After the End

By Haley Nicole

There is no Happily Ever After awaiting heroine Ahneta. With the man responsible for the death of her family and village dead, Ahneta believes that she has no reason to live anymore. But when the gods send her back in time as a white tigress, she begins to find reasons amongst the young couple who see her as family, the blind fortune teller who stops aging upon meeting her, and the strange man made of darkness who once petrified her.

As she travels through time, Ahneta is faced with a horrific decision that could grant her the fate shes wanted since losing her loved ones, but destroy the new bonds shes created. Will she finally put the past behind her, or will she allow the darkness of grief to consume her?

Her journey for revenge may be over, but Ahnetas story has only just begun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481711074

Haley Nicole

Haley Nicole adores stories and fictional novels of various genres, especially YA and Fantasy. She lives in Texas with her family and is preparing to begin her college education.

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Table of Contents

Prologue:

A Nightmare Ends

Chapter One:

Only the Beginning

Chapter Two:

Confidences Sought and Gained

Chapter Three:

Holy Associations

Chapter Four:

Futures Lost

Chapter Five:

Leading the Blind

Chapter Six:

Pasts Revisited

Chapter Seven:

Royal Affairs

Chapter Eight:

A Tiger in the Room

Chapter Nine:

The Origin of Darkness

Chapter Ten:

Revelation

Chapter Eleven:

Something Like The End

To my family; Mom, James, Katie, and Lexy,

Thank you for your support.

Prologue:

A Nightmare Ends

WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THE End?

He didn’t even scream. Everything became eerily quiet as the distorted human, who’d long been overcome by the dark forces that gave him his ruthless power, stared at the blades in his chest. With pale, shaking hands he grasped the blades, blood sliding down his arms and torso.

Suddenly they were torn from his body by another set of bloodied hands. The man hit his knees, eyes wide as the full moon. A young woman, holding a long, thin sword in each hand, watched the man. Her cold face scrunched up, and she kicked the man down, slashing his throat in a single, fluid motion.

She straightened and turned her back on the monster. For generations that creature had haunted the people of this land. Using a power so dark it consumed him, he became a dictator that caused endless suffering for those he ruled. His soldiers rampaged through villages for amusement, unstoppable under his limitless power.

And now he was dead.

The young woman looked at her blades, coated in the dark liquid that once ran through his veins. She felt pity for the human he once was, but that feeling faded almost as quickly as it formed. Try as she might, she could not feel any lasting emotion for the evil being that took everything from her besides hatred.

Even his blood is darker, she observed.

Where does the hero go when they have nothing to return to?

You have done well, brave war-no, brave hero, echoed a slew of voices in her mind, voices belonging to the very gods who had led her to this moment. We give you our most sincere appreciation. Take this as a token of our eternal gratitude.

A thick ring made of silver appeared before the newly ordained heroine. A pure black stone was set in the ring, and the entire band was covered in intricate designs. She set down one sword and took the ring. As soon as it was in her hand, a soft white light ran over her body, removing every drop of blood and healing her injuries. Examining the ring, the heroine could see several of the great gods’ symbols: a sun, a crescent moon, a gust of wind.

You have truly earned your title hero. There will always be a place for you in our realm once your time as a mortal comes to an end. May your path be blessed. The voices faded, and silence reigned over the dark chamber.

How do you live after losing everything worth living for?

She had her revenge. It had taken many years and countless battles, but she finally had what she’d worked for since that fateful day. She could even taste it on her lips.

It tasted bitter.

There was no family waiting for this hero, no faithful lover awaiting her return. Anyone who had ever meant anything to her was destroyed years ago. There was no dream left to follow, or home to return to. Revenge had consumed her life much like those dark forces had consumed that man, and now it was over.

She had nothing. She was nothing. This was it; this was The End.

Or was it?

I stood in the dim light...

...of the early morning, leaning idly on a tree trunk while standing on one of its branches. A slight chill filled the still air around me, but even at its worst such conditions only slightly discomforted me. Whatever I am is not deeply affected by weather.

A dark, swirling mass roughly the size of a fist began spiraling around my head. This was the very darkness that was my lifeblood and the source of my master’s power. Strangely enough, it is quite fond of me while entirely indifferent towards my master. I’ve always wondered if I was once part of this darkness, and that darkness still sees me as its friend. I can’t remember anything before taking this form, and my master refuses to answer any questions, so I am only able to guess at any previous existence.

The darkness bounced about in the air; it always behaves very much like an affectionate animal to me. From its obvious excitement I could tell that the darkness had found something intriguing it wished to share with me.

Before I go on with this story, I should explain that darkness is a strange kind of power. I’ve noticed that humans often see it as evil, but this is far from the truth. Darkness is power, and therefore has no inclination towards good or evil. I suppose it might, but even if it does they do not adhere to human definitions. Darkness is not evil, just as light is not good. Darkness happens to be stronger than light, but it is a parasitic power to humans. Few people who are good will be foolish or desperate enough to use a power that will eventually overcome them. People who are evil tend to care less about the consequences, and are slowly consumed by darkness. Once darkness takes over, it will continue their pattern of behavior. If someone uses the power to hurt others while in control, they will still behave this way once consumed. In a sense, darkness is like a human child; it will only do what it is taught to do. In the end, it is humans who make darkness evil.

I mention all of this because of what the darkness was about to show me, so that it will not appear to be a cruel kind of creature, power, whichever.

The darkness showed me a ruined village. It told me in our strange, non-spoken communication that the village was only destroyed the night before. A group of my master’s men had come rampaging through the area for sport and killed the villagers, burning their homes and stealing what they could.

But it was not this pitiful village the darkness wanted me to see; it was a human girl. The girl stood bare-foot at the edge of the village, her village. She wore a simple, white gown streaked with dirt, and her long, pale hair was tangled within itself. Her eyes were such a piercing, pale blue that even now, with several days passed, I can see them vividly.

I watched the girl as she padded through what was once her home, now charred and broken, filled with the ruined bodies of those she knew. I watched her cry. She did not break down and hit the floor, a mess of sobs and tears and a broken heart. Her heart broke quietly, as quiet as the tears running down her cheeks as she forced herself to continue her journey through her broken home.

Eventually, I realized she was looking for someone, someone who would save her crashing world. Previous observations have taught me that humans are weakest when alone. They band together to stay strong, both physically and spiritually. This girl was searching hopelessly, and it was clear that even she knew she’d find no one.

A strange pressure filled my chest, and I no longer wanted to watch the girl. As I slipped out of the tree and away from the chest-twisting scene, I tried to make sense of the foreign emotions I was experiencing, am still experiencing.

I pity the girl and her loss, but it isn’t my usual pity for humans. I’ve seen humans suffer at my master’s hands. I’ve always pitied them, but not like this. I’ve never wanted to actually comfort them like I wanted to comfort this girl, to wrap my arms around her as other humans did when particularly happy or sad. In that moment, I wanted to be that person she was looking so desperately for, the one who she could lean on.

It doesn’t make any sense.

Chapter One:

Only the Beginning

THE SUN BLARED BRIGHTLY the following morning, unadorned by any clouds threatening rain or storm. A light breeze swept over the capital city, providing some relief from the hammering heat. It was the kind of day best spent at the riverside, attempting to escape from the usual summer discomforts.

Ahneta could recall spending countless days with her feet dangling in the river near the quaint village in which she was raised. She would tie up her long hair, splashing water on her face and friends. Playful fights, the primary weapon being water, were a daily occurrence. With nightfall came the usual summer time argument with her mother over cutting her hair, which Ahneta could never win. Her pale hair remained a constant hindrance until her mother was no longer around to argue. Ahneta could recall many appropriate activities for such a sweltering day, but a festival was not one of them.

She stood in a crowd of sweating, shoving human beings, staring at the celebration going on around her. Glancing upwards, she noticed the endless stream of lanterns hanging from every available place. There were rounded and angular lanterns of countless colors and textures. Currently no lights flickered in them, but come nightfall the city would be so bright that Ahneta doubted anyone would notice the day ending.

Numerous stalls were set up outside the city’s shop selling food, charms, weapons, incense, alcohol, clothes, and toys. They lined the streets, displaying bright banners proudly denouncing the slain Dictator and praising some unnamed heroine.

Long live the Heroine! proclaimed one yellow banner.

Death to the Dictator! read another.

Our Golden Age has begun!

The darkness has been destroyed!

Live in fear no longer!

How do they know he’s dead? Ahneta wondered in shock.

Hey! she called, grabbing the arm of a woman behind a fruit stall. What’s this festival for? What happened?

The woman smiled, her irritation at being grabbed by a stranger diminishing. Dictator’s dead! Someone finally killed ‘em.

How do you know that’s not just a rumor? Ahneta asked.

A blind prophet went to the emperor yesterday and said that a heroine had just killed the Dictator. Said she’d be here within the week. She gestured to her surroundings. So we’re holding this festival to welcome her. There’ll be a parade the seventh night, and the emperor’s waiting.

Ahneta released the woman’s arm, immediately deciding not to visit the emperor.

She looked around the cramped street. To her right a young couple stood, smiling foolishly at their infant. The sight of them pinched her heart.

They’ll be able to raise their baby in a peaceful land not governed by a man consumed in darkness, Ahneta observed blandly.

She looked over her shoulder and saw a small group of older men. They laughed loudly together, holding fresh bottles of alcohol.

They’re drinking to celebrate freedom from a force that has oppressed them their entire lives.

Ahneta followed the flow of the crowd for a few feet before noticing a small group of children.

And they’ll never even fully understand what they’ve been saved from. They’ll never experience that kind of loss. They’ll never- And it was suddenly all too much for Ahneta. Turning her back on the giggling children, she fled the city.

Ahneta lay on the dry, summer grass, staring up at a cloudless sky and feeling dizzy from a lack of land in sight. Sighing as her cruel mind picked through her memories, she rubbed her face with one hand as her childhood played out behind her eyes.

There was her mother, smiling and humming as she sewed. The nameless song reverberated through Ahneta’s skull. Humming that song used to be as natural as breathing, yet when she tried it felt more like driving a blade through her own chest.

Next was her father, always full of great advice she never wanted to hear. He was never hesitant to display his frustration with her for that, ranting about how one day she’d wish she’d listened. He was right, of course.

After her father came her placid uncle and his boisterous wife, such a contrasting pair. She remembered her friends, the children she looked after, the boy she thought to marry someday, the elders, the leader of the village, and even the merchants who came through twice a year.

Each memory was another hole in Ahneta’s heart. Anger, hatred, and an unwavering desire for revenge had filled those holes for years, but now they were exposed. There was no denying it, no avoiding the thought anymore. They were gone. Her family, her friends, even the people she didn’t like all that much were gone forever.

The Dictator was dead. Ahneta had her revenge. He destroyed her life, and she took his. But that didn’t bring her family back. That didn’t resurrect her neighbors. That didn’t restore her village or turn back time. It didn’t even fill the emptiness that felt as though it were consuming her, just as darkness had consumed The Dictator.

She was truly becoming nothing.

Ahneta wondered if she ought to take her own life. But taking one’s own life was considered a betrayal to the gods, resulting in immediate damnation. If she killed herself, she would truly never see her family again.

The light breeze had picked up considerably, blowing her hair around haphazardly. Ahneta swatted her hair away, only for it to attack her face again. Irritated, she wiped her face with her hands. The gods’ ring, being too large for her finger, gradually spun around so that the stone was on the wrong side of her finger. Still trying to remove her hair from her face, Ahneta felt the stone press against her forehead.

There was a barely audible click, and a strange, increasingly painful ache filled her body. It became practically unbearable, as though her bones were being twisted and pulled and mashed into a whole new form. A corner of Ahneta’s brain not fixated on the pain registered a blinding flash just before the pain began to fade.

When she finally came to her senses, Ahneta was laying on her side, feeling incredibly strange. The previously bright colors of the sunny day had faded, filling her vision with mostly grays and only hints of other colors. She blinked repeatedly, to no avail. When she tried to sit up, a shocking sight awaited her.

Oh gods.

Ahneta moved what should have been her right arm, watching as her right foreleg, covered in pale fur and dark stripes, moved accordingly. She twisted around to lie on her stomach, slowly getting to her four feet.

I’m…Am I a tiger? Is this some kind of sick joke? she wondered as she gaped at her tail, which bore a band-like version of her ring without the onyx.

It was those gods; she had no doubt about it. She accidentally pushes the stone in the ring they give her, and they turn her into a tiger. What for? Ahneta had no idea. All she knew was that if she ever got ahold of those gods they were going to wish they had never come to her for help.

Are you all so hopelessly bored that you have nothing else to do but make my existence as difficult as possible? she demanded of them, but all that came out was a strangled roar-like noise. She fought with her new mouth and tongue, struggling to emit some kind of human sound. In the end all she could manage was a sigh.

Ahneta surveyed the area, which was the same as before, and once again noticed the strange way colors appeared. She decided that strange colors were the least of her problems when she heard the sound of twigs crunching under a boot.

Immediately she darted behind the nearest bush, stumbling and slipping several times on her new feet. It took another moment for the source of the noise to arrive, leading Ahneta to believe her sight wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

A young man walked by calmly, holding a few dead rabbits. A bow was slung over his shoulder, and he bore a dagger at his hip. He wasn’t particularly tall or imposing in any way. He seemed incredibly youthful and naïve, casually wandering around the hills despite the countless dangers it may possess. He was either familiar with the area, or a complete idiot.

He saw Ahneta and stumbled back, shocked. She realized that as a human she could hide behind bushes of this size, but as a bulky tiger she could not.

The hunter had his bow pointed at Ahneta in a heartbeat, but he hesitated.

Never hesitate, Ahneta chided silently, thinking of how easy it would’ve been to kill him, even in this form. The two remained perfectly still, staring each other down.

He’s rather small for a warrior, but from the way he’s standing he’s had some weapon training. But his feet are a little too close; it would be too easy to knock him down, Ahneta observed, thinking back to when she was at his level. She could remember stumbling into the home of an elderly swords master, armed with only a cheap dagger and the advice of the gods, demanding to be trained.

Are you the one that’s been stealing? the young man muttered under his breath, clearly not