Heir of Night

𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 II

Heir of Night
All Rights Reserved
© 2018 L. C. Rose

~*~

The forest is a welcoming calm.

I've been monitoring the parameters of the thicket for most of the day now and my steady trek has become tedious.

The gusting wind blows frigid through the trees, sounding like an unnatural melody. Its passing sweeps my tracks along with it and I silently thank any gods that might still reside within these forests for the accommodations.

Ambition and honor. The things that has brought us into these lands...

Ever since I was a child, I've heard legends of these woods. No animals call it home. No scouts are assigned to guard it. No one ever endeavors into it. Nothing.
People call it a place of the dead, but these woods are alive - as alive as I am. This land is fatal; where no mortal or immortal being would dare go, unless they welcomed an early death.

Yet, here I am. Here I had led my lot.

On a suicide mission.

A shudder skids down my spine at the thought, but I shove it away, focusing on my surroundings; on the task at hand. That was all I could do, all I had been trained to do for years: I am a weapon forged of fire, a promise of something better. I am a legacy. And failure is not an option.

I take another step, the brittle winter-gnawed leaves crunching under the weight of my boots. I sing a string of curses under my breath for the carelessness. After inwardly scolding myself, I take a moment to look up the greying sky. Only a few more hours of daylight left and we will either gain the upper hand or claim a miserable and merciless end.

Moving as nimbly and quiet as I'm able to between the trees, I peer into the distance. And wait.

And wait.

My ears perk up and shift in anticipation, hearing only  the wintry howls. Until finally, in the distance, a faint bird cry sounds across the expanse. And I register the sound.

I've been given my cue.

So, I ease into a more comfortable position and calm my breathing, straining to listen to the forest over the deafening silence.
I lean against the crude curve of a large tree. By the sheer size, I can tell its old, but it will provide a good shield if needed. And through the many saplings, I note I have a decent view of the path. With my back against the robust trunk, I decide to pull the top of my cloak over my head, wanting to give a bit of a respite to my wind-stung ears.

The forest is becoming a white blanketed barren land. Snow has begun to fall now, a white fresh veil against the brown and grey of this world. And despite myself, despite my numb ears and heavy heart, I quiet that vicious part of me to take in the beauty of the scene before me.

The silence lulls me to a steady calm. An almost dangerous one, I realize, because if not careful, it creeps over and dulls the senses.

But the feeling isn't long lived as I perceive the sound of bushes rustling on the other side of the grove.

I peer over the body of the old tree, and my breath hitches in my throat. A shadow streaks at an alarming speed crossways the forest. I keep my eyes focused on it as it cuts closer to where I'm positioned. My hand doesn't waver as I ready it by the sword strapped to my waist. My fingers don't tremble as I take a final steadying breath, double checking the shadow's closeness.

But something halts me.

A pair of amber colored eyes shine from the shadowed silhouette.

The forest goes silent. The wind dies down. And even the snow ceases to fall.

She is unbelievably breath-taking. A creature of unbound perfection. Concealed in the withering tree-line, the girl inches closer to me, her gaze recklessly set on her path and nothing else.

I watch the female steadily, analyzing her. Her skin is porcelain given life. The skirt of her dress that clings to her is almost in ribbons but her beauty stuns me all the same. Her lips are full and smeared a devilish red color that screams sin, but she is nothing but a beckoning innocence. The curls of her inky black hair are coming undone and they cascade over the perky breast that peek over her bodice. She is a living chaos, a perilous splendor.

Yet, my mouth waters.

But graver than her beauty is her unnatural stealth. And I realize, with nothing short of alarm , that as she steps closer into my line of attack, she's remained unheard.

The girl isn't natural. She is an dark omen.

The female is a vampire.

And like a lamb to the slaughter, I make my way to her in oblivious delight.