2. I’m still alive fuckers!
Nevaeh
I stumble through the thick forest with the boy strapped to my chest. The logical part of my brain, which is not that big , is screaming at me to pick up the pace, but my body is on the verge of giving up.
There’s a bone sticking out of my knee, and even with the spear I’m using as my crutch, it’s taking everything in me to not stop. Adjusting the kid, I settle him on my good side. Not that any part of my body is good anymore.
I was right in thinking monkey was on the verge of crashing because as soon as I picked him up; he wrapped his arms around my neck with an unnecessary amount of force and succumbed to sleep.
The dry blades of grass act as little spikes beneath my bare feet. The bloody footprints I’m leaving behind force me to keep pushing forward before the ‘queen bitch’ finds out her two favorite prisoners have escaped.
The bright yellow sun behind me packs up for the day, turning the sky a soft hue of orange and pink. If I weren’t literally about to die, I would’ve stopped to appreciate the captivating view of this realm.
Of course, I'm lying... they can have fucking diamonds in the sky, and I would still hate everything about this stupid realm and this stupid coven.
Like instant karma, I trip over a thick branch and wince when a sharp pain shoots up my left leg and travels to my head. My quickly fading adrenaline means the pain I buried is now coming back with a vengeance.
I’m not sure I'll be able to get back up if I take a break, but if I don’t, I'll definitely drop dead right here in this ugly forest. Another almost-tripping has me shoving my protests aside to slowly sink to the ground to lean against a fallen tree trunk.
When monkey stirs, I quickly cover his back with my hand, so he knows I’m close. He has woken up twice with a start and only went back to sleep if I rubbed his back or covered his head with my hand.
I hate seeing him so terrified. He doesn’t deserve this. None of the prisoners did either, but this little werewolf doesn’t deserve any of the torture he has survived.
My blood boils when I wipe a smear of blood from behind his ear, and when he trembles in my lap, the fury only multiples. One thing I know for sure is if I survive this day, I’m going to rip this coven apart piece by piece .
I try to straighten my left leg to push the bone back in, but the slightest movement causes such blinding pain that I have to stop before I scream out.
The icy breeze that follows the moon rising soothes my cuts, but it also makes it clear that we can’t spend the night out here. Not only would we freeze to death, but the guard dogs would find us too.
My movements have become lethargic, and now I'm painfully aware of the fact that I won’t make it through the night. When the boy sleepily nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck, I pray for a miracle.
I can’t let this little boy go back to that shithole.
After Harvey , my best friend, escaped two years ago, I stopped fighting back. I didn’t care if I died. But that changed quickly when my captors threw this little toddler into my cold, blood-soaked cell.
Through one-sided conversations—because the little guy refuses to talk—we bonded quickly. It took him less than two minutes to trust me enough to crawl into my lap and fall asleep on his first day.
That night, this little guy built up my heart before breaking it just as quickly. If it took him one gentle introduction from a stranger to unravel, then I didn’t want to think about the treatment he was used to.
That night, I stopped asking Fates to let tomorrow be my last day. Instead, I asked for another. Not because I’m overly fond of living this life, but because my survival was directly correlated to the survival of this 3-year-old.
‘I’ll get you out of here, monkey.’
It was a promise that started the shitshow I’ve been hosting the entire day. A promise that changed the course of my life. A promise that weighs more than my battered body can handle.
Taking in the addictive aroma of damp soil, I snicker at the irony. I’m the daughter of Horseman of Death, yet I fight the death standing on my doorstep every night.
The blood, the scars, the trauma, and for what?
All because of a stupid fucking vision.
The top bitch of witches, Queen Visha of the crescent moon coven, is on top of the list of people I want to kill by slowly cutting their guts out and then feeding it to them.
At birth, she was bestowed a gift. A gift that became a curse for many.
Clairvoyance.
Ever since she was young, Visha could see glimpses of the future in her dreams, and for years, she watched the snippets and did nothing. But everything changed the night she saw a vision of her death followed by the destruction of her coven... by my hands.
The same night she killed her husband, the king, to gain full control of the coven.
A complete headcase , that woman.
According to her vision, I was destined to become the most powerful creature after The Almighty God and The All-knowing Fates , and coming to my full potential meant the end of hers.
Enraged at my audacity to think about killing the most powerful witch in all realms, she hunted me down, a kind of innocent 9-year-old girl .
Rather than keeping a clear head and attempting to fix her mistakes, Visha decided to kidnap me.
Now give me one good reason I shouldn’t smash her face in and burn her precious coven to the ground.
Taking the Princess of Death from under her father’s nose was daring; I’ll give her that. Visha managed to trick her way into Papa’s kingdom and snatched me... along with my best friend. A fourteen-year-old bystander.
Imagine her surprise and excitement when Visha found out the boy was none other than the Prince of War , the only son of Horseman Adler and next in line for the title.
The four Horsemen of the apocalypse are mighty warriors of the three sisters of fate and the inevitable bringers of doom for humanity.
Conquer, War, Famine, and Death.
The four are known to be fearless yet here I am, battling death and cursing another day when no one comes to my rescue. Even the thought makes me scoff. It’s been a whole ass decade. If someone were coming, they would’ve by now.
But dead people can’t rescue you, can they?
The night before my last escape in which Harvey successfully got out, the evil bitch told me about an attack. The attack Visha's coven led on all four kingdoms simultaneously to destroy them.
The thought of losing my family, the people I grew up with, the people I was destined to take an oath to protect, was anguishing enough before she told me how my destined mate figured out where I was held captive and left in pieces in his attempt to free me.
Visha was kind enough to throw his arm in my lap so I could mourn the one I was supposed to spend my life with. Holding that bloodied severed arm, I cried myself to sleep that night. I cried for my kingdom, my papa, my mate, and myself.
The following night, I helped my best friend escape so that the one person I loved and was still alive wasn’t stuck in this place with me. I couldn’t take another piece of my heart being destroyed by this coven.
I huff when the dirt on my face refuses to leave no matter how hard I wipe. The dirt might still budge, but the dried blood will linger like it’s part of my skin.
Looking down, I find similar stains on the kid and tighten my arms around him. Even now, when he is close to my heart and in my arms, I can’t tamp down my rage seeing his sunken cheeks.
Just a couple of months and those monsters managed to dim his light. It kills me how similar our stories are. Taken from our families and thrown into a cell for a destiny out of our control.
There were more of us at one point, whose life’s purpose was cruelly snatched away before getting killed in the most gruesome ways. All because one witch is abusing her power to destroy a future she disagrees with.
Furiously rubbing my eyes, I clear my glassy vision and find some hidden strength to pull myself up again.
My head is reeling with tattered stories from my past as I limp toward the border, and this time, I don’t block them out.
The familiarity of my father’s voice in my head soothes the ache in my heart, and I purposely distract myself by revisiting those jumbled memories.
I remember Papa telling me that the first time the three sisters of fate glimpsed into the future, it was life-changing. Literally . Nobody knows exactly what they saw, but something about the vision of a future led by immortals rattled them enough to announce a gift.
The gift of procreation.
News about this gift took Heaven by storm. Fates were offering everyone a chance to have a soulmate and a family of their own like humans. A much different life than what they were created for, i.e. being a soldier.
God was reluctant at first, but when he saw his first children slowly get poisoned by unmatched power, he decided to sit back and let Fates handle it .
Soon Heaven got split in two between those who chose immortality and eternal loyalty to Heaven and those who opted for the gift.
Lucifer, the miscreant son, stood up to bear the burden of leadership and built an entire realm for his brothers when Heaven announced those who stumble from their original destiny will have no right to Heaven or their creator anymore.
After the split, the new king created several supernatural species like demons and vampires to bring quantity to H ell .
Since the beginning of time, there was only one incident when humans came close to extinction. That particular close call is what freed the souls of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to guide humans to their end.
Before my ancestors could finish what they came for, the sisters of fate suspended the doomsday.
Even when the end of time was postponed, the Horsemen were now trapped into existence millenniums before they were needed.
Since Horsemen didn’t belong to either realm, they decided to build a home hidden amongst the same humans they were destined to erase one day. Dark... but poetic.
The differences between Heaven and Hell were never resolved, and the more time passed, the clearer it became that the two sides would never reunite. Slowly Horsemen became the only link between the two realms, working with both sides but answerable to neither.
However, in the last few decades, Horsemen have found an ally in Hell after Papa met Uncle Lucifer and they became fast friends.
If you count, there have been three significant wars between Heaven and Hell. The first that drew a clear line between them. The second was when the original Lucifer found his mate. And a third the Horsemen instigated.
My dear Papa, to be exact.
When Papa was seventeen and still learning the ropes of being the next Grim Reaper, he was invited to Heaven with Uncle Elijah—the second Lucifer to be crowned king of Hell, for an annual meeting with the Archangels.
What was supposed to be a professional meeting turned into a bloody brawl when the Archangel of Love taunted Papa about being born without a soulmate.
His exact words were, ‘Thank Fates for not being cruel enough to punish a poor woman by pairing her with a Horseman. The Grim Reaper, no less.’
Hearing of his bleak future, Papa did something impulsive and frankly, quite stupid. Even Uncle Elijah offered the help of a ‘Lucifer’ and joined him in his quest instead of de-escalating things.
They broke into Heaven and stole a piece of Divine, which Papa then used to create a daughter with his essence. His logic was that it didn't matter if Fates didn't give him the future he wanted because now he would make his own fate.
So, he created his own family. He created me . He literally made a baby out of thin air from his blood, essence, and the eternal power of Divine.
Guess what he named said daughter? Nevaeh .
Heaven spelled backwards.
Tell me he wasn’t aiming another dig at Heaven.
The Archangels were enraged.
They believed since it was H eaven’s property that created me, a superior being with unknown abilities on top of my Horsemen blood, it was only right that Heaven raised me to make sure I didn’t turn evil .
When Papa refused to give up his one-day-old baby girl or apologize, Heaven retaliated. But when you have all of Hell backing you up along with your chumminess with the literal devil, no one stands a chance.
Even though Papa never found his mate in the time I was with him, it never bothered him because he had me.
His daughter, his little troublemaker.
I was a new form of supernatural who would one day be crowned Horsewoman Death .
But all of that was before I was thrown into a cell, never to be rescued again.
I curse my ancestors, who stupidly exchanged immortality for the ability to procreate .
Only if those fuckers didn’t want to get pregnant so bad, I wouldn’t have been born— or made , to be precise—and stuck in that dusty ass cell for a decade.
Rustling and quickly approaching footsteps break me out of my pity party.
I’m not far from the force field that ensures no one gets in or out of the coven without dying, but I don’t have enough time or energy to fight Deviants and break through it.
Oh Fates, let me live one more day.
One more day to leave the kid with someone I know and trust. One more day before you finally show me mercy and let me die.