Darkside

Chapter 1- When Frost Meets Fire

Alinor Frostshadow strode through the wide streets of Carravere, oblivious to the fact that he was being followed. He occasionally halted to brush off the late winter's frost clinging to his skin and his clothing- a small side effect of being winter fey. 

 He turned into a narrow alley, currently empty and heard a noise behind him. Cursing, he spun around on his heel and shouted, "I can sense you! COME OUT!"

 Sighing, he resumed his journey, and seconds later an arrow tipped in iridescent green liquid hurtled his way. With lightning-fast reflexes only a faerie could manage, he flicked his finger dismissively and the projectile fell to the ground, knocked from its path by a gleaming shard of ice. 

''Faehunter," he snarled. "No point hiding now I know you're here. Your glamour is literally pointless now".

The seemingly empty space in front of him rippled and distorted and he was now staring down a slender, willowy young woman whose bright green eyes glittered with a promise of violence. "You know how a mortal like me created a glamour? Fae blood. And I think I'll be using yoursnext time."

She tossed back her long, flame-red hair and drew her sword. Instinctually Alinor took note of her weapon. He could make out a sigil on its hilt, seven stars forming a ring around a blooming rose, the symbol of the Elite Guard of Aethernya, or, as the fair folk referred to them, Faehunters. Brilliant, deadly warriors trained from a young age to hate, hunt and kill faeries.

He called to his magic, and icy armour formed around his body, a mere shadow of the protection the woman's armour offered, but it was still better than nothing. He could tell she was a captain of the Guard. Everything about her screamed it, from her arrogant stance to her runed steel gear, a rare resource never supplied to lesser warriors. 

She lunged viciously at him, and her sword met a shield of solid ice. Then they danced, a hailstorm of violent thrusting and dodging and blocking to a song of steel clashing against steel. 

Within minutes, Alinor was on the floor, the captain smirking down at him. With a sinking feeling, he realised this was it. The end. This was how he died. He looked desperately at his surroundings to find something, anything with which he could save himself. 

Triumphantly, his gaze alighted on the arrow she'd shot at him earlier. Once again relying on his fey reflexes, he picked it up and stabbed her leg before she'd realised what he was doing. Whatever that liquid on that arrow was, it was working. She crumpled to the ground, and Alinor checked her pulse. Still breathing. He raised his sword to finish the job and felt... off. Was that... reluctance? 

The girl was young, twenty at best, and, truth be told, her hatred of Fae wasn't completely unfounded. Barely hesitating, he picked her up, raced to the end of the alley and placed his frost- coated left palm onto a stone on the pavement below. And then they were falling. Falling for ten minutes with no stop. Sometime during that period, she woke up with a start. "Where are we?!" she asked, panic etched on every line of her face. 

He didn't deign to reply. "WHERE ARE WE?" she repeated, now fully awake and incredibly irritated.

Alinor smirked, running a hand through his pale blue hair- currently going every which way. Finally their feet landed softly on solid ground. "Welcome to the Otherworld, Lady..." his voice trailed off. 

"May I have the pleasure of your name?" 

She looked at him suspiciously, and after a moment,

decided to reply. "Daella. Daella Sunfyre".

Alinor's lapis-blue eyes widened. He knew that name only too well. He gasped loudly. Too loudly. In a few seconds, he regained his composure and said:

"Welcome to the Winter Court, Princess."