Hello and welcome to my first fantasy story in a very, very long time. [Edit: It's actually more fantasy-esque dystopian, but, you know, close enough-] I'll probably be sharing the rest of this on Scratch over time, but please keep in mind that I'm writing this as I go and also may not have a bunch of time to release new chapters super often. Anyway, enjoy! Edit [January 22nd, 2024]: Thank you all so much for the 100 likes! ~ First: You are here! Previous: N/A Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/860442368/ ~ Age rating: 11+ (basically just as long as you're a mature reader) Trigger warning: H!tting, possible abvse ~ The ravens have always flocked to me. Mother named me for them, when she first saw a flock of them dart across her snow-covered window, foraging for food in a pack. She said she admires their intelligence, their ability to spin a plan out from nothing. She has always loved the ravens, and it pleased her so that they loved me. I think that this is the kind of daughter that she wishes she had, one that loves the dark, ill-meaning birds in the same way that she does. Mother is well-known and equally well-liked amongst the people of our village. Of course, this is all only because we live in Solanine Cove, the town to which all the “villains” were cast out. We have lived and thrived under the less-than-ideal conditions, finding a way to flourish for the dust and the ashes that the fire of the heroes left before us. We have learned to feed on darkness and awaken in the night. I have grown up in the shadows, fully aware that I will never get to step into the sun. I will have my moment in the sun when my own fairy tale is written, when I am to win the Tournament, or so Mother tells me. Most of us never do, because, after all, the heroes win the villains almost every time. Almost. It’s a common fact of the Earth, just like how one knows from young that the Woods are forbidden or that us “villains” are not meant to mix with the heroes. It’s something we accept without thinking. We are set up against a near impossible wall to climb. It only means we have to work harder, be stronger. And in most cases, we are. But the judges are inclined to let the heroes win. I used to wonder what it would be like to be a hero. I wondered if maybe, even if only for a day, I could become the person which I will never be, who I have always tried and wanted to be. When Mother found out about my thoughts, she was furious. Screaming, yelling, shaking with anger kind of furious. Can’t have any defectors. And the impact when she hit me…That much I will never forget. The sickening thud of her palm against my skin, the red mark that flared up afterward, which even the ice could not help nor numb. Her eyes were blazing, a fierce and fiery kind of blue that burned into my flesh worse than the mark of her handprint on my cheek did. She had no remorse. I apologized, over and over. I promised her that I would be the best villain there ever was. She didn’t listen. She didn’t care. She didn’t believe me. Ever since then, I’ve tried to keep my promise. Be better. Push yourself to the finish, even if it makes you break. I am playing to win now, even if I don’t care for the prize. If there’s something good that comes from it, she hurts me less now, but the memory alone has been enough to scar me for life. It’s no wonder I’m so terrified of what she’d do if she found out that I fell for a hero.
