The Awakening

Chapter 1

"There is no honour in death; only loneliness."

- Saskia Carmichael

~*~

Chapter 1

A young woman brushed a hand down her face, wiping away the mingling sweat and blood encrusted on her face. She strolled across the sandy desert languidly, feeling the merciless heat glowering down onto her. Her limbs ached with fatigue as she dragged her feet across the grains. Her long locks were a dishevelled, ratty mess on her head and the large gash on her forehead oozed thick liquid stubbornly. She swallowed with difficulty, lips pale and cracked, a stark contrast to her bronzed skin. Her weary eyes were set on the looming gates in front of her. Islark. It was the last place she could think of that might hold information to what she was looking for. Information she had been searching for for the past month.

She was mere feet away from it when a hard voice yelled out, "Halt."

She squinted against the harsh rays of the sun in the sky and glanced upwards, where a figure stood standing across the towering fortress. His harsh eyes were narrowed down on her lone figure, lingering on the caked blood and dirt layering her body. They then fastened onto the sword on her side, widening imperceptibly as they trailed along the embellished scabbard. His eyes remained glued to her side for a few seconds, almost as if shock had rendered him speechless. He managed to avert his eyes and cleared his throat a second later, "What business do you have coming here?"

"I wish to--"

A thundering growl resonated through her, shaking her to her very bones. The ground beneath trembled violently. Her muscles tensed as she turned around, chills raking their claws through her back. The hairs on her neck and arms stood at attention, as her eyes focused on a lone beast. It stood on two legs, towering over her with sharp fangs that gleamed as the light shone upon it. Hard scales lined its face and arms, trailing all the way down to the long-barbered tail. Its charcoal skin was covered in a sheen of dark fur across its back and its eyes glinted with an all-consuming bloodlust. She shivered involuntarily. A savage, monstrous being--yet it had the hair of a xanthian, long silky locks of blue and its eyes glinted with cerulean hues. Not the notorious blood-red eyes of a demon--but blue. All unmistakable features of a xanthian.

A dark and foreboding feeling swept through her as her eyes remained frozen on the creature, seeming both xanthian and beast combined. No, she breathed, a smidge of fear edging its way into her bloodstream. The air grew tense around her, tightening like a noose around her neck. The sky darkened steadily; the sun being enveloped and shadowed by bleak clouds as the standstill continued. It was like an omen, a warning of their grim fate. Thunder and lightning so suddenly crashed through the skies, raising tiny goose bumps on the young woman's skin. She exhaled slowly and walked forward ever so quietly, blocking out the firm voices behind her. She could hear the commander issuing out orders as they all laid eyes on the beast, not yet aware of its true power or origins, for nobody had witnessed a sight such as this. No one had come face to face with such a creature, it was neither demon nor xanthian.

It was something else.

She forced her feet to move, disregarding the exhaustion weighing down her limbs. Fear thrummed through her, even as her hands pulled on the handle of her sword. A quiet shing broke the silence and the sharp blade of her sword gleamed, a budding power building as soon as her hands made contact. It warmed in her hands, greeting its master fondly. Her heart quivered, like the wings of a hummingbird as she realised, she would have to fight such a creature again. She had barely survived the previous attack--sorely underestimating its prowess. Throughout her life she had been dealt with tragedy, it was all she had known and so fear was something she battled constantly. However, she thought she would be used to it by now--this wearisome feeling that seemed to seize control of your muscles and hold your beating heart in its cold, cold grasp. Her muscles screamed at her to rest, protesting from the movements she was making.