The Call Of Elizabeth

A/N: Now, hello everyone Woundedowl here, which yes, is strange. I had no part in writing this story. which is also strange- why am I here you ask? WELL, I was part of a large writing prompt which has left us all screaming and crying and typing furiously to come up with our ideas and stories, which we will all be posting. This one is my awesome Betsy's take on it, and I must say I love it. it is a M story though, so seriously, everything you are about to read is mature in content, so this is the final warning.

She'd been out gathering fresh herbs and ripe fruit when she first happened upon him.

It was a warm muggy night, interrupted by warm gusts that swept her hair to and fro around her glowing figure. The camp she was stationed with had tasked her with collecting items for the evening's meal. She of course knew better and suspected they just wanted her out of the way so there was no chance she would unintentionally cause any trouble. Being a healer by nature in a group of warriors and fighters left her feeling beyond isolated on most occasions. But she was needed with this particular group of soldiers tasked with fighting in this war against the demons. Who else would keep their defenses alive and well against the vile monsters that threatened to cast the world into darkness?

The nightfall that lines the forest doesn't bother her in the slightest as the soles of her boots crunch on the uneven ground layered in leaves, occasionally snapping twigs here and there. Her blue eyes are keen in attentiveness, seeking the necessities within bushes, and up high in trees with the use of her flight. The basket woven with thick branches is rough and heavy in her arms, telling her that she's collected a fair amount and should head back to make a second trip.

Elizabeth turns in the opposite direction she was headed, knowing precisely the path that needs to be taken. But only a few steps forward and her ears catch the sound of pained groans. Her feet come to a stop. Blinking in confusion she listens acutely for that particular sound again. She doesn't have to wait long before it sounds again, just as agonized as before.

"Aaahnghh! Fucking bastards!"

It sounds as if someone is attempting to withhold their torment with sheer force, but failing miserably. The goddess knows she should think twice about what she's about to set off to do. She's no fighter. The members of her camp think her incompetent and merely praise her when she spares one from the brink of death. But hearing someone in such pain grips her heartstrings in a twisted brutal hold and she finds herself mindlessly running towards the noise, her basket of nutrients tumbling to the ground in a useless mess. She tries to keep her footsteps steady as she runs as fast as she dares, but her breaths are uneven with worry and she finds herself stumbling more often than not. She's sure whoever is out there hurt will hear her coming from a mile away and certainly they'll be frightened because of it. Being so defenseless will surely make them wary.

She doesn't even see it coming, doesn't even sense the scorching heat, when a ball of black flames comes flying towards her head not seconds after the thought comes to mind. She stands there mortified as the vibrant light of it draws nearer to her in the sluggish crawl of her life passing before her eyes. And then she tips over to the side, falling, just barely missing getting singed as the flames make impact with a tree behind her and all but explodes in a show of immense power.

Her body trembles violently upon the forest floor as specks of debris land on her from time to time. Her hair is messy around her face when she crawls to her knees trying to understand where the demon came from and if he'll come to finish her off. She truly is a disgrace. She hadn't even sensed him, nor had she given the possibility to one being here on her way to help the person in pain.