Kenku, Notebook

  My back aches with phantom pain, and I wince, grabbing at it. It quietens down, but as I look around the city, my heart is overwhelmed with hurt. It's too early, too soon. I didn’t want to—

  My mind shut off like a person flipping a switch.

  Now, revolution.

  No. Not now—

  My mind never listens to me, continuing to walk forward even as I protest wordlessly, and then I spot her, peeking out from the corner of the tunnel.

  “Taki?” I mutter, managing to control my mouth, thoughts racing as I try to do anything but lead the revolution.

  The little girl, no older than four, looks as cute and innocent as the day she was born, and I mourn how this will end. But then, I get an idea. “Taki, come here.” She waddles over, trusting, when she really shouldn’t. Plopping her in my lap, I stare at her colourless clothes, whispering soft apologies. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Taki.” She looks confused, but I pull up her shirt, exposing a blank back of skin.

  I swallow, tears starting to gather in my eyes. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…” A fountain pen from my pocket, and a pot filled with ink. It is sharp too. A drop of ink drips to the floor as I dip the pen. “Sorry, sorry..” Then, I lift it up, and pierce her flesh. Cries of pain echo in the cavern, as my hand never stops moving, each flourish, each line, drawn with precision and practice.

  Her tears fall onto hard floor, and I don't think I can ever bear to look her in the eyes again, as I carve this into her back. Blood drips down, and once I've finished the design, it glows a tremendous, bright black light, as it heals over.

  However the ink staying in place. A swirl of a design on her back, big for now, but will grow smaller as she ages.

  It was done. I stand up, wiping my own tears from my eyes, and tasting their saltiness on my tongue as I try to breath in big, heaving breaths. I tug my journal from my pocket, and write one line on a fresh page, the journal for only one person.

  Takime Sashi. The little girl whose voice will lead a revolution.

  My wings twitch agonisingly, feeling phantom pains of the day someone carved something into my back, and sigh, using the still blood ridden pen, to write two words.

  I’m sorry.

  _________________________________________________________

  Takime Sashi (Girl)

  I remember that line, the one I saw in his book all the time. It was slightly hinted with a reddy brown, mixed with black ink, and I would always stare at it in confusion. There was no context, and I didn't understand why it was there.

  Now though, as I stare at the puppeteer, my back aches, and my mind fills with memories.

  After that moment when Kenku had carved into my back, I cried for hours on end, back throbbing painfully. But then, I decided to follow him, follow the revolutionaries.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  I was clumsy, I was terrible, but as we got to the Puppeteers, I finally realised why he had carved it onto my back.

  His magic swirled around me and Kenku, I remember this vividly. His face marred with dirt from the fighting, and mouth twisted into an evil smile. He had walked over to me, and Kenku’s eyes had widened at my presence, almost looking like they were crying.

  “Now, Second Servant. What have you brought me here? A little girl. That's dangerous in a war zone.”

  He clicked his fingers, and a cell fell down from the ceiling. It held a man, his body riddled with scars and bruises, looking like torment was his name. “Tukami. First Servant. Tell me, do you recognise the people here?” A mystical mist had fallen over the room, but my back, it didn’t hurt any more.

  In fact, it felt comforting. Shielding me from the mist.

  A strangled gasp, and more tears. Always tears. The man looked upon me, and cried. “Takime. Takime! RUN!”

  I didn’t know who he was back then, or why he had known my name. But the man who stood before me now, back then sent a chill up my spine.

  I stare at him, mind drifting to the preset fast as clicking of heels penetrates the silence.

  “The Mayor is moving.” One noblemen whispers.

  “He’s going towards the pheasant.” Another mutters beneath her fan.

  All of them thought the same thing. “How could this pheasant get approached by a man who we don’t dare approach ourselves.”

  And I could think of only one word to describe them. Puppets.

  “We meet again, little girl.” Two guards walked behind the horrible man, dressed in heavy armour from head to toe. But I thought, if I truly saw what was under there, then I would know their faces immediately. I glared at him, hatred, malice, anger, all mixing into one scowl that showed my feelings.

  “Do you still hide behind these that stand beside me?” He asks in a mocking tone.

  “ANSWER THE MAYOR!” Shouts the crowd.

  “You heard the people,” He sneers with a cruel grin. “Answer me.”

  My jaw clenches, and every emotion in me wells up. “Never.” I mutter at first, and he mockingly brought his hand up to his ear, cupping it as if to say ‘louder.’

  “What was that?”

  “Never.” I say with more conviction. “Never will I stand with a man as despicable as you, one who controls his own countrymen to do his bidding because he can’t trust them to like him otherwise. A man who carves control into those who oppose him, and one such as disgusting as yourself should be rotting in the hells of whence you came!!” I yell, and my words seem to twist to ones that I only heard Kenku use once, then lit up with power.

  My hair, a soft and glossy black compared to the colours from the magical, shines a light greater than the Puppeteer's magic, when he tries to quieten it.

  “The thousand hells is where you belong!” I yell, and voices erupt in anger.

  However, something in the air changes, like a switch has been set off, and strings appear visible. People's mouths snap shut, and hatred pours from the man in front of me. “You DARE?!” He yells, voice echoing around a now silent room.

  “This is MY Kingdom, MY WORLD NOW! YOU CAN’T TAKE IT FROM ME!!! GET HER!!” He screams to his Puppets, pointing at me, while his face gets bright red and agitated.

  It seems to me, that he had finally snapped.

  The people rush in, but it would be wrong to call them that. No, they were more monsters. Just like the ones outside this town. Just like the ones that forced us into hiding, just like the one that slew all my people, and left me with a beaten down army, discouraged from fighting.

  The monster wasn’t the ones outside, the ones created in the Collapse of the old world. No. The monster that had killed more people, that had destroyed more lives, more wishes, more hopes, and more dreams, was here.

  Arto Sashi.

  My Uncle.