It was raining the night they came and destroyed my town.
They came while we all slept, tired from our days hard labour in the fields.
The families on the outskirts of town were the lucky ones that night; they slept never to wake again. The Riders came in and slit their throats quietly and quickly.
Eventually though, the rest of us became aware something was wrong, and it turned to chaos, people I had known my entire life were dying in the mud, left for the animals to devour in the coming days. Left for death to claim.
For days after, all I could smell was smoke and blood. I felt as though the smell would be forever on my skin. A harsh reminder of all that was lost that night.
The chains on my wrist, another reminder of what was lost that night...