Fan Fiction ❯ Aversion ❯ Chapter 1

Somewhere, a raven called.

The small girl whimpered, clutching her mother's dress front tightly. She squeezed her golden eyes shut as the woman raced through their village, the night air a grasping void in their wake.

“Do not cry, baby,” she gasped as she halted before the large tree that shaded a rushing stream. The shadows twisted in the light of the full moon, reaching, grasping. The woman crouched, placing the child in the crook of the roots, slightly underground. The girl cried out as she was released, small arms reaching out to the person who was leaving her behind.

“Do not fret, my Lia. Mommy's going to go now, but she'll come back for you,” the woman assured her child. She caressed Lia's ebony hair and traced the contours of her face. “Do not leave this shelter. Do not cry out. I promise I'll come back.”

A howl erupted behind the mother, followed by a flurry of barks. The woman whipped around. Fear filled her features and she ran, ran away from the tree. The werewolf snarled in delight and gave chase, his pack following closely.

 

A flash of metal was the only warning the man had before the sickle removed his head in one clean, efficient stroke. The teen wielding the weapon eyed the body, considering the best way to dismember it. She prepared the blade.

“Obsidian,” a deep voice warned.

The girl paused and regarded the dead man. She stepped back and spat on the corpse. “Filthy poachers,” she snarled and turned to the deep voiced man.

He stood by a tree watching her. The willow shadows dappled his lithe form. Shorter than her, five feet three inches to her six foot one, he still emitted a power that made him seem taller then he was. His olive skin highlighted his high cheekbones and emerald eyes. Long silver hair framed his face, three owl feathers braided into the strands. His lean body held an indescribable grace and his chest, tattooed with various symbols, was bare. He wore no armor. He did not need it. She had been with him for fifteen years and it seemed as if he had not aged a day.

He walked to the woman and cupped her face. “His death was enough. You need not desecrate the body, as well, my student,” he told her sternly.

She nodded submissively and hopped after him as he began to walk.

“Obsidian.”

She looked at her master, her love. “Yes, Silver?”

He smirked. “My name is Ivellios and you know it.”

She gave him a wry smile and cocked her head to one side. “But I like to call you Silver.”

He chuckled. A comfortable silence stretched between them and after a moment he turned to her. “Your time as my student is drawing to a close. Tomorrow the society shall induct you into its ranks.”

She beamed at him and he smiled proudly. Oh how she loved this man. He had raised her as his child and then his partner. He had catered to her needs and showed her the ways of a druid. He had taught her to love nature, taught her to fight the darkness within her. He saved her from her prison under the tree.

She remembered that night clearly, a beacon in the recesses of her mind. She heard the eerie cries of the pack, traced the shadows with her mind, gripped the rough spun hem of her mother's dress. She could never forgot the harsh tang of blood that permeated the air and the bitter taste of her tears. She could not forget the fear and her mother's promise. The unkept promise. She had not returned, but then, there was him.

Ivellios had saved her and she had flourished in his care. Losing her childlike pudginess, she had grown lean and muscular with training. Even with the years under the sun, her skin was pale. Ebony hair cascaded down her back in waves. No feathers adorned her locks yet, but, as tradition dictated, on the day of her initiation, her animal companion would come to her and colors would be chosen and bound in. The one thing that remained unchanged was her golden eyes.

“Silver?” the girl asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“Does the initiation hurt?”

Ivellios laughed heartily and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “No, love, it doesn't hurt.” He kissed her cheek and the two disappeared into the forest.

 

“Obsidian Naï–lo, do you accept the druidic ways and customs as your own?”

The girl knelt demurely in an ancient clearing, surrounded by initiated druids of many different races. The clearing itself had seen thousands of inaugurations through hundreds of years, yet the land was barely changed from its original glory.

“Yes, I accept, master,” she murmured to Ivellios. The man stood before her, his snowy owl perched upon his shoulder. He nodded, prompting her to begin the meditation. She bowed her head and rested her hands on her knees.

The world of sight faded and collapsed, molding itself into a universe of scents and sounds. The rich tang of wet soil and spring threaded through her nose, the crisp smell of pine an afterthought. A bird sang softly in the distance, nearly smothered by the whistling wind and the gentle thrum of a nearby stream.

The girl discarded these as unimportant and refocused her attention on her task. She flung her mind wide, grasping at the aura of the land, and sensed an orb glowing just beyond her reach. It danced and played at the edge of her consciousness, daring her to catch it. Calling out to the spirit, she nearly opened her eyes. It drew close, twitching away as she shifted or moved. She beckoned to it, pleading silently. The light hesitated a moment, then slunk to her, brushing the skin of her cheek.

The universe shattered and was replaced by the colors of sight as Obsidian slowly cracked open her eyes. A wolf brute bumped her cheek again, demanding her touch. His fur gleamed somber onyx in the sun. His eyes, as golden as her own, sparkled with recognized wisdom. The brute growled when she didn't respond and forced her hand onto his head.

Struck, Obsidian stroked his head. “What is your name, black brute?” she asked quietly.

`Kage,' a whisper returned in her mind, not unlike a feather's touch.

Ivellios smiled down at his student and her wolf. “Rise, Obsidian,” he said.

The girl rose slowly, fearing the brute would dart away. Magpie feathers were held out to her by Ivellios, tradition bearing forth. “Accept these as your symbol as a druid. The black corresponds to the wolf and the white is the mark I leave you.”

She carefully grasped the feathers and bowed. “Thank you, ma- Ivellios.”

The watching druids turned without a sound and paced into the forest, proverbial shadows, disappearing amongst the trees.

Obsidian watched in amazement. “Can I do that?” she asked the silver haired man.

“All in time,” he chuckled. “Now, let's go get this brute a meal.”

 

The two reclined on the bank of a small river, watching the paths of passing clouds, their animal companions offhandedly tracking their movements. Obsidian lazily polished her scimitar to a high shine, capturing the light of the sun in the metal. The scimitar and sickle were her only weapons. She had to keep them pristine.

Wiping a tiny speck of dirt from the blade, she turned her head to Ivellios. “Silver, I've been thinking.”

He gazed at her, his emerald eyes mischievous. “Oh, did it hurt?”

The girl gasped and threw a pebble at him. “That was lame, Silver. Everyone's heard that one. But, I have truly been thinking. What would happen if you died?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “You would have to take over my responsibilities, as the society dictates. Whoever discovers the death . . .”

“ . . .of a fellow druid is bound to their duties and responsibilities,” the girl finished. “I know. I know. But, I do not think I will be able to. I mean, you're so smart and. . .”

He silenced her with a finger. “Do not worry, dear heart. I will not be leaving anytime soon.” He yawned widely and stretched.

Obsidian watched his cat-like movements with silent admiration. A thought occurred to the ebony haired youth and she reached over to trace the lines of ink that were permanently embedded in his skin. “Silver, why did you have the symbol of containment tattooed on your chest?” She gave him a small smile, coaxing him to answer.

This had been something that had galled her over the years. He never spoke of his past, never. Dark secrets were hidden behind his crystalline green eyes. The symbol had been especially intriguing, since it was used to capture a part of yourself and keep it hidden from enemies. Very powerful enemies. What could the druid be hiding, or, more importantly, who was he hiding from?

Ivellios' face hardened, taking on the mask that was expressionless, blank. He stood slowly. His voice was a spike of ice that drove itself through Obsidian's soul. Sharp, frigid, deadly. “My past is my own. The burdens are mine. Now, I shall fetch us some dinner.” He turned and stalked into the tree, his owl winging after him.

The wolf brute rumbled and leaned into her, a mass of comfort and unquestioning love. Sighing, the newly appointed druid scratched Kage's neck, a decidedly favorite spot of his. A near-sigh left the beast and the golden eyes slid shut.

Obsidian did the same, questions chasing around her mind. What did Silver have to hide? Doubt flooded her mind. It could not be that terrible, could it?

 

The night was dark, hushed. Eerily silent, the forest seemed to strain against the air. The light of the full moon threw the area into a miasma of shadows caressed by edges of light. No wind stirred the leaves. No cloud broke the black sky.

Obsidian tentatively stroked the rough bark of a willow. The tree seemed to twist from her hand, writhing under her stroke. It was if it was afraid. Could plants hold the fear that permeated the eventide?

Kage's growl was a continuous thrum reverberating up her leg where his rigid body pressed against hers. Hackles raised, tail high, the brute challenged the stillness with burning molten gold eyes.

Ivellios was a wraith; the calm, serene air that had surrounded him constantly was a mere illusion of itself and a quiet malice wrapped him in twisting tendrils.

His owl had fled with the dusk and the man had removed the feathers from his hair. When Obsidian had sent him a questioning look, he had shrugged and replied, “It is time for a change.” The setting sun brought more then the creature's flight. Bewilderment had settled over the girl watching in dismay as the tattoos emblazoned across her master's skin faded to nothing.

She glanced at him now and shivered. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The night should not feel like this. The air should not be this heavy. Plants should not radiate fear from their very pores. Tattoos should not disappear.

Kage snarled suddenly and darted in front of his mistress. An answering snap matched the brute's and a brown wolf burst from the undergrowth. No, not a wolf. It was too large. Werewolf. The pack slunk from the shadows, small yips and growls piercing the silence.

Obsidian cried out, cold terror entering her veins, and clutched at the tree to keep from collapsing as her knees gave out. Her eyes darted around wildly, searching for the leader, the wolf lord. The pack followed the alpha, becoming more precise - more deadly. Take him out and you might stand a chance.

“S-silver?” she stuttered. Her eyes chased around the circle of creatures. How had they surrounded them? Her eyes came to rest on Ivellios and shock racked her body.

He crouched among them, stroking the springy fur, accepting the submissions of the pack. He stared at her calmly with amber eyes. Amber, not emerald. His gaze matched theirs and a fanged smile spread across his face.

The girl stumbled back. “No,” she whispered.

“Obsidian,” he called softly. He stood and stalked towards her. The pack sat quietly, observing the scene.

Kage snarled and took a step forward. Never attacking on his own, but ready to spring if his mistress breathed the word.

Obsidian cowered before the lycanthrope before her. It seemed so wrong. The man had cared for her, nurtured her. He could not be the thing that she feared and loathed the most.

Ivellios held out his hand. “Come Obsidian. The pack waits. I will make you my alpha female, my lupa.”

The girl shrunk from him, shaking her head violently. “N-no.”

“Come now, love. I do not make the same mistakes twice.” His eyes fogged with memory, his head tilted back slightly. “I knew the second she died beneath my claws that she would have been a worthy mate.” His eyes refocused on her and glinted with a predatory light. “But, I was rash. I slew her, but it does not matter, for I have you, my dear Lia.”

The girl froze, a phantom voice whispering in her mind. “Do not cry, baby. Do not fret, my Lia.”

“How do you know my name?” Obsidian asked quietly.

Ivellios chuckled and reached for her. “Come now, girl! I trained you in the arts of the warrior, assassin and spy alike. Take some credit to your knowledge.”

“It was you,” she muttered, shivers rocking her figure. “You attacked the village.” She dropped her head, tears tracking down her cheeks and an unquenchable rage flared to life in her heart. “You murdered my mother,” she whispered.

“Ah! You put it so bluntly,” Ivellios declared, grasping her chin.

She twitched, but did little else. She would have one chance. One. That meant no mistakes.

The werewolf leaned in and licked her neck in one long stroke. She inhaled sharply. “One bite, love,” he murmured, “and we will rule together.” he reared back, preparing to strike - and froze. Ivellios reached down and grasped the hilt that was buried in his chest. Shock and betrayal played across his features. “Why?”

“You murdered my mother,” Obsidian replied evenly. “My weapons are all silver. I am always prepared when it comes to your kind. Is it not ironic?” she laughed harshly. “My name for you is your bane.”

The man choked and slumped to the ground, the crimson blood turned slate black in the pale light of the full moon. He gasped twice, then fell silent, a bitter grin the final emotion to ever grace his elegant features.

The druid looked around the clearing with a slow, quiescent patience; her fury faded, replaced with an icy calm that spread and froze her very soul.

The pack had disintegrated during her exchange with her former master. She assumed they were probably going to give her a wide berth.

Obsidian reached up and slowly unwound the black and white feathers from her locks and cast them onto the body of the man who stole everything from her. “I, Obsidian Naï–lo, here recognize the death of the druid, Ivellios, and claim responsibility and duty for all that he held guidance over. His body remains untainted and shall return to the earth from whence it came. This I swear, by the light that guides us in the darkest hours.”

She looked to the brute and motioned to the trees. “Come, Kage. We are done here.”

The pair melted into the forest, shadows in their own right.

Somewhere, a raven called.