Frost-bound Singe

Chapter 1

Fire danced and raged among what seemed to be the ruins of an extravagant manor under the gloomy night sky.  The dark, thick smoke that ascended to the dark heavens as the fire devoured anything within its reach. The wooden panels hissed as the fire slowly consumed it, windows shattering from the heat. Amidst all this, the inferno emitted warmth that was rather pleasant in contrast to the unpleasantly cold night. But who else would be enjoying the warmth of the burning wreck? It was none other than Dobhailen Isolde, one of the top ranking slayers of Hawthorn, an elite exorcist-slayer group.  

Dobhailen watched as the manor deteriorated into ash as well as taking the warmth while it lasted. He had just eliminated the five residents of this manor but he had a pretty good reason to.  They weren’t just ordinary humans; they were comprised of spiteful vampires, warlocks and witches. Naturally he’d be heavily injured taking on all five at once. In truth, he was supposed to have his teammates help him but after throwing a silent tantrum, his teammates decided to just let him do what he wanted, ready to welcome him with a big “I told you so” on his return after his predicted failure on the mission. But that just gave him more reason to prove them wrong.  The slayer wasn’t very fond of the idea of teamwork and now, his body was covered in burns, bruises and deep scratch marks along with his clothes sharing the same condition with their owner. Despite wanting to stay longer, the lone slayer had to return back to base before the scent of his blood attracted vampires, which he was not fit to fight right now.

The light that emanated from the burning manor slowly lessened as he went further, deeper into the woods. Despite the risks of taking this route, it was more time-saving than the other route he took to arrive to the manor. Hoping he wouldn’t encounter anything in the sea of trees, what he dreaded most had happened. He was being followed. Walking briskly but as quietly as he could, took quick glances back to see if he could catch a glimpse of whatever was following him. Of course, he saw nobody, vampires weren’t that stupid. Dobhailen quickened his pace, wanting to break into a run but it would prove far too painful and obvious to whatever lurked in the woods. Without encountering anything life-threatening and somehow shaking off whoever or whatever was following him, he arrived at a dark old road that led back to Gaisma, the prosperous, dimly lit town that harbored one of the few Hawthorn bases in the region. The road had no lamp posts, signs or anyone passing by. His only guide was the soft glow of the town ahead.  At this point, Dobhailen’s wounds were too much too handle added that he’d lost quite a lot of blood already. Not wanting to take any more risks by resting, Dobhailen continued to walk despite the pain. How he wished Hawthorn would provide some carriage or something.

 After a long, slow and painful walk back to town, Dobhailen’s body couldn’t take the pain and exhaustion anymore. His mind wanted to keep moving forward but his body steadily resisted. To make things worse, the thing that was following him back in the woods seems to have returned, this time, he could hear its footsteps walking right behind him. Not wanting to look back, Dobhailen forced himself to keep walking even if he would end up dropping, he’d crawl. He was so near the town that he could’ve just run there if he could. Unfortunately, his vision began to blur, his body gave in and the footsteps growing louder and faster as if whatever was following him just broke into a sprint. Expecting to have a full on meeting with the ground but he didn’t, instead he met the rather cold arms of someone before completely passing out.