Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Aine

He had it. Her mothers blessed medallion. He couldn’t have it. Why did he have it? How? She couldn’t stop thinking about it, seeing it over and over, swinging lazily at his hip, glinting beautifully. It was made of gold and earth iron, making it almost indestructible and valuable beyond belief. It had the emblem of her people etched on it: a blazing sun cradled in the crook of a waxing moon. Etched on the other side, a maiden held the sun above her, head thrown back in reverence. 

He mother had let her hold it once. It had felt so warm, as if Father sun Himself had handed it to her. So much power and comfort had radiated from it. Her mother had told her that she would wear it one day when she came into her powers. She remembered reminding her mother she could already conjure light. She remembered her mother laughing softly and ruffling her hair good-naturedly, before smoothing her locks from her forehead and whispering conspiratorially in her ear, there is so much more to come, my sweet. So much more. So much more that her mother would never get to see.

And now that medallion, her medallion, was hanging from his sword. His sword, a tool of death and destruction. She could feel a firey rage kindling in her gut. How did he have it? He had no right, carrying it when he had killed her mother. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that he had not killed her, the king had. He might as well have! she shouted back. He was a kingsman. He was taking her to her own death and he dared to carry her medallion, a holy symbol of her people. The people he actively hunted and murdered. He had no right!

Red engulfed her vision. She could feel herself on fire, blessed fire. Her rage at her mother's death and this man, this thing, that carted her off to her own death, was overpowering. She didn’t fight it. Instead, she embraced it. She wanted to kill him. To rip him to shreds, to burn him alive. She wanted to rip the world to sunders.