Chapter 6
The raiders divided even the last sheep meticulously among themselves, and swept away anything usable from the tents.
The bowls, the embroidered quilts, even the sewing boxes.
All through that long, interminable dawn, Siara held her breath in the cramped underground storage.
Her back ached and her legs went numb, but she endured stubbornly, even after the raiders withdrew, after the sun rose, and after that sun set again beyond the plains.
Creeeak…
Only when night was far advanced did she ever so gently push up the hatch to the storage.
Silence.
Aside from the mournful howl of the desolate wind, no sound could be heard.
It seemed no one was there, but there was no harm in being extra cautious.
Slowly, slowly…
She crawled out as carefully as possible.
Furtive glance.
She looked around. The sheep pens were empty, and all the horses had been stolen.
The spot where the newlywed tent had stood was also barren.
The raiders had even taken her brother’s new wedding tent, made from high-quality leather.
If they had dismantled the main tent, they would have discovered the secret storage. It was a mercy they had left it.
No.
This tent was left as a warning.
They had already broken the greatest taboo of the plains.
Now that they were enemies with every tribe on the plains, this was a threat—this is what would happen to Moloi, Vaskahan, and Shiran if they dared to oppose them.
Using the slashes the raiders had made, Siara stealthily crawled into the tent.
“Ugh.”
A terrible stench of blood made her dizzy and choked her breath.
“Ugh! Uu…… Heuk!”
She reflexively stifled a scream that threatened to burst out, quickly covering her mouth.
The carnage inside the tent was far more gruesome than she had imagined.
The entire tent, lit by a pale moonlight, was a sea of blood. The entrails of her father and uncles were splattered everywhere, trampled recklessly under the raiders’ feet.
Her youngest brother’s small body had been pierced by a sword and then cleanly sliced in half.
Her brother, who should have been happily clasping the bracelet on his bride today, lay dead near the place of her mother and sister—perhaps he had moved to protect the women in that fleeting moment.
“Sob.”
Her vision swam hotly, and thick tears streamed down her cheeks.
Just yesterday, everyone had been laughing happily…
The memory felt vivid, as if she were seeing it now.
Her father, strict with the clan but merciful to his daughters.
Her mother, elegant yet strong.
Her brother, who had viewed her indulgences with a lenience and affection unlike other plainsmen.
Her gentle, kind, beautiful sister.
Her adorable three-year-old brother.
Her always-kind uncles.
All killed in an instant.
“Sob……. H-heup…….”
Siara trembled violently, desperately chewing back her sobs.
But no matter how small she made herself, it was hard to completely suppress the scream threatening to burst forth.
If it hadn’t been winter, her father and brother would never have been so careless.
If only the dogs had barked…
Or if she had cried out a warning…
Regret pierced her to the bone.
[My child! My child! Not the child! Not the child!]
[Ah, heavens! Gods!]
Her mother’s desperate screams still felt like they were swirling inside the tent.
Thud.
Clutching her arms in anguish, Siara writhed in grief, then stretched her hands forward and grabbed the carpet.
The thick winter carpet was stained dark red with the dried blood of her family.
Tilting her head back, fiery tears streamed from her wide-eyed gaze.
Those who had stolen her father’s wealth, killed her father’s brothers, murdered her brother and younger brother, and taken her mother and sister.
“Moloi, Vaskahan, Shiran.”
The moment she spat out the enemies’ names, a different kind of tremor, distinct from sorrow or grief, spread through her entire body.
Gnashing her teeth in hatred, she engraved the names of those three tribes into her bones, along with the smell of blood today.
It was the raiders who had broken the plains’ unwritten law. It was they who were unjust.
A desire for revenge—a cruel craving for retribution—to repay this wrongful blood with blood surged blazingly from her heart.
Siara drew in a sharp, deep breath, Ssuip, cutting off her tears.
The tears didn’t stop instantly, but weeping and sobbing now held no value. Her tears were worthless.
Useless.
She wiped her eyes with her palms, stubbornly erasing the tears.
On the plains, when family was killed, revenge was the child’s rightful duty.
Of course, it was the son’s right; daughters were supposed to submit to fate.
But now, the only child left to exact blood vengeance was Siara Asra. Her alone.
With eyes now cold and completely dry of tears, Siara memorized the horrific slaughter before her in stark detail.
The corpses of her father and brother, who had died with their eyes open.
The bodies of her uncles and younger brother.
The devastation of this ruined tent.
She imprinted on her soul the fact that the vile raiders had even stolen the ivory bracelet, her brother’s wedding gift.
“I will have my revenge.”
Absolutely.
By any means necessary.
She would rescue her mother and sister, and dye these plains red with the blood of Moloi, Vaskahan, and Shiran.
To do that, she needed power. Overwhelming force.
But how?
Facing the alliance of three of the most powerful tribes was daunting enough for a single tribe, let alone for her.
The Asra tribe alone was far too weak, and her mother’s family, who presided over astronomy and rituals, was equally powerless.
There was no tribe on these plains with the strength to confront those three.
“Is there none? No way at all?”
The despair that she lacked the power for revenge made her heart feel like it was burning to ashes.
Even now, her mother and sister were likely suffering hardship in Shiran and Vaskahan…
Especially her sister—even tonight, at this very moment, she was probably pinned beneath a raider.
Sister. Mother.
The thought of having no way to save them was driving her mad.
She knew that this grief-stricken thirst for revenge was reckless and foolish.
Realistically, she needed to worry about her own survival first, not her sister or mother.
Without a man’s protection, she couldn’t even go to fetch water; she had no food, no shelter.
She couldn’t seek refuge with her father’s or mother’s relatives either.
The moment it was discovered she wasn’t ‘gone to the city,’ the enraged chieftain of Shiran would cut out her mother’s tongue for lying.
“Then I must leave the plains.”
Secretly, quickly, without anyone noticing.
Like the wind.
“Ah.”
A thought struck her, and she flinched, stopping her movement.
She stared into the darkness without even blinking, then muttered in a low voice.
“If there’s absolutely no way to get revenge within the plains, what if I bring force in from the outside?”
Like the bitter, knife-like wind that sweeps across the plains from the distant horizon.
“A powerful army… from outside the plains…”
Her mother’s voice, cursed out in despair and rage, echoed in her head.
[If that child learns of today’s horrific slaughter, she will surely take revenge someday! Because Emperor Shah holds immense power, enough to sweep you all away!]
Emperor Shah.
Thump.
Her heart beat strongly, and a torch-like hope ignited from within.
Yes.
An Emperor could easily accomplish the revenge she so desperately desired. An ultimate sovereign with irresistible power.
She would find the noble family of the Shirkohin Empire that the Third Uncle had connections with.
She would go and ask them to help her enter the Emperor’s harem.
Siara placed her blood-stained hand on her face.
Slowly, she dragged her fingertips from her eyes, down her cheeks.
Over her sweat-damp, sticky white neck, over her pounding, heaving heart, she let her hand rest on her sensual, alluring breasts.
A once-in-a-millennium beauty.
The beauty her uncles had attested to.
With this face, she would seduce the Emperor…
Siara made a cold, hard resolution with eyes like black ice.
“I will absolutely repay today’s blood with your blood.”
