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The last thing Cherri saw was a spark.
Maybe it was the torch her father had been gripping onto as she floated away from the dock.
Perhaps it was the determination in the eyes of her father as he ran back up the dizzying twisted staircase they’d just gotten through moments ago.
She wished it wasn’t the highest pyres of Soluna’s ancient castle, where she could still hear her mother reading her tales of heroes in shining armor and dragons.
But soon the light that stung her eyes was farther and farther out of her grasp.
As the night grew quieter and her former life grew more distant in the horizon, Cherri laid her arms and slumped her head over the back end of the small boat. She couldn’t stop thinking about the citizens, her citizens, that she’d seen get mauled and slaughtered by fierce beasts of armor and of fur. She couldn’t save them. The closest thing she could do to save them was to preserve their memories, their legacies. And wait. She had to wait. The mere thought of having a chance at escape, with some knight she’d only met in passing, while her kingdom was brought to ruins gnawed at her. This wasn’t fair. As Cherri looked to the night sky littered with the same stars she wished to as a young girl, she made a wish for the safety of her father and her citizens. And though the stars could not grant her wishes like they seemingly had when she was younger, she beckoned to them all the same.
Later in the night, as the quiet ocean rocked her to sleep, Cherri’s mind drifted far from the sea and back through Soluna. She could see flames and pools of deep crimson blood. Friends and royal advisors strewn across the floors of the castle as if they were nothing more than petals picked off a flower. Cherri floated through the corridors littered with everyone she had known until she reached the throne room. There, she saw her father in a state unnervingly foreign to her. All the quiet strength and practiced calm in his demeanor was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was cowering in the corner, slumped on the back of the throne itself. His hands, upon her closer investigation, were bloodied. She could faintly spot a dark pooling stain growing in her father’s side. Then, a masked and armored figure tore through the ornate wooden door, tearing it clean in half with an axe whose blade was bigger than their head. The figure made a running start straight to the king. They grabbed him by his collar and dragged him out of hiding and threw him to the floor. Before the king could react, the axe swung down. And his head rolled. Cherri, from where her mind had placed her, was just in front of the two. And her father’s severed head stopped its rotation at her feet, locking its glazed eyes on hers.
And then she woke up.
Cherri abruptly flinched and, as her senses and surroundings quickly returned to her, began to weep. She covered her mouth with her hand and hastily tried to wipe away her tears. It was all too real. She didn’t care that she was now miles away from her father, from Soluna. Her being away was a mistake. She needed to be there. The knight stopped her rowing and quickly turned around. Cherri turned to face her as the boat slowed. The knight tilted her head slightly.
“I’m fine,” Cherri murmured, “Nightmare. Nothing more.”
The knight nodded before quickly returning to leading them through the water. Cherri felt her face begin to flush and stubbornly ignored it as she continued to lay and face the way they’d come.
As the moon’s cold beams shone above the waters of Giltide, the boat slowly came to a stop, only being gently rocked by the waves. The princess had dozed off where she sat, with the faintest streaks of tears having ran down her face long ago. Apo turned her head and locked eyes on the sleeping princess. She sighed as she made a feeble attempt to stretch out her armored limbs. The mission was simple and clear: Get the princess to safety. Apo knew that was a loaded task, as they were sure to face new dangers wherever they were headed. But she was ready.
Apo, upon gazing at the princess, couldn’t help but remember first meeting her long ago. She was only a year or two older than her, and they’d found each other briefly in the castle’s gardens. Cherri was running about in the grass while her mother tended to a rose bush. The young princess stopped at the feet of the apprentice and excitedly motioned for her to wait. Before Apo could blink, Cherri had reappeared with a small budding torchflower, still dusted with the dirt from where it was just pulled. Cherri giggled as she waved a finger around the flower and watched it begin to glow. Apo watched with fascination as the flower sparked and particles of light traveled around Cherri’s hand. Cherri offered the flower up to Apo, but the moment she tried to grab it, her hand was stopped mid-air by a larger hand gloved with old leather that scratched at her skin. And she was dragged away before she could even open her mouth.
“You,” the older man said, digging his gloved finger into Apo’s chest, “Are not to engage with the princess so casually. You are a knight. Your only purpose in this kingdom is to serve the royal family. But until then, you train. And you do not let them see you as anything other than a shield. A sword. A protector.”
Apo had been taught how to throw a punch before she could read. She learned to raise a shield to her little face with no one to wipe away the tears from it. All she was allowed to know was how to best defend Soluna. But once, she used to dream.
When she would lay her head down on her measly cot to rest, her imagination would paint her vivid scenes of her and the princess being nothing more than themselves. There was no kingdom, no expectation. It was just the Sun and the Moon. The dreams would shift between daring scenes of the girls riding away on horseback into the sunset to something as small as that moment in the garden except Apo takes the flower. The dreams faded as she grew up, leaving her mind with pure empty silence between the late nights on duty and the early mornings training in heavy armor before dawn.
Back on the boat, Apo still kept her gaze on the princess, who’d begun grimacing in her sleep surely due to another night terror. Apo thought for a moment before she undid her star speckled cape and gently draped it over the princess. Her face slowly relaxed. As Apo took in the sight before her; the sleeping princess physically embraced by their cape under the moonlight, something strange occurred. Her face twitched as her body yearned to feel anything else other than the cold steel over her beating heart. This was nothing more than a mission. Her duty. What she was born to do. She was not allowed to let anything compromise her focus, especially not her own defective feelings.
Apo turned her head back towards the front of the boat and returned to the monotonous rowing forward. But something in her began to shift. There was this foreign warmth that she could only let fester and rot, refusing its bloom. A light. The princess, with no use of her own powers, had lit a fire inside of Apo that was not so easily extinguished.
The first thing Apo felt was a spark.