“You’re on prohibited territory—armed. Let go of your weapon, you’re coming with us.”
“No. I need to find my mother. Let me leave.” I wasn’t sure why I tried to play the poor-girl card, knowing very well that it wouldn’t work against the spineless men of Naar.
“I don’t think so.” The Wielder formed a fireball in his palm and pushed himself off the tree, taking two steps towards me. With little thought, I let go of the poised arrow, aiming just an inch away from his head. The arrowthunkedas it hit the pine tree behind him. A trickle of blood soon ran down his left ear. I wasted no time nocking another.
“Know that I did not miss. Let me leave and I won’t shoot you.”
“You bitch!” the Wielder snarled, hurling the fiery orb at me. I dodged it, almost losing my balance as the weight of my bag shifted.
The other two drew out their swords. The Wielder formed another orb, readying himself for the throw. I was about to leap into a sprint, but I froze at the transition of deep noises that reverberated throughout the glade. It started as a deep purr that turned into a hiss, soon after a vicious growl. I swore the ground below us trembled.
What the fuck was that?
“A panther?” one of them questioned, his tone and inhale exposing his concern. Another growl resounded, but this time it came from the Fire Wielder, as he readied a flaming arm. He didn’t leave me with much choice. The fireball quicklydissipated. He held his pierced shoulder, his fingers bloodied around the impaled wood. “Bitch!” he choked out.
Deep growls filled the air once more. They felt closer this time, coming from somewhere behind the thicket. Leaves ruffled and twigs snapped. By instinct, I aimed my arrow towards the direction of the animalistic sounds. But the Fire Wielder was not done with me. He drew my attention with the hiss and crackle of fire, fluttering with life in the soft breeze. Then it fell silent, other than my uneven breaths and wielded flames.
I didn’t run. Because what I saw next had me completely stunned.
A white male appeared from behind the trees. He moved silently, nearing the three men. A wild roar left his throat—a sound that made everyone believe he was some wild beast. My lips parted in surprise at the odd ability. The three men turned themselves around. I could’ve easily shot the Fire Wielder in the back. I didn’t. I just stood there, unmoving.
“Apologies for the intrusion, my good sirs,” the white male purred, making a theatrical gesture. “But unfortunately for you, your paths have crossed with mine…so now you must die.” The Fae with long platinum hair unsheathed his fancy sword.
The two side-men lunged for him, swords readied, and a two-against-one dance began, filling the air with sounds of clashing swords and grunts of effort. I took one step back. The Fire Wielder looked my way with hateful eyes, readying another ball of fire with his good arm. I dodged it, barely, then threw myself into a sprint. Perhaps the Fire Wielder was too injured to run after me, or perhaps it was the gurgling sounds that came out of his men’s throats that kept him stuck in place. The sound of flesh being slashed filled the glade. I looked over my shoulder. The Fire Wielder’s aim was now directed at the white male, who was back arched, retrieving his sword from one of the men’s necks.
I stopped running. I aimed.
And as my arrow made its way through and through the Fire Wielder’s neck, the white Fae’s sword synchronously impaled him chest to back. The Fire Wielder fell to his knees; his limp body thumped.
He would have died anyway. It was in defence, and he was going to die anyway.I kept telling myself that. It was the only thing that kept me from barfing.
We stood, facing each other at a distance. I nocked an arrow, slowly, carefully raising my bow.
“Who are you?” I asked. “And what are you doing here?” The arrow pointed at his head.
“I was about to ask you the same things,” he said, his voice playful, tempting me to take the shot.
“Well, I asked you first.” Unlike his, my voice was tense.
“Very well,” he said, shifting his weight to his right leg. “I am no one but the dashing Marshen Deucane, from Silch, of course, as you may have already presumed from my striking, ice-white looks.” He gestured with an exaggerated bow. “And you are, my lady?”
“I’m…Delia. Delia Wildheart, from Ramel. Give me one good reason not to shoot you, Marshen Deucane.”
“Well, for starters, I’ve never done anything to offend you…and…oh! Maybe saving your life is a good enough reason, Delia Wildheart.”
“I had it under control.”
“I very much doubt that. But you can always thank me instead of shooting me, you know?” He approached, slowly, his arms lifted at his sides.
“Stay back,” I ordered, my voice firm.
“I’m not going to hurt you. On the contrary, Lady Wildheart, all I want is to help you.”
“Help me?” I scoffed. “Why? And why should I trust you?”
He chuckled. “Do you believe in destiny, Wildheart?” I did not answer his question. “Well, I do. And it is because of destiny that you can trust me, as fate has decided thatIneedyoujust as much asyouneedme.” He neared another few steps.
“I said stay back!” The white male stopped only a few feet away. His eyes, I could see clearly now, were celeste—a light blue. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” I bit.
