Dark Magic

Chapter 11

Rei's POV

       I lay sprawled on the floor for the second time tonight, glass shards covering the surrounding area. My vision was hazy, all that I could see being a fuzzy white light and a shadowy figure standing above me. My limbs did not obey as I tried to lift myself up, and my heart pounded rapidly.
       My vision focused, and I managed to get myself standing, but in the blink of an eye I was shoved against the wall. I lifted my gaze to meet my attacker's; their shining, silver depths entranced me quite so, for I was weak and could not fight back. I felt an unfamiliar presence within my mind, gently making its way, as my mind grew ever more foggy.
       The glint of metal snapped me back to reality, and I slammed a fist into my attacker's perturbed face. Though the creature was stunned somewhat, he then smiled, a fresh wave of fear rising in my gut in response. It was then that I noticed his ears, the tips pointed. I racked my brain; an elf, I believed. Kiaran had told me there were the ljásálfar, the elves whom dwelled within the Seelie kingdom, and the dokkálfar, the Unseelie. With this knowledge, I knew I would likely not survive this night.
       The dokkálfar's blade arced itself  towards me at that moment, catching me by surprise. I felt a sharp sting and warm blood spread on my forearm where the sword sliced through. Gritting my teeth, I backed up slowly, and did as much until we were in the kitchen. I grabbed a pan; I knew it would not be iron, Kiaran had told me that iron is the only true weakness of the fae, and the only iron in the fae realm being that of their weapons.
       Though the pan may have proved effective in some circumstance, this particular one didn't quite qualify, and with this I knew I had to find where Verena kept her weapons. The small hall area branched off into several rooms; each of the mahogany doors were shut tight, and I blindly picked the first one I saw; locked. My shaking fingers hastily fumbled in their task as the dokkálfar swung his iron blade at me, and I just barely managed to dodge its edge. 
       Screw it. I dashed towards the front room, the dokkálfar right behind. My breathing was ragged, my chest having with the effort. I stretched my arms out, swinging the front door open, and was immediately greeted with the rain's caress. Wind whipped my hair about, the likes of which I struggled to see. My bare feet slapped the mud up around me. I felt outright stupid for fleeing, I knew I had the ability to fight the fae. It was my lack of training that drove me to my actions.
        I could feel the faery's presence in my mind still, the feeling nauseating. It seemed to be gaining more control, for my mind was blurred. The distance between us was lessening, thought not much. I should be dead; the fae are inhumanly fast. Yet, I still breathe and feel. A thought dawned on me- this is fun for the dokkálfar. This wild goose chase is just a mere game to him, he the predator and I his lowly prey. As if the faery sensed this, his blade sliced the air just as I whirled around to face him. I waited; I waited for that iron blade to drive itself deep into my chest.
       Time itself had stopped. I was keenly aware of the atmosphere, the buzzing sensation. Each silver droplet of rain had suspended in the air, a few stray ones rolling around lazily. I could see the dokkálfar's face clearly now, that hungry, predatory gaze. His uncanny eyes glowed a molten silver, white strands of hair framing a flawless face.
       I awaited my transcendence into the next realm. But before the blade could claim my life, the faery's expression took one of dawning horror, crimson dripping down his abdomen before he collapsed to the muddy street.
       I didn't move; I couldn't. Kiaran stood before me, his sword kissed by the dokkálfar's blood. His eyes beheld no emotion as he gazed back at me. His inky hair dripped rain, and those otherworldly eyes entranced me further. My heart rate quickened slightly, a shiver running up my spine. Nothing was said as he disappeared back into the night.

                               * * *

       I returned to Verena's home shortly after, trailing muddy water and blood wherever I went. Surveying the damage, I sighed. The front windows had been shattered, glass bits laying about the room. The wall was cracked where I had been shoved; dusty bits remaining on my fingers when I traced the cracks. I had knocked a few pots and pans askew in the kitchen, and I resided to returning them to their original state.
       The air was damp and cold from the air leaking in, my sopping clothes doing little to amend this. I shut myself in the spare bedroom and stripped, bundling myself  in warm bed clothes. Still shaking, I curled atop the bed and drifted into a deep sleep.
       The next morning, I awoke to Verena's soft voice. I had feared she would be angry with me, due to the state of her home. She had told me that I needn't worry about it, for the incident hadn't been my fault. I offered to repair everything for her, but instead she sent me out to the village to acquire some fresh herbs. The villagers had grown accustomed to my presence; they believed I was a slave serving Verena, though that was quite backwards. A few I had briefly conversed with before smiled cheerily as I passed. I returned home, not aware of the shadowed figure watching me from the alleyway in the village.
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Let me know what you think so far! Be warned, this story will definitely be very long, I have many plans for the plot! Also, if you happen to notice any typos/grammatical errors please let me know, I try to find them before I publish but I usually miss something!