The Elemental Chain Saga: Dragon Flame

Chapter One: Bones and Blades

They were made of darkness, they feed off of pain. They were out to kill.

Dull footsteps tread down the gentle slope towards the water, boots squishing into the muddy ground. Short grass blades rippled in the midnight breeze, swaying in a mesmerizing way, the small green blades dancing in the night. Moonlight beamed down, illuminating the area with its silver sheen, the light piercing the tree branches, casting jagged shadows like snatching claws of an ancient beast. The omnipresent moon's gleaming beauty was reflected in the clear lake, the round, craggy surface so far off into the unknown was the only source of light.

A head leered out from behind the single mildewed tree that hung over the pristine lake. Waving a cloaked arm, he slide from around the tree and swept towards the cottage by the water. The home's windows were dark, the building's only light from the moon that shined down on it. The occupant was supposed to be asleep in bed. That was their target.

The cloaked figures quietly progressed towards the house, each of them armed to the teeth, ready to put up a fight they knew was coming. They circled it in anticipation, grinning wickedly at each other as they approached, there faces wicked with a blood lust pleasure. Waiting for the signal to begin their work, they stood, shifting on their feet in wait. The malevolent character closest to the house pulled back his veil.

The hood slipped back to reveal milk-white bone, the moonlight spilling into his eyes, revealing a hollow hole. There was no flesh at all on his face, no flesh on any of their faces. Death was apart of them, death was their ambition, death was there addiction. The rest of the attack party followed suit, each one dropping their dark hoods, letting the light spill into their bones. And, with a swish of their cloaks, they rushed at the house.

With a splintering of wood, the door to the cottage was ripped off of its hinges, the rotted door tossed to the side like a rag doll. The mob rushed through the small living area with a blood-curdling battle cry, feet slamming down on the grungy blue carpet.

With a rush of wind, the window in the room burst open, the glass exploding inward like a hammer had crashed into the surface of the window, the wood suffered the same brutality. And then a tall figure leapt through the frame, trailed with shining moonlight and knifed shadows, all of it wrapped around his frame like a cloak of the night. The light filled the room and cast it in a mystical glow, the cloaked skeletons blinded for a moment. They turned and raised their weapons as the new entry took stock of them.

The figure laughed and raised his own weapon in response. He shouted and his words were lost in the rush of the wind, the air tingling with a power that crackled like lightning. A howling gale ripped through the cloaked attackers and flung them into the far wall, their bodies slamming and crunching against the wood paneling, the sound of wood against bone like the crash of a falling house. The silver-cloaked individual crackled with a dazzling stormy light about him. Lifting his rune covered staff over his head, he yelled an incantation. The point of the staff blurred and tendrils of fluorescent lightning rushed into existence and arced into the nearest skeleton, blazing a jagged path through the air, traversing the small space in a moment. A hole was ripped in its cloak and its chest burst as the murky water that held it together was fried, it's teeth chattering madly as it fell. The bolt connected with another skeletal warrior and a chain formed, the crackling lightning incinerating all it touched.

The winds subsided as the tall man lowered his staff. All that remained of his adversaries was a pile of smoldering bones.

His cool gray eyes roamed, looking upon the old oak table and muddied faux wool carpet, turned to see the kitchen, the familiar pasty white walls of it reminding him of the past, the tea kettle still lazily hanging above the sink. He took in the peeling paint, the aged, dusty decorations, once lively and new. He looked at the home for what it was, knowing good and well that he'd never be coming back, that this was his last visit to his old home.

With a whirl of his cloak, he walked out the door of his house and into the night, knowing that reinforcements may be on the way.

He didn't look back, didn't bother to brood on the fact that he could never return. And as he left his past behind, he once again drew the night around him.
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DragonDog1: Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and continue to read. Don't worry, all will be explained sooner than you now it. Comment and vote.