What was Taken - Writing Battle entry

Hi all! This is my submission into the Wonder 2025 Flash Fiction Writers’ Battle! I’ve done a few of these battles now, and always have a blast.

This time around my prompts were: Fantasy, Bride, First-aid Kit

I know it’s been a minute since my last post, but I’ve been hard at work finalising The Whispering Depths, which releases next month! I’ve had to focus on that, for obvious reasons, to ensure it’s as good as I can possibly make it, working alone. If you want to enter into the running to win a FREE SIGNED COPY, head on over to our instagram (@l_bond_author). Without further ado, let’s dive into this week’s short story!

What was Taken

I was so happy, on the day of my wedding.

I remember Callidan standing there, a dumb grin on his face as we held each other’s hands. I remember the sea breeze pulling at my gown, the gulls coursing between the islands as we stood up on the cli<top, looking down upon the tranquil turquoise of the bay.

We watched the turtles, swimming amongst the coral. What a good day it had been.

I push the thought from my mind, slumping against the stone dais, clutching the bleeding gash in my side. I feel the ground shaking beneath me, the gargantuan lynchpins that held the island to the sea-bed coming free, and falling away into the trench.

I smile. Nowhere for her to run now.

I can barely see, my wound sending waves of pain ripping up the side of my torso, sending my head to spinning. I collapse, slumping in the cool dirt.

It’s fine, I tell myself. If I die here, at least I’ll take them with me.
I feel a nuzzling at my cheek, the hot breath of a large creature warming my cold face. I

open my blurred eyes.

“Mosul!” I lift a hand to the horse’s neck, stroking his mane. “Good boy, Mosul. Good boy.”

I wince as I grasp his hair, pulling myself out of the dirt. I reach up, slipping a small box from his saddlebag. I fetch the needle and thread from the small kit, and a tonic to quiet the pain.

With gritted teeth I begin to sew up the wound. With every stitch, with every stab of pain, I see Callidan’s face. I see his dumb smile as he kisses me. I see the shock on his face as the arrow sprouts from his chest. I see him lying in the sand, eyes empty.

Mosul paces nervously about me as he sees the sheer amount of blood staining my skin.

It is not all mine, at least.

The shuddering island shakes my hand, and more than a few stitches are misplaced, but it will hold long enough, I think.

I use Mosul to pull myself to my feet, the numbing drink playing its part in keeping me standing.

“Go on, boy.” I push his muzzle. “You’ll die if you stay.”

He resists, but I manage to push him away.
“Go.” I command, and he lowers his head as he paces away. I turn back, and trudge towards the temple.

The ground shakes as I approach, sending me stumbling with every step, but I press on. I see Callidan’s face. I must continue.

They’re waiting. Of course they are. I can see their band lining the upper floor before I even enter. An obvious trap, that might have worked on someone else. They must think me almost dead.

They’re right, I realise, wincing as a fresh stab of pain courses through my side. I step through anyway.

“Well, if it isn’t little Ismere?” The woman cackles. “How’s your boyfriend?” I see the glint in her eye, the cruel amusement. The glee.

“It’s over Varin.” I wince. “The island’s done for.” I project my voice, turning to face the ambushers hidden on the balcony overlooking the first storey. “You might make it, if you run now.” I call to them.

There is a long pause, the shaking island punctuating my point. I watch as four veiled figures emerge from their hiding space. They look to me, then to Varin, then to each- other, and turn and walk out.

It’s only the two of us now, all the excitement and anticipation gone from Varin’s sharp face.

“What have you done?” She growls.

“The lynchpins. I severed them. This whole island has minutes, at most.”

“You’re bluffing.” She says. “You’d sink too.”

“I know.” I hold her gaze, too numb to move. I see the realisation in her eyes, the panic. She moves to run, to push past me and out into the open air.

I will not let her.

Injured as I am, I grab hold of her. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze with all my might.

“Let go of me!” She squeals, kicking and flailing.
“No.” I whisper in her ear. “You’ll pay for what was taken from me.”

The violent shaking continues, chunks of stone and wood crashing down around us as the temple succumbs to the sinking island.

She shrieks and wails, clawing at my bleeding side.
I ignore it. There is no more pain she can inflict on me.
“Why?” I whisper, just loud enough for her to hear me. “Why did you make me do this?” She doesn’t respond.
I hold fast as the sky crumbles around us, and the blissful sweet of darkness takes us.

I feel a nuzzling at my cheek, the hot breath of a large creature warming my cold face. I’m alive. The thought surprises me.
I open my blurred eyes.

The temple has crashed around us, Varin’s pale face staring out at me from the rubble. The island has ceased its shaking, now floating serenely in the calm sea. It’s sunk considerably, the water almost reaches up to the temple now.

Mosul stands above me, licking my cheek. “Good boy, Mosul. Good boy.”

He helps me from the rubble. Battered, bleeding, and bruised, but still alive. I let out a shaky laugh. I had not expected to see another day.

Mosul muzzles into my arm, and I wrap it around his neck, pulling myself up onto my back.

I press my face into his mane. “Where now, boy?” I ask. “It’s just you and me.” He chu<s, his warm breath steaming in the cool air.
I look up, letting the light of the setting sun warm my face.
“You’re right. Time to collect our reward.”

That’s it for this week, folks!

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