{Warning! This Chapter contains sensitive content.}
As she watched on in horror, so many critically injured people were lying around everywhere on top of some hill, in the dead of the night, the only reason she was able to see was because of the three bright moons hanging on top and illuminating the dark and starless sky of the night brightly. Sophia looked at her hands and realized further that they were small, like those of a child. She muttered in a childlike, unfamiliar voice, "What’s going on?"
A sense of intense wrongness flashed through her mind as she tried to think and remember how she had even gotten here, but her mind was utterly blank. She couldn’t remember anything except for her name, Sophia: just Sophia, no last name, nothing. Then a sudden stream of huge memories started to overflow in her head: a loving mother, a loving father, an older brother—all of them, how they all loved her dearly.
Then they came, the bandits, who looted the entire village, raped the women, killed the men, threw the children in the pond, making them drown alive. A horrendous sight, but the bandits laughed aloud in the mayhem of that chaos. Her father fought with all his might against the men who wanted to destroy his family. Alas! he was but a humble farmer; how could he stand up against those who have looted, killed, and raped for their entire lives as a way of living?
But the man that her father fought against was a sadistic and disgusting wretch who realized that an instant death was too sweet an end for the peasant farmer in front of him. So the bandit did not kill her father immediately, but rather let him watch as he raped and utterly violated his wife right in front of his eyes. Sophia also watched on as her mother was raped mercilessly again and again and again. But she could do nothing. Losing his mind, her father got up and started to fight again, but the other men killed him. At the same time, the bandit continued to rape Sophia’s mother.
The poor woman was violated in front of her husband, her children, and then watched as her husband was killed as well. Sophia’s older brother was also there, unable to control his rage, he used all of his strength to escape the grasp’s of the other bandits holding him down, but he did not mindlessly rush forward for revenge, without giving into his fury, he picked up her little sister, since most of them were licking their lips in lust seeing the beautiful women being violated right in front of them. He knew what would happen to his little sister if she remained there.
He had to swallow his rage for the sake of protecting his sister. Sophia shouted aloud, not willing to leave her mother behind with those monsters, but alas! Her brother did not stop. The bandits all shouted in rage, they threw heavy rocks at them, in hopes of stopping the boy, while one rock did hit the head of Sophia, turning her unconscious. Her brother did not stop; he continued running at full speed. He was already beaten and badly injured, yet the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him going. He had no choice but to run after all.
Their village was surrounded by a deep forest on all sides. Only one path was open from it, which led to other villages, and from that very path, the pillager bandits came, so he ran in another direction. There was a mountain group located in a specific direction from their village, and a secret path led safely to the top of that mountain. A path known only to some people in the small village, since it was the only way, he ran through that pathway without stopping until he reached the very top of the mountain.
He dropped to his knees; there were so many cuts and wounds on his body, and he realized that he was not the only one. Many other villagers had come to this place. Understanding that this could be the place in the dead of the night that could shelter them, in just one night, how their entire lives were turned upside down. Then his gaze finally went towards his sister, who was in his arms. His eyes widened in terror, seeing the deep gash on the head of his little sister, from which blood was constantly pouring out.
He clutched his head using both of his hands, fear overflowing in his voice, "No, No, No....no no no."
And he was not alone; many more were just like him. They thought that they had at least rescued their loved ones, but alas, they were in such a bad condition that it was doubtful if they could survive the nightfall. The brother hurriedly tore off a piece of cloth from his attire, stopping his shaking hands, being as gentle as possible, he tied the torn cloth on her head from where blood was gushing out.
Lying her gently on a soft spot in the ground. He hurriedly searched the entire place and asked everyone about a specific person. There was only one young woman his own age who knew how to treat injuries and cure diseases; she was a gentle and pure soul who constantly worried about the health and well-being of the villagers as a whole. She could often even save people who could not be saved by usual means. She was a miracle worker.
Seeing that she was nowhere on the mountain meant only two things. Whether she was already captured, raped, or killed, just like his own mother. There was then a slim chance that she was still hiding somewhere. But he himself knew that he was trying to convince himself of the possibility of the latter. Because only she could know of a way to help his sister and save her. He wouldn’t be able to remain sane if his sister also died.
Looking back towards his bleeding and unconscious sister one more time, resolving his resolution, he ran back towards the now burning village, which was still being pillaged by the bandits nonstop. His body screamed in pain, pleading in agony, but his will was unshakable, his emotions and sadness under his control. His objective was crystal clear. He needed to find that woman, the only one who could save her sister.
Sophia gasped aloud, threw up a mouthful of blood, as the sudden rush of memories settled in her head. Her headache increased even further. But she gritted her teeth and got up. She was the little girl of a poor farmer’s family. She did not remember anything else. Which felt wrong, very, very bad, there was a sense of disconnection between her and the memories she saw.
When her mother was raped, the memories of it did not generate too much emotion in her—perhaps only a sense of disgust and anger towards those wretches.
Seeing the memories of her father’s death again, she did not feel much at this moment.
When her brother carried her away and saved her, only then did she feel something, a sense of relief as she was moved to a safer location—a slight gratitude.
When her brother went back to that place, again she did not feel anything. Since she was now safe, what happened to him was none of her concern. She frowned at herself. Why was she ? Why? There was something extremely wrong with that thought process.
Disregarding the contradictory feelings she was having, she mustered all her willpower, ignoring the pain, and started walking back towards the village, following the bloody trail that the villagers had left through the path. Her brother was too injured. She needed to bring him back, save him; otherwise, he would die.
Everyone who was there was too busy tending to their own loved ones. They were too busy to concern themselves with her safety. So, no one stopped her. Thankfully, the wound on her head had closed up by now, though now it looked utterly horrifying; it almost looked like there was a hole in her very skull. It was even a wonder how she was alive. Her steps continued to quicken; a newfound strength coursed through her small body. No, it was not strength, but some intuitive knowledge on how to run faster—a special technique.
Too many details that her small mind could not completely comprehend, but she executed the steps perfectly, somehow, by simply feeling it, but not by thinking about it. Eventually, she reached the bottom of the mountain pathway. She was stunned again as she saw all the small houses caught on fire. Countless screams resonated all over the place, and blades and swords were constantly piercing through the flesh of the villagers. Women were dragged into carriages, and children were killed or abducted.
Men killed or subdued. The same scenario, yet her feelings about it all seem distant, almost non-existent. Something which frightened her. She questioned again, why was she ? Her mind was unusually calm, and a predatory glint was trying to overtake her senses as she fought against that cold and cruel nature that was trying to emerge. But some part of that nature still overflowed, like a small cup unable to handle too much water.
Then she abruptly halted in her tracks. There in the distance was her brother. And he was running....