The Walls Have Eyes

Chapter One

Summer, 12,000 A.L

Screams filled the air. Smoke weighed heavy on my lungs. Flames brightened the night. Children screamed for their parents and parents screamed for their children. Swords clashed. Bodies hit the ground with a thud.

I shuddered, pushing myself to run faster down the cobbled streets. My muscles burned with strain. Bits of broken stone cut into my bare feet. Guilt pressed down on me.

All of this was because of me.

The castle had been attacked, the town around it decimated, and it was all because of me.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was still behind me, closing the distance between us far too easily. His face was obscured by shadows, but I'd recognize him anywhere. He haunted my mind and my dreams, and he knew it.

My soldiers were being slaughtered left and right, guilt wrenching at my gut every time I saw the bloodied chainmail and leather uniforms they wore. Many of their faces were concealed by masks or helmets, but many more were covered in blood, their mouths open in a final scream. I could smell the blood that poured from their bodies, that sickening metallic scent that churned my stomach.

The black-clad bodies of my guards littered the cobbled streets, mutilated by iron blades and flame. They were being butchered with ease, their own tactics being used against them.

There must have been at least a few traitors among those who still lived.

How else would they have gained access to the castle so easily, and how else would they know exactly how to bring down the most elite of my forces?

I stumbled, tripping over the body of a guard. I landed on my hands and knees in a pool of still-warm blood. My stomach lurched, and I forced myself up into a kneeling position, wiping my hands on my skirts as I glanced over the still figure. His black uniform was ripped in several places and saturated in his blood. A few feet away I found his head, separated from his body by an iron blade, if the burnt edges of his skin was any indication. Though it was streaked red with his own blood, I could still recognize his face.

He was one of my personal guards.

Tears welled in my eyes as I pushed myself to my feet. I could hear the pounding footsteps behind me, and I knew that I was running out of time. As much as I wanted to honor the dead, I couldn't stop, not if I wanted to survive the night.

My muscles screamed in pain. I was tiring quickly, acrid smoke filling my lungs and making it hard to breathe. The air had become hazy with the smoke that only weakened me even more. I couldn't see more than a few feet on any side, so when the child's tortured screams broke my focus, I slowed for a just a moment.

A little boy lay writhing on the street, an iron rod protruding from his thigh. I couldn't leave him. Iron was a weakness for my kind. It burnt our skin, weakened our magic, and slowed our healing. After the last great war, it had been declared a crime to use iron during battle, but it was clear that our attackers held no respect for our laws.

If the spike had pierced the boy's artery, he would've died the second the iron tainted his blood.

As it were, he was just wounded and would heal, though it would be a slow process and a scar would remain.

"You're going to be okay!" I told him breathlessly as I crouched beside him.

I was already drained. The deep well of magic that I had in my core had been depleted, and I wasn't sure there was enough left to help the boy. I turned my focus inwards, feeling my fingertips tingle as the magic flared to life inside of me. My energy was restored as the enchantment flowed through my veins, and for the the first time, I was grateful for the smoke that polluted the night.

The smoke was something I could use. I reached out in front of me and concentrated on pulling the energy out of the smoke. I felt it pour into my body, strengthening my own power tenfold. As I redirected my focus onto the the child's leg, a swirling pink cloud of mist seeped outwards from my fingertips and wrapped itself around the spike. I drew my hand back towards myself, and the stake slowly withdrew from the boy's flesh.

"You'll be okay," I repeated.

I couldn't heal his wounds. Even with my ability to pull magic from the elements, my strength was still depleted, and nothing but rest could truly restore it. The only thing I could do for the boy now was summon the shadows for him as he limped away on a leg that would always hurt.

I barely noticed the tears streaming down my face. With a final shove off the ground, I sprinted down the street, praying to the gods that I would make it to the forest.

White hot pain slashed into the back of my knee. I stumbled to the ground, and suddenly, he was standing over me, a flaming sword aimed at my throat. With the last of my strength, I conjured a fireball and thrust it at him, only to find it engulfed by the burning sword. Though I couldn't see his face behind the shadows of his hood, I knew he was grinning.

He had won.

There was nothing I could do to stop him from beheading me and taking the throne. I closed my eyes and waited for the final blow that would end my reign.

"Morgana!" a familiar voice screamed, appearing in a blur of smoke at my side.

My attacker cursed and lowered his sword to the hollow of my throat. "This isn't over," he growled.

The blade cut into my skin, drawing a line of blood and charred flesh down my chest. The stench of burning flesh assaulted me as I screamed at the biting pain.

The last thing I heard was Eeion's hoarse screaming before I passed out.

A/N:

And we're back! I've been going in and doing some major edits on The Walls Have Eyes. I've cleaned up the plot a bit, eased information in rather than infor dumping, and instead of just spending paragraph upon paragraph describing every little thing I've mixed the descriptions in with the story. When I was reading  back thorugh this, I noticed just how boring it had been, with all the info dumps and long, drawn-out descriptions that really weren't necessary to the plot at all. Yes, certain things that do need to be thoroughly described will be described, but much of it just wasn't necessary. 

The plot also needed a lot of work. When I first started writing TWHE, I had a completely different story in mind than the one I have now, but as I wrote, things just started to fall into place, and I somehow ended up with what I have. 

I have, obviously, taken down the old chapters, and I will be posting new-and-improved chapters as I finish editing them. Because I don't have a backlog of chapters pre-edited, I won't be having a posting schedule at the moment, like I do with Dancing With Keenan and Tell Me The Truth. I ran out of pre-edited chapters for TMTT, and now I am seriously struggling to get that updated every week - I don't want to do that to myself here. 

Anyway, this has been really long and drawn out, so I'll close with a few questions. 

What do you think about the new chapter? 

Does this pull you in? 

Are you excited to read what happens next?