Ellya was up before the break of dawn. She helped her mother bind new bandages around the warrior's - Vanden's - chest. She cringed at the sight of the rude cut in his flesh, but was determined to help him heal as quick as possible.
The quickest way to heal him was to obtain a healer or a mage. But the kingdom of Thiran presently lacked so many of them; it was impossible to find one. But it did not matter. Vanden was recovering. The color had returned to his skin, and Ellya found it even harder not to find him so alluring.
He had lost much blood that it had slowed the flow to his head. But in several weeks, he was able to stand and walk on his own.
He was allowed to stay with them for as long as he liked. In return, he was to assist Muran in whatever house duties men did.
Ellya and her parents asked him questions about whence he had come. He either answered matter-of-factly or with, "I'm sorry, but I'd rather not speak about it."
Something was weighing him down. Ellya could see it in his face when he sauntered discursively inside and outside the cottage. She even wondered if he regretted ever being saved.
She had asked him once, "Why can't you return to your village?"
He had answered, "You wouldn't understand."
He was often quiet, but when Ellya occasionally and successfully encouraged him to walk with her through the forest, he would talk about his travels and would eventually open up a part of his past.
"That locket that you're constantly glancing at," she said on one such walk. "Who is that girl? She's quite pretty."
He smiled sadly. "She was a friend of mine. We knew each other since we were little."
"You speak of her as if she were gone. Is she . . .?
"No. She lives. I hope."
"What is her name?"
"Iveyleth."
That sounded familiar. "You assumed she was me when I found you by the lake," she recalled.
"Did I?" He paused. "Oh, yes. I did. I had hoped you were her."
Ellya had grown uncomfortable with this interview, but she felt it her obligation to let him talk out his doleful mood.
"Do you love her?" she found herself asking.
His reply was not as quick as she had expected. "Yes."
They were silent for a moment. She felt it was required before she continued. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but if you love her, why will you not return to her?"
His face hardened. "You wouldn't understand." And just like that, their little friendly walk was over.
Several days later, she introduced him to the villagers of Mistal. Not directly, though. She wasn't quite familiar with the citizens herself.
Besides Carithy.
The villagers had heard of a vague rumor about him and that he had been discovered by the lake. The rumor stirred up fears of possible demon attacks on the village. Vanden never had told anyone how he had been wounded, but when he and Ellya returned home, he made a surprising confession.
"I was attacked by a Greigh."
Ellya and her parents looked up at him from where they sat in the sitting room. He was standing in the door way to the room and appeared rigid. His face was devoid of any emotion.
"A Greigh?" echoed Muran.
"The demon threw itself at me and attacked me," Vanden said apathetically. "It was dark, but I was able to make out its form. I had no time to react and ended up fatally injured. I . . . I thought I was gone by then. But it stopped in the midst of its attack."
"What happened?"
"It dove into the woods and never came back. I don't know why, but I believe Ellya's arrival aroused its alarm. It seemed to be in a hurry rushing away before she came . . ."
He and Ellya's parents glanced at Ellya, expecting some explanation.
But she stared at them and said, "I didn't do anything."
"Thank the Goddess it didn't do anything more!" Aristene said. She rose from her seat and brought Ellya's forehead to her lips. "I think it's time for bed."
Ellya was old enough to understand when bedtime was, but at that moment, her mother did not want to hear any objections. The woman was practically shaking with fear.
Vanden retreated to his room wordlessly, and Ellya soon followed after. She watched her parents one last time before entering her room.
When she was finally tucked beneath her covers, she closed her eyes, but reopened them again to stare at the ceiling.
Where had that demon come from? Had it escaped the Black Kingdom?
Clutching her covers tightly, she cast her eyes to the thin branches outside her window. They swayed mysteriously, creating some sort of demonic manifestation. She shivered and turned her face away.
Were there truly demons lurking out there? Had her home suddenly become a dangerous place to live in?
She shut her eyes tightly and whispered a brief prayer to the Goddess.
Could there be a demon waiting for some vulnerable victim to come along for it to devour?
Demon attacks were rare around Mistal village. In fact, the last recorded demon attack had been three decades ago.
It must have escaped the underworld, Ellya thought as she stared at her wall. There is no possible way that demons would be set free in the mortal realm. Chaos would result, and far greater powers would have to be involved. The kingdom of mortals would suffer incredibly under the merciless wrath of evil-possessed creatures, and it would have to endure the terror for centuries.
But the common demon was not the only thing to fear.
Ellya closed her eyes and persistently willed herself to sleep, as if to distract herself from the next thought. But it came uninvitingly.
There were the Demon Knights, creatures that destroyed or returned demons that escaped from the underworld. The Demon Goddess, Hyatrece, had created them. They were her tools for maintaining order in the mortal realm. But they were also capable of destroying mortal lives when provoked. Or ordered to.
There were the White Helms as well, named for the angelic glow around their heads. They were very similar to the Demon Knights in regards to protecting the realm of humans, but they were warriors of the Head Goddess, Armedica, Ellya's Goddess, the Goddess of all gods and goddesses.
Unlike the Demon Knights, White Helm's could not murder a mortal. If any incident like this occurred intentionally, the White Helm responsible for the incident would be banished from the White Kingdom above and forever chained to the Black Kingdom below.
Ellya's desire in life was to become one of Armedica's messengers. They were heavenly warriors, but the fate of a messenger was not as severe as that of a White Helm. White Helms were far greater in strength and power, for they received their strength directly from the Goddess herself.
Messengers were mortal. White Helms were not. The purpose of the messenger was primarily to serve the Goddess. If she asked of something, her messengers would see to it that it was carried out. They were her oracles, in a way.
Messengers were fighters, and at the moment, Ellya did not know how to fight. For the past few days, she had considered solving that problem.
Quickly, she threw her covers aside and left her room for Vanden's. She knocked quietly, hoping not to stir her parents.
Vanden opened the door, gazing at her through half-opened eyes. "Yes?"
"Um," Ellya began, but was not quite sure of how to continue. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. He was patient. She went on, "I would like to learn how to fight."
He raised a quizzical eyebrow, sleepy eyes holding hers in a manner that made her feel delightfully uncomfortable. He looked at her as if trying to read her.
"Doesn't your father teach you?" he asked.
"Yes, but I would like to wield a weapon."
He continued to gaze at her oddly, but couldn't stop an amused smile from spreading across his face. "Well, in that case," he murmured, "we'll begin first thing in the morrow."
Two months passed by since Vanden had been taken into Ellya's home, one month since he had begun teaching her what he knew of the sword.
With every day that passed, he saw improvement in her. Although it was slight, her determination shined like a bright beacon in her blue eyes. She explained to him her intentions of becoming a messenger to Armedica. He was amazed at the strength of her loyalty and the confidence with which she fought in their small duels, despite the number of times she was bruised and defeated.
He saw her as a young and confident girl reaching for her dreams. She saw him as a respectable teacher and a close friend. And as time went on, no matter how hard she tried not to, she thought of him more than usual and found her heartbeat quickening every moment her eyes met his.
They trained by the lake with branches for swords. An actual blade was too advanced for her level of skill, but he could see that she would be prepared soon.
They sometimes received visitors by the lake, much to Ellya's distaste. Carithy was the frequent visitor, always asking about this and that and the other. She watched their small duels, applauding whenever Vanden unarmed Ellya.
It was during these times that Vanden sensed Ellya's transcending frustration. Her eyes constantly flared whenever Carithy strolled into the glade by the lake. And whenever they finished, she would storm off somewhere to be alone. He told her that a warrior should ignore such distractions, but Carithy was another story.
One day, he told Ellya that her training was from that day on to be behind the cottage. He explained, with a cunning grin, that her training should consist only of her and him.
On that day, she realized she was in love with him.
It was difficult trying to ignore her love for him, seeing as he lived with her. To make it even more difficult, he had set aside the locket and red ribbon of his childhood sweetheart, unknowingly providing her a chance to win his heart.
But she could never take that chance.
On one beautiful spring day, after the sun had been at its highest in the sky, she and Vanden were resting in the grass. It was on that day that would impact her entire life.
They had borrowed a cheap rusting sword from the blacksmith and had begun actual swordplay. Ellya was still excited after the rush of a quick duel. Her steps were too short and her arm was still too flimsy. But she finally had had the experience of wielding a true sword!
"You're doing an excellent job, Ellya," Vanden remarked, smiling at her.
She slid her black hair behind her ear, afraid he could see her infatuation with him. "Well, you're an excellent teacher."
What should she say next? What could she say next? She loved the time she spent with him, but she wanted more.
A week ago, she had uncovered a garden of golden daffodils not that far off from the cottage. Could she show him that? Would he find them beautiful? Would he offer her one?
Her face warming, she opened her mouth to speak. But he raised a hand to stop her.
"Did you hear that?" he said, eyes darting to the sides.
Confused, she shook her head.
He told her to remain silent. He tilted his head to gain a better advantage of hearing, and soon, a low growl sounded from behind her. She turned on the ground, glancing over her shoulder.
Nothing. There was nothing there.
Bewildered, she turned to Vanden, about to claim that it was nothing. But as soon as she did, she saw the tall frightening shadow looming over him, an emaciated man with enormous hollow black eyes. His skin was pulled so tight she could see the tiniest of curves in his bones.
Her mouth hung open.
Demon.
Vanden quickly registered the fright in her eyes. In a flash, he was rolling sideways and was up on his feet with his sword drawn. His eyes landed on the thin man that had stood behind him.
Its limbs were crooked, bent abnormally. His contorted face showed signs of agony and wrath. Ellya shuddered. This man was no longer human.
Where had he come from?
His forward steps were slow. It was as if he was taunting them, seeing if they were going to run.
"Get behind me, Ellya," Vanden advised, but instead of doing that, she yelped his name.
He spun immediately, eyes suddenly beholding another new demon. His heart thudded in his ears. It was the Greigh that had attacked him. It had returned.
This demon was not a stolen human. It was an actual monster of flesh and blood. Its gray flesh was as rough as the skin of a reptile. It stood like a man, strode like a man, but it did not look like a man.
It had black, glossy coals for eyes and a bald head. Its arms were so long, they nearly touched the ground. Its hands each had three sharp fingers, one acting as a thumb.
Vanden snarled at the demon, the demon that had fled as Ellya had approached.
But as soon as he was reacquainted with it, the possessed man was upon him in an instant.
His breath exploded from his lungs as the human carcass collided with him with supernatural speed. It gave him no time to hunch over in pain but shoved him down a great distance from the demon and Ellya.
Realizing at once what these creatures were about to do, he yelled, "Ellya, run!" But he should have known better that she would not leave him. Although, even when he told her to escape, she had no time to run.
The gray beast shot its long arm at her. The thick limb continued to stretch until it could reach her. Its fingers were as straight and long as arrows, flying at her chest for her heart.
Vanden had been attacked in the same fashion.
He cried out for her to move.
She did, barely missing the long, slender points. She leaned to the side, but its other arm flew at her. She was not quick enough. She screamed as the fingers wrapped themselves fiercely around her neck. She felt the creature lift her into the air and drag her, by the neck, towards it. She kicked and struck it with her fists, pure panic racing through her blood and her head.
No, please save me! she cried to the Goddess.
This demon was going to devour her. Even worse, it was going to claim her soul
Vanden was screaming her name. At the same time, he repeatedly drove his sword into the walking corpse that refused to let him pass to reach her. But it would not fall. The demon inside would not yield.
Ellya's head was ready to burst. She needed air desperately, but the claw around her throat was a tight iron shackle. Her sword lay several feet away. If only she could reach it . . .
Her struggles were drastically weakening, her head feeling awfully light. Through half-closed eyes, she saw its head roll back, its large jaws widening, teeth the size of knives extending.
No, save me! she cried inwardly. Please!
Tears rapidly rolled down her cheeks. She was going to die. Her soul was going to be damned. She would never have a chance to see the light of the White Kingdom. Would Armedica save her?
The nine-foot-tall Greigh had released her neck and now it held her above the ground between its hands, holding her as if she were a long roll of bead, about to be consumed head first.
Goddess, save me . . .
Its wide jaws came down to her neck, ready to close and snap it in half. She wept uncontrollably, gasping for air now that her throat had been unfettered. She screamed, but she was unaware of it.
Right when its mouth hovered over the curve of her neck and shoulder, Vanden shouted, "No!"
In that very instant, in that very horrifying moment, silence and stillness overcame her. She felt her hot blood flowing like lava in her veins. She felt something dormant deep inside rising to the surface, waiting to erupt. It was a terrible and awesome feeling that shook her being. A strange new presence overwhelmed her.
A voice resounded in her mind. A calm, solid voice. Her voice.
Release me, demon.
Immediately, the gray demon withdrew its arms, letting her drop to the ground. Surprisingly, she landed perfectly at a crouch on her feet. As she straightened, the demon let out a bloodcurdling screech.
Darkness was blurring her comprehension, her thoughts, her mind entirely. The last thing she knew before blackness claimed her was her running and retrieving her sword. "Oh, Ellya!" It was her mother beside her. "Ellya, can you hear me?" Ellya grimaced as she opened her eyes. Her limbs ached. Her body was so sore she believed that someone had taken a beating to it. But that hadn't been the case. There were no dark welts on her flesh. Instead, she realized that she'd place too much physical strain on herself. But how? She turned her head and took in the sight of her mother. Tears glistened on her cheeks. She appeared to have aged. She squeezed Ellya's hand more tightly. "Thank the Goddess!" Ellya frowned. "What happened, Mama?" "Vanden brought you home several hours ago, and you did not wake until now." She closed her eyes and shook her head. A single small drop slipped down her cheek. "He said you were attacked," she whispered, her voice breaking. The memory of that gray demon was very vague in her mind. It felt as if she had encountered it years ago. Upon remembering, her muscles began to ache. She could not recall the event after she had picked up her sword. What had happened? Where was the demon? Her mind snapped. Where was Vanden? Her eyes scanned the lamp-lit room. She and her mother were the only occupants. Through the window she saw it was night. How late, she did not know. "Where is Vanden?" she asked. "He left after carrying you here," she replied. "He hasn't returned since." Something in Ellya's chest tightened. Had he been hurt? "Mama, what did he tell you?" Her mother produced a white handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "Two demons found you in the forest, and the Greigh, the one that almost killed Vanden before, went after you. But you escaped somehow, he said, and you . . . you killed it." Ellya froze. She had? How had she done that? Her mother gazed intently into her eyes. "Are you well now, Ellya? Is it gone?" "What do you mean?" "Your rage," she answered. "Vanden said you went into a rage and . . . slaughtered the two demons. He was lucky you hadn't turned on him." Ellya's heart seemed to burst. She would never hurt him. "You fell unconscious, and he carried you home." Her mother exclaimed as Ellya struggled to sit up. "No! You must rest! Ellya, please, you aren't well . . ." There was something odd in her mother's eyes as Ellya looked again. Something was on her mother's mind. A curious warning struck Ellya, but she dismissed it. "I must find Vanden," she said weakly. "I need to know what happened." "My love, you went into a rage," her mother said as gently as possible. "You only did it to protect someone you cared about." Ellya's heart stopped beating, afraid her mother had found out that she was in love with him. "Vanden is all right, I'm sure," her mother reassured her, but it wasn't reassurance enough. "But I have to know for sure-" The door opened widely, and someone stepped in. Ellya and her mother looked up. Vanden entered, his clouded eyes as hard as stone. He held Ellya's eyes for one fleeting moment before looking away with a shadow crossing his face. Ellya's heart fluttered. "Vanden . . ." "Are you feeling better?" he asked with that impassive voice of his. "Yes," she lied. Silence. "Vanden . . ." "Good night." He turned to leave, but paused when she called his name again. She was torn inside. Why was he ignoring her? What had she done? Could he see the pain inside her? The pain that he was drilling into her each and every time he looked at her with those cold, blue-green eyes? "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I didn't-" "It's not you're fault," he interrupted, somewhat exasperated. "You didn't do anything wrong." Which always meant, You did everything wrong. "Vanden-" "This is nothing about you, Ellya," he said stoutly, eyes flying to hers. "I'm not angry at you. This is . . . something else." But she wasn't convinced. He left her room without another word.
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Someone was holding her hand. Their grasp was warm and luring her out of her black unconsciousness. A quiet groan escaped her lips.
