THE DARK TRIFECTA- Skymoon, Book 1

Chapter One

Alaistair stood before the curtain which hung over the doorway. If you could even call it that. It was a worn wooden frame no taller than five feet- so low that he had to duck his head to go through it without banging his head. The curtain itself was paper thin and torn, the bottom of it two inches away from the dirt floor. A chilly breeze whistled through the gap and embraced his bare feet, weaving between his toes, seemingly freezing him to the spot.

He didn't want to step through that curtain. But the longer Alaistair stood there, the more he felt his stomach growling like some primal beast, and eventually his hunger won over his reluctance, and he pushed his way through, ducking his head to avoid smacking it, standing up straight on the other side. The outside. Or what he considered outside- the Underneath was really a vast underground realm. He'd never seen a blue sky, only the granite walls and solid stone ceilings of the below-ground complex.

Alaistair barely ever left his house- or more accurately, his small cave carved into the stone wall. Whenever he did, he was always overwhelmed by the smell and sounds of his dingy neighbourhood, the Hovel. "The Hell-Hole", his acquaintances nicknamed it- Alaistair only had acquaintances, not friends. Except for Engim, but she lived three streets away from his community, and that was a different matter entirely.

Reluctantly, trying not to drag his feet, Alaistair trudged down the muddy street. The Hovel was one single cluster of shacks and caves in an oval shape, with a conduit at its centre that provided a source of water. An unclean source, but a source all the same. He ignored the group of children who waved at him from next to it. Why speak to people you don't want to be associated with?

Beyond the conduit was a four-feet-tall wooden fence, half-rotted from age, which Alaistair vaulted over in a practised manner, landing squarely on both feet on the over side. From there he wandered down a dark alley, then made a left at an old warehouse, and finally emerged at the noisy, overcrowded Main Street.

Unlike the Hovel, which was small, quiet and extremely derelict, the Main Street was loud and lively. Market stalls of all shapes and sizes lined the flats on each side of the road- the busy road, which was full of people going about their daily routines and friendly rendezvouses. The ceiling here was tall, unlike the Hovel, and extended about fifty feet upwards. Paper lanterns in various colours had been hung there by strings and nails, almost giving the place a party atmosphere. Alaistair had to weave and dodge through countless people who kept on getting in his way, almost walking straight into a group of tieflings who gave him filthy looks as he skirted around them just in time.

Eventually, Alaistair ducked away from the crowd into a tavern, the Vixen Inn. It was one of the lesser-visited pubs in the Main Street and one of the quietest, which Alaistair appreciated. It made for a calmer, quieter atmosphere where he could choose to be social or not, rather than be overwhelmed by drunken people.

"Alaistair Midnight." The barman, Don Auraral, reached out a slender, taloned hand for Alaistair to shake. He did so carefully, as he normally did, as Don's bones were brittle, just like the chipped beak he had instead of a nose and mouth. Don, being part falcon, was one of the main reasons why this tavern was so unpopulated- he was a freak of nature, even among the Demon community. "The usual?"

"If you please," Alaistair replied, allowing Don the ghost of a smile as he slid onto a bar stool. "And have you got any food by chance? Only I haven't eaten today."

"Of course, dear fellow," Don replied. As he made his way to the back of the bar, where he stored dried foods, he continued to speak to Alaistair over his shoulder. "Your friend came in here earlier," he said. "You know, the Tiefling with brown hair? Rachel something?"

Alaistair blinked and frowned. "Rochelle? She's not a friend of mine." In his mind's eye he saw the girl Don was trying to describe- a Tiefling girl with pearly white goat horns and chestnut hair, with an hourglass body shape. Lived two neighbourhoods away. Beautiful, certainly, but not desirably so. And certainly not a friend. "Why do you mention her?"

Don brought over a plate of roasted hazelnuts and began to fill a tall glass with Alaistair's favourite cobalt wine. "She spoke of you. Said she wanted to meet you here and talk to you. About what, well, I'm not sure." He placed the blue drink on the bar for Alaistair to take. "She told me to tell you she was going to be waiting for you in her house in the Weave."

Alaistair bit into a hazelnut and sighed. The Wanderer's Weave was Rochelle's neighbourhood and by coincidence, the place of his old dwelling. He'd ended up leaving due to the nature of the residents- they were spiteful and undignified and committed a great deal of crimes. The Hovel may not be glamourous, but it was a great deal better than the Weave. In the Weave he'd lived next to Rochelle, and she seemed to be a lot more attached to him than he was to her. While Alaistair saw her as a mere neighbour, she seemed to fawn over him- something Alaistair couldn't stand.

"I'll go and find her after I've had this, then," he told Don, raising his glass and taking a sip of his wine. The bitterness of it shot right through him, giving him a pleasant feeling of satisfaction. While most people who came here couldn't stand the taste of cobalt wine, it was Alaistair's favourite. Don was always happy to let him have a glass or two free of charge for this reason. "Have you seen Engim here?" he asked.

Don shrugged. "Don't think so." He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Alaistair mirrored Don's shrug. "I'm only curious. Unlike Rochelle, she's a friend of mine. I want to look out for her."

"Naturally," Don replied with a grin. "But she's tough, your girl. If anything happened to her she'd incinerate the perpetrators."

Alaistair bristled. "Engim is not my girl," he muttered to himself, before answering Don with a breezy laugh: "Yes, I suppose you're right."

A few minutes passed, before Alaistair took one final sip of his wine and stood up. "I suppose I should find Rochelle, then," he sighed, pocketing a handful of hazelnuts for later. He'd eaten half the bowl, but one never knows when they might get hungry again. "I'll see you later, Don."

"Bye, take care," Don calledover his shoulder as Alaistair made his way out of the pub, back onto the busychaos of the street outside.