As a descendant of Sypha Belnades, a legendary heroine from the Holy War
era, I am gifted with great magical powers that I can manipulate to suit my
every need. The power itself had been passive throughout past generations but my
mother re-awakened that power and thus it was passed on to me as an active trait
when I was born.
She never told me how she 'unlocked' the magic from dormancy. Maybe it's best that I never found out.
I was not always as bitter as I am today. Many things have I witnessed as
a youngster. Many horrific and unpleasant things a child should never have to
As a child, I had been part of a happy family residing in the Romanian countryside. My parents were loving and supportive, as they were honest and kind to anyone. We were happy for a good portion of my childhood, but something from my parents past continually came back to eventually cause the end of our peaceful living.
Come to think of it, I never knew much about how my parents' lives were
before I came into the world. Whenever I would ask about their 'good old days'
my Father would laugh and say there had been no such thing. I never knew the
truth about his life before he met my mother. All I knew was that he gained the
wealth we had from practically nothing. It had been tough on him to work so hard
for it all, but his plight never really helped to explain his past.
I knew just about as little about my Mother too. I did know that she had lived the common life on a farm during her youth. That was about it.
However when I was roughly about nine years old, I did find out about one important thing about them. It seemed that they both were heavily sought after by a new enemy that had terrorized the land for the past three years. Our great enemy was an army of undead beings and mythical man-eaters who constantly caused havoc all over the countryside.
As hard as it may seem to believe, it's the God-honest truth.
My parents and our household servants were able to defend our estate from
the enemy group with clever tactics and a slight touch of defensive magic. At
first, the nearby townsfolk were puzzled by the fact that we were able to fend
off waves of attackers. But since superstition was always at a certain high peak
with the 'normal' people, they soon began to fear us a little.
One day, though, some nosy busybody from town caught a glimpse of my mother exercising her magic abilities in one of our orchards.
It wasn't her fault the fool had trespassed, but in the end, it was he that caused her death.
I am not sure what really happened, but I assume that when he saw what she had been up to, he more than likely ran squealing into town like the last little piggy in the nursery rhyme. Then, in a panic, he must have reported what he saw to the town council. Everyone had been suspicious of everyone else back then of being a witch, but now someone had found a legit and true one. The angry-mob syndrome strikes again . . .
There was a burning later that day and I was forced to watch my own mother
be destroyed before my very eyes. My captors told me that I was being punished
too, by having to watch her die. It was my own penalty for being the daughter of
My father was taken into custody too but his life was spared and he was released - only to have to witness the horrible fate of his wife. Fearing for my safety, my Father then took me from the familiar place we called home and we fled, only to end up hiding in another part of Romania, a province known as Wallachia. There, we moved into an old farm that had been abandoned long ago. I don't know what it had been about that place, but there was a weird aura about it. It felt as familiar to me as my old home had been. To be honest, it scared me at first.
We lived there together for about a year and everything just seemed to get
a little better. Nonetheless, my Father did something I never thought he would
have been able to do. He remarried. I understand now that he must have been
really lonely then, so I no longer blame him anymore. Back then, though, I felt
as if he had betrayed my mother. I never did come to like my stepmother too
much; in fact, I practically hated the woman. What made me dislike her even more
was that she never seemed affected by my horrible behavior.
June had once said to me that I was the daughter she never had, also that she knew what it was like to lose a parent and that she wished that we could be friends. If I had known of what she was to do for me later on in my life, I would have apologized and made peace with her. If only I hadn't been so damned childish . . .
One fateful day, I believe I was around twelve, my Stepmother did the
noblest thing anyone could every do. She sacrificed her life to save me.
Imagine! She did that for me! A child who wouldn't give her the time of day nor
even cared of what she thought, did and said.
What happened was that a trip into a nearby town for supplies turned out to be a slaying of innocent life. We had just arrived in town by horse and buggy when my Father noticed someone being attacked in the streets by some unknown creature. He told me to stay in the wagon with June so that we would be safe. I wanted so bad to listen to him, but there was no way that I would stay by her side. No matter the circumstances.
Before she could stop me, I had hopped down from the wagon and was off towards the sheriff's office across the street. My Stepmother called out my name in terror as a whole swarm of evil-looking creatures flooded into town from the road to my right.
I froze as one approached me cautiously and poised to strike. I had tried
to run, but I was petrified with fear. Just when it looked as if I was about to
be slashed in half, June came running over and snatched me from the path of
death. Evidently, she had been the one to take the heat instead of me.
I remember crying after she fell to the ground and didn't even try to get up. I was confused at that moment, whether I should run to get help or if I should have stayed by her side. I looked at her pale face and thought of my mother, who would have done the exact same thing if she had been alive. The vivid memory brought back the grief and anguish of the day I lost her forever. I recall staring at the beast while hatred and anger flared up inside of me and I had wished so badly that I wasn't so weak and defenseless. I then felt something within me that gave me a sense of power.
Oblivious to my own actions, I raised a hand and suddenly fired a ball of energy at my enemy. It let out a wail as it was hit by the blast and was instantly turned into dust.
Turning to June, I propped her up into my arms as I supported her head on
my shoulder. She ran a shaky hand through my hair while telling me to be a brave
girl and that I should go and find safety. I couldn't leave her side, but I was
forced to because of the battle that was now raging around us between men and beasts.
I felt like the lowest person on the planet as I hopped back into the wagon and returned home as quickly as the horses could go. My Father never did return home after that and I am still left to wonder if he might still be alive out there . . .
Even now, I regret my past but there is little I can do to ease the pain
of it all. After that fateful day, I became bitter towards all adults. Even to
the kind old woman who took me in soon after. I knew she was not the enemy, but
it was my mentality that made me what I was - and still am.
As I grew older, I began to use the powers I had gained to protect the town from further invasion. In a way, I became a heroine like my ancestor Sypha. That made me feel a bit better for a time, but it didn't last. I soon tired of being a protector, but I still continue to do it in memory of the loved ones I have lost. God forbid anyone in this town to ever have to witness the horrors of life and death I have.
And I am going to make sure that no one will have to. Especially my own children.
At least . . . while I'm still alive.