Darklight Chronicles

Chapter 1

Rain poured as lightning cracked and briefly reminded the world of light. Darkness quickly returned and shrouded the land in a blanket of cold nothingness. A creeping chill stuck to the skin and bones of anyone unfortunate enough to be outside.

A girl, cloaked in all black was running through the forest, panting heavily her bare feet seemed barely touch the ground as she raced through the tall trees and bushes. Thorns and branches cut her at her. She looked behind her to see if she was still being chased. Not paying attention the girl's foot got caught in a root sticking up from the ground. She let out a startled shriek as she felt her ankle break and she tumbled down a hill that was covered in thorn bushes. There was heavy foot steps following behind her but they stopped at the top of the steep hill. There was faint whispers at the top but not distinct enough to understand. The footsteps could be heard turning and walking away.

After a few moments the sound of hooves beating against the earth grew closer. A man sat atop the steed clad in plate armor with an unfamiliar tabard adorning his chest. His face was hidden behind a steel helmet, however what looked to be silvery locks flowed from underneath it. A sheathed blade hung at his hip and a shield laid hooked against the side of the steed, protecting his left leg. The man called out. A matured, yet still youthful voice echoed out from behind the metal helmet. “Hello? Is anyone out there?” His left arm raised, lofting the burning torch in his hand higher into the air.

Heavy breathing could be heard from the thorn bush that was a couple feet away from the man and his steed. Faint whimpers could be heard as the girl attempted to get up but her arms trembled beneath her, causing her fall.
"Ngh!..."

The man dismounted and rushed to the girl, not giving any thought to who or what she may be. He pulled a large dagger from his belt and cut the the thorny brush away from her and pulled her out. “Are you alright, Madam?” He inquired with a worried tone.

She winced as he pulled the bush away, some of it cut into her. She was covered in dirt and blood. Her breathing was heavy, her body was trembling and she attempted to look up at him, her skin was extremely pale and she tried to speak, her voice was soft, almost child like.

"H...help... they wa... kill..." The girl became unconscious and collapsed on the ground. Her clothing and cloak were torn and terribly tattered.
The man looked around then picked her up, carrying her over to his horse and placing her atop the saddle then mounted behind her, keeping her close to his body, lest she fall. His boots kicked into the horse, sending it into a hasty gallop away from the scene and towards what looked like a small fortification. Other men in lighter armor saluted and quickly opened the gate as he rode through. The man pulled back on the reigns, coming to a quick halt. He dismounted and took the girl into his arms, carrying her inside a small building. He laid her down onto a bed made of stuffed hay and took her tattered and filthy clothes off of her, covering her in several blankets for her modesty and out of concern of how cold her body felt.

She whimpered a little as he placed her on the horse, the hood of cloak nearly came off as he rode into the fortification. As he stripped of her clothing, she had deep scars all over her pale skin, some looked like cuts, but a lot on her arms and inner thighs looked like bite marks. Her fiery red hair covered her face as he laid her down and covered her up. She was always cold and it wouldn't change no matter how much he covered her.

The man pulled his helmet off and laid it onto a nearby table. Flowing silver locks framed his clean shaven face. A look of worry twisted his otherwise rather handsome face. Arms folded with a gloved hand rubbing at his chin as he watched her slumber. After a few moments he moved over to a cabinet and gathered supplies to tend to her wounds. He laid a bundle of bandages onto the bed and moved part of the blankets off of her body, trying his best to allow the lady to keep her modesty. His hands gently treated her oddly slow bleeding wounds and wrapped them in bandages snd covered her back up, awaiting for her to wake up.
She laid peacefully for a while but as he started to clean and bandage her, small whimpers of what sounded like fear escaped her lips. She shifted a little and her back was turned to him the blankets shifted and showed a brand on her back. It was the brand of her Master, the Duke of Dorcha Scáil, which meant dark shadow.