Lost And Found

## **Chapter 1**

Anthea raced through the woods. Her raven hair flying behind her, her mahogany eyes every bit as dark and raging as the flames crackling in her wake. Her olive complexion a beautiful contrast against the flames. The screams of her mother still ringing in her ears. Ashes and cinders were raining down, completely obscuring the sky, the entire forest was burning. A smoldering tree toppled to her left, she dodged and kept on running. All she could do was run. The guards would be coming soon, she thought. They would come to kill me.

She ran until she couldn’t see the towers of the castle anymore. Anthea knew she must’ve gone a long way, because she has left the forest behind, and the soil has turned to rocky terrain. Her black dress laced with gold trimmings was ripped and singed, and she lost her shoes somewhere along the way.

She collapsed.

All the tears she has been holding back for so many years came spilling out. The walls she built to contain her emotions broke away completely. Her normally expressionless and fierce composure crumbled. For once, she let herself feel the pain and loss.

Anthea knew that her father died many years ago during battle, and now her mother is gone, too. It was all too much. All those years of suffering and waiting for nothing. She was 19 years old, her 20th birthday was so close. The throne was so close. Just another day… but no, her brother ruined everything as usual. She has so many plans for the kingdom, she could change things for the better. Alas, without her mother to announce the heir of the throne as Anthea, the throne would go to the next male sibling in line – her brother.

Before the death of Anthea’s mother, he had bragged about the alliance with a barbarian tribe that was about to attack the kingdom. He told her that burning down the palace is the only way to properly start over. She had screamed at him that that wasn’t true and he was crazy for trusting them. Her brother had simply laughed. The tribe poured in, murdered Anthea’s mother, and burned down the entire place.

Anthea traced her delicate fingers across a cracked halve of marble that is a part of the debris that lay scattered all over this part of the canyon. She knew that another proud kingdom once stood here before it was destroyed. She wondered how many other kingdoms were destroyed throughout history and wondered if her home was already laying in ruins, too.

Slowly, Anthea stood up. Strangely, she couldn’t feel the pain and anger anymore, only a hollow emptiness. For once, she didn’t want revenge, she didn’t want to hide anymore. She has lost everything, and death told her of relief, death told her of paradise. She only want to see her parents again, even if only to see the disappointed looks on their faces. But at least they would be together, they could be a family again.

I need to get to higher ground, she thought. In heavy, deliberate steps, Anthea trudged towards the drop.

Every step felt like eternity, like she was reliving parts of her life over and over again, one after the other. Anthea, running through the woods, bow in hand, a quiver of arrows slung across her back. Anthea’s father, smiling down kindly. Anthea’s mother, telling her stories of kings and queens and knights and dragons. Then they’re grieving for her father’s death. The way Anthea would play music under the moonlight. Finally, the most recent: Anthea’s brother, dagger in hand, threatening, ‘if you tell a living soul, I’ll hunt you to the ends of this world.’ Then she saw things that did not happen in her life time. Castles crumbling. Knights clashing. Warriors in gold plumed helmets.

Gold plume. Anthea caught something in the corner of her eye. She spun around, and locked eyes with a lithe figure in armor and a helmet with a golden plume. The person must have figured out what she was trying to do, because he charged forward as if to stop her. Instinctively, Anthea backed away. Then she was treading on air. Then she fell.

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## **Chapter 2**

Pain. So much pain. Her body went into crisis mode. All the blood flooding to her chest and brain. With her mind, she called out desperately, Mother! I’m coming for you!

‘No dearest, you should not give up. There’s hope waiting for you in the dark. I’ll see you soon. Don’t give up…’ Those thousand years old eyes seeing everything. Those cracked and bleeding lips gave one last smile. Anthea’s mother faded away in one flash of light.

‘NO!’ she screamed. But she could feel her subconscious sinking back into her body, her vision slowly returning, her fingers curling into a fist.

She was in a dimly lit room cut from obsidian stone. Pressing a piece of wet cloth to her forehead was a boy, about Anthea’s age, with blonde hair and eyes every bit as blue as the sky. Those eyes. They looked concerned, as if this boy actually cared about her. The light in her eyes reminded Anthea of her mother. Unexpectedly, a fresh torrent of tears hit Anthea.

The boy let her stay that way for an entire day. He didn’t complain about anything. He only came at meal times now, and sometimes during the night to comfort her, whispering words of encouragement.

Several nights later, Anthea was healing up pretty well, perhaps faster than possible.

One night, after dinner, Anthea asked the boy,‘Hey, can you help me stand up?’ The boy nodded and held out his hands. Reluctantly, Anthea took them. Normally, she tries to avoid physical contact, but this boys’ hands were warm. Slowly, Anthea stood up. A wave of nausea hit her and she blacked out momentarily. Strong arms wrapped around her, supporting her, slowly sitting her down. When Anthea came around again, she was sitting on the ground at the entrance of a cave. She concentrated her eyes on the scenery. The towering canyons. The ledge dropping off. The small river gurgling below, carving into the rocky canyon floor. Anything but the pair of blue eyes staring intently at her.

`Why?’ asked the boy.

`You’ll never understand.’ Anthea whispered. `You never watched your mother getting slaughtered, you were never threatened at sword point by your brother, you were never-‘

`I, too, was cast out of my family. It was because I refused to kill animals for a ritual. I am a healer, it goes against my nature.’

`Ritual…’ Anthea muttered under her breath. Something clicked inside her mind. `You’re from the same barbaric tribe that burned down my home!’ Anthea stood up and backed to the entrance of the cave in shock.

`And you’re that princess who ran away. I saw your pendant. But really, I won’t hurt you, like I said, I’m not part of the tribe anymore.’ The guy frantically explained, but Anthea simply shook her head, not believing.

`What do you want from me?’

`I only want to help bring the wild tribes of the North to an end. I understand they’re at the brink of war now… please, let me help.’

Anthea felt sympathy for this guy, but if she was going to attempt an assassination, she couldn’t risk trusting anybody.

In desperation, Anthea took hold of the nearest weapon she could find – a cooking pan, and smacked the guy upside the head. He passed out cold. Anthea went back into the cave and slipped out of her tattered dress. If she was going to be on the move, she has to travel light. She changed into a set of the boy’s spare linen clothes and started furiously strapping on armor. Then she grabbed his sword and ran out of the cave.

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## **Chapter 3**

Anthea’s task was simple and pretty straightforward. Find her brother and kill him. But the finding part… that was going to be a problem… first, she has to find her way back to the kingdom.

Wherever she looked, the sun seems to be staring right back at her. Every rock and every cliff seems to be a part of one large maze. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue and completely cloudless for as far as she could see. After walking for what seems like forever, she stabbed her sword in the dirt and knelt by the river for a drink.

`Oh if only this is a forest and I had my bow, I can hunt and stay alive,’ she said aloud as she stared at her reflection in the churning river. Suddenly, the wind changed direction and she caught the scent of charred wood. Anthea frowned. There was not a single tree around, how could…? Curiously, she followed the scent further and further downstream. She peeked around a large pillar like rock, and saw… a group of civilians. Dressed in plain linen, all sitting around a fire, roasting racks of salted fish on sticks. The youngest was about five, the oldest was about fifty. And was that… Madame Rowena? Everyone turned to look at her. Dam… she must have said that last part aloud.

`Princess Anthea?’ said Mme. Rowena. `We thought you were dead!’ She embraced Anthea. Mme. Rowena was one of the palace’s maids, she was like a second mother to Anthea, she practically watched Anthea grow up.

`What happened? Is something wrong with the village?’ Anthea asked.

`Everything is wrong with the village!’ exclaimed an elderly dress-maker. `After the new king came into power, he ordered The Rules to be enforced on us.’ Upon hearing that, Anthea got angry. The Rules demands that everything available to be used to serve the king first, then if there is anything left, the rest of the people divide it. Anthea had always hated The Rules. Fortunately, ever since her father ruled the kingdom, The Rules were forbidden. Unfortunately, Anthea’s brother is now in power. `A lot of us ran chose to run away, so now half of the village is gone. The rest who couldn’t escape in time are enslaved. We’ve heard a lot of conspiracy theories of bringing down the king, but nobody can even get close to the walls, not even the best assassins.’ Everyone looked expectantly at Anthea. That gesture of dependency jolted her out of her misery. All of these people needing her, and just a few days ago, she was thinking of ending her life. Guilt ignited a flame of determination within her. She failed them once, she couldn’t let these people down a second time.

`I’ll do it.’ Said Anthea.

`You’ll do it? But the witch said no living person in the world can kill him.’ said one of the inn managers.

`The old stories. The legend of the Arcanium Ghost.’ Nobody spoke. `I am one of royal descent, I can do this, and I have to, I can’t let my brother rule our home.’ The atmosphere immediately lightened.

However, everyone quieted down as someone at the back of the procession stood up and shuffled over. The townspeople called her a fortuneteller, a practitioner of witchcraft. She was dressed in a black cloak that trailed to the ground, stark white hair framed her surprisingly pale and young face, but her eyes were wrong: they were an unnatural shade of purple, like the night sky after a storm. In her hands, she held a crystal ball with blue swirling tendrils. The two girls locked eyes.

`I’m ready for the transformation.’ said Anthea, and the witch smashed the glass ball to the ground.

Blue tendrils of mist curled around Anthea, lifting her a few inches off the ground. Clouds blocked the sun, the temperature dropped, frost creeping up the nearby rocks. The crowd backed away in fear. The witch started chanting, her voice melodic and hypnotizing. A cold sensation swept over Anthea, chilling her to the bone, she closed her eyes, the cold was deafening. She could feel her body getting lighter, a tingling feeling in her fingertips…

The chanting stopped. Anthea made the mistake of opening her eyes too quickly, because what she saw… in her moment of surprise, a shockwave of blue energy blasted through the canyon, startling the crowd even more. The fire lit by the villagers was snuffed out, a cold mist hung in the air. Most disturbing of all, when Anthea looked down at her hands, their usual olive colour has turned into a sickly pale shade, the colour of snow, and she doubted her face was any better.

The witch looked at her with a grim expression. A baby started crying. The crowd surged forward, asking if she was alright, offering her water to drink. As soon as Anthea’s lips made contact with water, pain racked her body like she have been electrocuted and she doubled over.

The witch raised her hands, palm up. `The process has begun. For the next three days, you mustn’t eat or drink. On the night of the third day, when the moon rises, you must drink from the Fountain of Arcanum. You will be granted unlimited power, you will be dead and alive, you will become immortal.’

`The witch is mad!’ said a farmer. `Don’t trust her, princess.’

`I’m afraid it’s too late to back out. Besides, I want to do this.’ said Anthea.

`And that will sure make my job easier, once you died on the attempt.’ Said a voice. Everyone turned to find the new king, standing at the mouth of the pass between the canyons. His new silver crown glistened on his oily hair, his hawkish nose and unforgiving eyes all indicators of his cruelty. Behind him, an assortment of knights and civilians held weapons at the ready. Without thinking, Anthea stepped forward and thrust out her hands. A bolt of blue energy that blasted her brother off his horse. An arrow whistled towards her, it would have hit her in the chest but it passed right through– she was transparent. Swords swung in her direction but got deflected by Anthea’s. Then, she raised her hands and sent a wall of pure force outwards, pushing everyone to the ground. Without looking back , Anthea thought about the cave where the blonde boy had nursed her backed to health and turned. She melted into the shadows, as if a wind had swept her away.

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