A nudge.
Sena's leg twitched… just below the knee. She became conscious, but her eyes remained shut.
A dawn chorus of birds sang in the distance.
Her breath hitched. Not again.
Another nudge. Firmer this time.
Her fingers curled around her katana's hilt. Heart hammering. She doesn't know whether to react to it or to pretend to be dead. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Ignore it. Maybe it'll leave.
Third nudge.
Her body locked. Stiffened. Still.
Then tremors ran through her like a plucked bowstring. Anxious. Hypervigilant.
Slowly, painfully, fearfully, she cracked one eye open.
Nothing.
Staring at what's directly infront of her. Trees. Just trees.
The dawn of light cutting through the canopy. Chorus of birds at dawn. Rustle of leaves.
She slowly turned her head to the left peaking just above her shoulder. She was sleeping on her right arm buried in the earth. Her body still curled in fetal position.
Still nothing.
Her view was blocked by entangled branches up above tall dark trees.
Was it a snake? Her grip tightened.
Then… There!
Another nudge.
Below the knee.
Holding her breath, she decided on her next steps.
In one swift motion, she wiped her blade down — SPLAT!
Brown sludge like a wet pile of soil erupted. Scattered. A wet thwack echoed.
She jolted and moved upward then scrambled away from what she just hit. Her cloak tangled. Her knee where she felt the nudged dragged.
And then she saw it… A dung beetle.
Stunned. Antenna drooping. Standing still.
Staring. Despondent.
The sight of the ruined remains of its masterpiece… now a tragic, splattered crime scene.
Silence.
An exhasperated exhale escaped her. "haaahhhhhh…"
Then…
"FUCKING—" she flicked the katana away from her, shaking off the remnants of the turd glob that clung to it. "—HELL!"
Her eyes searched for her cloak, it was clean. Oh good grief.
But the evidence was damning, undeniable: she'd just committed fatal destruction of property.
The beetle didn't move. Just… stared.
She realised the atrocity she just enacted. Sena swallowed.
Then, with the solemnity of a widow at a funeral, she fell to her knees and bowed her head to the ground.
A perfect dogeza. Just inches from the ball of turd she just destroyed.
"I...I am so sorry!!!" she stuttered.
The dung beetle's antennae twitched. Then it slowly walked away.
Worst. Dawn. Ever.
— — —
Sena looked around the small patch of earth where she had spent the night.
The string perimeter and makeshift maracas remained untouched. Her cabin fire had long since fizzled out into a bed of cold ash.
It was a new day.
The sound of rushing water called to her. She was determined to reach the river this time — to cross it — and not waste another morning trying to sharpen her fishing skills.
Washing her face, scrubbing the dirt off her boots, and giving her body a quick wipe-down at the river...
That would be a good start to the day.
She didn't feel particularly grimy, but she missed her little washroom back in the cabin. She hadn't managed to wash up last night before falling asleep. The thought of fresh water now was oddly comforting.
Carefully, she removed her string perimeter, coiling it into a neat spool of twine. She left the carved tiny cups behind in the now ashen remains of her fire.
She shook the dust from her clothes.
Strapped the sword and katana onto her back.
Pulled on her cloak, swept her long hair back and tucked it beneath the fabric, then raised her hood once more.
With everything in place, she moved toward the sound of the river.
— — —
As she drew closer, step by step…
Long, wide streaks of shadows began to appear beyond the dense forest. Stretching across the grass patch before the riverbank.
She stopped in her tracks, her mind already racing. One thought led to another, questions tumbling over each other.
Maybe those are fishermen? What should I say? How did I end up here?
Ughh... I'll make something up as I go.
The excuse of being abandoned by a group of hiking friends floated to the front of her thoughts.
Or... maybe I could say I ate a toxic mushroom and lost my memory...
No. Too risky…
They might think I'm addicted to exotic substances. Better not go that route.
I don't know how cruel this world might be, she thought.
But maybe saying I got whacked on the head and had my wallet stolen... something simple, something human... Maybe that will work?
Hmm... Let's go with that.
She started forward again, slowly now, almost creeping.
She made sure her belongings were silent. Her steps were light, deliberate… careful not to snap any twigs beneath her boots.
Little by little, the grassland ahead widened as she continued to emerge from the tangled arms of Silvershroud Forest.
The sun's rays pierced through the treetops.
They caught her eyes — she winced, lifting an arm instinctively to shield them.
For a moment, the light was blinding.
When her vision adjusted, she lowered her arm and fixed her gaze…
"Ah—"
Her voice cracked mid-breath. No words followed. Only the thrum of her pulse, loud in her ears.
A low hum, throbbing noise of silence filled the open space where Sena stood, as though time holds its breath here.
Lined like a somber fence, a row of angel statues stood…
Their silent forms marking the border where the grassland ends and the dry stones of the riverbed begin.
Each figure is lifelike, hyper-real, sculpted with precision of the Statue of David.
Their skin of pale stone carries the perfect flow of muscle, bone, and curve… a breath away from living flesh.
Sena froze mid-step, gagged at the sight unfathomable. Her eyes widened.
There were no fishermen. The shadows were cast from these epic, intricately huge angel statues.
The statues varied in form; men, women, boys, and girls. Tall and short, slender and broad.
Each sculpted in intimate detail that the faint and curve of a lip, the tension in a neck, the smooth arch of a foot seem utterly real. Some had 6 wings, others 4, and most just a pair.
Dominating Sena's height by a few feet. She couldn't help but slowly raise her gaze from her eye level going upwards to find their eyes.
Noticing the fine details, their faces were fully formed, serene, with closed lips.
One of the statues that stood parallel to her was an angel in female form. Long flowing hair as if it could dance by the way of the wind.
Eyes were covered in a crown of wings, like a blindfold.
She hyperventilated, not knowing how to absorb the sight. She grabbed her chest, looked down, and convinced herself, "just statues… they're not real…"
Clearing her throat and mustering the courage to inch closer, she now know that these were nothing but fallen angel statues.
She looked to her left, then to her right. The statues stretched for as far as she can see. Somehow, these resembled gigantic chess pieces.
Among the angels stand hooded statues, spaced irregularly in between the others.
These figures, unlike the obvious men and women, were covered and cloaked in stone robes, face fully obscured by deep, heavy hoods.
Hands were hidden, lost within its folds. But from their backs, eight great wings emerge and stretch outward.
Looking far more daunting than that of the regular human-looking statues.
All human form statues shared a single gesture.
Their arms are extended forward, palms up, with one hand cupped inside the other… a universal pose of offering… or surrender…
And within each set of hands rests a half-molten gold crown: all are broken and misshapen — gold drips frozen mid-flow, as if once burning and now cooled in the palms.
Curiosity got the best of her as she moved closer, trying to read the inscription on the pedestal where the female statue stood in front of her. She removed her cloak to see clearer.
She stopped just below the molten crown held by the female statue and read:
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Queen Mireon Ashriel
"With spiteful resistance until her final breath."
710-1008
Reigned for 281 years; Lived for 298
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Covering her mouth, she couldn't believe the last parting words for a departed royal lacked remorse nor compassion.
Slowly walking away from the statue of the fallen queen, she looked over at the pedestal of the hooded angel. Nothing was inscripted on it.
Then she looked over the statue of a man beside it and read:
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
King Althien Ashriel
"His rigid adherence to ancient dictums stifled progress and ensured stagnation."
1473-1770
Reigned for 280 years; Lived for 297
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
She continued to read the epitaphs below each statues:
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
King Velin Ashriel
"His mysterious demise was less a tragedy, more an inevitable outcome of his ineptitude."
3156-3205
Reigned for 32 years; Lived for 49
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Compared to the previous fallen royal, this king departed too soon. She wondered about the mystery behind this fallen king, so she took a mental note of reading one her books: The Velvet Scrolls: Bloodlines of the Six Nations
One after another, the spiteful, malicious, unkind, and hostile epitaphs kept on.
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Queen Erielle Ashriel
"Her brief, plagued reign was a sad echo of the kingdom's ongoing torment."
4650-4669
Reigned for 2 years; Lived for 19
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Queen Vaelira Ashriel
"Her diplomatic reaches only stretched the burden of Ashriel rule further across the lands."
503-752
Reigned for 232 years; Lived for 249
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Prince Bran Ashriel
"His youth wasted, his potential unrealized, a constant minor disappointment."
Born: Year 1320, Died: Year 1335
Lived for 15 mundane years
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
King Ysaro Ashriel
"His accords brought only fragile peace, leaving seeds of future conflict."
1817-2061
Reigned for 227 years; Lived for 244
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Prince Orion Ashriel
"His existence was as unremarkable as his short time allowed."
2455-2469
Lived for 14 dreary years
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Sena stopped at the statue that was not too far in height from hers. A young female angel. She felt a sharp pain in her chest. Her heart skipped a beat.
She looked down at the inscription and read:
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Princess Linnea Ashriel
"Her fragile grip on life loosened quickly, a child lost in a world of decline."
3285-3293
Lived for 8 unremarkable years
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
"Life begins only after you walk through forgotten greatness. But… Will you stay?"
"Wha—" Breath seized in her chest.
The soft, sweet, and somewhat breathy, with a hint of innocence and a clear, pure voice echoed in her ear.
She took a step back… and another… moving away from the princess' statue…
Staring at the lips, seemingly unmoving, she heard it again…
"Sena… Will you stay?"