The Blood King - Prologue (Patreon)

Nemyra

“Ngh! Please…” I sob as my body is jostled once again. The pain is too intense for me to know exactly where it’s coming from. All I know is that it hurts, and I want it to stop. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t remember all that’s happened up to this point.

All I can remember is the screams—the smell. My mind is a chaotic mess as someone carries me. Each time I open my eyes to make out the figure holding me, I am met with a blur, signifying how severe my injuries are.

“Shhh, Nemyra. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” The voice sounds familiar to me, and I trust it instantly. So I try to give in to the pull of unconsciousness as it teases me with the promise of no more pain. Before I can fall, however, I am roughly shaken, earning more sobs from me as my body screams from the pain.

“No, you cannot sleep! You have to stay awake!” the voice says.

It sounds desperate. But I can’t bring myself to listen to it. Sleeping sounds much better than experiencing this pain. No matter how much I try to stay awake, the intense promise of no more pain lingers. It’s torture, the way it calls to me. It slowly spreads over my body, each limb slowly growing numb. The more numb I feel, the less pain. But each time I try to give in, whoever carries me shakes me and reprimands me for it.

“Just try to focus on something other than the pain. Do you remember what you did yesterday?” the voice asks.

“No,” I sob.

I can’t focus on anything other than the pain. It consumes me. I can’t even recall who I am or where I come from. I am nothing but a ball of pain.

“Oh, come now, Nemyra. You can remember yesterday. You hiked up the mountainside, remember? You got your mark, you passed warrior training,” the voice says.

His words mean nothing to me, however. I cling to them because they keep me awake, but there is nothing else. I can’t recall the memories it speaks of.

“Tell me what you did last week, when father got angry,” the voice says.

“I…” I trail off as memories flash over my mind. I see my father, I know him, and his stern expression. He is angry with me because I…I don’t know.

“Think, Nemyra, think! Stay awake and fight! You must think!” the voice hisses.

More tears spill down my cheeks, forcing me to realize just how hot my body feels. It burns, as if I were dumped in fire. The tears leave a cool trail in their wake as the wind caresses my face, but it intensifies the pain.

“Nemyra!” the voice shouts.

I flinch as my body takes on a mind of its own, my muscles spasming as my body begins to seize in the voice's arms.

“No…no! Please!” the voice screams. “Don’t do this to me…I can’t…”

I barely feel it holding me close, as the world jostles more violently, but I lose consciousness before I can think of anything else.

The next time I awake, I am aware of not only pain, but the heat that surrounds me. I slowly blink, trying to clear the blurriness from my vision. But all I can register is the warm hand holding mine tightly, as the low hum of voices slowly becomes clearer. It sounds like chanting.

“She’s weak. The burn is too significant for a child who has barely begun to understand her power. It will kill her if—”

“There must be something you can do, Peyra. Please!” the voice begs. It’s shouting at a woman.

“She needs her home. She has not learned to internalize her chill yet, this is too much for her!” the woman says.

“She has no home! It’s all gone. Everything she's known... this is her only chance.”

Silence drifts between them, and the voice that carried me speaks.

“She will be safe here—”

“Safe? If what you say is true, then the Dragonborn have declared war amongst the ancients; there is nowhere safe for her! For any of you!”

I don’t know the new voice that speaks to the familiar one. But it’s a woman’s voice, and she sounds frightened. Silence fills the air before the voices start speaking again.

“I just need you to keep her hidden long enough for me to make things right. Then I’ll come back for her. I’ll—”

“Mngh!” I groan in pain, and both voices stop speaking when they realize I am awake. I feel a hand on my cheek, and as I blink, I am met with crystal eyes. They don’t glow like they once did; they’re dull--tired. But I recognize them—him. It’s my brother, Kesuk. Blood is crusted on his face, as he looks at me with tear-filled eyes.

He releases a trembling breath. "You're awake," he says as if it's a miracle.

“Kesuk? What—” I break off into a coughing fit as my throat ceases up on me, and he gently strokes my hair as he tells me not to speak. I note that the pain slightly subsides as he holds his hand over my body, releasing a small flurry. The cool air feels so good that my tears fall harder.

“I want to go home,” I sob.

Kesuk lowers his head, his expression pained.

“We can’t. I have to go away for a little while. You’re going to go with Peyra, where it’s safe,” he says.

“No—”

“Shh, Nemyra. Listen to me. You are our last hope. Your life matters so much more than you could imagine.” I feel him press something into my hands. “I’ll come back for you some day, and together we will reclaim what was lost, I promise.”

I feel his grip slipping, and I whimper. I want to cry out to him; I want to ask him to stay, not to leave me alone. I’m scared, and I am in pain, and I don’t know why. But as the woman tries to calm me, resuming her chants, my mind slowly dissipates into unconsciousness again, leaving me nothing but the swallow darkness.