Daye (complete)

The Nyte

    NYTE. A darkness, that brought with it a silence so profound and deep, life seemed a thing impossible, as only the dead reigned in the kingdom of Nyte. The nocturnal dead, those infused with the powers of bloode and strength from the Moone, they awoke when the last of the sun's rays faded from existence, overcome by the overwhelming power of the Moone.

Only silver, shining and bright, could return them to the earth, into the ashes they were born from. They were unstoppable, pale creatures of the darke bathed in the liquid silver of moonlight, the only kind of silver that could not harm their immortal bodies.

Nyte was their kingdom. And in nyte, they reigned.

     She was a child of the light. Her name; Daye. Her silver blade cut through the darkness of the nyte, through the still, cold hearts of the immortal vampyres that plagued the world. She was the only thing the beasts made of shadows feared; she was a hunter, a vampyre hunter.

The nyte feared her; it parted before her as she stalked through the endless, black forest. Even the glow of moonshine could not reach her here; such was the density of the trees that stood tall, foliage condensing in rustling movements.

But she was not scared; no, she had no fear. It was she that was the cause of fear in the silent kingdom of the nyte, she that was the cause of death of the blood-sucking immortals the people knew as vampyres.

Her power had come at a price- slavery, to the Assassin King, but she had dealt with him. The Guild of Assassins was no more.

Did she care? No, for they were mere, worthless assassins.

She had long ago wiped off the blood that had stained her blade. Now, it glinted, finally catching the light of the great Moone. She stepped through the darkness, silent as a cat, listening, straining for the sound, a sound that would notify her of the presence of a vampyre.

She'd come to this forest to kill it. She needed to kill it, or she would not be payed the ever-growing bounty on its head. Hired, she'd been, by the weeping mayor's widow. Who'd pulled on her sleeve, begging, as soon as she'd entered the town, dragging along the tell-tale coffin of the vampyre slayers. The widow had known who she was. The famous vampyre hunter, Decide Daye.

No one could mistake the red marking marring the right side of her face, or the silvery-gold hair that swept down in a tail against her back.

Or those scarlet eyes- a rarity, amongst humans.

She was beautiful, she'd been told- too gorgeous to be slaying immortal beings in the dead of nyte, no, they told her, she should be a lord's mistress, trophy wife, even. She'd responded by adding another scar to their collection, right across the nose. That had made them shut up.

Decide stopped as she sensed another presence in her vicinity. She smelt the irony tang of blood, evidence that this being was a vampyre, one who'd recently fed, at that. That meant fresh, hot blood would be coursing through its veins, making it faster, stronger- harder to kill.

It was just one vampyre, though- a simple enough task.

The vampyre hissed, sensing her as she began to glide towards it. She could see its faint outline in the light that filtered through the trees- a male, large and thickly muscled. His eyes began to glow red, a deep red, encompassing the veined whites of his eyes.

But before he could prepare, she struck- a cross-shaped silver dagger, thrown at his heart. He dodged, but not in time- the blade implanted itself in his torso, and he hissed again in surprise.

"Begone, you filth," she whispered, as the immortal body began to crumble into dust.

"The king of Nyte sends his regards," it hissed back, before completely turning into a pile of dark ashes.