Tales Of The Otherworldly

Gifted?

"Shit!" The harsh curse ran fast through Darrah's gritted teeth as he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. He threw a look over his shoulder to grasp a sense of how far back the creatures were.

Too close.

They were close on his heel, ravenous hungry groans and growls nipping at his ears. The pounding of feet followed him at each twist and turn as Darrah navigated the overgrown forest.

Darrah had only taken to running forest-bound so that the villagers would be safe, not one of the normal humans would have a chance against a beast, not even a weak, pathetic monster. So he rather give himself up as a distraction to the gnarly creatures instead of his whole village being eaten alive, if he could save them, he would try.

To even have a chance against all things evil, the blood of Gods had to have been gifted down upon you-a a rare occurrence at all nowadays. Even holding a sacred blade to take down the horrific beasts required special blood. A normal human would suffer severe consequences if they got a hand on one. From what Darrah knew (retaining knowledge of old tales) the blood gifted led to inhuman strength, speed, agility and otherworldly powers. For this occurrence to happen in the first place though, the Gods had to deem you worthy, desperation wasn't enough for help. Darrah had heard stories of humans devoured alive many a time, never receiving any kind of help--as if Gods cared not for them.

Even gifted, you had to train, had to learn to use the power given upon you-use it-surge it through weapons and talismans to achieve an ultimate use against the monsters... Some died when given the gift. Some survived, but trained themselves to death-literally. In a few cases, some succeeded.

Darrah nearly succumbed to his failure in a moment of stupidity. Missanalysing how high he had to jump over a fallen tree had his fit catch against the rough surface, making him stumble hard and fast against the ground. Some kind of dumb luck gave him a boost to live, somehow allowing him to roll effortlessly as if he hadn't fallen in the first place. He let out a sigh of relief, brushing off his (he wouldn't lie) epic roll and continued to push on. Even if he saved his fall, the ground still thundered with heavy beats showing how close the snarling beasts were, they had advanced a touch more, but he still had enough leeway to start ahead.

He was starting to panic.

He was stupid for doing this surely? What crazy lunatic leads a pack of overgrown wolves towards them, most likely to shred them apart easier than cutting butter? Who in their right mind thinks they can outrun a four-legged beast? Even with these thoughts racing through his mind, he couldn't help but feel happy that he had successfully led the animals after him and not his family, friends and other innocents. Darrah would die happy knowing they lived for longer than what would have been.

He took in harder, more painful deep breaths as he skidded to a sudden halt in the dirt. His heart shattered at that moment, he knew that stopping was the last thing he should do, that seconds later he would be eaten alive. But he couldn't help but stop, his gasps for air in those few moments were full of shock and awe, it was like time had then slowed for his benefit. His eyes widened and he stared, unable to continue his retreat.

Ahead of Darrah stood a glimmering creature, similar to the wolves that had chased him, except this creature was not looking at him as if he was a meal. No, these wolf's eyes shone with wonder and satisfaction. It cocked its head to the side, honestly, Darrah could have sworn it smiled, its teeth on display more than they should be.

Breathing still erratic, he took a moment to appreciate the looks of the creature. For one, the fact it was gleaming, a soft blue emanated its body, an inviting blue, the colour of shimmering oceans. Its fur looked full, thick and the colour of tar, untarnished as if never touched. It was tall, perhaps taller than the creatures that stalked Darrah. It's eyes wise, unfazed by the wolves behind Darrah, ever so close to biting him.