War of Saints

There were times when she wished everything was just a nightmare.

It would make things less painful, an assurance even, that no matter how bad things were or appeared to be, she only needed to suddenly wake up, and discover that everything was just the way it was. She would probably shrug off the horrid images, forget about them completely, and continue her daily morning routine. Just like a normal kid.

“Here we are, people! It’s the Gold Medal match in the women’s individual competition for the National Games, and we are now in the final moment of our competitors nationwide.”

How she wished that were true: the nightmares…and the normalcy.

“People are clamoring, screaming, making noise for their favorite. Who’s your favorite so far, John?”

“Kiera Hudson from New York, USA.”

“You’re not kidding. She is a fave from all over the world!”

The commentator chuckled. “Archery fans all over the world, even those who are not fans of this long-range sports, adore Kiera Hudson. She has spectacular performances and captured the audience with her blue and green cat-like eyes!”

“Ah! There she is! The wonder of Olympic Games, the ‘Champion of Artemis’, Kiera Hudson!”

The huge stadium began to shake within the roar of the crowds as a five feet four-inch girl walked out of the waiting entrance with the other participants in tow. Her long dark brown hair was tied in a tight ponytail with the end braided to keep them away from her eyes. Her red, white, and gold-designed tracksuit jacket with the name “K. Hudson” on the back covered just her shoulders, letting it flap against the wind as she walked into the field. She wore the same designed collared shirt with a red white pleated skirt and white shoes. Black tinted glasses covered her infamous cat eyes.

She sported a calm smile as she acknowledged the people that screamed her name, keeping her hands to her sides as she walked in a purposive, confident stride while her fellows waved at them with a grin on their faces. Kiera walked up to the waiting line, leaving her team behind to practice at the target range.

“Hey, Hudson,” one of her fellow participants she never bothered to ask the name called her attention. They had to shout so they could hear each other above the cheers and yells of the audience.

Kiera turned with a smile on her face. The one who called out was a woman in her twenties with a lively aura and blonde hair.

The woman tilted her head towards the target range. “Aren’t you going to warm up? Your fans might want to see your warm-up.”

The brunette let out a chuckle. “I’m not good at fanservice, is all.”

Kiera left them and went to the waiting line as the announcer guided the professional and amateur participants on what they should do and where they should go. She approached her trainer, Sylvia, who was standing beyond the barricade between the crowd and the players.

“Are you okay?” Sylvia asked when the 18-year-old young woman reached her.

Kiera just smiled at her and nodded, sneaking glances at the audience. “Are they not here yet?”

Sylvia shook her head. “Last time I heard they were already boarding the plane. Don’t worry about them, they might want to surprise you.”

Kiera nodded slowly before she proceeded to listen to Sylvia’s final instructions.

“Should I really use these?” she asked, feeling incredulous as her team assisted her in wearing the accessories for her game.

The guard wrapped around her dominant right forearm, just below the bend of her elbow. Another wrapped around the right side of her chest. She even had to put finger tapes and hand protection at the crook of her thumb and forefinger. Those were accessories permitted in competitions like Olympic Games but it never occurred to her that she needed one.

“Just for a show,” Sylvia answered. “You don’t need another news about you being a cocky, little girl who cat-walked through the tournament field without ‘proper garments’,” she made an air quote twice, “if I got their words correctly.”

Kiera couldn’t help but laugh at Sylvia’s actions and words. She stopped laughing when she saw Sylvia’s hand outstretched toward her. When she looked at the older woman, her trainer gestured at her glasses with her head.

She sighed and pulled her sunglasses with her eyes closed, Sylvia snatching them before she could change her mind. Kiera slowly blinked her colorful eyes open and raised them towards the audience.

She always thought normality, for some people including Sylvia, was something the majority does or has. You are normal if you have black or brown or even blue eyes. If you are someone with a rare trait, you might be…considered one of the “abnormal” kinds.

Kiera stared at the audience as black creatures crowded all over them. Some were biting the human’s head with their sharp canine teeth; others were clinging to them. Her colorful eyes glinted under the sun as the sight overwhelmed her and rendered her motionless.

“Hudson.”

The said archer flinched and turned to one of the staff of the event. The latter was signaling for her to get ready. Kiera nodded and looked at her trainer for a moment, who nodded as an encouragement. There were no words exchanged, no instructions made; and there she went, with her bow in her hand and a quiver of arrows on her shoulder, like a warrior on a battlefield.

Kiera positioned seventy feet away from the target range, figuring she would go first. The woman who called her out a while ago looked at her.

“Good luck,” she said with a small smile.

Kiera smiled at her and responded in the same professional tone of voice, “Likewise.”

The blast signaling for her to start went off twice and Kiera reached for her bow. Being in the front of a tournament range, she felt like she was in a different world. A switch in her mind turned off whenever she stepped on the platform. At first, there were buzzing noises, cheering squads yelling her name for the encouragement she didn’t need more than comfort before everything becomes dull…and silent.

Kiera Hudson would raise the metallic bow, leveling her dominant right arm through her shoulder, and her left foot behind her right. She would stand up straight and slowly — almost dramatically — grab a metallic arrow, notch it on the string of her bow and pull the string back. She would hear the string struggling to keep bending for her and the delicious thwack of an arrow to the target range. It was an easy routine when one has this farfetched eyesight.

If not for something that caught her eye at the very last second, she could have released the arrow.

It stood not far from her line of sight, munching on the head of one of the players as the latter stared at her with narrowed eyes. It was noticeable, at least for Kiera, since its skin was scarred black. As if it had gone through so many fires, its skin was already burnt black. The eyes were red and bulging, almost falling off from their sockets. It had sharp canine teeth instead of normal human teeth and each bite on the player’s head sunk even lower. Its head was twice bigger than its body and the hands — no, claws were clinging onto the player’s hunched body.

The sight almost made her vomit. And because of the slightest flinch, she did before releasing the arrow, it swerved and hit the target mark outside the yellow circle.

“Ooh~ what was that just now, John?”

“Her fans called that the ‘Early sign of the moon’. Apparently, if you see Hudson’s plays in the past, her first target hits were either 8 or 9.”

“A warm-up, if I call it,” John chuckled.

Kiera heaved a sigh, dropped her bow to its place, and glanced at the bench where the player was. It was still there, but she forced herself to get used to it. There were many of them here, anyway, but this was the first time she saw something on the players’ bench.

The participant hit the target mark and scored 10, bringing the cycle back to her. Kiera notched an arrow again and this time, she concentrated on the target she wanted to hit. There was silence in her ears as her colorful eyes focused on the target face. Then she released the arrow.

A perfect bullseye. The crowd roared in cheers.

“There you go! The perfect bullseye of the Champion of Artemis!”

Kiera kept hitting the perfect mark until the end of the competition, and thankfully, no other thing appeared in her sight to distract her.

The crowd went crazy. She smiled at the crowd, ignoring the black creatures clinging to them as she finally waved, and walked back to Sylvia who clapped her at the back and hugged her rather tightly.

“Another black thing you saw?” Sylvia asked in a teasing voice as she handed Kiera her sunglasses.

The brunette just smiled at her trainer. The latter wouldn’t believe her if she told her she did, anyway. Just like the first time she told the older woman. Her eyes went to the audience and she saw them at the bench, waving at her.