The bright sky bled orange. From the edge of her village, Lovely watched flames consume the distant castle, the heart of the kingdom. If the castle fell, the fire would not stop—it would consume everything in its path, devouring the fields, the homes, the people. Her people.
Behind her, her neighbors whispered. Her mother wept softly. “Lovely, please,” she begged. “Let the knights handle it.”
“There are no knights left,” Lovely said, as she walked out of her family cottage and through her modest village.
For years, Lovely would sneak onto the castle grounds, enamoured by the wealth and beauty beyond the gates. She unknowingly learned the blueprint of the grounds and managed to slip in and out unscathed. Little did she know her unintentional knowledge would convict her to pursue this dangerous mission.
Her younger brother tugged at her sleeve. “You don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do.” Lovely touched his cheek, then turned toward the burning horizon. “You see that fire, brother?” The toddler looks across the field at the flames rising beyond the castle gates. He looks up to his sister as he grabs her hand.
“If I don’t go, the fire will spread and the bad people causing it will make their way to our village.”
A few of her neighbors caught wind of her plans and met her in the field with old battle armour, knives and a sword—a family heirloom of solid gold with a sterling silver handle, almost too heavy to hold. She accepts the gifts graciously as she lifts her arms to receive the metal breastplate over her head.
The armor was too big in the shoulders, too heavy on her frame, but it would have to do.
The weight of the sword settled into her grip. Fear curled in her stomach, but she ignored it. The enemy would be expecting warriors, men with broad shields and battle cries.
They would not expect a girl who had spent her life running wild through the fields, climbing castle walls just for the thrill of it. A girl who knew every secret path into the fortress.
Mira took a deep breath, the scent of smoke thick in the air. Then she ran, leaving behind the only home she had ever known.
She was not a knight.
She was not a queen.
She was simply the only one left who could fight and face the fire.
© Tasia Lawrence 2025
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