Someone was shaking the little girls shoulder, "Come, child," The voice whispered but she didn't hear. She was lost, her mind elsewhere in the black void.

Rahni thrashed at the persons grip, "Wake-up!" The little girl screamed in her mother's ear, but the corps before Rahni paid her no heed.

The little girl clung to her mother, like she was her life and breath. Rahni's dress was tattered and dripping with crimson blood.

She looked like the Princess of Death, it's funny that back then no one knew how true those words would prove.

Time seemed to draw out, Rahni kept on shaking her parents, "Wake, wake, wake!" She would shout, only to be met by silence.

By now that someone had given up trying to coax Rahni away from her parents and was sitting silently behind the little girl, watching and waiting.

Rahni cried until there were no tears left, until she collapsed on those stone steps in exhaustion, until somewhere in the depths of her mind she realised they wouldn't be waking up, they couldn't come back. They were gone.

That's when the women scooped the small child into her arms and walking out of the manor. The two disappeared into the trees of the moonlit forest.

"It will be alright, child," The women whispered into Rahni's sleeping ear.

When Rahni woke, she was laying on a bed of hay, curled up in a ball under a thin threadbare blanket.

Confused she surveyed the room, until her eyes rested on a women sitting in a rocking chair in the corner.

The women had dirty grey hair with threads of red, simple reminders of youth. Her face was wrinkled, posture slouched and hands clutching a walking stick, but there was a life within her, the gleam in her amber eyes of the slight smile that curled the corners of her thin lips that made her seem younger. She wore rags, grey folds of fraying cloth over one another until they created a warm cloak. Her feet were bare and callous, as they shuffled towards the waking girl.

"How do you feel, child?" The women asked softly.

"H-h-hurts. M-m-my h-head h-hurts," Rahni said dizzily.

"Well, that can only be expected after the first shift," The women paused and leaned in closer, "Do you remember me?" She asked.

Rahni furrowed her brow and studied the old women, there was defiantly something familiar about her, "H-h-hama?" The child choked out.

Hama smiled, "Yes, child," She paused once again and the smile left her face, "Do you remember what happened to you parents, child?"

Rahni blinked, unsure at first, but then after a few moments Rahni nodded and stated to cry, as the memories flooded back, "All… my… fault," The girl whimpered in-between sobs.

The old women didn't disagree, nor did she agree. She just held the little girl to her chest and comforted her.

As days passed Rahni grew stronger, but the inside of her mind was a different matter. Some days Rahni would refuse to speak or move, she would just sit and stare at nothing; still and silent. Others she would appear happy, but when Hama asked her about that horrible night and Rahni would remember and then she would drop to the ground again, weeping uncontrollably, rocking in foetal position.

Once the child asked Hama in a plain tone, "Am I a bad person?"

Hama sat there and looked the six year old in the eye, "I don't know, child. We all hold shadows in our hearts, but in reality, the only person you should be asking that question… is you," Then Hama left her to sit and think. Rahni knew she had done bad things, terrible, horrible, bad things, but was it the act what made her bad? Did she automatically become bad because of what she'd done? Rahni didn't know, but chose not to ask.

Weeks flew by and in their little forest hut, the little girl's mind began to heal, ever so slowly and ever so slightly.

Rahni would busy herself with training, in the mornings Hama would teach her how to read and write, how to cook and how to navigate using the stars and in the afternoon, she would practise her hunting and fighting; Rahni was an exceptional fighter, she could wield swords, throw daggers and shoot using a bow and arrow but she still preferred to use her wooden staff.

And every day, Hama would ask the same question, "Do you want to practise fighting with you second form?"

And every day the answer was the same; the question would be met by silence. Rahni's eyes would grow distant and she would go inside, finished for the day.

But although, Rahni can ignore her troubles during the day, at night they came back to haunt her. She would wake screaming as memories of that night replayed in her mind, she watched herself in third person, killing him. Sometimes Hama would find her outside sleepwalking, eyes open, tears streaming down her face while setting fire to the surrounding wood, "Stay away," She would be yelling at her invisible enemy. Her father. Because no matter how much of the guilt she felt like lead in her heart and no matter how much regret she suffered through, she was still afraid of him, he still haunted her.

She hated him and despised him but she hated herself even more, so one day she found the answer to her question, "I am a bad person," She whispered to herself, "But something's cannot be changed,"