Prelude to Vengeance
SilverKnight
dark_nite2000@yahoo.com

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Her hooves clicked upon the old stone stairwell as she rose up to meet the crisp night air. The sun's rays dipped below the burgundy tinted horizons hours before, but to her it seemed longer. Days. Months. Years. A lifetime. A lifetime's worth of memories she cherished, and regrets she lamented. Lately, it was the latter that plagued her more--the what-if's; the should-have-been's that never were.

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She ascended another step, pushing out into the unforgiving wind. The gods were certainly not happy tonight. She could empathize; neither was she. She was a centurion--a knight, a paladin. She was daughter to the most respected warrior in her land, and was raised to be as such. Why, then, was she forced to live a false life? How had she been manipulated into becoming a mere soldier? She was bred a leader; born and raised to become the commander of a vast army when the time came. She wasn't destined to be a subordinate. She simply *wasn't*.

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Hooves the color of steel finally set down upon the dusty earth. Her honey-colored mane fluttered in the gush of icy air; the pristine hairs of her fur stood on end as her hidden skin protested against the severe weather. Her sapphire eyes flashed about the crowd surrounding her. Gort, an old dwarven soldier who had seen too many battles, but lusted for thrill alone. Anri, a crystal-haired princess who commanded the ice like none other. She could understand the wizard's motive for joining in the cause; her father was murdered by a vile creature.

Like her father was murdered.

Her mind's eye rewitnessed the scene. A mammoth of a man stood before her father, demanding for 'a key', or some such nonsense. She felt the evil radiate from his armor-clad body. Off his massive shoulder hung a flowing violet cape, which fluttered from an unearthly wind. In his taloned hand was a sword forged from the fires of Hell itself.

She charged forward, but it had been too late. A burst of light blinded her, and she had toppled backwards from the shockwave. When her vision had restored itself, she had laid her eyes upon her father--the one that had fought every evil that had swept the land and won--lying in a pool of his own blood. Dead.

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In a blind rage, she pumped her iron legs furiously, holding out her lance. The evil monster turned to acknowledge her presence, a small smirk upon his plated lips. He blinked his crimson eyes, and no sooner did another wave of light throw her back from his dark form, spilling her upon the ground in a heap. She glared up with her piercing blue eyes, hatred eminating from every movement she made. He merely grinned. "I've got what I'm looking for. Until next time, my dear," he cooed slyly, vanishing.

"Alright," a new voice boomed, slicing through the anguished memory. "Keep on your toes, this fight's going to be a tough one." Her eyes reached the front of the formation. One of her recent annoyances. The leader of their force; Max.

He was but a child! How could he *possibly* know how to run an efficient unit? He couldn't have been more than eighteen, and was a spindly human on top of that. She--Mae, the daughter of Varios--was a hardy centaur who had at least ten years of military knowledge on him. He was a poor human boy that wanted to learn to swing a sword, and it was testament to her father's patience that he even took the boy up on his offer at all. She, however, was the daughter of a leader of thousands, a general, a soldier--

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A soldier. She blinked, an epiphany forming in the reccesses of her brain. In order to be the leader of soldiers, she had to first walk the route herself, see what they saw, know that they knew. How could *she* possibly know how to run an efficient unit if she didn't have the experience of being one of the unit first? For the first time in many such days did she smile, knowing that some day, one day, she would become the leader. And the vile creature that was called Kane would tremble beneath her stare. One day.

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The clanking of the enemy reached her ears, and she knew that glorious day would not be today. However, she would keep hope that it would happen. She clung to the memories, and ignored the regrets as the shrill sound of battle brought her into battle.

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One day, she would have her vengeance.

Disclaimer: Oh, ye mighty Lawyer gods, please have mercy upon my poor little soul. I intend no harm to your precious Shining Force.