, rocking her slowly, his heartbreaking sobs tearing at his throat.
Screams echo around me, but soon I can’t hear them. A piercing noise fills my ears and my breath escapes my lungs. I can’t breathe. The smell of blood fills my nostrils as every feeling other than pain falls away. A despair I’ve never seen before lives in my father’s eyes. And from that look, I know neither of us will ever be the same.
That battle was a little over a year ago. The Fighters fell back, and my father and I lived. We buried Meadow, her boyfriend, and my mother the next morning. Since that day, I have trained as much as humanly possible. Their deaths shadow every waking moment of my life. Their memory haunts me, but pushes me to never make the same mistake again. Next time the Fighters attack, I refuse to lose anyone else. I will be ready.
Chapter three
ALCMENE
My brother, Leviathan, means everything to me. He always tried to stand up against our father and protect me from his abuse. He wasn’t afraid. I couldn’t say the same about me. I’d let our father hurt me, and I thought I couldn’t do anything about it. Leviathan, however, didn’t let our father throw him around. He fought back as best he could, which never ended well. I told myself Levi was stronger than me simply because he was older, but I knew it wasn’t that. I could have fought back, even at my younger age. But I didn’t. Couldn’t.
