Faetal Hearts

Chapter 1

Estella lay deathly still upon a plush scarlet bed. Her rosy lips remained faintly parted as if awaiting the fairytale kiss that would return breath to her chest and the flush of life to her pale skin.  Yet, a faint whisper of air escaped her lips, an indicator that the girl was very much alive, even though she appeared the very image of death.

Unlike the girl, who appeared to rest easily, Kheelan’s mind was filled with trepidation, a foreign feeling. In fact, any feeling whatsoever was an abstract concept in itself. The way his breath constricted and his fists clutched at his sides, was unnatural at best. His steps matched the dull rhythm of the girl’s heartbeat- a slow steady beat followed by the clunk of footsteps.

She should awake by now. Kheelan was much aware of the unpredictable nature his magic held over mortal souls; even still, the effects should have since worn off. Yet, the logical side of Kheelan’s mind noted his betraying concern; it should not matter to the immortal whether the girl died, but somehow it did. Kheelan attributed this to lust. Yes, he thought to himself, surely that was the source of his sentiments.

During the long hours the girl slept, he could not help but appraise the girl's fair features- noting the light scattering of freckles, the dark, downcast lashes, and of course how frail and petite  she appeared. She seemed so very small, cast in his shadow- so small, and so helpless.

The inner strength that burned from her fiery gaze was temporarily gone, and he longed for it's return. It was what drew him to her. He longed to discover the mystery those silvery eyes help, longed to see them glisten with tears as he broke her will. Despite such malicious thoughts, to his own surprise, Kheelan lifted the silky sheets about the girls’ slim frame, pulling the sheets until only her head rested above. The gesture was almost tender, though he, was anything but that. The faint brush of his fingers against her warm skin caused Kheelan to shutter with desire. Soon, he promised the monster within.

Instead he focused his mind upon the subtle changes. Her once tidy hair had fallen loose from the pins that struggled to maintain the semblance of beauty from before. Still, even with the untidy scattering of white feathers within the girl’s wildly curling mahogany hair, she appeared utterly and irrevocably beautiful. In fact, Kheelan preferred the unruly state of the girl. A betraying hand brushed against the girl’s white collarbone, and wound a strand of the girl’s hair about his finger, before pushing it back. 

His touch remained unfelt by Estella. In fact, she was blissfully unaware of the company that appraised the unconscious girl. Had she know, the gentle easiness of peace and serenity would flee and her mind would be a flutter with fear.

For days she remained in this peaceful state of ignorance. Estella was unaware of the company she kept, unaware of her foreign surroundings, and most importantly unaware that she had been stolen from the world she knew and had grown to love. And most importantly, she remained unaware of the dark figure that paced at the foot of her bed. Her senses might as well have been turned off, for she remained oblivious to it all.

Instead, the darkness help promise of her hopes and dreams, offering promises and possibilities that could never be. She lived in a world of memories. A little girl danced beneath her closed eyes. The girl’s head tilted back, as silver eyes met Estella’s own. The girl appeared a miniature version of the fair dancer, but unlike her older sister, young Emilie lacked grace, and most importantly patience.