part one

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It was a day like any other, quiet, dull, lonesome. Elizabeth lazed on her large four poster bed in the late afternoon sunshine which flowed through the ruby red curtains that adorned her chambers.

With a yawn she began to sit up, her red hair shone even brighter in the natural light, seemingly flowing like gold yarn hanging from a beautiful dress. The young Princess sighed at the thought of yet another dinner with the dignitaries and royal families that had travelled from all around the kingdom, especially to see her.

What a bore. She thought to herself. What a joke. I am to be wed off the the highest bidder without a second thought. What about love? She clenched her jaw, anger rising inside her chest like a volcano ready to release the red hot lava onto the unsuspecting town below.

A sudden sound distracted her from her rage. A yell. Footsteps. Running.

Her dainty forehead creased as worry turned her stomach.

Swords. Clanging together. Metal on metal, ground into Elizabeth's brain.

Got to get out of here.

But how....

The door. But that's where the fighting was coming from. No. She couldn't risk it.

The window. Throwing herself to her feet, she ran to the large rectangle windows that surrounded her chambers. Pushing aside the heavy curtains she pushed the creaky window open and gazed down.

Too high. Shit.

Closing her emerald green eyes tightly while she thought about her next move the cool afternoon breeze blew her hair around her, momentarily distracting her from the peril that the princess found herself in.

A different noise.

This time more familiar too her. A horse. Galloping horse on a dirt road.

Her eyes flicked open just as a cloud of dust appeared from over the slight hill just outside her window. The green grass gave way to Forrest beyond that, a dirt path leading into its dark, gloomy depths. Elizabeth swallowed dryly as the dust cloud became bigger. The sound of hooves grew louder in her ears, almost as if it was drowning out even the sound of the ever approaching sword fighting.

Chancing a glance behind her at her door her eyes turned for just a moment. And that's all it took.

As the princess turned back she let out a surprised gasp as her nose almost grazed the chest of a armoured man. Jumping back in fright Elizabeths feet tangled in the velvet rug under her feet, tripping her to the ground with a thud.

Within a second of her crashing to the ground, the man was beside her.

His white hair hung down his ghostly pale face. Dark armour adorned with silver studs was worn on this torso. The heavy hilt of a swords was visible peaking out from his back.

But it was his eyes that got her.

Huge.

Black.

Bottomless.

Elizabeth had heard stories about these creatures. A memory of a story her best friend told her when they were younger sprang into her brain. A ghost story. Meant to scare and entertain.

A myth.

A Witcher.

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