Shadowfall

Chapter One

Flames crackled and roared, surrendering thick billows of grey smoke into the air. The dark vapor made it harder to see, dimming the only source of light; the ivory moon and the orangey glow of flickering, lively flames. Kate could barely hear the sound of her own ragged breathing over the assorted sounds of the fire and screams. She pushed her hair off her damp forehead before brushing her long pale fingers against the frigid wall at her back, feeling the rough surface beneath her skin. Using her hands to guide her, she carefully kept her small back against the wall as she crept along, wary of exposing herself to the unknown.

The once cool wall started to become heated beneath her touch as the fires began to spread, the flames licking old buildings and sending them down into a crumpled heap. The girl had passed hundreds of bodies; some were left to rot where they had fallen while others had been tossed into the flames that flickered like lightning during a thunderstorm. The thick smoke rose into the air and around Kate as her lungs huffed and fought against the foul air, which was filled with the ghastly scent of burning hair that made it difficult for Kate to keep silent, trying her very best not to break into a fit of coughs as her body prayed for fresh air, free of death.

It was evident that something was horribly wrong. Screams brushed past Kate's ears from somewhere beyond the mass of motionless bodies. The fire was beginning to consume more of the town, of the place Kate called home as they swallowed up bodies, carriages, homes, trees, and lush gardens where she liked to spend most of her time. As Kate sank down against the wall, she wondered who it was that was piling the bodies, burning them, starting the fires. It made anger rise in her chest. Who could do such a thing?

With a quick gulp, Kate risked a glance around the wall, rocking forward until she was on her knees, her fingers grasping to the rugged surface of the grey stone wall. Across the cobblestone streets stood what used to be her favorite bakery, where she would go each morning for a delicious tart sold to her by the old, cheery baker with his mustache that was the same color of the stone wall beside her. She remembered the bakery was full of soft lavender purples and light blues, but now the wooden walls were beginning to spiral with the unforgiving flames.

Just to the left of the old bakery in front of the apothecary stood a line of people. The people were tattered and dirty, covered in smudges from the smoke and clothes torn from some sort of struggle that Kate feared had to do with the five dark figures that paced in front of them. Each person in the line was down cowering on their knees. One woman sobbed while a few others remained silent, though shook. An older male in the line who wore an intricately designed necklace of a moon and stars whispered to himself, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Kate recognized the man as the town's High Priest. The man was praying, and when he finally looked up at the figures in front of him, he didn't seem at all afraid.

Not even when one of the figures stepped toward him. The High Priest kept his face blank as one of the figures lifted a hand and quickly swiped down at him, sending his head tumbling from his body, landing in front of the sobbing woman who let out a loud scream. Her body fell next and silence settled along the line and the figures. Kate held her breath as she looked along the line which had been eleven but now was only nine. Her emerald green eyes came to settle on a little boy in the middle of the line who trembled like a small leaf. The boy looked to be around the age of ten and even from the distance she could tell the boy was certainly smaller for his age.

As if sensing her eyes on him, the little boy looked up with curious eyes, but besides that gave no indication that he had seen her, so as not to bring the attention of the prowling figures upon himself. Smart boy. Kate knew then that she had to do something to help the people, and if she couldn't help them all, then surely she had to help the little boy. She couldn't handle the thought of any of these remaining people dying, their blood would be on her hands.