"R, do you really think you could take a Linovian witch?"

"Jal, he wouldn't get passed the border."

The boys mocked me. It wasn't malicious, just boy stuff. I snapped back at them. "I wouldn't have to take them. One look at me and they'd fall to their feet." This pompous remark sent the two boys into a fit of laughter. They were on the edge of tears. It was, and I can admit this now, a ridiculous thing to say.

"R, the only swooning you can cause is in the mirror."

Jal was a big talker. He was the most self-absorbed person I knew. I was better looking and in better shape than both of them, and they knew it. Swooning was not unnatural around me. But Jal got something wrong. I was no fan of myself. I could barely look in the mirror. I was filled with self-hatred. It was hate so deep that it occasionally caused nausea to take over me. My head rang with dangerous thoughts. It had always been like this. I hated myself.

I had never said that out loud until one night when I had just come home from a pretty wild club outing. My clothes were ripped, and my hair was disheveled. My eyes were red and filled with rage I couldn't quite place. I sat down at a small desk in the corner of my room and looked into an old mirror that had never really been used. I stared at myself. It was awful. It had only been a few seconds, and my mind was screaming at me to look away. I hated myself too much to listen. I was looking at myself for so long I eventually found myself looking at a stranger. Tears poured. Teeth gritted. Fists turned white. I screamed. A deep and pained yell. After my breath ran out, I saw myself again and spoke.

"I hate you."

A heavy breath.

"I hate you, and I don't know why."

I didn't. I had no idea why I hated myself so much. It was just a feeling pitted in my very being.

I had been almost seventeen when that happened. With Adam, the feeling never really came up. It was there but kind of in the background. I never told Adam about it. I think I was embarrassed. Or scared. I didn't want him to know that I hated someone he loved- that I had no idea why he loved me. Why-

My thoughts were cut off by the Linovian soldier hitting my back. I felt to the floor.

"You Fins are just as dumb as you are bad fighters."

I curse as I rise to my knees. I am wearing the tattered pants that I found on the floor of the tent. I couldn't find my shirt. The scar-face soldier is looking at me with an emotion I'm pretty sure I've never felt. The other one is off to the side. Around me, there are Linovian soldiers everywhere. Some of the men were dragging women by their hair into cages that were strung up on wagons. The wagons were brass- a Linovian material. I heard more barks of orders and demands.

"What is happening?"

It was a mistake to ask such a vulnerable question. But I needed to know. I am so confused that even my head is throbbing.

"Idiot, I'll tell you exactly what's happening. You are about to make a lot of people very happy. I am about to become a rich man."

It wasn't the answer I was searching for.

"No, you dumb bitch, the war. What is happening."

He doesn't like that response. He knees my already wilting body. I groan loudly. This time he kicks me directly in the face. I spit out blood. He speaks breathlessly.

"You want to stay alive? Keep your mouth shut."

But then something strange happens. A soldier, perhaps a higher ranking one from the look of his attire, simply walks up behind him and slits his throat. After he lets the body fall, he looks at me with concern and something close to acknowledgment. He yells a command that I don’t understand and walks away.

In truth, I am not sure if I want to be alive. I'm not even sure if this is called being alive. For what it's worth, I probably will die of infection. My open wounds, the sun, is covered in dirt. That thought reminds me of how much pain I'm in. I hiss at the sharpness. I am taken hold by a soldier, and he ties my hands together with a thick rope. I am too weak to oppose it. I hate myself for it. I practically hold out my hands for him. I just want it to be over. To go away. To disappear. To be nothing. But I don't think today is the day that I get what I want. My life is no longer mine. I am a prisoner of war. I refused to see it that way with the Kayonese. But now, my weak body is bound by splintering rope, and I see it for what it is: I am a prisoner of war. To call myself a human is a stretch. I was a prop.

I am being taken to Linove as a prisoner. To rot in a cell? To serve? To be abused? All of that? I have no hope for anything better than that. I mentally weigh which option is most appealing. Probably the cell. I could use some alone time. I want to laugh at that. That's how hopeless and ruined I am. Though, from what scar-face was saying, I would not be awarded any alone time. I didn't realize it, but I have been walking toward a brass cage atop one of the many wagons. The man quickly lifts me over his shoulders and throws me in. It is a humiliating thing to be thrown into a cage. There are a few Kayon women already in the cage. It wasn't a particularly large cage, but I highly doubt Linove cares about our comfort. The women are staring at me. They have frowns on their faces. They are terrified. The Kayonese had their fair share of wars with Linove. They know the danger they were facing. Behind one of the women sat a young girl. Twelve, perhaps? She was small and pale and cowered in the corner.

"What's your name?"

I say it as softly as I can. She looks at me. She doesn't understand why I have asked her this. Or why I am even talking to her.

"Malikah."

"It's going to be okay, Malikah."

"You are a prisoner too. You know nothing."

She spits the words with hatred.

I don't say anything in reply.

"It is your fault. The gods sent you to destroy us."

I don't know what to say. I follow her eyes to find that she is staring at the sun carved on my chest. It has begun to bleed again. I look up to say something, but she has turned around and balled herself in the corner. I close my mouth. It's all too much. Everything is confusing and terrifying and maddening, and- I feel panic choke me from the inside. When I catch a breath, it comes out staggered and desperate. Being this lonely, this abandoned had started taking a toll on me far before Kayon. It began when he died. When the war started. When- when the world burned beneath my feet.

The ride is unpleasant, to say the least. Kayon is underdeveloped, so there are no concrete paths to ride, just rough dirt roads filled with rocks and pebbles. The convoy, which consisted of about one hundred men and a horse for each one, stopped a few times because rocks keep getting stuck in the horses' hooves. When they whinny in pain, that meant another thirty minutes to wherever we are going. Thankfully, the soldiers pay little attention to those of us in cages. They focus on the road. Once, I catch a younger soldier staring at me and he reddens and quickly looks away. It was strange. It was very un-Linovian. But what did I know?

I've been to two places in the world: Arkine and Kayon. It is a pitiful list. If I am to be kinder to myself, on a rare occasion, I would say that the only other place that I would have been able to go to was Viv. But even that was impossible. The two countries were allies, but the borders were strict. It wasn't a hostility move; it was to protect each other. If someone wanted to cross, it was going to be a person with a tidy record and a clean bill of health. The lands did this to weed out undesirables. I was too lazy to get the proper paperwork. Or perhaps I just didn't care enough. Besides, I likely wouldn't get clearance. Orphans are usually labeled as defective. I never really felt wanted until Adam.

The thought of Adam makes my eyes burn. I shut them and fall asleep.