Crimson Hand

I lay on my back on the hard floor, staring at the same rusted, silver ceiling of the cell as I always had, today is the 18th anniversary of that routine, my birthday, but there's not exactly anything to celebrate but surviving to even live this day.. that is.. if you can even say this IS living, I wouldn't know after all. The door opens, it's one of the only people I had ever known, Emperor Henry, my captor. "Novasyn!" He shouts at me, "Get cleaned up, it's time for dinner!" Reluctantly, I obey, for I'm defenseless against him, I've always had to follow his orders, at least, until tonight. Now I'm dressed in a periwinkle satin gown, unusual to my typical stained, white bandages wrapped around me from my neck to ankles. The smoothness is suffocating to my skin. I eat, at this point, food to me is sacred, even if it were poison, while the Emperor is talking. I've been planning for this night, my wings should spread for the first time, then, I would be able to break through the stained glass window and fly, free, like a crow at dusk. I smile, knowing it's finally time to make my escape from this prison of a pathetic palace. Black angelic wings sprout out of my back like vines, leaving the Emperor absolutely gobsmacked. "What the devil?!" Henry exclaims under his breath. I turn around and dart to the window at the speed of light, bursting through shards of color as the Emperor yells at me in anger, in fury. But me? I'm free. I'm really free. This is the first time I've breathed air from outside, the first time feeling the cool evening wind while I fly into the horizon. At the entrance of a forest, I settle, landing on the grass. God how good it feels to feel life under my feet. I explore, enchanted by the magic around me. But I notice, some of this wonder seems to be faded, glitched, warped into something it shouldn't be.. sinister. I hear rustling behind the bushes, I pray it isn't any of Emperor's guards. It's not, it's a boy, dirty blond hair in a braid hidden under a helmet, eyes of emerald, white and olive torn armor, pointed ears both pierced with crosses. Who was he, and most of all, what did he want, or in this case, WHO?? TO BE CONTINUED..