Defy

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THE CRACKLE AND hiss of the flames devouring our house couldn’t block out the screaming and wailing of those who were still alive. My friends, the children, and babies. Orphans. Most of the men were dead. For how few of us there were, scattered around what used to be our village, the noise was almost deafening. I stood in the damp mud in front of our home, pressing my hands to my ears, trying to shut out the sounds. My jaw was clenched, but I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up and slipping down my cheeks.

“Alexa, hurry!” Marcel grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away. But I yanked out of his grip.

“I can’t leave them,” I said, still staring at what remained of my mother and father. I did not look at my brother. Nor at the flames engulfing our home. Nor at the backs of the retreating enemy. Not even at the king’s army, which had become visible on the horizon. It had materialized too late from the depths of the jungle that wrapped around our village, finally scaring off the Blevonese soldiers, but not before their sorcerer had done this.

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