Hi! Back again, after only a day! This has taken most of the day to write, and I know it's not very long - I apologize! It will need editing (so please bear with any mistakes!). Probably won't be updating again for a couple of days (or more...), but I will start writing chapter 2 when I have a spare moment. Enjoy!
Unedited - Will be edited later, there may be spelling/grammatical mistakes
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Kira POV
(8 months ago)
A figure stands before me in the shadows, their back towards me. His back – somehow I know the figure is male, without even taking a step closer. He stands tall, his stance strong yet somehow graceful. His body is patterned with shadows, thin tendrils of mist dancing and twisting around him. Standing where I am, his face is shrouded in darkness. I feel like I should know him, despite having no recollection of when I should have met such a person. I know I would certainly remember. I have the sudden urge to see that face, just to prove myself wrong, to clarify that he is, indeed, a complete stranger. And yet, a tiny part of me hopes that I'm right, that I have met him before, that I could meet him again. I don't know why that is. Curiosity overpowers all other emotion, and I take a hesitant step towards him. An explosion of thunder startles me, and leaves me wary, but does not deter me. I feel strangely eager, too eager. I take another step, and another. I am only a few metres away from him now. I go to take another step, and another crash of thunder resonates through the air, echoing in my head. My ears ring, and I am left dazed. The noise swells, and a knife-like pain sears through my head. I feel my chest tighten and my breath hitches. I gasp for air, and my piercing scream joins the thunder in its agonising song.
*
(Current time)
He stands with his back to me, face concealed by a sweep of thick, dark hair. Though I cannot see clearly in the darkness, the figure standing before me is familiar. I have been here before. He is tall; he would tower above me, if he were to stand next to me. Yet I am not afraid. I used to feel as though I should be, but I have long stopped trying to fight the undeniable pull I feel towards him. Anyone else, in this situation, would intimidate me. But not him. I take a step forwards, towards him. Ignoring the constant crescendo of thunder, I take another step, and freeze. He turns, slowly, purposefully. A gasp escapes me as his eyes meet mine for the first time. His eyes are dark, almost black; I am breathless under the intensity of his stare. Time seems to stop; everything disappears, except for him. I can see him in perfect clarity. A flash of lightning blinds me. And then everything goes dark.
I wake with a start, sweaty and breathless. Even after eight challenging months of disconcerting visions, nothing in the world could have prepared me for that. The dreams always leave me mentally exhausted, though each one seems to be more vivid, more extreme. By now I thought my body would have grown used to the experience. They have become a regular occurrence in my life, along with the visions – which started around my 16th birthday. I was a late bloomer (other than the enhanced senses that all of my kind are born with), but my parents always said my gift would show itself eventually, that it was perfectly normal for my powers not to have revealed themselves yet. I guess they were right: my powers are certainly making themselves known now! I'm glad, I suppose, because it means I'm not a freak, like I always thought. When everyone around you has discovered their gift, except you, you do start to wonder if there's something wrong with you. But is a little warning honestly too much to ask!?
Over the past months, I have spent so long wondering, wishing I could see his face, to see who he truly was. But every time I stepped too close, I would wake up. Each vivid dream has brought me a little closer to him, to knowing who he really is. I feel like I have known him my entire life – he is so familiar to me. When I think about what I really know about him, though, he is a complete stranger to me. I have no idea what his personality is like, his likes and dislikes, his habits. Nothing. I don't even know his name. Even so, I think of him as my guardian angel. He is always present in my dreams and he always makes things better, when times are tough.
The dreams started when I was going through a bad time. I had just turned 16 when my parents were killed, and their death hit me hard. My parents and I were the only ones left, the rest of our ancient race murdered by the Equos Venaticus, the brutal organisation formed to eliminate us. They saw us as a threat, simply because they didn't understand us. We shouldn't exist, that's what they said. They made it their ultimate mission to end us. One by one, they hunted down my kind. They sent out groups of trained assassins – once they found out where you were, you stood little chance of survival. For this reason, my entire life has been spent hiding, trying to keep a low profile. Even with this restricted lifestyle, they found my parents. Found them, and killed them, right in front of my eyes. I was lucky to escape. There isn't a single day that I don't feel the loss of my parents. To this day, their faces still haunt me. To think I was there, that I could – should – have done something to stop it...
The first few months after their death were the toughest. And then the dreams started.
At first the dreams scared me. They were like nothing I had ever known before. Every dream ended the same way – intense pain and me, screaming. Each time, I'd wake suddenly. Shaking and disorientated, with my skin cold and drenched in sweat, I would search for my parents, just to realise they were gone. They were never coming back. I had to brave it alone. As time passed, the dreams became more comforting. They were a constant in a world that was changing too fast. Even when I could trust nothing else, I could trust him to be there. My angel was always there, always just a little too far out of reach, but always there. My angel. He gave me a reason to carry on. I had to reach him, to see his face, before I woke up. I was determined to get close enough to see the one who was making my life bearable after my parents' death. Each dream left me with an unfamiliar feeling of longing, and every time I woke up I faced a distinctive sense of disappointment. For the first time since my parents' death, I started to hope.
Now, I eagerly anticipate every opportunity to see him. Although the loss of my parents' still haunts me, I am coping with it better. I have a purpose in life again. I live for the night, when I can dream. He feels so real, I can barely believe that I am dreaming anymore. And when his eyes finally met mine, it felt so powerful. That split second was worth all those months of waiting, all those times I woke up trembling and frightened, all that pain. I have never met anyone with such intensity. I can't deny the attraction I feel for him.
Such feelings surprise me – I never expected to feel this way for anyone, let alone a complete stranger. Ever since Finn... I swore I would never love again, and I thought I could keep that promise. But even with Finn, I never felt anything this strong. It's not love, Finn made me realise that love must be reciprocated. But Finn's dead now. I can't be certain that my angel isn't a figment of my imagination, a way to combat the pain I felt after my parents' death. Even if, by some miracle, he is real, there is no way he would ever notice someone like me, let alone feel anything towards me. But... I can't help feeling that there is something there. Surely I couldn't have imagined such a connection? I couldn't have imagined anything so extraordinary, so exhilarating. I couldn't have imagined the way that, for a split second, my heart beat double time and my breath hitched and my world stopped...
Could I?
*
My name is Kira Williams, and today is my 17th birthday. Happy birthday me! I made it to 17. Aren't I lucky!? Sarcasm aside, it's true – I am lucky. How else could I have escaped the Equos Venaticus for so long? Most newly-turned seventeen year olds would be want to celebrate in style – a big party, seeing all their friends, presents, cards, a cake. But then most newly-turned seventeen year olds aren't under threat from a group of highly trained assassins, with no one to turn to but themselves. I can't afford to celebrate for long. They could attack at any moment. I know I am their prime target now. All of their efforts are focused on me. With everyone else gone, I am all the Equos Venaticus have left. The only reason the organisation exists. I know they will be after me. All I can do is to keep moving, and hope I can prolong the inevitable. I know that, sooner or later, they will find me. I can't evade them forever. But I can try.
A noise makes me freeze, my enhanced senses working overtime to identify the source of the sound. Ever since I have been on my own, I have been on the run, never staying in one place for long, not trusting anyone. Living this way makes me wary – too wary, some would say. But, as so many have said before me, better safe than sorry. I listen hard, hoping to catch another trace of the sound. It wasn't close enough for an attack, they'd have to be quieter than that to surprise me, and they know it. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's the sound of innocent people, going about their daily lives, carefree and unaware of the danger I am constantly under. Or maybe not. Maybe it's the sound of assassins, with a plan that I won't suspect. Surely they know by now that my visions are hazy, that I don't see every event that happens. The visions don't last long, sometimes just a flash of colour, or an image, that lasts only a brief second before disappearing, never to be seen again. And I rarely see anything that makes sense until I experience it first-hand, until it's too late. People assume that, because I have visions, I can see the future. The truth is, the future isn't fixed, and the visions never contain enough information, never make enough sense for me to make much of a difference. I can't simply choose to experience a vision at will. They are unpredictable, and often leave me more confused than I was before. I sometimes wonder whether my so-called gift is a gift at all, or whether it is a curse in disguise. Maybe the Equos Venaticus know all of this, somehow, and are using it to their advantage?
My paranoia unsettles me, and today more than it usually does. Something feels wrong. Although I don't know how it would be possible, with all the care I have taken, I fear that they know where I am, that they have found me, after nearly a year of surviving on my own.
After listening for a moment longer, the voice return, louder this time. They are approaching, whoever they are. I'm not sure how many of them there are, just that it is a group, more than five: all male, with low, harsh voices. They are not close enough to hear every word clearly, though I catch a few phrases.
Boss says she's close. This better not be another wild goose chase.
Yeah, we've been after her enough times, are we even sure she's still alive?
I fink so, Boss is certain of it....He's obsessed wiv 'er, he is.
He's determined to get her, she surely won't last long.
That's what you'd think, right? But I hear she's a fighter, this one. Gotta be, I s'pose, if you're left all on your own.
Gotta be pretty sharp too, to last this long.
She's only young, I hear.
Yeah...
Shhh now, we're getting closer, she'll hear us. Okay guys, stick to the plan. Do whatever it takes. You know what to do.
I stand, frozen with horror, transfixed for a second after the voices fade, my fears confirmed. They aren't here yet, but they are approaching. Faster than I'd hope. I still have time to outrun them, if I hurry. But it will be risky. I will have to take the quickest escape routes. They haven't got this close in a long time. I have let myself become distracted. And now I will pay.
I have to leave. And I have to leave now.
I grab my rucksack, still partly packed from the last time I had to leave. Shoving my belongings into the bag, I zip it shut and scan the room one last time. There will be no returning here after today.
Oh how I wish I could lead a normal life, like any normal girl could on her 17th birthday. But this is my life, and if I don't leave now, I probably won't live to see another day. Spurred on by this thought, I sling the backpack over my shoulders, and take a deep breath, bracing myself.
And then I kick down the window.