Feel free to leave comments and suggestions. I only recently started writing, and do this in my spare time between work, etc.

Thanks for reading!

[-][-][-][-][-]

The fire lazily crackled, as she watched with half-lidded eyes, from above.

Her memories had been stripped. Nothing was familiar, yet she could not remember what was. She had awoken to darkness, the feeling of claustrophobia clouding her senses. She clawed, screaming, at stone above her…tears streaming down her cheeks.

She had not known how long her nightmare had lasted, until the moment arrived that she came to, hearing the gritty sound of stone moving. Her eyes squinted, blinded by the low light from her endless torment in the dark. A vague silhouette of a figure etched itself in her mind.

It had disappeared, once her vision had fully returned. She eased her weary body through the newly made opening, finding herself crawling on soil. She laughed and cried, all at once, taking a handful of the dirt in her hands.

She looked up. It was dawn, or dusk, she could not tell. Around her large cliffs jetted into the sky, blocking the horizon all around her. The landscape was irregular, giving the impression as though she was within a mountain ravine.

Near her were numerous tombs. They appeared ancient and weathered…forgotten. She turned around, and staggered away, in shock, trembling.

She had been buried alive.

Tears emerged again, and she found herself openly weeping. It was a nightmare. It was hell.

She stared at her prison for a while, contemplating what her next action should be. She looked down at her naked form. It felt…odd, as though she should be covered, yet could not remember why or in what.

In the distance, she noticed a break in the cliffs, where more the sunlight poured in. She decided to make her way towards it. Shakily, she rose to her feet, using a nearby tree root for support. How long had it been since she had stood?

Muscle memory returned, and she found herself taking small steps forward, down a small hill. The flattened area was flooded with water, which stopped below her knees.

She looked to her left, noticing a body in front of a broken reservoir of sorts. The stone cliffs opened into a larger area. On the sides were, what appeared to be, remnants of an old ruins. Where was she?

Cautiously, she made her way to the body. Was this a person, like her, lost? She knelt next to them, reaching out to shake them awake. No movement. Were they…

She saw a dark, red puddle, that surrounded them. She shifted the body over, and saw large stab wounds in their chest.

Murdered.

Their face had been distorted…almost skeletal. It unnerved her, the entirety of the situation. This person…they didn't seem, human, yet they had bled.

She propped them back up over the cracked basin, and continued forward. A chill crept over her bare spine, as an ominous breeze swept through the ravine. Eventually, her feet found dry ground again, and she could see a brightness from a smaller pathway in the narrow cliff edges.

She passed another corpse, the blood having dried sometime before. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, kneeling over the body to remove its clothes. Was it sacrilege? She did not know, but her aching, cold bones craved warmth.

She put the tattered garment over her torso, noting the smell of death that lingered. A nightmare, it could be nothing less. Shame washed over her, as she looked upon the naked, murdered corpse.

Her instinct for survival kicked in, and she pressed onwards, stepping out onto the edge of a cliff. She gasped; it was beautiful. The setting sun casted warm glows across the land. Mountains and low valleys were scattered all before her. To her left, was a large, grey structure.

More corpses littered the trail. What did all this? Were one of these poor people her savior? The thought saddened her, as she peeked through a large entrance, into a rotunda.

There was a fire in the middle, slowly burning over a pile of ashes. Pieces of bone could be seen poking out, mixed within the white dust. To the left was a large mass of black. She avoided it, keeping to the right along the edge. The blackness appeared to still shimmer. It felt dangerous. A word flashed in her head: consumed.

She moved forward, through another entranceway, seeing a large building up a steep hill. Tree roots, graves, and rubble surrounded her. It looked like this ground, all if it, was falling. As though sections of it had broken off during an earthquake.

She felt the smooth stone underneath, and kept to the right wall, as she entered the, seemingly, abandoned ruins.

Before her was a large amphitheater, with giant, stone thrones lining the right, inner circular portion. At the base was the small, dimly burning fire…

A shuffle snapped her from her thoughts. The firekeeper had moved. She was seated upon some of the stone steps, that rose diagonally, and over, the lower entranceway. The echoing madness of the blacksmith's hammer resumed.

She had…hidden herself; preferring to watch from the shadows. In fact, her presence had gone, mostly, unnoticed by the inhabitants. Perched within a recess on the upper level, she observed the occasional interactions below. The firekeeper was a beautiful, fragile woman…donned in black, embroidered dress, and crowned with a silver ornate mask, which covered her eyes.

A man sat near the entrance, next to a pillar…a shield propped up against one of his bent legs. He wore armor similar to chainmail, spending his time gazing blankly at the fire. In the distance, the bare-chested blacksmith continued his repetitious strikes. She had caught a glimpse of an old woman, clothed in dusty robes, sitting within a recess of the interconnecting hallway.

If there were more, she did not know. She felt almost as though she didn't belong, but where would she go? She couldn't even remember who she was.

The fire started to brighten, and the flames increases. She saw the beautiful firekeeper stand up. A figure appeared, ghostly at first, then solidifying.

They were cladded in shining, steel armor, which hid any trace of the person inside. On their left arm was a tall, silver shield. In their right hand, a sword, roughly three feet in length. It was like a knight, out of a medieval fairy tale.

A sharp pain flared in her head, and she put her palms over her eyes, curling up. An image flashed: bright lights…rain.

She breathed in and out a few times, coming to her senses. She looked back where the knight had been. He was gone. The firekeeper had returned to her previous position.

The fire intrigued her. Was it a portal? She looked around the ancient temple. Silence prevailed, once again, and the familiar pounding echoed. She made the decision to reveal herself, as curiosity overtook her fear. Slowly, she crawled out, and straightened herself.

The man by the pillar paid no notice, or simply did not care. She proceeded down the right, following the descending stairs. She noticed one of the thrones on her left, possessing a thick, wet covering. It made her shutter.

Her steps were quiet, and inaudible. She neared the firekeeper, keeping a distance. Suddenly, the ornate mask snapped towards her. The beautiful woman stood up.

"Another Ashen One…"

She backed up against the wall, terror on her face. The firekeeper walked towards her.

"You are not chosen, yet…"

The firekeeper's delicate fingers wrapped around her dirty hands.

"I will still assist thee, Ashen One. Do not fear."

She heard a menacing chuckle.

"Another fool…oh, what have we done to deserve this entertainment?"

She glanced up at the man with a shield. He had narrowed his eyes on her, a malicious smirk plastered on his face.

"Fear? You will not survive long here, I'm afraid…it matters not though."

He turned back to the fire.

The fire, it once again, beckoned her. She let her hand slip from the firekeeper's grasp, as she cautiously made her way towards it, her eyes fixated on her goal. A sword, ancient, rose from the center…the flames caressing its entirety. Her body craved to get closer, and before she knew it, her hand was reaching out, touching the hot hilt.

She expected to be burned, but what happened shocked her. Her vision became clouded in a brightness, and her body felt as though it was bathed in ecstasy. She closed her eyes, reveling in this divine feeling. The brightness faded, and she slowly opened them, stepping away from the lazily burning fire. Looking down, she noticed that her hands had been cleaned. Her legs, arms…all the dirt, scratches, and cuts…gone.

A slow clapping resonated from above, and she startled.

"So the skittish mouse finally emerges." A man dressed in lavish, elegant attire of a roguish nature, looked down upon her. His face was hidden behind a mask of silver, shaded under a large, black hat.

She went to respond, but found that she was unable to make a noise. Had she forgotten speech? Had she ever been able to speak? She placed her hands on her throat, panicked.

"Does our mouse have no voice? Tsk, tsk…such a pity." A mocking chuckle could be heard, as she watched the man position himself against the base of the highest throne. She turned to see that the firekeeper had also returned to her seat upon the decayed stone steps.

Ash coated the decrepit temple, and flickered in the dim sunlight that persisted from outside. The sun rose nor set; time was still. The clinking of the blacksmith's hammer arose from the inner passageway. She headed towards it, noting the old woman on her right.

"Ashen One, does thou seek wares? One must possess souls first, mmm? Heh, heh…"

She pressed her hand on the side of her temple. The pain still lingered from earlier. The pounding of metal, painful yet captivating. A man, covered in muscles and sweat, was bent over and anvil. His long, white hair, held partially back from his face. He stopped mid swing, and glanced up at her.

"Another newcomer. I am but a humble smith, in service to this shrine. You're in search of the Lords as Cinder, as well?"

She looked at him confused, slowly shaking her head. Lords of Cinder? She mouthed the words in a mute silence, placing her hand over her throat.

The bear of a man chuckled. "No not trouble yourself so. Ye will still require good arms, eh? Let me smith yer weapons and armor. I am a smith, such is my purpose."

He put down his hammer, and partially waddled to a chest against the wall. She patiently remained in her spot, curious as to what was going to happen. She heard items clink, and some articles appeared next to him on the ground.

Something metallic flashed, and he shut the chest lid with a loud thud, which resonated between the walls of the forge. He scooped up the items, the turned, sticking his arms out, and motioning towards her with his head.

"Here girl, these be extras. The fella before you brought them…and while I don't need em, I felt obliged to trade with 'im."

She smiled, and reached out, carefully feeling the fabric of what he offered. It was a faded black, and thick, cloth; interwoven with pieces of black leather. On the right shoulder was a metal covering. Faded black trousers, gloves, and boots also were in his arms. Course, brown thread ran along the seams in a gaudy attempt to hold the various materials together.

"Put it on girl, and I'll fit it for ye."

Andre turned his back, going back towards his anvil. She lifted her tattered garb over her head, and let it drop on the ground. She first slipped the pants on, finding them way too loose. The top part proved tricky, and had side laces on the internal pieces, to provide chest support as needed. The outer shell hung past her hands, and down to mid thighs. It was meant to be unisex in design, and adjustable.

She tapped the old man on the shoulder, and he turned around, allowing a warm chuckle to escape his lips. He picked up a bone tool and thread, and started adjusting it.

Sometime later, she found herself fully clothed. Andre had mentioned that it was common wear for assassins, which had caused her to silently chuckle. Such an incredulous thing…

He walked to the other side of his workshop, sifting through various weapons stacked to the side. He scratched his chin, strafing his eyes from left to right, before settling upon something.

"Aha!" He bent over and pulled up a t-shaped object, half wood, half metal.

"This be a crossbow. It's decent for sniping. I get a feelin yer not too adept with combat?" A bushy white eyebrow raised in question. She shook her head.

"Aye, well here my girl. This doesn't take much skill, and will help ye survive. Lock a bolt in this chamber, pull back, aim, and fire. Prithee be careful, don't want to see me work squandered." With that he tossed her the crossbow and a bag of bolts. Turning back to his anvil, he picked up his hammer and started his rhythmic pounding.

A crossbow? She…knew, what this was. A sharp pain, and she put her palm over her right eye. It did not feel familiar in her hands, though. She would need to practice. The thought then dawned on her. It was assumed she would need to defend herself, to kill, someone else.

She looked at the weapon on her hand, noticing the tedious engravings etched throughout the metal and wood. Some hair fell in her field of vision. A dark auburn color glowed in the forge light. She tucked it back behind her ears, and slid it under the hood. A cloth was given to her, to cover most of her face, as well. She had not the faintest indication as to what her physical features were. Her reflection would be no different than a stranger's.

Her eyes wandered back to the small bonfire of ash and bone, in the central room. Easing her way there, neither women made an attempt to communicate. It was for the best. She looked to the right, noticing that the man with the shield was gone.

"Our little mouse fancies herself a fighter, I see. What else are unkindled ashes good for?" The masked man had appeared behind her, leaning up against the side of the lower passageway's stone frame. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his left leg bent slightly.

His attire appeared to be well made. Embroidery lined the seams of his outer cloak. He wore boots which came up to mid-thigh. His right hand possessed an ornate, metal glove. The silver mask caught the bonfire light, as he tilted his head.

He reached into a satchel on the side of his hip, under the overcoat. "Perhaps, there is another purpose you seek. Here, these red orbs are for you." He reached out, offering her what was in his enclosed hand. She gave him a weary look, only her eyes visible under her new garb.

A chuckle came from the mask. "Fear not, little mouse. This shrine is a place of respite." He winked at her through the eye holes of the silver mask. She cautiously stepped forward, slowly lifting her arm out, and barely touching the underneath of his enclosed, left hand.

His right arm suddenly shot out, gripping her outstretched hand. She yelped. Her voice echoing in the great chamber. The firekeeper glanced at them.

He held her hand, gripping her wrist firmly, but not harsh. He slowly released pressure, and slid his hand underneath her knuckles. "Ah…so you do have a voice, as much as I thought. Sometimes, things need only a simple nudge…"

He rubbed his thumb across her open palm, then let go of the items from his left hand. Small chunks of red stone appeared. She leaned in with an inquisitive stare. They felt…ominous.

She glanced back up to the masked man. He still held her outstretched hand, his eyes intense. They were a sky blue. Within the small openings of the mask she could see portions of the reddened skin around them.

Remember…

"What…are they?"

Her voice shocked her a little. How had she forgotten something so natural? It seemed to not belong. Her apparent accent feeling like an affront to the shrine she found herself in.

"Use them…to invade…to pillage…to plunder. You seek embers to grow in strength. It is our nature, is it not?"

She looked down at the crossbow she held in her other hand. Her eyebrows furrowed.

"No…I do not believe my nature was that. This weapon, this…place. The entirety of things. None are familiar. As to what my nature will become…I do not know."

He rubbed her palm again with his thumb. His eyes gazed into hers with a softened stare. "Who would have thought that our meek mouse had such a beautiful squeak to her…"

He reached towards her face, catching some of her reddish hair with his fingers. He twisted the strands slightly, then moved closer, tucking them back under her hood.

"Be careful. The cats are anxious to play." He lowered his hands, releasing his grip, then walked past her, confidently scaling the ruined steps, back to his previous position by the highest throne. The smell of leather and spice lingered.

She looked at the red stones, and put them in a satchel on the side of her outer shirt. She was not entirely confident she should be using anything that the man offered her. His motivations were…questionable. She found him intriguing, though.

Her eyes narrowed on the dim, bonfire in front of her. What was her goal? She could not remember where she came from, and therefore, had nowhere to go. Did it even matter?

She reached her hand out, slipping her fingers around the hilt. The revitalizing sensation rushed over her senses, and she closed her eyes again.

An image pushed itself forward; hazy at first, but gradually becoming clearer. Her eyes blinked, as the swirling ash stung them. Eventually, she found herself kneeling upon smooth, stone floor.

She looked around; she was in a different location. A small, circular chamber of sorts. Recesses, with various items, all in ruins, dotted the outer walls. The bonfire was gone.

In front of her were two wooden doors, already opened wide enough to fit one person through.