Dreams of the Realm Part 1

[Willow Wolfblade]

Not even CLOSE to finished, but I would sill love to hear your BRUTALLY HONEST and HARSH comments on this. Not joking. No sugar coating for me please

[*EDIT*] Fixed some things up.

Rending flesh and squeals of pain pierced the dusky twilight. At the very edges of vision everything was blurred, foggy and lost until looked straight upon. White feathers fluttered everywhere. They bit the throats of the birds, tearing at everything else with claw, beating their leathery wings rapidly to stay airborne. Black fur and beady eyes held no mercy within the small frames. White doves, covered in their own gore, fluttered frantically, attempting to get away, blurring out of existence as they reached the peripheral of sight, the blurr making them seem to disappear.
The ugly faces of the dark bats shimmered eerily in the deep surreal lighting of a setting crimson sun. The blood of doves lined their leering faces. Their numbers grew, finally blocking out the sun. With frightening speed they swarmed over a graveyard, broken tombstones and mossy relics of forgotten memories not hindering the little black beasts. Four voices screamed out, blending into one, as the bats descended upon a watcher.
In a blast of smoke that swept over the scene shifted to that of a city, which in turn shifted to another city, that turned into another city. Flashing images of cities, all different, and all the same, filled the hindered sight. Black roses and pure white lilies sprouted and crept over everything. The blooms were everywhere. Stems were cut in half, while the buds and blooms themselves were sliced from the rest. The bats, now rust brown with the dried blood hung in the rafters and shadows of the dead cities. Their evil little eyes watching. Following. A black spider crawled over the flowers and rubble, easily larger than a man’s chest. It reared up fiercely, baring its venomous fangs. The sun touched the horizon, its red glow beginning to wane.
The watchers walked forward, past buildings with their contents spilled and ripped to the streets, covered with the creeping thorns of black roses. As the watchers walked, lilies sprouted from their footsteps. Their pretty pale petals drooped to the crimson streets, touching the bloody water that flowed down the lanes.
They passed into another graveyard. This one darker, more menacing. The sun was halfway gone. The red light fading even more, still. Growing upon the most horrendous statue of a demon in the whole forlorn place grew a glowing white chrysanthemum. It stood tall. Proud.
Suddenly the watchers felt the soft ground give way. The lilies stopped sprouting. A shadow grew over all as the sun continued to sink. They fell for what felt like an eternity in slow motion, until finally hitting the bottom of the hole. A grave. For them. The mud sucked them deeper, filling their open mouths with the bland taste of the muck. They could still see the glow of the flower. Had to get to the flower. As the watchers reached to pull themselves up, nightshade, that most poisonous of flowers, crept silently over the edge of the grave.
The nightshade grew over the glowing chrysanthemum, smothering the glow. The watchers groped hopelessly for the flower as it was overrun with nightshade. The glow faltered. Black roses and white lilies piled around and upon the watchers.
The flowers piled up in the graveyard. Nightshade crawled, slithering down the walls of the grave.
The watchers opened their mouths for one last sorrow-filled lament. Nightshade crept into their mouths.
Darkness enclosed, shading sight, the blur advancing and filing their sight. The red sun fled the dark, dead world. The watchers closed their eyes as bats descended, some with feathers still in their maws. Each of them felt a bat land upon them. More followed. Then the frenzy began.

* * *

Stella jerked awake, panting and with cold sweat running over her body. She pulled her light cloak over her small frame with one hand and brushed pixy-length hair from her pale face behind pointed ears. The longest strand reached to just past her chin, and stubbornly broke away from the rest to dangle in her sight. She looked around cautiously, her burgundy eyes peering into the darkness, searching for any would-be trouble. The tension in her body that hadn’t left since she was startled awake eased itself out of her muscles.
In the fading moonlight her eyes shined as any woodland creatures’, seeming to glow. She noted the moon’s position and determined that she might as well be off. She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, grabbing her oak staff as she did. She used it to pull herself the rest of the way up, it’s perfectly faceted quartz spinning from movement.
A little form, barely the size of Stella’s hand straight up fluttered in front of her face, making her lean back in shock before she realized who it was.
“Myrtle. Did you find anything to eat, by chance?” Stella inquired, trying not to show how much she hoped that Myrtle had.
The little sprite shook her head. “Nopies. I came back to wake you. You were making a lot of noise moving around in your night visions.” Myrtle fluttered her pretty wings, with black and emerald green designs symmetrically covering them.
Stella nodded. She looked about, hoping that maybe she had missed a berry bush or that maybe a rabbit was poking it’s nose a bit too close. No such luck. She wasn’t even sure if she could catch the rabbit, let alone find one. The only things on her person were her staff and her grimoire. Stella brushed one pale hand over her face. Her skin caught the light, revealing a slight violet undertone to her flesh. The strange hue had gotten her into many bad situations.
Myrtle let herself land lightly on Stella’s staff, and they both sat quietly for a few minutes. They both knew that Stella was going to die of starvation if she didn’t find a source of food. Stella thought back to the last time she had eaten. A week. And before that she didn’t even know.
Myrtle glanced over at Stella, seemingly unable to decide if she wanted to say something. The little fairy looked away.
“The night visions you had were peculiar. I haven’t seen any like them before.”
Stella shot a withering glare at Myrtle, “Haven’t I told you not to intrude on my dreams before?”
The sprite only shrugged. “This one had meaning. Every image you saw has a story to go along with it, to represent something.”
“It was just a dream.” She replied. Stella didn’t believe that it was a normal nightmare, in truth. It was too clear in her mind. It hadn’t started to fade away from her mind, as normal dreams and nightmares tend to do.
Myrtle was sure there was meaning. “I know there was meaning, I-“
“Drop it.”
Myrtle set her lips in a tight line and bobbed her head.
Stella shook her head and turned towards the rushing sound of the river nearby. The leaves of the trees rustled with a cool autumn breeze. She was thirsty. More hungry than thirsty, but she still needed water as well. Before she began her short walk to the shore she reached to her belt to be sure her grimoire was strapped securely to her belt.
Stella stepped carefully over the brush, her keen eyes keeping her from stepping on any dry twigs or leaves. The moonlight cast a silvery light over the forest, bright but not enough to let an average person look into the darkness to see anything of discernable shape. Both Myrtle and Stella glanced about for a source of food. Other than inedible berries, there was nothing. As she walked, her thin, lively hair fell in front of her face again. A creature a distance away seemed to laugh at her with small, high pitched yips.
They made it to the bank of the Blood River. It was so called because in recent years there had been many battles on the banks to decide who would control the river. No one had gained any leeway, so after the war it had stayed as it had always been; free for all to use. Despite still being free for all, it had caused much bloodshed. The river itself ran most of the length of Adasidiil, and allowed many villages, cities, and towns to trade with each other swiftly. Until the winter melts flowed from the branching rivers into the Blood, it was in use most of the year. Of the 600 miles it ran of Adasidiil, the Blood ran approximately 500 of those miles, east to west. The river was clean, despite its gory history and constant use, and as Stella reached the waterline she drew her water-skin from her belt. Myrtle motioned to the bushes. Stella nodded, knowing that the sprite intended to continue her search for something edible. As Myrtle fluttered off, Stella waded to about thigh depth and drew water from the tugging current. She saw minnows in the shallows, but knew that the fish were most likely still at the bottom of the river. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of cooked fish.
She drank all of the water, attempting to fill her stomach in any way, and put it the skin back in the water to draw more. She drank heavily from her skin, reaching to fill it twice more before filling it again and retying it to her belt. Stella waded back to the shore, using her staff to help keep the current from pulling at her. As she stepped out of the water, the small elven girl tripped, going to her knees. Her staff kept her up. Stella laid her head against the smooth wood and let herself rest.

* * *

With canine ears perked, the girl watched as Stella woke, much in the same way she had. Startled, fearful, and covered in sweat. She wondered what Stella had dreamt of.
She noted the fairy and stood from her perch in a tree when Stella appeared to decide upon going to the river, her bushy tail twitching as it helped keep her balance. The pines that filled the area made quite comfortable beds, when one knew how to sleep upright in them.
Using nails that were pointed and strong, the wolven girl silently made her way through the bows of the pine, the needles tickling her face and neck, and caused her golden bark-colored hair to get snagged from time to time. An expert in the flow of the forest and the trail that Stella was taking, she quickly caught up with her and stayed silently in the trees, slightly behind and to her left as she walked slowly to the river.
The wolf-girl noted that Stella made as little sound as herself, but also noted that she passed by many edible roots. Mostly those of the bushes with inedible berries. She stopped a few trees short of the shoreline, debating on what to do. She stood her full five feet six inches and leaned against the tree with her arms crossed. It was forbidden for animangians to associate with any outsiders unless necessary, but this outsider was starving. Her morals told her to help, while her orders told her to leave.
When Stella fell, she made up her mind.
Leaping lightly from the tree to a place where she knew there to be a few twigs, the wolf-girl landed the six foot drop with grace, bending her legs to absorb the impact. As expected, a few twigs snapped under her bare feet.
Stella’s head snapped up from her staff and she quickly-quicker than could be expected from someone so starved-pushed herself to a full standing position. The wolf-girl did likewise, putting her hands up and out as she followed Stella’s lead. She stepped slowly onto the shore, and into the moonlight for Stella to see her more clearly.
Stella accessed the wolf-girl before her. The girl’s light blue eyes, which were closer to silver in the light, gleamed mischievously, but with hidden concern. She balked at the tail and ears within her own mind, but showed nothing outwardly. She knew that animangians had locked themselves away after the war. Only a select few, deemed with the title ‘Friend of the Beasts’, saw them any more. She wondered if she had crossed into land that she shouldn’t have. Stella took in all of the weapons that the obviously canine animangian had visible upon her person. A bow, well-stocked quiver, dagger, a falcata, and one band on her waist of mini throwing daggers. She had never seen a falcata other than in a book. Its blade had but one edge and it curved downward, taking a wider leaf shape until it curved back to a point, while the base was thin.
With the little energy she had, she didn’t think she could fight or escape this animangian, and she wasn’t sure if the tales of them being able to shift into the animal they appeared as were myth or truth. The quartz winked at the two girls in the fading moonlight.
“Who are you?” Stella asked cautiously, finally breaking the silence.
“My name is Willow Wolfblade. I don’t think I need to explain what I am. As for what I do… I really am just a wanderer. A sellsword to the local towns or people that have need of me.”
Stella nodded. They stood in silence for a moment more.
“Your turn.” Willow said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s only polite, after all.”
“Stella. Why are you here?” Her eyes glinted dangerously. The daggers that Stella shot with her glare made Willow’s dagger look dull and brittle. It made the animangian want to keep her hands on her dagger and falcata for comfort.
Deciding that she had nothing to fear, Willow slowly brought her pack from around her shoulders and out in front, glancing from Stella to the bag as she rummaged around inside. She pulled a package out and laid it on the ground silently and went back to looking around in the bag.
Curious, Stella lowered her staff a fraction and took a few steps closer, putting her about five feet away from the animangian, in case she wasn’t as she seemed. After a minute or two of looking around in the pack, Willow finally pulled an apple out. Without thinking, she deftly whipped a dagger from her boot. Stella let out a small gasp and raised her staff again, taking a more offensive stance. Willow looked from her to the apple in confusion at first, before coming to understand the sudden change in her stance and shrugging sheepishly at Stella.
With more calm and slow movements, Willow sliced the apple and unwrapped the package to reveal meat, and cut that into pieces too. She took a piece of both and ate them, deliberately chewing and swallowing dramatically. Willow placed the slices of apple with the meat and pushed them closer to Stella and scooted to the brushes and sat.
Stella looked from Willow to the meat for a long while, trying to judge the wolven girl. She decided that it didn’t matter whether or not Willow meant her harm or no, without food she was going to die. Stella rushed the food and dug into it, not really caring if Willow judged her for the savage way she tore at the meat or snapped at the apples. It was the most satisfying meal she could remember having, and the salted meat was tender and recently cooked. It tasted like venison.
Willow watched Stella, trying to figure her out. She obviously knew the risks of taking the food of a stranger in the woods, but had weighed them against those of starvation.
Stella almost bit her hand before she realized that there was no more food. She looked pleadingly at Willow, who only shook her head. Stella froze.
“It was poisoned.”
Willow’s face got deadly serious. “Yes. Of course it was poisoned you foolish little elf!” Stella’s eyes got big. She started to shove herself backwards before Willow burst out laughing. She doubled over and held her sides with one hand and brought the other to her mouth.
After a few minutes of Willow’s laughing, and Stella’s returned glare, Willow looked up, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “No. If I had poisoned it, you would be dead by now. Or out cold, depending on the way I wanted you. I shake my head because if you eat any more you will throw up, and that does more harm than good. It’s best to eat every few hours with a small helping than to gorge yourself if you are starving.”
Stella didn’t relax. “Look, there are plants that I can get and mix that would knock you out in any way I wanted. Conscious, unconscious, semi-unconscious… I could go on and on. But I would make them be quick. That way you wouldn’t have the time to lash out at me if you felt it happening. Make sense? It wouldn’t take the five minutes it took you to eat that food for it to kick in, believe me.”
Stella sat, unsure of how to take that information. She finally nodded and let the tension out of her shoulders and folded her legs under her on the pebbly ground.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, “Why did you help me?”
“I’m not heartless. You are starving. Not helping you would say a lot about my character, now wouldn’t it?”
Stella looked at Willow, looked at her shining blue eyes. Took in the wiry frame and all the weapons, and the hint of a smile that hadn’t left her face since she had walked out of the brush with a new perspective. She didn’t look as threatening as she had at first.
“Where am I?” Stella asked.
“Within animangian territory. On the other side of the river,” Willow motioned to the opposite shore of the Blood, “is elven land.”
“Am I supposed to be over there...?” Stella asked with a crinkled brow, obviously not liking the idea.
“No. On the contrary. I say stay over here. You look too fey to be elvish. Or at least too fey to be full-blooded elvish. Animangian land is free to cross and reside in as long as no large communities are formed. No one really wants to live here anyway.”
“You can tell I am of fey decent?”
“Yes. I have to say, the skin and height give you off. You’re barely my height. Elves I have met are at least my height, if not taller. Not to mention that they don’t have the exotic purple tint to their skin.”
Stella rubbed self-consciously at her bare arms. “Can… can you tell me of the fey? I have never met one. They are even rarer to see than your kind in recent years.”
Willow nodded, “But first,” she started “you have to tell me why you are in the woods with no knife, bow, or hunting skill.” Willow peered at Stella accusingly, motioning with her hands at the absurdity of it, “There is no way you could be alive and look half as old as you do now and have lived in the forest your whole life. Or even a large part of your life.”
The elf-fey hung her head, collecting her thoughts. “I was born during the war. Around the time the treaty was signed. I know that my father was a fey and my mother was an elf. I get my hair and height from my mother. She was abnormally tall for a female. Around six feet, while I know that fey tend to barely hit four feet. After she had raised me to be able to eat solid food and walk, she gave me away.”
Willow waited. After a pause a furrow formed on her forehead, the hint of a smile gone. “Just… gave you away…?”
Stella nodded and looked away. They sat for a few minutes. The wind rustled the trees and the first of the morning birds chirped. “I was given to a mage, my mentor, who knew my mother planned on being rid of me. He convinced her that it was best to give me to him so that he could keep and eye on me and keep me from dying at the very least. She consented.”
“How could a mother do such a thing...?”
Stella shrugged, she didn’t really care about her mother. She didn’t know her. “He gave me the best life he could. He was a human living on the outskirts of an elvish city. That being said, he was neither rich nor fully accepted. The treaty keeps everyone from killing each other, but prejudices left over from the war keep from befriending anyone outside of one’s own race.” Willow nodded her agreement. She knew that well. Saw it often, even. “He was a mage, but magic is severely looked down upon when someone you fought against for three hundred years is living so close to the midst. I was still young when I went to live with him.
“He fed me the best he could, and taught me how to read and do basic things like some math and other elementary teachings. One day I was outside, playing by myself in his little brown yard. I made a spark. He saw. From then on my schooling turned to that of a mages’. He was a battle mage, so he taught me destruction magic and how to defend myself with a staff. We had to go far out to the woods to learn magic, but everything else he taught in his yard.”
“You’re a mage and you blow up one pesky rabbit for dinner? Sounds fishy to me.” Willow replied, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back against a nearby tree with a smirk.
“He was a destruction mage. Do you know what that is? What it entails?” Willow shook her head. “It is the use of magic to wipe out enemies with large-scale spells. Wipe. Them. Out. It takes a lot of energy to do. He wanted me to know how to do the big spells first, so that the small ones would come easily. Destruction spells come in two sizes; big, and REALLY big. Other kinds of spells don’t take half as much energy and are significantly smaller in scale usually. I never got to my lessons on the smaller spells and incantations.”
Willow nodded, leaning forward to place her chin on her intertwined hands, which rested upon her knees. She had nothing to input, and seeing this, Stella continued.
“It takes a lot of work to master any spell. And he made me master them. At first I didn’t notice that anything was happening, but he made me keep on trying. One day, though, I got so angry. I just couldn’t make anything happen. Not a spark, not a sizzle. Nothing. I became so angry at myself for being unable, and at him, for not letting me stop. I blew up the area we were in and about three yards of forest in every direction. We were the only ones not hurt. I would have killed us both, but he told me later that he always had his own protection glyphs all around to keep us safe.
“That night we hid away. And for much of the next week. I didn’t think about it, but after that it was harder for him to find a job and feed us. I didn’t figure out until he told me the last time I saw him that he had been going without food some nights to feed me.” She looked down sadly. A chipmunk ran from one tree to another behind Willow. Willow would have reached out to put a comforting hand on Stella’s shoulder, but she didn’t seem to want pity, so she held her hand in check.
“He kept on teaching me. Pushing me. I also never realized how much that would help me. I am alive because of it. I know that. While he was teaching me, we started to shy away from melee fighting. I am not built for it. I know the basics, and that should be good enough. A good battle mage doesn’t get in physical confrontations at all if they can help it.
“We were in the middle of training when he got attacked. By the people we lived with. The elves who had sworn to uphold peace. He refused to draw a weapon and instructed me to follow his lead, to prove them wrong. They tied he and I to a chair. They beat him. For a long while they refused to touch me. It is their way to ignore what they abhor.
“When they finally got him to speak, it was because one turned to hit me. He told them about training me, and about the explosion. They stood grim-faced and told both of us that he had conducted treason. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t really a part of the community, he was still living within their land. He had imparted information that could be used against the greater good to a child who didn’t know how to use the lessons. The penalty for treason is death.” Stella averted her eyes from Willow, who closed her eyes in sorrow. She knew that Stella still had fresh wounds from this experience, and by retelling it, she had taken a saltwater bath with those gaping memories still bleeding and painful.
A tear escaped one burgundy eye, but she continued, “They stabbed him once in the chest and looked to me. They told me I was to gather my things and leave. And to never come back unless I had a reputable ‘adult’ with me. They left. He gave me this,” she motioned to her Grimoire, “and told me to leave. There is nothing in the book, but he insisted that there is. That there is more than I will ever know. He told me that I will figure out how to use it, but that hasn’t happened. He died, because of me. So I left. I have been wandering the forests ever since.” She looked up, her tear-stained face filled with sorrow. “It’s my fault.” She whispered.
Willow felt a tightness in her chest. “No.” she growled.
The fierceness of the statement set Stella rocking back on her heels. “No… But-“
“No! You did nothing to deserve their ire, and neither did he. They knew it would torment you. They did it against you and him. Because he is human, a race they fought against the whole three hundred years in that war, and because you are of mixed blood. What is one little section of forest to those who have the most forested land in Adasidiil? I know their connection to earth. I share that passion, but I wouldn’t ever kill someone for an accident. I would be grateful that they took you away from the population. Their prejudices did this. Neither you nor your mentor did anything to deserve it. You even said yourself that magic was only looked down upon. Not outlawed or treasonous.” Willow had her hands angrily at her sides, and Stella noticed that the hair on the back of her head had gained body and volume, making her look rather puffy. She saw the wisdom in Willow’s words, but shook her head, still unable to keep from blaming herself.
They sat in silence, Willow seething and Stella with her renewed sorrow. After a time of soundless fury Willow looked to Stella, hiding her rage within herself to be able to speak to Stella.
“Well. Since you can’t hunt, it looks like I am going to have to teach you.” Stella opened her mouth to protest, since Willow had already helped her, but Willow raised a hand before any arguments are made. “ Nope. No arguments from you! You are going to learn how to use a bow, skin an animal and fish. When you can do this I will leave you be. Now come on. Your first lesson starts now.”
Stella opened her mouth to try to argue, but when she looked at Willow, looked at the playful smile back on her lips, she couldn’t find the words. The temptation of having a friend was too alluring. She smiled for the first time in weeks.
Willow pushed herself from the ground, and walked to Stella with one hand in her pocket. She offered the other hand to Stella. The elven girl glanced to Willow’s hand and back to her face, and accepted the help up.
Myrtle fluttered into the clearing with great speed. The sprite stopped short when she saw Willow, but she took notice that Stella was relaxed, almost peaceful looking. Remembering why she had burst out of the forest to find Stella she resumed her flight to hover in front of Stella’s face.
“I found a wild pig!” She burst, the words coming out in a slur of excitement, “It is grazing, and I came back as soon as I found it! And I-“
“Great, Myrtle! Take us to it.” Stella replied, another smile creeping across her tender features.
“First lesson.” Willow stated, “Watch and learn.” With that Willow crouched low and stalked off into the woods, looking back and motioning for the other two to follow, looking to Myrtle to guide her.
With stealth and speed they took off into the brush, occasionally there was a snapping twig and a sharp reprimand, filled with playful sarcasm. The boar didn’t know what hit it.  

[Willow Wolfblade]

Different Beginning


Wrong. That’s how it felt. All day. She reasoned that it was just because it was a Monday. And those days are the wrong-est, right? Shrugging off the feeling, the girl went on with her day. She met her love in the morning, got her coffee, smiled with her friends, and went to class. Just like the rest of her normal, high school senior days previously. With the exception to the coffee. That was a privilege she let herself have when she could afford it. Otherwise, though, normal.
Art; her favorite class. She had met new friends in there, and a decent teacher. She laughed with them and worked on the current project. Drawing. ‘Sweet’ she thought, ‘my favorite.’
Math; one of her favorite teachers. Irritated and cranky, but always helpful. The hated subject, but it was worth it. Programming was worth it. Even so, she found herself watching the clock near the end, every time. With relief, the class ended, and she parted with playful, teasing words to the teacher. Telling him to get back to work. He dismissed her with an irritated wave of his hand and a scowl-grin. His specialty.
Happily, the girl allowed herself to be enveloped in the arms of her love. He kissed the top of her head and told her he loved her. She affirmed her love back to him. Hand-in-hand, the two walked to her class. Another kiss, this one lingering more. She wished him a good day, fuzzy from the kiss, telling him she would hurry to her bus, and thus not see him after the last class. Before she finished, though, she noted concern in his eyes. She asked what the problem was. He looked at her a few seconds before shaking his head and smiling. Nothing. Nothing.
A free period. She loved it. A nag came back. She shooed it away and dug into her book filled with essays from fiction writers with contentment. Some of it was hard to get through, being dense, but she went over it again. Nag. With irritation she shut her book and pulled out her mIpod and tuned it out until the last bell. As promised, she hurried to her bus at the front of the line-up. Said good-bye to the friends she saw on the way, and climbed onto the bus and flopped into the front seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her love again. He kissed his hand and touched it to the window in response to her surprised smile, mouthing ‘I love you.’ She imitated. She noted concern again. The bus started up, and she furrowed her brow in confusion. His smile seemed off. Worried almost. She made a phone with her hand and waggled it next to her ear. He nodded.
The bus took off. She watched him watch her before hurrying to his own bus. Turning, she wondered what that was all about. Shaking her head, she slipped her headphones back into her ear, figuring that they could converse about his disturbance later when he called her or she called him. She gently rocked her head with the music as she rode home.
A flash of light. Of darkness. She sat up straight. Looked around. No one else seemed to have noticed. With another shake of her head, she figured that it was probably just her seeing things, maybe zoning out and not realizing that she had blinked, or a reflection flashing her in the eye. Yes, that was it.
The bus slowed down and stopped with a hiss, grumbling as she and the other kids got off. She walked with two of her friends, joking around and asking how their days had gone. Smiles and shrugs. With a wave, she disappeared up her stairs and into her house. A quick greeting before fleeing to the bottom of the stairs. Everyone else was upstairs. She didn’t want to be up there.
She stopped at the foot of the stairs. Something in the back of her mind went off. It was strong, and she couldn’t readily dismiss it this time. In confusion, she squinted her eyes in the gloom of the unlit hall to her room. It suddenly didn’t seem so appealing. She stood there for another minute, arguing with herself. Finally, she reasoned with her subconscious, backing her claims of safety with routine. She had done this a hundred times before. No worries. It’s just her room. Nothing to worry about. Right? Right.
Shaking her shoulders, as if to be rid of the strange feeling crawling up her spine, she strode towards her door, it’s familiar white shape swarmed with shadows. The poster tacked on the door reading “GO AWAY!” with an arrow pointing- conveniently- towards the stairs standing out from the gloom. The girl reached for the door, unable to shake some of her tentativeness, and swung the door open quickly. Nothing.
She smiled at her foolishness and shook her head. The feeling gone, having seen nothing in her room or the shadows past her door in her sisters’ room, she walked through her doorway and threw her backpack onto her bed, directly across from the entryway. Relaxed now, the girl popped her headphones in and turned on a particularly good, poppy, dance song, slipping the mIpod into her pocket. With a shimmy and a kick she turned around to face her closet.
The girl looked in and stopped dancing in confusion. Eyes looked back. She looked to the door, and to her confusion, there was someone else watching as well. She couldn’t figure out why two people were suddenly here. She would have noticed a broken window, she reasoned with herself. The person, a man, took a deliberate step towards her as she stood in an unsure daze. Her dad was home. All day. He would have heard the door open, she argued as the other man moved towards her too. The music reached its loud climax, the point where she would be jumping around with the mad guitar solo. Her mind was working too slow to do anything though. One of them smirked and looked to the other man. The second shared the look and snapped his eyes back to her.
Annoyed now. Why would they barge into her room? The only thing in there were books and games. Her mind started speeding up. Unfortunately, so did the men. Working to corner her, they blocked her small path between them to her door or window, Making them about an arm and a hand away from being able to reach out and touch her. She reached in her pocket, for her phone. That could help. She pressed the numbers ‘911’ into it, thankful for the minutes spent working on how to text in her pockets suddenly. She pulled it out as she pressed send, and moved her thumb to click the speaker button. One of the men’s gaze steeled at the cell phone, and he snapped his wrist at her hand. Something sharp grazed her palm, by her thumb, and the phone flew out of her hand to the wall with a thud. She turned, shocked to see that a small dagger had impaled her phone on the wall. With a gulp, her throat suddenly dry, she turned back to the men.
The one who had stood at the doorway leered at her. In the back of her mind, annoyance tickled her judgment. She pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time to be rash, she reasoned. The girl took a step back, feeling the edge of her bed kiss the back of her knee. There was something off about these two. She felt it. They seemed too… unnatural. No. Not even that. Their faces blurred at the edges. It was hardly detectable, but it was there. She noted that it was all over them, strongest at the crowns of their heads and at their waists. She reached back without turning. Her comforter cushioned her grasp. She flung it at them. One was shocked and only raised his hands, seemingly unsure of what was flying at him, the other was quicker on his feet and pulled out another dagger. Fabric tore, but the thick comforter was enough to distract, at least. A new song started. Calmer. She jumped the man who had reacted fearfully of the attacking blanket. Over him and on her feet, she started to take off to her door.
With a strange buzzing noise, something passed her, brushing against her side. One of the men, the one with the daggers, was in the doorway, appearing there in an instant. His outline seemed to have been left behind from the speed, catching up with him when he stopped, just as quickly as he had appeared. She stumbled and tripped, almost falling into him. He grinned and stepped forward, grasping her by the hair, keeping her upright. He pushed the door shut with his foot, making sure it latched into place. The girl opened her mouth to yell out, but wasn’t so eager to do so when the dagger pressed against her windpipe. The man grinned at her, sliding his finger from his hold on her hair to her jaw-line, tracing it slowly. Goosebumps climbed down her arms and chest. She gulped again, frozen and unsure. His nails looked short, but something sharp touched her instead of his fingertips.
She felt rather than heard- since her headphones were still in her ears- the other stranger get untangled from the bedspread and come up to her from behind. The man behind her grabbed her hair as the other had and pulled her head roughly back, making her look him in the eyes. With his other hand, he removed her headphones and took her mIpod out of her pocket and tossed it behind him. She might have scolded him for it, had it not been intruders. Intruders with knives. The girl couldn’t keep the confusion from her face as she stared back at the upside-down face with fear. In response, he put his face up against hers, cheek to cheek so that she could still see his eye. It squinted with a leer at her.
The dagger-wielder dragged the blade all over her chest, lingering over her heart. The skittish man turned his head. She could hear his breath, a slight hiss. He licked her face, down to the base of her neck and shoulder, keeping her head back by her hair but tilting her head sideways.
He bit down. She whimpered. The girl heard the dagger-man snicker.
Dagger stepped back. “Enough play.” His voice lingered on the ‘ee’ sound. The biter looked up from her neck.
“Can’t we have some fun before we go back?”
“No. Now. Let’s go.” Dagger snapped. Roughly, Biter shoved her head upright and held her. She reached for her head instinctively. Dagger’s blade nicked her arms, forcing her to keep them down. As Biter held her, Dagger stepped close to her again, pressing his body against her and sneering at her.
“Don’t give me problems and I won’t give you any. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
She glared at him and forced the lump in her throat away. “I got it, you b*****d.”
His sneer wavered, twitching at the edges of his mouth. “I might recommend, girl, that you be a bit more,” the man pressed the dagger back to her neck, “respectful.” He looked back at Biter and twitched his head to the closet a bit. Biter wrapped her medium-length hair around his hand and pushed her to the closet door.
She wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Darkness seeped out from what looked to be a tall window with no discernable edges, looking into a small room. Nothing but the stone of the walls could be seen though the window, though.
‘This isn’t my closet…’ the girl thought, alarmed. Nothing that was happening was real. It couldn’t be real. Things like this didn’t happen so fast. There was some monologue coming up from one of the men, wasn’t there? Something to give her time to think, to actually assess her absent feelings.
She braced her legs and pushed back, trying to stay away from the strange window. The air from the place gave her the chills.
“Dammit, girl!” Biter griped.
Daggers glared over at her. “I think we need to show her how scary we actually are.”
Biter grinned over at Dagger. “Yes, sir.” He reached for her breasts, roughly dragging his hand over her abdomen. Dagger slapped his had away from her.
“No, you fool. I told you. Not here. Not now. You’ll have a perfectly long enough time to do as you will to her if she survives getting though.”
“Wh-who are you? What do you mean?” the girl managed to stutter.
Both of the men snapped their gazes to her. Daggers stared at her. Through her. She felt the blood leave her face under his scrutiny. He cracked a sneer at her.
“We are going to show you. You know you aren’t fast enough. You’ve seen this. Stay. Do you understand?”
She steeled her own gaze and nodded stiffly. Daggers stepped in front of her, towards the window. He turned to face her, smirking at her mockingly. She couldn’t figure out why it was so significant.
Then he took another step back, putting himself only half a pace away from the strange area in her closet. She jumped back in shock, pressing back against Biter, who forced her back to her previous position with a sharp shove of her hair. The blur covering Dagger disappeared, along with the normal appearance of a human man. The only thing the same on him was the mocking sneer. From his waist sprouted wings, leathery and-though folded- were as tall as he was. It was an awkward protrusion, and the most significant change on him, but she tore her eyes away from them to his face. Where the whites of his eyes were supposed to be was replaced by onyx, with hawk-like amber irises. Claws as long as the fingers they sprouted from extended from his hands.
“Why…? Why…? I don’t wanna go. Let me stay! I won’t tell anyone!” she stammered, finally getting a kick of fear. She fought against Biters’ grip on her hair, reaching up and trying to loosen his fingers. Irritated, Biter nicked her wrist as he slapped her hand way. She quivered as she was shoved closer to Dagger and the window.
Dagger’s hair had gone from a dull dark brown to a sleek ebony. He grinned, flashing four very sharp canine teeth. She was shoved closer to him by the Biter. The girl gulped as a claw extended towards her face. She wasn’t feeling so bold any longer.
“Oh, dear,” Dagger purred, “I would, but you see… I serve a higher power. He wants to have some expendable toys. You will serve that purpose.”
The girl squeaked and fought against the demon- for she was fairly certain that they were the same- holding her hair, clawing at his hand and pressing against him. Dagger gripped her throat firmly, still allowed her to breathe, and lifted her from the carpeted ground. His sneer remained, and the girl was sure that it rarely left. Biter let her hair go and also stepped around to be in front of her and in line with the window. His human façade also faded suddenly, and his hair- a similar brown to Dagger- changed to a bright and fiery red. His eyes were more golden than amber.
“Est dual abugh, manha kiilohs. Etra!” Dagger snapped over his shoulder to Biter. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Dagger grinned at her look of befuddlement. “If you live, I’ll give you plenty of time to learn what I say when I speak my own language.” He traced her jaw with the sharp of his blade as he taunted her. She was sure she wasn’t looking foreword to what he was suggesting.
Biter, in the mean time, had grunted and moved to the window and began to speak a similar language. The air in her room began to crackle and snap. It sounded to her as if the very fabric in which her room was made of was braking from a strain that it was not used to. Though he was standing squarely in front of the window, he only seemed to concentrate. If he was doing anything magical, he wasn’t waving his arms about as she expected him to do. The window didn’t change, either. At least, not outwardly. She felt as though it was different somehow, but it didn’t change it’s bleak and empty scenery nor the darkness that it emitted.
Dagger carried her to the window, standing just a few inches away. Slowly, another grin filled his sharp features. “I think, good comrade of mine, we have a winner. What do you think?” Biter came back, pale and with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and appraised her with Dagger. He grinned as well, though the girl found that Biter’s grin was more threatening. More a promise of horrors to come.
“Indeed, comrade,” Biter spat, “A winner. Can we take her now so I can play?”
“Ah, my friend, you are so impatient to get what you can out of the new toys.” Dagger leered at her as he continued, “But I am leading this little… expedition, and thus I have first claim on our little friend.” The girl felt her face loose any color left in it. “Let’s get her to her new home and be done with this damned fjuiica.”
With that, Dagger pulled her in close to his face-touching foreheads. He grinned at her once more, forcing his lips roughly over hers and biting hard enough for her to taste her own blood before sharply extending his arm and sending her flying into the window.
A loud crack sounded in her ears, and she could nearly taste the blackness that engulfed her. She had no more time to think or react as she flew through the window. As quickly as she had passed though, she lost her consciousness, neither feeling nor caring about the cool, damp floor that kissed her body.
Dagger and Biter watched in amusement as she broke through the barrier. With satisfaction, and his normal sneer plastered on again, Dagger jerked his head to the window. Biter growled savagely, disappearing into the window. Dagger followed, closing the strange opening behind him.




2

She awoke with a start to the sound of a frantic scream. As she looked around, there was nothing but blackness. With a jerk, the girl moved her hands to her eyes, thinking herself blind. She was relieved when she could barely make out the outline of her hands.
She pushed herself onto her knees and brushed her stringy hair away from her face. In a rush, all of the events caught up to her. Her heart began to beat rapidly, but she tried to make as little sound as she could. From her knees, she began to stand slowly. A jingle behind her made her spin in alarm, causing more of the chik chik sounds. In her alarm, the chain that she had failed to notice- which was attached to an iron collar around her neck – tangled around her legs and she fell with a high-pitched squeak.
“So you are awake.” She heard Dagger chuckle. She looked in the direction of his voice, and only saw gleaming amber irises.
The girl stood up into a crouch, untangled herself, and faced those gleaming orbs. She watched him get a little closer and crouch a few feet away from her. As she focused on him, she didn’t notice Biter coming up behind her. As Biter immobilized her arms before she could fight back, Dagger came up to her and gripped her throat in one hand and, she guessed, a dagger in the other. She could only imagine that irritating sneer on Dagger’s face.
“First off,” Dagger crooned, “What’s your name, girl?”
She opened her mouth to give them her name, but in the back of her mind an alarm was screaming. Instead of her real name she answered, “Willow.”
“Willow what?” Biter urged, twisting her arms painfully.
She was dumbfounded. “Uh… ah… Wolf…blade.” Willow winced. She knew that she had sounded less than believable. Dagger and Biter exchanged glanced. Dagger’s grip on her throat tightened, and the dagger that Willow had-accurately- guessed was in his hand pressed painfully into the area where her neck meets her jaw. Biter twisted her arms more, making her whimper in pain.
“So, Willow. Want to tell us what your real name is?” Dagger asked, almost sweetly, putting extra sugar on the pronunciation of her ‘name’. Willow gasped under his grip. He loosened his hand the slightest.
“W-what’s YOUR real name, then?” she demanded.
The shine of Dagger’s eyes narrowed, “Why should I tell you, girl?”
She matched his gaze and mimicked, “Why should I tell you, demon?”
Silently they glared at each other. Biter still twisted her arms painfully, but Willow didn’t let herself react to the sharp pain as she matched Dagger.
“Fine, ‘Willow Wolfblade,’” Dagger spat, “That will do I guess. As for my name, call me what you wish, for I will never tell you my real name.”
“I will, d**k.” She got punched in the mouth.
“But don’t ever forget who’s in charge here, girl. Choose a different name to call me by. Choose one for him too,” Dagger indicated to Biter, “Since you’ll be seeing a lot of us, as it is apparent that you need… an attitude adjustment.”
Willow was silent. She got hit again. “I meant now.”
She looked at Dagger, “Dag.” Willow heard Biter snort. She looked over her shoulder the best she could with Dag’s grip, “Fang.” Her angry gaze returned to Dag.
“How creative.” Fang said, lifting her a bit by her twisted arms. She hissed in discomfort.
Dag said some things in his strange language, and Willow swore that his eyes shined more brightly as their gaze became concrete, looking her right in the eyes. A white flash took her vision and she squeezed her eyes shut with a yelp. Willow tried to open them, only to make them water. In a few minutes she was able to look out at Dag again, blinking tearfully. Instead of darkness, though, Willow could see through the gloom. It was as if a full moon on a cloudless night was shining, giving her sight. Willow looked at Dag’s amused face in confusion.
“Don’t thank me girl. You’ll wish I had left you blind by the time you are done here.” He looked to Fang slyly, “Think we should break the news to her, my friend?”
“I’m not your friend,” Fang spat, “But… yes. The amazement, fear and confusion would be amusing to watch her stumble through.”
“Stay here, I’ll be back in a few short moments.” Dag crooned to her, taking the hand he had had on her neck and tracing her jaw-line. As he stood up, he pinched her cheek and spun, leaving what she could now see was a cell. A musty, dank, and horrid cell. Fang held her arms as Dag left, but as soon as he could no longer hear Dag, he spun Willow around. He took her shirt in his hand and lifted her, slamming her into a wall. Willow tried to kick at Fang, but he used his free hand to punch her in the stomach. She tried to double over, but his grip kept her firmly against the wall.
Suddenly, Fang’s face was so close she could smell his musk and feel the tickle of his lips against hers. Willow tried to turn away, but again she was beaten. With his free hand he held her face in place. He roughly forced a kiss on her lips, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Willow shut her eyes tight and tried to wiggle away from him, but his grip was unyielding. She bit down on his tongue, piercing it, a rush of his metallic blood whetting her lips. Only wanting him off, she let his tongue go again and began to fight his grip on her throat.