League of Shadows (edited)

Chapter 1 (edited)

So, I entered a competition recently, and *shocker * was eliminated. BUT, I did receive some excellent feedback from @Cross-warrior about how to improve my story. So I decided to add more depth, more backstory, more pizzazz to Tamara's character. To uh, make you all care about her.  Haha, read on to watch me fail. 

Falling.

Her wings were broken.

Pain tumbled through her veins, making her bones shiver and freezing her blood till they clung to her skin like crimson icicles. 

But that was okay. The pain was her ally. The pain was her friend. The pain let her know that she was not dead yet.

Tamara's body smacked against the compact earth, Death swaddling her in a coral robe. 

Dead. Dying. One corpse among a thousand others. One broken body, cradling within it a punctured heart and beaten lungs. 

The bustling of the city filled her ears, every glimmer of laughter or inkling of a smile like a stab to her skull. She concentrated instead on the thumping rhythm of its heart. The sound was inaudible to many; but to her, nestled in a crater of repulsive concrete, it hammered right beneath her fingertips.

For what felt like days, she lay there in the bed of ruptured streets, silence and agony her only companions.

"Hey! Are you alive?"

A bright voice broke the fragile quiet, a ripple in deathly still waters.

She didn't move, couldn't move. The darkness pushed against her lungs, drowning her in its obscurity. 

Sounds and shouting. Lots of it. She wished it would go away. She wished it would leave her to the silence, the silence that was eating her up inside, chewing away bits and pieces of her soul.  

She closed her eyes.

It was time for a rest, a long one. 

Perhaps she would never wake up. Perhaps it was for the best if she never did.  

A hand closed around her wrist, and Tamara's thoughts immediately flew to the hunting knife tucked in her belt. 

"Get your hands off me," she hissed under her breath.

"I'm sorry? I was only trying to help?"

She blinked, the morning light seeping into her eyelids. 

Tears were frozen to her cheeks.

"Oh, are you okay?"

There was a Cynesig crouched by her side, wings folded back and skin a pale orange hue. She swallowed her shock. 

"I'm...fine," she murmured beneath her breath.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Markus. I found you beaten up on the streets in Aeliana outside my house," he explained softly. "Do you want me to help you get home?"

She shook her head. 

"Where do you live then? Are you homeless?" he asked.

"I live with my step-parents. It's complicated."

"I can take you back if you want."

"I don't want to go back," she was crying again, her eyes heavy with tears. "I don't want to go back."

"I-I'm sorry, you can't stay here. I'll have to go back to Anmyt soon, and, well, it's only just Cynesigs there. I can't exactly bring a halfbreed-"

She smiled.  

"I was trying to rob your house. That's what happened. I was trying to rob you. I fell, from the window. The cops were coming, and I made a bolt for it. I got cut up pretty bad."

"Oh."

A heavy silence hung in the air, dense and bulky. It was threaded through each word. Rough, uneven stitches.

Markus wrung his hands. Quiet. Embarrassed. 

"Well...this is awkward," he said with a smile.

"You're not angry yet? They usually are. They always are."

"I'm not-I mean, you were really badly injured-"

"It'll heal, it'll heal. These type of wounds always do. Not the ones in here, though," she said, pointing at her heart. "These ones don't. 

"I must admit, I am a little bit worried, with you trying to rob me at all. But I'm sure you didn't mean to do any harm."

"Oh?" Tamara smiled sweetly. With one swift movement, the knife tucked in her belt was at Markus's throat. "And what do you think now?"

Oh shit coming back to edit this after a year I just realized how bad it is bloody hell.