The haze of the afternoon sun was matched only by the pillows of smoke that rose from various fires scattered around the remnants of what was a bustling village in the heart of the Otranin Region, the Nirala Mountains towering high overhead. The Cattle Folk took pride in their communities strewn about their territory, and this small town was no exception. It had once been filled with merchants and farmers and smiths, but now laid waste in a sea of rubble and ash. Only the stone foundations of the village well and the blacksmith stood above the dust.

It was but a few moments after she heard a piercing scream that Uliyana had noticed a group of young women cowering beneath a market stall. She noted them to herself briefly before continuing to shout orders at her soldiers. As she did so, she scanned the village, as more townsfolk appeared before her, almost as if they had not existed before she laid her eyes upon them. She could see the fear in their faces, how they hid their gaze from their ruined home and the destruction that had come upon it. And yet, she did not feel remorse, for this was her duty.

Once again, Uliyana heard one of the women scream, as she noticed her soldiers had begun surrounding them. She thought to herself for a moment on the future of the women, about how they would most likely be taken as wives for the soldiers to populate their people further, or perhaps worse. Quickly, the thought faded and she once again found herself staring at the ruins of the village. Then, from behind, she heard footsteps coming towards her, fast and with purpose. Uliyana turned around to see an elderly villager, sadness and anger in his face and a dagger in hand. Without any effort, she grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm. His face dropped as he fell to his knees and she could feel his bone snap as the dagger fell from his hand. Then, looking into his eyes, she picked the dagger up from the floor and with one swift thrust, sent it into his chest.

As the man dropped to the ground, Uliyana wiped the blood from her hand, and took a deep breath. Her lungs filled with smoke, as she began to cough, looking out towards the women being taken away, bound and thrown into carts. Suddenly, she could feel herself become dizzy, and almost fell before finding a wooden log to sit on, slouching over with her head in her hands.

“Captain, are you okay?” one of her soldiers asked.

Uliyana looked up to see a few of her men standing over her, one holding out a pouch of water. She grabbed the pouch, took a few sips, and then bid them to leave her be. She began to think of what this village once was, of the people within it and the lives they lived.

How many innocent lives were taken today, she thought to herself, closing her eyes. This was exactly what the spirit wanted from her—to become numb to these raids, to these massacres. How did it end up like this?

Uliyana sat by herself for a long while, as the fires around the village slowly started to burn out, and the smell of burning wood continued to fill the air. Her soldiers had begun to pack up their things, and were starting to prepare their horses for the journey home. The screams of the village had died down, as they were dealt with one by one and the celebrations of another victory began to ring out across her company as she found herself reminiscing on her past.

Scenes of her life before her appointment as first captain of the army began to flood her mind, as she remembered her upbringing as daughter of Anamar Gerardus of the Southern Exiles. Many years ago, before she was even able to hold a sword, Uliyana was told stories of Anamar’s conquests. She was given ornate descriptions on his victories over the Cattle Folk, and how he cemented his position as leader of the Southern Exiles. Her enemies, she was told, were vicious barbarians fueled by the greed and corruption of the city of Mano. Uliyana even remembered hearing about how they committed blood sacrifices to receive visions of the future. When her father revealed to her that her mother was a member of the Cattle Folk, taken from their lands just as the women before her were going to be, even then she thought it strange that a man of such stature would do such a thing. It was only later in life that she learned of the lack of women in her father’s cause: about how the women of the Cattle Folk were their only way to continue their bloodlines. However, this fact had not deterred her from loving her mother with all her heart, and yet her mother did not reciprocate the feeling.

Uliyana stood up from the log she was sitting on and walked around in circles for what seemed like an eternity, but could not shake her dizziness. Walking back to the log, she once more closed her eyes and remembered her past, the soft whimpers of villagers scattered around her like dogs begging for scraps.

Just as she had been told stories of her father’s journeys, so too was she slowly trained in the art of combat. From a young age, it was clear that she was gifted in the ability to fight with a variety of weaponry. She spent hours upon hours learning to use a plethora of weapons: swords, spears, bows and daggers. By age 7, she was able to hit an apple off of the head of the stableboy from across the village square of Ankayu before the Great Hall, a distance still to this day unmatched by any other archer.

However, years later, Uliyana began to experience strange periods of time in which she would lose control of herself. It was as if her vision would go black, and her ears began to ring, and then she would wake up. Shortly after doing so, she would be flooded with the memory of what had happened while she lost control, and a strong feeling of guilt would wash over her, just as a crashing wave returns to the shore. Plagued by these “blackouts” as she would call them, she nevertheless proved herself to be a capable warrior and leader. Her talents had not gone unnoticed by her father, who Uliyana had always tried to gain the respect of. In her mind, she had to be the best, and in time she was outperforming any of the boys, even those who had had a head start on her in training. While she did not dare tell her father about her blackouts, she knew that something was awry. However, not often, her father would tell her, would someone show her level of prowess at such a young age. With that in mind, she kept her secret to herself, as she continued to train and advance her skills through combat.

As the smell of smoke began to fade, and the roaring fires that had consumed most of the village died down, Uliyana once more stood up and walked over to a group of her soldiers, instructing them to ready their captives. She could only glance quickly at the women in the cart before closing her eyes for a final time, thinking of her past.

Her mother, on the other hand, did not approve of her going into a life of combat. Uliyana remembered what her mother had called this path—“a death sentence awaiting its execution date”. She thought about what her teachers would tell her as she trained, about how she was fearless and controlled, a true warrior at heart. But now, Uliyana could only feel dread on what she had become. The blackouts had not stopped, and the atrocities she committed felt less fitting than before, and yet she still did not weep for those who were lost, but rather looked forward to what her father would think of her. However, the pain of her secret still lived within her heart, as hours, sometimes days, would pass by without her seeing them through.

Eventually, when Uliyana began to join her father and their army on the raiding of the Cattle Folk, her mother ceased to speak with her. It was not as if Uliyana could not feel her mother’s disapproval, but her yearning to elicit respect from her father had blinded her relationship with her mother. This act pained her greatly, however, and Uliyana would oftentimes find herself longing to salvage her mother’s love, yet the admiration from her father was what gave her purpose in life. Through all her training and her schooling, she felt as if she belonged in the soldiery, fighting for what was right. Her father was proud of her, and she could not think of anything more important to her than that. It was of course to no one’s surprise but perhaps her own when her father announced that she would be named first captain of his army. She still could remember the day of her appointment as if it were that very morning: the sights and sounds of the army cheering her name as she was given her father’s very own sword. A woman, she thought, being named to the most important position in their army was a sign of her father’s love and admiration for her. It was on that day that she felt the happiest she had in a long time.

She now thought to herself how far she had come since that time, of how much she had grown since then as a warrior, leader and advisor. Her father had shortly after her appointment called together a council, one that he set to advise him in matters of conflict. Uliyana was one of his unofficial chief advisors, and she could not have been more eager to have been so. It was yet another position of faith her father had given her, and she still to this day took her role as seriously as someone could have fathomed. While not an official member of the council, her father placed a great deal of trust in her wisdom, taking her advice in private when the time of her expertise was needed.

She loved her father very much, perhaps more than anyone else in the world, yet his hunger for power clawed its way into her mind. She found herself seldom able to distance him from his desires, for the effects of the Ether Crystals of old had had their way with his mind in Kalur. She was, of course, not supposed to know these things, but word of the past spread fast through her mentors. When this was revealed to her, at first she did not believe the tellings, but soon the pieces of her father’s mind came together, and the stories of his past began to make sense. From then on, she saw her father in a more sensible light, and felt closer to his cause than ever before.

Uliyana snapped back to the smoldered ruins of the village, as she overheard a conversation between two of her soldiers, one of which was holding a villager by their hair. The man was on his knees, struggling to get free, but the soldiers continued talking overhead.

“Another village raided,” one of the soldiers said with a laugh.

“And thank the Gods for that,” the other replied, tugging at the villager to stay still.

“Thank us,” the first responded. “We are the ones who cleanse these lands. I just hope we wipe these kinslayers from the map soon enough. The world would be better off without them using their dark magic.”

Uliyana stood up, and walked over to them, putting her hand on the shoulder of the lone soldier. “That’s enough,” she said, as the soldier walked off towards his horse. “And you, let him go.”

The soldier holding the man threw him to the ground roughly, as the villager let out a cry. Uliyana looked down at the man, who was rubbing his arm as if hurt, and met his gaze. She could see that he had tears in his eyes, as he looked up at her with a face of defeat and sadness.

“You took my daughter,” the man said softly. “My daughter, my only daughter!”

Uliyana could hear his voice crack with desperation, and yet she did not feel pity. She knew what she had done, but could not bring herself to empathize with him.

“It is of no matter,” he continued. “The Sages have foreseen something great, something that will ruin you. Only time can separate you from their foretellings.”

Uliyana began to question what he could mean, before ordering him to tell her what he was referring to. The man laughed for a moment before staring directly into her eyes.

“Your father, Anamar,” he said quietly. “His death is almost upon us. The two decades of terror upon my people will soon be put to an end.”

Uliyana did not believe what she heard, and thought the man was ridiculing her for taking his daughter.

“I could kill you right now for saying that to me,” she said angrily.

“You could, and have killed my people for less,” he replied. “What would be one more death to you? Go ahead and do it, then.”

Uliyana grabbed the hilt of her sword before letting go of it and instead smacking the villager across his head. She then turned towards her soldiers and walked towards them quickly.

“Gather my things, and prepare my horse. It is time to leave. Take what you will and leave what you will not,” she ordered.

“Captain, what of the remaining villagers?” one of the soldiers asked.

Uliyana thought for a moment on what the man had said earlier and began to feel a sense of rage, but calmed herself down, before looking back at him still on the ground rubbing his forehead, smiling.

“Let them live to suffer the loss of their home... and their families,” she said sternly, almost with a smirk.

She was then brought her horse and her belongings. Mounting her horse, she looked over the remains of the village one last time, before ordering her men to begin the journey home. As she rode, the words of what the man had said echoed in her mind, as thoughts of her father flooded her head. Only the wisps of the wind that flew past her ear were sound enough to drown out the threats of the future that awaited her.