Author's Note: Hey guys! Twistedwonderland here with the newest installment to Children Disowned by Time. I know it's been a while and you have every reason to throw rotten fruit and yell at me for being inactive, and I probably deserve it. Writing, to me personally, isn't something that you can just do on a whim. You need inspiration and the drive to do it...or else what you write will come off as crappy and lazy and just plain BLEH! And I don't want to give you guys that cannon fodder. I want to make sure everything I write is at the best quality that I can possibly give, hence why it takes a while for me to update stories. But enough of that, let's get on with the story! I hope you enjoy Cynthia's segment because I had a ball writing it out.
Skyward Heroine
"My life in the future? Well, I cared for Mother's pegasus after she...you know. And I trained hard and learned how to fight! ...It was tough without a dad to teach me. But now that we've got the chance, why don't we practice together?"
The sun was beating down on her as she knelt down in the cool grass, hands busied with the task at hand. Carefully, Cynthia weaved the flower stems with practiced ease, a skill that has greatly improved after the countless attempts beforehand. Who knew making flower crowns could be so difficult? Cynthia had to give props to her mother for being so adept at the art of flower crown making, let alone having the patience to teach her how to make her own flower crowns. She remembered her first time failing to keep the flowers tied together, resulting in ripped petals and frustrated screaming.
How embarrassing, Cynthia winced as she recalled the event, but she didn't let her mind drift off. Instead, she quickly focused back on the current flower crown that she'd been making. Already, settled in her lap, was a finished flower crown that was much larger than the one little Cynthia busied herself with. This one had lilies woven together with a small bunch of blue forget-me-nots here and there to give it color. She planned on giving this one to her father once he returned home. The one in her hands that was still in the making was made completely of irises – the flowers of Ylisse and the favorites of her mother.
Her father, a knight of Ylisse who worked closely with the Exalt, had been away for months on a campaign with the Shepherds, a large group of warriors whom she knew were famous for their grand heroics and battle prowess. To know that her father was a part of them and called them his friends made Cynthia's heart swell with pride, for she always thought her father to be a hero and to know that the rest of the kingdom thinks so as well made her heart soar. The sudden call caught both her parents and herself off guard, but duty called and her father had to answer, especially since her mother was already a retired pegasus knight. She remembered seeing him rush to get his armor and weapons, dress himself for the journey and gather needed supplies. She remembered him kissing her mother and hugging her close, whispering a promise to return safe and sound as soon as possible before mounting his horse and disappearing into the horizon.
The day he left was sad, but Cynthia knew he had a duty to his king – every hero does. Cynthia dreamed of being a hero someday. The same kind of hero that her father is – the one with honor, who practiced the chivalric code; a hero who was kind to the innocent and slayed the villains. She knew if she were to become a hero herself, she'd have to toughen up, and her first step was to shed no tears and she accomplished that when her father had to join with the other Shepherds. The next step was to learn how to fight; and once her father returns home today, she will ask for his guidance and he'll teach her the how-tos on becoming a hero. She had even helped take car the pegasi and horses that were in the stables just so she could provide some proof to her father about how responsible she was now, and that she was ready to be trained to be a hero.
A wide grin stretched across her face as she finished her mother's flower crown. Oh! How proud her mother will be once she sees the fruits of her labor, both in making the flower crowns and for doing her daily chores faster than usual today. Even better once her father arrives. Speaking of arrival…
Cynthia looked to the skies and noticed that the sun was already halfway through its slow decent down the horizon.
Mother did say Father will be returning by late afternoon, Cynthia recalled what her mother had told her after she had received a letter from a messenger bird about her father's return. I better get myself back home! Heroes are never late!
The small brunette girl gathered the two flower crowns before running through the field, nearly tripping over her own legs as she descended from the slope of the hill. Her caramel eyes were bright with excitement. With her father's return came so many promising things – official hero training, someone to help her tie her hair in the morning, more stories of daring deeds and heroic escapades, and so much more! Cynthia was practically jittering with excitement.
The homey wooden cottage that Cynthia was lucky enough to call home soon came into view and the young girl's sharp eyes immediately noticed two dark brown horses lounging about near the front of her home. The horses weren't just regular horses either; they carried shields at their sides and were practically dressed in their own armor.
War horses, Cynthia registered. Slowly, her smile made its way up to her face – her expression as bright as the sun itself. Father is home!
She forced herself to run faster, picking up her legs higher and pushing herself forward until she zipped by the stretch of pasture that acted as her backyard and ran right on by the pegasi/horse stables that her mother and father had built together when they bought the cottage years before Cynthia was even born. But how fast she was running didn't stop her from greeting her mother's pegasi. It would be rude if she didn't, and that is very unbecoming of a future hero.
Cynthia pushed the backdoor of the cottage open, the two flower crowns she'd made dangled in her hands. "Mother, is Father—"
Her voice died out as she looked on at what greeted her. Two Ylissean soldiers were standing inside her home, bearing looks of grief and carrying what looked to be a piece of her father's armor, only it was scratched and in terrible condition – not shining and squeaky clean like her father always kept it. Her eyes instantly locked onto her mother, her dear, heroic mother, who was sitting on her favorite wooden chair, the one Father had made her for their anniversary two years ago, hunched over with her hands over her face and her body trembling.
"…home?"
"Yep! My pegasus is the very same one that you used to ride. When my mother was killed back in my time, her pegasus made its way back to me. She told me what Mother said just before she died... "Please, return to Cynthia. Look after her and protect her." She—well, you—sent your pegasus to me so I'd have something to remember you by."
She was tired. She was so, so, so very tired.
There was an ache in her bones that just wouldn't go away, even with the danger of battle surrounding her in all directions. From above, she could see Cherche and Minerva with Cordelia and other pegasi knights and wyvern riders clashing with the airborne Risen; and down below on the ground were the other Shepherds, fighting either on foot or on horseback with either a sword, lance, axe or with magic, who fought with a violent vigor in order to keep the uncountable Risen forces at bay while the residents of the village they'd been protecting evacuate to a safer area. Even with all of this going on, Sumia just couldn't get rid of the horrible ache in her body. In fact, she was surprised that she was still capable of sitting upright on her mount.
Keep it together, Sumia, she thought to herself. Stay focused and stand tall. Your friends need you. Cynthia needs you back at home!
The thought of her daughter patiently waiting for her return back in their current home within the stone walls of Ylisstol was enough to wake her up. Her husband's death, despite it being a whole three years since that dreadful day, still weighed heavily on both of their minds. She loved her husband with all of her being and with his death, it felt as if she had lost a part of herself – her other half. Even worse on Cynthia's part, seeing as she looked up to her father and idolized him since the day she was capable of speech. Cynthia had wanted him to teach her how to fight, not her. But it's not like Cynthia refused her offer to learn, but Sumia could see the disappointment – the sadness – in her eyes.
It was too bad, really… Sumia saw the makings of a wonderful Pegasus Knight in Cynthia, but if her daughter wished to follow further in her father's footsteps and become a Great Knight, then she would happily support her without a second thought.
However, decisions like those are still a long ways away. Cynthia didn't need her hovering around midair reveling in fantasies of times to come. She needed her mother alive and intact when she comes home. Sumia needed to stop getting lost in her daydreams and focus more on surviving the battle.
She tightened her grip on the reigns of her mount in one hand and on the shaft of her spear in the other as she swooped down in a white blur. With a precise, well-timed wide-arch swing, she was able to dispatch at least twelve Risen foot soldiers in one attack before shooting back up into the sky to choose her next target. She spotted a Risen myrmidon whose eyes were set on shoving its blade deep into the back of a preoccupied Henry, who was much too busy blasting Risen apart in bright flashes of lightning strikes from his Thoron tome to even notice the oncoming enemy.
With a loud battle cry, she and her pegasus dived downward. The tip of her spear sunk deep into the undead myrmidon's chest in one easy thrust. She swung her spear upwards, cleaving the monster in two just before it had the chance to raise its sword against her. The Risen dispersed in a cloud of purple smoke that stank of rot and death – one of the many reasons why Sumia despised the beings more than anything.
"Are you alright, Henry?" she asked, sweat dripping from her forehead.
"Feelin' just peachy," the white-haired sorcerer chuckled, though his brows were furrowed with concentration as he fired another strike of lightning from the palm of his hand, pages of his tome flipping wildly as the spell was cast. "Really saved me from bein' skewered to death. It would probably be a pretty painful death, but I'd appreciate a death like that at a better time than this."
The way Henry smiled at her would usually send chills down her spine, but this time, it was different. She could see the wear-and-tear in the dark mage; how his hands aren't held up as straight as usual whenever he casted a spell or how his smile and creepy little chortle was more strained. He was as tired as she was in this fight.
Sumia saw his wife was nowhere to be seen – the very thought gave Sumia a sick feeling in her chest – leaving Henry to fend for himself in the battle, hopefully for the time being. The Risen were already beginning to crowd around him before she had came in and slayed the myrmidon. Henry needed all the help he could get to make it out of this battle alive.
Help that Sumia gladly provided.
Without even needing to ask Henry for permission to assist, she had already thrown herself into the action. She kept her pegasus flying low enough for her to nearly be at Henry's back as she swung and thrusted her spear into the chests and heads of every Risen warrior that got within a foot near the duo. While she twirled her silver lance, making quick work of the nearby Risen, Henry removed the ones that stood from afar – archers and warriors bearing throwing axes or lances. Together, they made a pretty good team.
Henry turned to face her. "I can handle the rest of these suckers. Go help Cordelia and Cherche. I think they need their third fighter back."
Glancing back up to the skies where she once was, Sumia could see what Henry meant by that. She could see the silhouettes of Cordelia's pegasus and Minerva circling the skies, each carrying a large trail of aerial Risen who seemed hell-bent on knocking off each of the mounts' individual riders.
"Are you sure?" She knew she was needed back with Cordelia and Cherche, but Henry was all on his own. Who knew what became of his wife and usual battle partner?
As if he could read Sumia's mind, Henry's usually creepy smile faded into a grim line. "Don't worry about me. Now go!"
Without another word, Sumia took to the skies once more. She zipped by three Risen wyvern lords and dispatched them with a skilled swing of her spear, lopping off each of their heads. She removed the throwing lance that she had holstered near her saddle and carefully targeted one of a Dark Rider that dangerously closed in on Cordelia's tail. Sumia threw the spear with all of her strength and watched with mild satisfaction as the weapon slammed into the female Risen's chest, sending it barreling to the ground; its undead mount now flying chaotically without its rider to guide it.
Cordelia dispatched the rest of the Risen that surrounded her with a stream of fire from her Arcfire tome. The red-head glanced upward to meet Sumia's gaze. "Thanks for the rescue—" Her eyes went wide. "Sumia, behind you!"
"Huh?"
Sshnk!
Time seemed to have slowed down. Sumia had barely even managed to turn her head before a silver arrow lodged itself deep into the center of her back. She didn't even feel any pain – just the force of the weapon hitting her and a falling sensation.
Wait, Sumia blinked and noticed her pegasus getting further and further away from her. I am falling…
The pain finally made itself known when her body slammed unmercifully to the ground. It spread through her body like fire in a forest. All she could feel was the pain – nothing else. She tried moving her legs, arms, fingers – nothing. She couldn't move at all. Everything was slowly fading away; her vision was beginning to dim as with the rest of her senses. She could barely even hear the sounds of battle that surrounded her or Cordelia's desperate scream… Or was that Cherche? Henry maybe? She didn't know.
Her pegasus flew down to her side and lowered its head toward her, gently nudging her face as a futile attempt to get her back up on her feet. The small action brought tears in her eyes. Her pegasus – her most loyal friend and most trusted companion, second to her dear husband and…
She gasped. Cynthia… Gods, what would her daughter do now? Sumia knew she was dying – the lull of sleep seemed to tug at her now, only she knew it wasn't sleep that called to her. It was Death. Death was going to claim her, just like he did to her husband, leaving her daughter all alone.
Another nudge from her faithful mount.
She knew what to do.
"Go," she managed to gasp. This was going to be the last command she would ever give to her pegasus. "Go back to her. Go back home to Cynthia. Please…" Tears were cascading down her face. The finality of it all finally dawning on her. She will never get to see her daughter again – her smile, the bounce of her hair… Nothing.
Her pegasus neighed in protest, stomping his front hoof down to the ground to say his refusal to leave his rider behind.
Sumia shook her head, a sad smile on her face as she prepared her goodbye. "You can't save me. I'm sorry," she said. "Please, return to Cynthia. Look after her. Protect her. Do it for me…"
Her vision went black. But when she heard the sound of wings flapping into the air and felt a powerful gust of wind blow down on her, she smiled.
Cynthia rose up from her bed, body sore and eyes still blurred with sleep as she made her way to the front door of the red-stone home that she and her mother currently lived in in Ylisstol. The lazy slams that came from the wooden door grated at her nerves. Whomever was outside was going to get the lecture of a lifetime on how heroes needed their sleep in order to be energized to continue on with their heroic deeds of…heroicness.
She winced. She'll need to work on that later.
THUMP! THUMP!
"Alright! Alright! I'm coming," she yelled out as she descended the cold wooden staircase. "Hold your horses. Geez…"
She grabbed the door's iron handle and threw it open with a pout on her face. "Alright – who's knocking at the door this early in the—" Her eyes lit up with recognition. "You're back!"
Cynthia threw her thin little arms around the neck of her mother's pegasus, squealing with joy as she did so. She pulled back and immediately all irritation from being woken up at the crack of dawn completely disappeared.
"I can't believe your home! Did the battle turn out fine? How about the other Shepherds? Did they do good? Was the village saved? Geez, why are you so scratched up? Did the Risen hurt you? Do you need water? Food? A Bath?" Her long motor-mouth questions came to a stop as she realized that a certain someone was missing.
"Where's Mother?"
The pegasus's eyes looked straight into hers. There was only silence as he conveyed his message through a single look in a language that only Cynthia, Sumia and Cordelia could understand.
Cynthia took a shaky step back, the realization finally dawning on her. Her brown eyes traced over every scratch, every wound, and every blemish on the pegasus's coat. Then her gaze fell on a patch of blood that seemed to camouflage itself in the dark coloring of her mother's saddle.
She fell to her knees as hot tears ran down her face, her hands bunched up into tight fists as she crumpled the end of her nightgown in her grip. The only sound that resonated throughout the lonely little red brick home being the sobs of a lonely little girl.
I hope you enjoyed Cynthia's segment! Feel free to leave your thoughts, criticism and "violent" reactions in the reviews for me to see and maybe, if you're lucky, I just might respond to them. Next one up is probably going to be one of my favorites since the star will be Cordelia's hotblooded daughter, Severa! So keep your eyes peeled for that. Until next time! Thank you for reading. :)