CHAPTER 25: RESOLVE

Everyone claims the sky is blue, but they're wrong. Lauren Esmond knows better. For her, the sky is red—a reflection of the pain that has marked her life. At seventeen, Lauren stands out like no other, even in the slave camp. Her woolly white hair, frequently dyed with the coloring herbs she picks while out in the fields with other slaves, frames her deep chocolate skin. Her piercing emerald eyes, flecked with gold, leave onlookers uncertain—are they captivated, or unsettled? She is the only one of her kind, a mystery in a kingdom that clings to uniformity. But for Lauren, difference is not a blessing. Each day brings torment. Her life is filled with the sting of the whip, the brutal orders of the slave master, and the cruel punishment of the slavers. To Lauren, the sky has never been blue; it has always been red, reflecting the blood, pain, fear, and grief that cloud her vision.

Lauren stood in the middle of the field, her hands aching from the endless labor. The sweat trickling down her neck mingled with the dirt that stained her skin, but she didn't mind. The work—whether it was ploughing the soil, gathering firewood, or sorting through the scraps—was what kept her mind from wandering too far. Here, she was still a slave. Still bound to the camp, to the harsh words of the slave master, to the cruelty of her peers. But now, she was different. She had learned something vital.

The air around her was thick with the constant rhythm of daily toil. Every task felt like a step closer to something greater—something she couldn't yet grasp, but she felt it. It was in the steady rise of her chest with every deep breath, in the steady pace of her steps, and in the silent vows she whispered to herself in the dead of night.

Now seventeen, Lauren had spent more years as a slave than she cared to count. The punishing life she led had twisted her body and broken her spirit for a time. The punishment—whips, insults, cruel orders—was worse for her than for the others. The slave master, the overseers, and even the other slaves saw her differently, as a strange creature, an outsider in their world. They were either captivated or repelled by her. They couldn't figure out if she was a threat.

Some of them despised her for it, others looked at her with pity, and then there were those who observed her with awe—she had escaped once, they whispered, though she'd been unlucky enough to be caught. But it was no use. The whispers didn't matter. The punishments had only intensified after that failed attempt. They were harsher on her than on any other, and yet, she stood firm.

Lauren had always known what it meant to be alone, but lately, something had changed within her. A fire had been kindled, deep inside. The past was a constant weight, but it no longer crushed her. She was no longer running from it; she was facing it, using it to build herself. The world may have seen her as nothing but a slave, but she had a greater purpose now, one that couldn't be shaken by their cruelty.

Her determination wasn't just born out of the need to survive—it was born from the deaths of those she loved. Sar's final words echoed in her mind: "Be strong. It's not over." And Lila, her beloved friend, had whispered to her before her tragic death, "You have to be strong, Lauren."

Lila's suicide had shaken Lauren to her core. The memory of Lila's lifeless body hanging from the rafters had haunted her for days. Lila had seen no way out, but her last act had been a desperate plea for Lauren to carry on. She hadn't understood it then, but now, she did. Lila's final words were more than a wish; they were a call to action.

For years after Lila's death, Lauren had thrown herself into the work. She became the best, the most determined slave the camp had ever seen. She worked harder than anyone else. Faster. More precise. She did everything to prove herself, not just to her captors, but to herself. She had learned that survival meant more than just physical endurance—it was about understanding and controlling her mind, her body, her emotions.

She'd learned from Moa's teachings to remain calm, to observe. "Always observe, Lauren, no matter how small it seems," Moa had said. Lauren now understood the weight of those words.

It wasn't just about staying alive—it was about understanding who she was, her purpose, her gifts. Her dreams—her visions—had become more vivid over time. At first, she hadn't known what they meant. The cat that had appeared before Mew's death had seemed like a simple nightmare, but now Lauren realized it had been a premonition. She wished she had understood it then. Maybe if she had, she could have stopped Mew's death. The loss of her parents had been the same. She had seen them in her dreams, their ghostly figures, but she hadn't paid enough attention to understand the danger.

And Sar...

Lauren felt the regret gnawing at her as she thought about that dream—the one where Sar had warned her. She hadn't seen Sar's face, only heard his voice, and it had frightened her. She had been too afraid to follow it, to trust it. And now, Sar was gone, too.

But that was over now.

Lauren had made herself a promise: Never again. The next time she had a dream, she would study it, every detail, every figure, every shifting shadow. No more ignoring the signs. She wouldn't let her loved ones slip away because she hadn't paid attention.

It had been during one of the hunting trips with Moa that Lauren had witnessed something strange. She had been resting under a tree when she saw a rabbit dart across her path. For a brief moment, the world around her seemed to change. The surroundings blurred, and she found herself in a strange, whitish landscape, watching a python coil around the rabbit, preparing to strike. In an instant, she stood up, instinctively striking the snake to save the rabbit. But when she looked around again, the scene had vanished. The rabbit, the python—gone. The world around her was back to normal.

She had tried to ignore it, to convince herself it was nothing more than her mind playing tricks, but five minutes later, the scene replayed itself. This time, she struck the python again, and the rabbit escaped.

It wasn't until now that Lauren realized what she had seen wasn't a random hallucination. It was a vision—a premonition. Her gift had shown her a future she could change, and she had done it. She had made a difference.

Lauren knew now that her premonitions weren't just about the nightmares she suffered through every night. They were a part of her, a power she could harness. She just didn't know how. But she would learn. She would study her gifts until she understood how to wield them.

And once she understood them, she would use them. She wouldn't remain a slave forever. She had promised herself she would escape again—but this time, she would be ready.

The years spent in the slave camp had not been wasted. They had forged her into something stronger, more determined. But now, as Lauren lay in her bed that night, the weight of her thoughts was interrupted by a strange sensation. Her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn't let her sleep.

Just as she began to drift into the darkness, a shadow appeared before her, large and looming. It seemed to shift, and in an instant, it transformed into something…otherworldly. Lauren's heart raced as she recognized the creature standing before her. It was the Raizard, a being she had seen only once. A majestic, powerful figure that made the very air around her crackle with energy.

The Raizard looked at her, its golden eyes gleaming with recognition. And then, it spoke, its voice rich and resonant, filling her mind.

"We meet again, Lauren Esmond."