Chapter Text
People often describe their first memories as blurry figments of general sensations and assumptions based on stories that their parents tell them. They may be able to give a few details about moments that truly stuck with them, but even these memories are tinged with a nostalgic blur. That is not the case for me. My first memory is as clear as any memory could be and it can only be described as pure chaos.
The smell of smoke is the very first thing that I can remember. It burned far hotter than any of the flames that reached its hungry fingers toward my face. After that, the feeling of something soft surrounded me, drying the tears that slipped from my eyes and pinning me against some shiny fabric. Whatever it was, it was constantly moving. There was an almost constant bounce that was occasionally interrupted by hard jolts that threw me into something hard. After one particularly hard bump, the hard thing started to squirm against my shell. I started to move as well, trying to turn around and see the thing, but I could only catch a glimpse of something green and orange before there was another jolt.
I gave a little chirp, with four similar chirps repeating the sound behind my shell and a soft laugh from somewhere above my head. I tilted my head up to find what gave that non-bale sound, but I was entranced by something else. The area above our heads glittered with glittering stones. They were glowing, draping the surrounding area in a faint pink hue. They looked exceedingly similar to what I’ve been told surface stars look like at night, but I would argue that the gems are better. They change colors to match the sunlight above, with the pink fading to purple in my memory. I probably would have stared at those gems forever if… things hadn’t happened the way they did.
To be entirely honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened. I was staring at the gems one second, and the next, there was an extremely hard jolt that threw me away from the soft thing around me. I went flying right over it with nothing more than a startled chirp.
At that moment, it felt like time stopped. I could see the ground coming closer. I could hear panicking creatures screaming. The chirps of my bale mates echoed around me, but they went unanswered. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make a sound. I could barely even breathe. I could only watch the ground approaching me. I knew that I had to move. I didn’t know what would happen if I didn’t, but something deep down told me that I had to do something. I knew that I was watching death approach but I could not force myself to do anything. The only thing I could feel was a paralyzing fear that still haunts my nightmares. I honestly believe that the only reason I can tell this story is because my instincts kicked in at the last moment. I tucked into my shell for a brief moment before I hit the ground.
The top of my plastron hit the ground before anything else and I was blinded by sudden pain. If I thought the smoke burned my nose, then this felt like someone was dipping my entire chest into lava. I think someone screamed at that point. There might have been multiple screams, but the ringing in my ears drowned them out. Nothing existed except for the agony that was spreading through my body and grew with every inch I slid away from my bale and the cries that managed to break through the fog.
Eventually, everything stilled for a moment. Nothing moved, nothing could be heard, and every sense was mildly dulled with the shell around me and the pain that now infected my entire body. I was finally able to take a breath. It still smelled like smoke with the new addition of fresh blood, but that breath felt like nothing had before. That one breath led to the next, which was followed by even more. My chest slowly moved with each inhale and the sound of air whooshing through my nose drowned out the continued ringing and my pounding heart. Each breath came slower and softer than the last. There was a pause when something blocked the front of my shell with a world-shaking thud, but the darkness only helped to drown out everything but my breathing and heartbeat. I don’t know how long I focused on my breathing behind my walls, but I think I eventually drifted off.
Father eventually found me. He picked me up with delicate movements that barely woke me, but I just gave him a quiet chirp and drifted off again. Things got a little blurry after that. Father tells me that it was because I got ill from stress and infection. He swears that he did everything to protect me and my brothers. He swears that he looked for the others, but there was no sign that they survived. I was the only warrior he had left and he would do everything he could to make sure I would have the chance my siblings ever could. He would raise me to be a protector of the weak, a warrior for the people, and the guardian that I needed during that chaos.
I will achieve his dreams for me. He wants the best for everyone, and if I need to make some sacrifices to make that happen… Who cares about the weapon that a hero uses to save the land?