Nerine lay unconscious beside her mother's lifeless body, the coldness of the room wrapping itself around her small frame. The flickering of the oil lamp Alicia had left burning dimmed slowly, casting long shadows across the cracked wooden floor.
Outside, the village stirred.
Cries echoed from neighboring houses ...shouts, sobs, and gasps of horror. Another household had been hit. More lives were lost.
The commotion roused Nerine. Her eyelids fluttered open, confusion slowly morphing into dread. She sat up weakly, her head pounding, and her gaze immediately found her mother's bloodied form.
"No… no…" she whimpered, crawling toward Alicia's motionless body. Her hands trembled as she brushed her mother's hair from her face. The warmth was long gone.
"Mama?" she whispered, cradling Alicia. "Wake up… please…"
She broke down again, rocking her mother's body, until pounding footsteps sounded outside. Nerine froze.
The town guard burst into the house. Two men in red and gold uniforms stood at the doorway, and another entered, his face stern beneath a crested helmet.
"There she is!" one of them pointed.
Nerine backed away instinctively, eyes wide.
"On your feet," the officer barked. "You're under arrest on suspicion for murder."
"I—what? No! I didn't—"
Before she could finish, one of the guards yanked her up. They didn't listen to her cries or pleas as they dragged her away from the only home she'd ever known. Her feet scraped the dirt, her screams lost to the rising morning wind.
By the time the guards hauled Nerine to the town's holding cell, a crowd had already gathered outside. People murmured and gossiped, shaking their heads at the girl accused of killing her mother.
"She was found next to the body."
"No witnesses, no other suspects…"
"The girl always seemed… strange."they muttered among themselves.
The heavy cell door clanged shut behind her. Nerine sank to the ground, staring at her hands. Blood stained her palms.
A guard paced outside.
"Until further notice," he said coldly, "you stay put."
Far from the chaos, in a distant district, a man stood by a carriage. His silver-tinged hair swept behind his ears, and his face bore the harsh lines of age and loss.
Sir Marudas had just arrived, gripping a letter in his hand. It was Alicia's last message.
"Come see her. She's waiting for you. She deserves to know you still care."
He had delayed. The letter had come last week. Too long.
Now, as he stood at the edge of the property, he found only the charred embers of what was once his family's cottage, smoke curling into the sky. Villagers whispered to each other as he approached.
A woman tugged at his sleeve. "You're Nerine's father, aren't you?"
"Yes," Marudas said slowly, stiffly. "Where is she?"
"She's been arrested, Sir. They say she murdered her own mother…"
Marudas's jaw clenched.
Before he could ask further, a raven landed beside him, bearing a wax-sealed message. He recognized the crest immediately.....Lord Theron, a high-ranking member of the Council.
With a frown, he broke the seal and read quickly. The message was clear:
"You are summoned immediately, Sir Marudas. Council business cannot wait. There are issues to be taken care of.
He looked toward the sky, conflicted, and then toward the jail that held his daughter. He had waited too long once already… and now fate pulled him away again.
"I'll return," he whispered.
Days passed.
Investigators came and went. They scoured the village, examined footprints, interviewed neighbors, and inspected what little remained of Alicia's home. Whispers spread of masked men spotted near the wood,...bandits, mercenaries, or worse.
Eventually, the truth began to emerge.
Nerine was found innocent. A witness, a traveler who saw shadows fleeing the house that night, came forward. The guards begrudgingly opened her cell.
"You're free," the warden said, offering no apology.
Nerine didn't move.
After a moment, she stood on shaking legs and stepped outside. The world looked… colder. Emptier.
She had nowhere to go. Her mother was gone. Her father hadn't come. The village she once called home now viewed her with suspicion, fear, or pity.
With only the clothes on her back and the necklace her mother gave her....the ruby still warm from where it lay against her heart...she began to walk. Past the gates. Past the fields. Toward the open road.
Days later, her feet sore and her throat dry, she reached the outer edge of a bustling trade town.
A wooden sign swung above the gates: "Welcome to Hollowood".
Merchants shouted prices, caravans rolled in from the hills, and smoke curled from tavern chimneys.
Nerine stood at the threshold, uncertain and lost.
But for the first time since that night… she stepped forward.