Sentinel

Prologue - Sacrifice

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Prologue - Sacrifice 

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You could always identify a demon by their mark. 

They wore their entire history on their brows, the runemark etched into their skin said to reveal the most minute of details to the elves who could read them. 

Skye, however, was not one of those elves. Her understanding was basic and completely instinctual, but no one in her group could do any better so she was left with the distasteful task. 

She sheathed her sword and knelt down in the foliage, taking what would have been the demon's head in her hands, ignoring the urge to shudder at the rough, grainy surface of its armour plates under her fingers. The demon's body was already starting to disintegrate, quickly enough to suggest the presence of a portal nearby. 

Lysia gestured with her bow at the body. "Crev or Verc?" she asked. 

Skye took one look at the harsh lines on the demon's brow and had her answer. "Crevton. It's only an imp, barely made. Hasn't been moulded yet."

Lysia swore under her breath. "More fallen to the corruption. May the deities rest their souls."

Skye and the rest of the group echoed the sentiment. They didn't know the person before they'd been claimed, but it didn't matter. It was a fate you didn't wish upon anyone, no matter how they'd wronged you. She replaced the demon where Lysia's arrow had felled it against the trunk of a tree and stood, refusing to give it a second look. 

 "We have to keep moving if we're going to find these Eaikai before the corruption does," said Bostra. "Let's go. Warriors with me, form a line. Archers," he said, eyes resting on Skye for a moment, "you girls spread out with Lysia. Cover us."

Skye rolled her eyes and fell into Bostra's line, returning her sword to its rightful place in her hand. Insults rose on her lips until she caught Lysia's stare.

She repositioned her gaze forward like she was supposed to. Keep it to yourself. Trying to ignore the snide remarks passing between Bostra and the rest of the men. Not worth it. She accentuated each word with a step. Not. Worth. It.  

Instead, Skye pricked her ears, adjusting their pointed shape slightly to block out the voices and tune into the sound of the forest around her. 

Or rather, the lack of it. 

She wracked her brains trying to figure out what seemed different until she realised the birds had stopped calling to each other in the treetops. From there, the silence started flooding in. She couldn't hear small animals skittering around in the leaf litter searching for their next meal, nor the cries of the swans as they danced with their mates. 

Other than the wind through the leaves and the footfalls of her scouting group, there was nothing but silence and the growing sense that something was very, very wrong. 

Skye raised her sword and drew her dagger, pulling it quietly from its scabbard. Her body prickled with the same instinct that let her read the demons, the same instinct that kept her alive over her years. She knew not to ignore it. 

Her movements earned her a glare from Bostra. "What are you doing? You don't need the dagger. Put it away," he said. When she didn't comply, he stopped and pointed his own blade at her. "I said, put them away."

A tingle ran down Skye's body, stroking the hairs on the back of her neck to attention. "We're not alone," she said. The answer wouldn't satisfy him, but it might make the others listen. "Something's wrong."