1 | Fleeting Harvest
Running never did seem to come to an end in this realm. No amount of haste kept the formless horrors from nipping at his heels, even as a desperate, sprinting pace ushered his boots ever forward across the coarse ground. Clumsy footfalls shattered any dream he had of moving stealthily, his feet skidding against the loose stones and crumbling hillsides of the Northlands.
Those days were far behind us. The running resumed. It never truly stopped, until — an agonized gasp rattled from the depths of his chest as he crumpled gracelessly to the ground. Blood streaked across his arms, dripping from his torn-up palms as delicate skin met stone shards in a mad scramble to find his footing again. Exhaustion set in as new wounds compounded atop the old, and the smell of blood sent a wave of sickness through him.
There was no chance, he thought. I won't make it much farther.
Retreat to better days...
Autumn winds whistled through the city streets, carrying the telltale chill of the changing seasons. Aurel was immaculate in the warmth of summer, and the sunshine it brings, but there was a reason the Kingdom of Arsavela was nicknamed the Kingdom of Autumn; relishing in this hint of the season to come, Aurel's young princess grinned wide in anticipation for the city's most vibrant months of the year.Colors had not yet started to change, but she could swear she saw the hints of orange beginning to show within the trees, an observation she would share with anyone who would give her a listening ear. Today it was her mother, who offered her attention so tenderly.
"Is change a bad thing, mom?" The young girl asked, just one of a long chain of tough questions to answer.
"Change is everything, dearest. It builds our world." The queen pulled her daughter close, pressing a kiss against her head as she spoke with a knowing voice only a mother could summon. "I will change, and so will you. My love will follow you in any form you take."
The princess lacked the understanding then, to put the feeling into words, but she just knew that so long as the queen smiled, her joy would ensure that the warmth of summer never truly faded, even as the seasons changed. Even as she did.
Those days were far behind us. The running resumed. It never truly stopped, until — an agonized gasp rattled from the depths of his chest as he crumpled gracelessly to the ground. Blood streaked across his arms, dripping from his torn-up palms as delicate skin met stone shards in a mad scramble to find his footing again. Exhaustion set in as new wounds compounded atop the old, and the smell of blood sent a wave of sickness through him.
Gasping, ragged breaths caught in his chest as he failed again and again to return to his feet and continue his escape. He could feel his assailants descending upon him in his vulnerable position, prompting him to redouble his efforts to rise, only to fall limp to the ground. With his last ounce of strength, he was resolved to face his death with dignity — not with a turned back. The effort to make this final motion drew a horrid groan past his lips, tears streaking down his face as his back thudded to the ground.
The barren treeline was all that met his blurred gaze.
Quiet fell upon the rocky woods as his labored breathing slowed, growing silent as he waited, eyes darting across the scenery in search of the threat that hounded him so mercilessly. Did they give up the chase? No — they would always be pursuing him.
The crowns of the trees above began to spin as his eyes drifted upwards. Before his sight was overtaken by the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, he could swear he saw the barest hint of orange forming among their leaves.
Oh no! D:
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