The Next Lord Of The Central City.

The night was cold and unnervingly dark. The wind didn't give a damn on the nightmarishly terror she was feeling. The insects chirped louder than they normally would, and the moon? It was no where to be found in that moment of despair. When she needed comfort the most, it left her. Everything was gone. In the dark alley, her legs wobbled as she felt her bones go weak. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and her soul was ready to give up. She couldn't take another step forward. Maybe if she just laid down for a moment, it would all be fine. But they were behind her now. Any moment, she would breath in her last breath.

Where she was headed to? She didn't know. She was only ten. She was just a child when the heavy wave of misfortune had crashed into her life.

"You are my own blood. The next ruler of the Central City. You shall fear no evil. A true Lancaster is a god. You will survive." Her late father's words rang in her head just as she was about to give up to the heinous darkness. Maybe she could survive it after all. Maybe her father was right about her. Maybe ...

"Check every corner," the order sent a shiver down to her spines. They had found her. "Every houses, every goddamn place! She cannot escape."

A barrel just a few steps in front of her appeared more like a hide out than an ordinary barrel and seconds later, she crept inside and hid from the outside world. Just before she got inside, her gaze quickly fell on a face in the shadows, a man's, she presumed. But she hid anyway.

"You!" A man screamed out and she could feel his voice just right beside her. She closed her eyes tight in fear, and more tears than the ones she'd cried before, rushed down her cheeks. "Anything unusual around there?" He asked, and there was a brief pause. "You there! I said-"

"Nothing." The other voice replied.

"Are you sure? You look like you seen a ghost."

"I did see something." He confessed. Fear gripped round her chest as she laid still in the barrel. She silently prayed with all her might. She didn't want to die, not like that.

"Tell me then." He pressured.

"In the barrel." The other man notified.

"What did you see? Talk to me." He asked, his patient was wearing out now.

Another wave of silence over took the aura before he finally spoke up. "A fat rat!." They both roared in disgraceful thundering laughter, grunting and coughing by the minute.

"You are so stupid, mate." He scoffed out. "I'll be on my way now. Make an alert if you see anything suspicious —other than a rat now— okay?" He informed and a muffled "I will," was heard.

Everywhere was back to the way it was all over again. Heavy wind, chirping of insects, spooky aura, series of endless thoughts in the silence of the night. She contemplated whether she should come out of the barrel or still cower in her fears. It was a hard choice to make. Then, a small knock was heard. She gasped out of fright, and pressed both her hands against her mouth, trapping whatever sound that might try to escape.

"Your majesty?" The voice softly called out. Of course she wasn't stupid. Her palms pressed more tightly across her mouth, her eyes widening in terror. "Fiora? I'm here to help you. Your father has sent me to you." The voice convinced.

She wanted to scream out, but she also wanted to enquire how much was true with what this stranger was saying.

Almost like he heard her, he began to sing;

"Nos Persevarare." She sang along, ending with the very last words of the song. It was a lovely song her and her father used to sing, especially whenever she was in despair. She believed him now. He was someone truly sent by her father. And even though she would later on be killed by him, at least she would die smiling. With a peaceful memory of her late father. A warm smile spread across her face.