Rose gripped her aching side as she ran. The crunching leaves beneath her feet that were a source of joy only hours ago now sounded like clanging gongs alerting her pursuers to her exact location. Every muscle screamed and begged her to stop, but she pushed herself harder than she ever thought possible. Suddenly, a tree came crashing down in front of her. Her body collided into the immense barricade with such momentum that she fell backwards.
Tears welled as she lay on the cold, hard ground. It was too late. She was going to die. Mustering the last bit of strength she had, she threw the evidence she just gave her life to collect as far away from her as she possibly could while praying to anyone who could hear that it would later find itself in the right hands and that her sacrifice would be worth it.
As the scent of decay invaded her nose, she stood tall and ignored the pain coursing through her body. From the shadows appeared razor-sharp claws attached to a dead man’s hand. The cadaverous creature moved briskly and quietly into view. Rose did her best to appear calm and cold despite the terror rising within her. All the conversations she had with Peter about the Elite could never have prepared her for the monster in the moonlight locking eyes with her now.
She stood breathless as the red eyes examined her. The melting flesh on its face prevented her from reading any form of emotion. She was so fixated on remaining calm that she had not noticed the other two Elite that had joined the first. The first Elite, still staring deep into Rose’s soul, cocked its head to the side. Rose flinched as the sound of cracking bones permeated through the dense forest.
“Why,” it asked in a bone-chilling whisper, “would you risk your life on a futile effort?”
Rose remained silent. Her refusal to answer only caused the creature to laugh. It seemed amused at her defiance. It moved closer, and Rose felt bile rise in her throat. She was not sure if it was caused by fear of the grotesque creature before her or pain from her still aching back.
“Foolish humans. Do you truly believe you could ever defeat King Abaddon? For centuries you have tried, and for centuries you have failed.” Rose could feel its breath against her cheek. The overwhelming scent of rotting flesh nearly overtook Rose, but she stood strong as the creature dug its claw into her chin and forced her to look up toward its mad, crimson eyes. The terrifying talons were so sharp that blood began to trickle from Rose’s chin the moment it contacted her skin.
“He is no king of mine,” Rose retorted, her words laced with venom. Blood began oozing down her neck at greater volumes with each syllable she uttered, but she refused to look away from the ghastly creature or try to remove the claw that was now embedded into her chin.
The monster, unphased by Rose’s response, unhesitatingly slit her throat with one swift swipe. Her body crumpled to the ground, and he signaled the other two Elite to finish the job. Rose accepted her fate with courage and dignity. She did not try to fight. She did not show pain or fear. Instead, she closed her eyes and fixated on the smiling faces of her daughter and husband. She cared not of the surety of her imminent and painful death but only of the smiling family she had to leave behind. Tears mixed with blood as Rose felt her life fading. Suddenly, she felt a sharp, searing pain in her abdomen and then nothing.
Charity inhaled deeply and let the fresh mountain air fill her lungs. The soft crunch of the autumn leaves filled her with content as she gazed upon the picturesque landscape. Despite having never left the mountain town in which she was born, Charity believed that nowhere else in the country could ever compare to the beauty of her home—a small town and the closest possible location one could get to the very heart and capital of Exoneron. She gazed upon the ring of mountains in the distance and the colossal monument situated in the very center. The king’s tall ivory tower juxtaposed with the colorful massif that surrounded it, dwarfing even the tallest summit.
She quietly removed her art supplies from her bag and began to paint. Mixing varying shades of oranges and reds, she strived to capture the breathtaking scenery on her canvas. Between the twittering birds and rustling leaves, the fresh scent of mountain air mixed with the familiar smell of new paints, and the calming motion of each stroke of her paintbrush caused Charity to become lost in a world of her own. She was not sure whether minutes or hours had passed when she heard crunching leaves and snapping twigs resounding loudly from somewhere behind her, which momentarily pulled her away from her work.
“I’m surprised you made it up the trail,” Charity said without turning to face the source of the noise.
“You… couldn’t have… picked an easier spot?" Leah retorted while trying to catch her breath.
Charity laughed and finally turned to face her friend. Leah was panting and doubled over a large boulder. Her glaring hazel eyes and flushed face did not deter Charity from finding the entire ordeal humorous. In fact, it caused Charity to laugh even more. Leah sighed heavily and walked over to her friend.
Leah and Charity were opposite in nearly every way, and their differences, in many ways, brought out the best in one another and caused them to be the unlikeliest of companions. While Charity loved adventure, Leah hated the idea of leaving her home. Charity threw caution to the wind and, in Leah’s words, “would run into a gunfight with a water pistol” if given the chance. Leah, on the other hand, would have never experienced the world beyond her own front yard if not for Charity. Charity brought life to Leah’s cautionary tale, and Leah kept Charity from making rash decisions that could put either of them in harm’s way.
Leah tucked her short, blonde hair behind her ear as she sat beside her friend.
“I think this one is your best yet,” she said as she admired Charity’s painting.
“It’s still not good enough,” Charity responded with a sigh. “The dimensions of the tower are off, and the colors of the leaves just aren’t right.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Chair. It looks almost like a photo, and I really do think it’s your best one yet. She’s going to love it just like she loves all your paintings.”
Charity rolled her eyes in response. She was grateful for her friend’s earnest praise, but it did not prevent her from feeling disappointed about the minute mistakes. She wanted to give the painting to her mother as an early birthday present, but she wanted it to be perfect. Unfortunately, time had betrayed her, and she could not make any other corrections today. The sun was setting, and curfew was fast approaching.
Although Charity was not afraid of many things, being out past curfew was not something she wanted to experience. According to her father, King Abaddon had enacted the curfew to keep people safe from the various monsters that roamed the mountains at night. Charity was not sure how much of that she believed, but it was not a matter of which she wished to test its validity.
“Did you really come all of the way up here just to immediately turn around and have to come back down? You could have just called me,” Charity asked as she packed her belongings and began walking back to the base of the mountain with Leah in tow.
Leah rolled her eyes before handing Charity a small, silver phone. “You left this in the car again.”
Charity laughed and carelessly tossed her phone on top of her art supplies before closing her bag. Without another word, the two made the trek down the mountain and entered Charity’s small car. After a short drive, Charity and Leah returned to their shared two-bedroom apartment, which was small but welcoming. A single couch and small coffee table adorned their living and dining area, and just a few steps down the hall, both girls' small rooms were lightly decorated in styles that truly suited them. Leah’s room was decorated in white and plain shades, and it was always clean and organized without even a single piece of paper out of place. Charity’s room, on the other hand, was covered in art supplies and unorganized piles of various projects. Greens, blues, pinks, and other vibrant hues were found not only in her choice of decorative pillows but also in splattered yet intentional positions on the wall. These added life to what Charity felt was an otherwise dull living space.
Upon entering her room, Charity set the painting on her easel and stared at it, noting areas she wanted to fix before presenting it to her mother later that week. Charity considered her mother her greatest inspiration and wanted to be sure that the piece she was given was Charity’s best work. As she turned away from the easel, Charity picked up the photo that was sitting on her nightstand and smiled back at the happy family frozen in time.
This simple portrait of Charity and her parents was her most cherished possession. She observed the similarities between her mother and herself. From the long, untamable, brown hair to the short stature and olive-toned skin, and even to the joyous smile that stretched across both of their faces, the two ladies in the photo were nearly indistinguishable. The only two differences were the more defined wrinkles and smile lines on her mother and the color of their eyes. Charity had her father’s emerald, green eyes rather than her mother’s chocolate brown.
Her father’s image greatly contrasted with Charity’s and her mother’s. His large stature, round body, red hair, and freckled skin looked almost out of place when compared to the two women beside him. However, despite all the differences in appearance, it was clear that the three people in the photograph were very happy together. Charity was thankful for her loving family and, even as a young adult living on her own, still cherished her parents’ teachings and advice.
After setting down the picture, Charity walked over to her window and gazed at the night sky. Stars peppered the black canvas in an immeasurable amount despite the moon's incredibly bright and immense appearance. Charity would often find herself mesmerized by the starry night sky, so sitting at her window every night--and even occasionally falling asleep at her place on the windowsill--was quite a common practice. Tonight was no exception, and Charity found herself drifting to sleep as her forehead rested comfortably against the cold glass.
Dead leaves crunched under Charity’s feet as she traveled through the dark mountain forest. She walked for quite some time before stopping dead in her tracks. Charity was paralyzed in fear as she spotted her mother lying on her back struggling to breathe. Dark crimson liquid flowed from an open gash on her neck, and a terrifying creature with ghastly red eyes and a decaying face stood over her.
“Find it, Charity!” Her mother cried from the cold forest floor. “Find it and keep it safe.”
Blood pooled around Rose as she pleaded with her daughter. Charity watched helplessly as the creature raised its grotesque, rotten hand. She gasped as she saw the black talons glint in the moonlight. Within seconds, those claws struck her mother’s abdomen. Life left Rose’s body faster than Charity could have blinked.
“NO!” Charity screamed.
She awoke in a cold sweat with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the image of her mother's lifeless face seared into her mind. She gasped for breath, her lungs burning as if she'd been running for miles. She buried her face in her hands and tried to calm herself.
“It was just a dream,” she whispered repeatedly, her voice cracking more each time. She stood up and began pacing her room. It was still dark outside, and Charity was sure there were still several hours before the sun rose once again.
