Sun and Scar

Fire

The sun burns brighter than any other star in the sky, especially on a night like tonight where
those deep and raging blood orange flames dance wildly with their golden tendrils, preforming
the most intoxicating and alluring performance, a catastrophic and beautiful act of defiance, of
overwhelming beauty, of pain, of fear, of hatred. On a night like tonight, those raging,
uncontrollable flames dance harshly against the quiet emptiness of the night sky, a sky so black
you could barely make out the silhouettes of the people shackled there, to the fire. The sun burns
brighter than any other star in the sky, the sun also screams the loudest.
Begging, Pleading, Sobbing, Screaming, the flames grew louder as the women, men, and
children burn upon those stakes. Their last words echoing in my head, getting louder and louder
as the flames grow higher and higher, neighbours I have known and friends I have lost. A man
beside me drags his child away from the ferocity of the spectacle, attempting an escape into the
darkness like most of those unfortunate enough to be a witness of such brutality. Guards bearing
the sun symbol of the royal empire strike those who attempt to flee, forcing the rest to watch
helplessly as their friends and loved ones are eaten by the flames.
I watch the fire reach its hungry arms towards Rochelle, a huntress and Shepard; she once
helped me care for a dying sparrow, nothing more than roadkill on the verge of passing, a bird so
far gone that David laughed at me when I cried for its health, yet Rochelle helped me clean it,
helped me dress the wound on the white belly of the brown feathered avian. She was kind, she
was smart, she was brave, and now she screams in fear above the stage, tied to that stake, as
flames claim her lower half. She shrieks, she shrieks like that helpless sparrow flown too close
too close to the treeline too fast to escape that hawk, a natural cycle I so desperately wanted to
interrupt, that sparrow that Rochelle once saved on my behalf. Rochelle screams now for help as
I once did for that sparrow, except no one answers her call now, and her death is not a natural
cycle of life.
David laughed at me for my compassion for a dying bird, now all he can do is scream
like Rochelle, like Tan, like Soi, like Marianne, like every poor soul tied to the stake tonight.
Tied to the stake because they are unnatural, demonic, dangerous, caught in an endless storm of
suffering as the royal guards stand indifferent to the pain, watching the chaos unravel in front of
them as if they were nothing but props, disposable objects, entities devoid of humanity, humanity
that those leeches lacked themselves, those royal dogs, those monsters.
Amidst the almost incomprehensible yelling a voice calls out to me, it’s familiar, they
know me, they know me the most. I can’t understand her. I feel a deep and irreversible
hollowness fill my chest, my heart aches, who is she? I feel a hand grip onto my upper arm, my
father pulls me away from the flames, I look at his face and am that hollowness in my chest is
filled with grief; he’s looking at the woman in the centre of the stakes, an expression I have
never seen him make plastered across his face like a portrait painted by the most cruel and
sadistic artist. I have never seen him in so much pain before, I have never seen him look so

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desperate, like some villain took a hold of his heart and held it dangling off the edge of white
cliffs above the deep, dark belly of the sea.
ARUNA! She calls to me from the centre stake and in the darkness the flames give off just
enough light to illuminate her figure, just barely I can make out her features, despite that I can
tell she is beautiful. With long, wavy brown hair and striking green eyes she resembles me, in my
memories she is ferocious, she is caring, and she is selfless. Dad always said I took after my
mother, “Stubborn, both of you.”
SEB! SEBASTIAN! TAKE ARUNA AND LEAVE ME! RUN! The flames creep up to her
legs, I suddenly become aware that many of the other stakes have stopped screaming.
My father moves as if to refuse, ATHENA-!
SEBASTIAN PLEASE! The desperation in her voice tears a hole into my chest, my
mother is never desperate, my mother never cries, she’s the strongest person I know.
MOM! The voice comes from me this time. I’m scared, tears roll down my face and I
make no effort to wipe them away. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU ALWAYS, DONT FORGET THAT! Her voice is coarse and
she is yelling, but her words are sweet and soft like morning fog glistening on a leaf, “She’s like
a cold breeze on a sweltering hot summer day,” the memory of my father’s face washes in,
bright and beaming with light watching my mother plant dragon-snaps in our quant little garden
as the sun beats down onto her, a dramatic and horrific opposition to the face he is making now.
I LOVE YOU! My father looks at a royal guard to the left of us, I’M SORRY. Tears free
themselves from his eyes and pour down his face, he doesn’t bother to wipe them away.
Kneeling down, he grabs me and holds me against his chest, looking at my mother one last time
amongst the flames before pushing his way through the crowd, carrying the face of a man who
had lost it all, somebody had held his heart over the looming white cliffs to the east and let it
drop into the deepest, darkest sea of misery. I take one last look at my forsaken mother, a look I
yearn to make last for an eternity, but the moment passes, and we vanish into the depth of the
crowd. Her words echo in my mind.
I LOVE YOU ALWAYS.
RUN.

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 Sun and Scar

Alémere

“Aruna,” Aruna’s father is a hard worker, he gets up every day at the brink of dawn and goes
to work. Being the only trusted Blacksmith in all of town has its benefits, you are bestowed with
the honour of customizing and creating “art in the form of weaponry,” as Aruna’s father puts it
so lovingly. It is true that he has always loved his craft despite working so close to the flames,
but lately that spark in his eyes has been smothered. He wakes up at the same time every day but
struggles to pull himself together, sometimes Aruna swears he resembles a husk the way his
lifeless corpse drags itself out of bed. His craft has become a chore. He is franticly searching for
his tongs now, “Aruna, dear, please,” he looks defeated. Even so, he gets up and pushes himself
to complete his work every day. Aruna reaches the tongs out to his gloved hands and he’s right
back to work.
“I’m going into town,” Aruna shoulders a beige cotton bag and places her coin purse
inside, “do you need anything?”
“Uh,” he distractedly fiddles with stray a pommel and grip that lay decapitated from its
blade, “if you are going to the market could you stop for some flour?”
Aruna started towards the door, “Sure, love you,” she closed the black-iron door behind
her and stepped into the crowded cobblestone street. Alémere is the largest city in all Nalaraine,
a bustling capitol of many cultures and people from all walks of life. People fill the busy streets,
merchants, thugs, and tourists alike, but as of late all these people have been trapped here by the
monarchy that rules over Nalaraine. The tyrant king has been said to have cut the head off the
shoulders of the late queen years ago, leaving the kingdom to fend for itself under his reign.
Since then, the cities, towns, and villages of Nalariane have all been walled away, not a single
person may come or go, and that applies to these confused, wandering tourists unfortunate
enough to have visited this city of lights and street fights those many years ago. In truth, the only
ones allowed to come and go are the guards, the royal dogs of the tyrant king, and prisoners.
Aruna makes a right turn, moving her west down Lumiere street. This street is the
busiest, the bright red and orange lights capturing the glassy eyes of tourists, and the many
thieves that hope for the distraction of such a spectacle. In downtown Alémere it is best to keep
your belongings as close to you as possible, and if you are caught letting your belongings slip, it
is best to let them go before you lose more than the change in your pockets. Today, Aruna sports
a blue, nearly black, velvet coat, the hood stays up for anonymity, the length of the fabric
surrounds her belongings, the colour accents her complexion.
Market shops and carts line the way along the road, only natural considering the foot
traffic. Aruna looks to her left towards the southern gate, one of only two gates in the whole
wall, the gate she would run through to the other side and disappear forever with her father if she
could. Her stomach twists at the sight of the mighty palace horses, pure and strong, accompanied
by an unusually large syndicate of imperial guards. And then she saw them, bile rose in her
throat as she witnessed guards unlike the others, decorated in silver and gold-plated armour all
bearing that absolutist insignia, the bright sun of our great empire, their armour impenetrable by
most magic. Aruna turned away quickly in fear of arousing suspicion; in these times being

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suspicious was deemed an offense worthy of punishment, punishment in death. Aruna held her
breath. Those special guards had been here before, and it had cost the lives of many in this town,
including Aruna’s own mother. As anyone here in Alémere was concerned, those royal pigs were
little more than cowardly monsters hiding under silver and gold. Aruna peeks once more at the
parade, this could only mean one thing, death. The insignia of the golden sun stares back at her.
Aruna moves quickly away from the gate. She stops at a familiar cart containing brightly
coloured fruits and picks a handful of apples. She exchanges five silver coins for the fruit and
moves to the stand helpfully labeled FLOUR! As the Blacksmith’s daughter it is easy to get
around the city unscathed. There is a respect for the locals, especially those that work for others
such as Sebastian, my father. The respect has not always been there, it was once a fend for
yourself, pull others down to rise above, type of city, but that was before the walls, before the
tyranny, before each of us gained one common enemy. Aruna smiles at the person selling flour,
they smile back.
“A bag of flour please,” Aruna digs through belongings in search of her coin purse, but
before she can pull it out the person behind the stand puts a hand up and drops the bag of flour
on the table in front of Aruna.
“Free of charge,” the person, easily in their late thirties, early forties, smiles and goes to
turn, “Tell Sebastian I said hello, will you?”
Aruna places her coins back into her bag and grins softly, it’s rare for kindness to show
itself in these streets, “Thank you. I will tell him you said hello.” It pays to be respected, Aruna,
remember that your kindness towards others will come back to reward you some day, Aruna’s
father’s words echo in her head, just as the evil you put into the world will come back as well,
but you will not be so lucky to be rewarded. Aruna turned away from the stall with her apples
and flour, a genuine smile on her lips, and then it faded once more. Distracted, she took a step
forward into the crowded street, she noticed too late that people were moving out of the way of
something, until that something knocked into her, sending her bag of goods out into the road, the
apples rolling pitifully on the cobblestone ground. Aruna caught herself barely, a wave of anger
coursing through her. She glared up at the unknown assailant with rage in her eyes, her hood had
fallen off and the man could see the face of a very hungry, and frankly, pissed off woman. Those
apples looked delicious, what a waste. The man had stopped for only a second to look back at the
damage he had done, he was tall, wearing dark clothing and a black hoodie that covered his hair,
although some had peeked through either from the tussle, or from running like a mad man
through the busiest street of all Alémere. His eyes were a striking gray colour, and those eyes
were glowering at Aruna. The nerve! Despite his would-be beautiful features if he wasn’t a total
asshole, the most striking thing of his appearance was the numerous scars that littered his perfect
appearance like a neglected marble sculpture left to weather and crack. Aruna, struck and
fascinated, froze. She was going to tell him off, but before she could process the words he was
already gone. Just before his rude departure he had looked through the crowd like someone was
following him, like he had been in danger, and the stone-cold façade wavered for a millisecond,
an expression washed over his face and was gone in an instant, the façade recovering, he didn’t
even bother to look in Aruna’s direction let alone offer a hand before he was gone. No one
chased him. The encounter was strange, that’s for certain. But one thing stuck with her as she
was helped to her feet by the passing strangers was her curiosity of the story behind all those
scars, and that chilling expression on his face, it was all too familiar.
As Aruna collected her pathetic apples from the cobblestones she thought about her
father, at least he would have his flour now. She moved hastily back to her house, that sinking

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feeling in her stomach still lingered from the sight of those guards and the weird encounter with
that man, something was not right. Tonight, the town would be herded into the town square, and
the situation was seeming more dire. Aruna passed the opening that gave her a clear line of sight
from the street to the gate, then it registered, the man had been running from this direction and
the man had been looking in this direction with that fearful look on his face. She needed to make
it home as soon as she could.

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 Sun and Scar

Peril

Aruna slammed the front door open in a rush, closing it just as hard.
“Dad?” She locked the door behind her and paced deeper into the house, putting down
her bag with the dented apples and the sack of flour she had promised. “DAD?”
No noise came when she called him again and again, only the empty silence of the
blacksmith, she turned into his workshop and looked in. She sank to the ground, her heart
stopped. The forge was still hot, still burning, and Sebastian was nowhere to be found. I’ll be
damned if I ever leave the fire burning while I am away, he had been joking, but the words cut
into Aruna’s gut, she felt sick, If the fire is ever running and I am not there just assume the
worst, Aruna.
Once she checked throughout the house, she grabbed a key and took off through the door,
running down the street once more, past pedestrians, horses, and carriages. At one point Aruna
knocked wildly into a passer-by, barely stopping for an apologetic glance at the poor civilian.
Now I must look like the madman. She continued running through the streets until she got back to
the south gate, the sun was setting now on Alémere, beautiful and vibrant colours filled the sky,
but Aruna knew this night would end with darkness. A vision of flames crept in from the deepest
corners of her mind, a woman’s silhouette illuminated by the paralyzing fire. Out of breath and
exhausted, she franticly scanned the gates surroundings in search of her father, and she pushed
those thoughts back into the depths. Guards were preparing, only time will tell what they had
planned. First, she needed to find her dad. A large group of guards moved away, and she spotted
a carriage open and ready, waiting for occupation, two royal dogs stood at the stern. Aruna
ducked behind a nearby lamp post for cover. Four more guards came into view, they were
dragging a prisoner with them. The prisoner walked upright, but their panicked steps gave away
their internal fear. A bag covered his head and shackles covered his wrists and ankles, but Aruna
knew then that what she was seeing was the abduction of her father. Her heart dropped and she
gripped onto the lamp post she posted on. An immediate reaction, tears fell uncontrollably from
her face, and she sobbed. She neither cared that she was crying in public, nor did she heed
caution for the aggravating guards that had just taken her father. Aruna knew this meant the end,
no one who ever left these damn stone walls ever came back. He can’t be gone. They only had
each other left, Sebastian and Aruna were inseparable, she took after him with his craftsmanship
and his compassion. You take after your mother, her dad had loved every quality of her mother,
he has said that Aruna takes after her for one specific thing the most, you’re stubborn. He was
right. What are you doing here crying for? That won’t change a damn thing! Aruna grounded
herself and stared at her father being thrown into the back of the carriage, but this time a fire had
been lit under her, and she was not going to let it burn. She needed a plan. She needed to escape.

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 Sun and Scar

Escape

Aruna was stubborn, that one thing is for certain, and faced with the possible death of the one
person she loved in this world, she was willing to risk it all. That night the civilians of Alémere
had been rounded into the town square like barn animals. The night sky had long since engulfed
the once pretty sunset into darkness. The people were anxious, murmurs of that night years ago
floated around the crowd, a mother beside Aruna pulled her child tight to her chest. Aruna held
back tears as she thought of her father, alone and afraid in that carriage. He was a tough man,
there is no doubt he worried more about Aruna than he did himself, but this thought only
furthered Aruna’s misery. She pushed it back.
The stage was almost completely empty, no sign on a stake to be lit, no one in impending
doom strapped to the stake. If they found magic users, surely there would be fire to be set, and
someone to burn. Even so, three young people knelt with their hands shackled behind their backs
and bags over their heads upon the stage, guards on either side. The figures of two of the three
people seemed familiar, they were locals I recognized, but couldn’t decipher their identities.
Guards surrounded the mass of civilians, Aruna remained promptly in the middle. Being in the
middle meant playing dead if they opened fire, not too close to the stage, not too close to the
edge, never beside a guard. The royal guards were not always leeches, not always those blood-
sucking, murderous excuses of a creation called Harvesters. You would know if a Harvester
stood beside you, their eyes gleam with a craving of your soul, their hair white like fresh snow.
Their fingernails long and sharp like claws, their K9 teeth sharp like fangs, and their skin paler
than the white cliffs to the east. They might blend in like humans in guard armour, or even in the
vast streets of Alémere, but they will never be human. There is no doubt that at least one of the
royal dogs was a leech. Aruna shuddered.
“Hello citizens of Alémere!” A demanding voice boomed from the stage, a guard stood
there, towering over the crowd, “The great nation of Nalaraine is honoured to have such loyal
members such as yourself here in the capitol, the Kingdom looks down on you with an immense
pride,” the man lowered his hands from raising them up toward the dark, looming towers making
up the castle of sun, positioned to the north, appropriately over-seeing the city from within its
own set of walls and a moat, almost completely decapitated from the poor, meaningless people
down below, “but…” the crowd grew more nervous, “there appears to have been some within
this city who believe that they are above the law, that they are the righteous ones under god.”
The man unveiled the three