Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Lysanthy ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter One ~ Two Millennia Later

 

Power swarmed untamed in wild mists among his chamber. He was surrounded by brimming nothingness and was growing more impatient as the air became vibrant with electricity. His power was growing and causing the black air around him to transform into an emerald mass. For the first time in thousands of years, the demon felt his blood heat and rush throughout him. Captured would he be no more.

Torn by impatience, he wriggled oddly, releasing more and more of his might among the containment. Finally he heard it start to give. The walls around him groaned. With a mighty roar he shoved angrily at the stone barriers that imprisoned him, and the demon soared...

 

Amelia was running.

Three grown men trailed her in a hot pursuit. The girl was panting, gasping for air. She was so much smaller than them, so much slower. She would never outrun them. Her small, delicate body could not be forced into so much a strain without sustaining damage. After all, Amelia was only ten, and was not yet strong enough to perform this task that would save her life.

These men were terribly fast and plowed down the wiry bushes and shrubs that were nothing but entwined and gnarly vines, bereft of greenery in the winter months. The men were large, muscular hunters who always had full stomachs and fine company, and they cared not on what they had to trample to catch their game. Their abstinence to exhaustion was expected, especially since they outnumbered the poor girl ten to one, rather than three to one, due to their sizes, strengths, and unshakable determination.

Amelia sucked in a deep breath and darted forward again. She had stopped earlier to place her hands on her knees and rest, auburn hair falling in knots over her shoulders and face, but she could hear the storming beat of the men's shoes pounding into the snow. The thunder echoed through her ears and cast even more fear into her heart. She was nearly hyperventilating when, panicked, she rushed blindly forward, through the trees and bushes of the Hidel forest. Finally, she came to the icy shores of the Aellan Ocean, and it was there that she knew her fate was set, she could not force her trembling body to take even another step.

Further ahead, the rocky bottom of a mighty mountain kissed the frozen sands of the ocean. Though Amelia did not know it yet, her savior awaited there, buried beneath ice and rock. Instead of finding hope, she fell to her knees and let tears slip down her cheeks where they froze and remained.

The hunters came. She heard them and looked through cloudy eyes at her gloved hands. Were they the last things that she would ever see? Her pale fingers were red from the cold. The gloves were brown and the type of cloth they were was no longer distinguishable. A previous owner had cut off the part of the cloth that was meant to cover the fingers. Hers were numb. Amelia's brow furrowed. Determined, she found the strength to stand, turn, and glare at her enemies. If they were going to kill her, then she was going to remember their faces and take them with her to the world beyond.

"Look at the little wench," one hunter said. "Thinks that she's going to stare us down." That hunter was the tallest and the thinnest. His clothes were made from different animal skins, remains of the creatures that he had killed. He held a bow in his hands. It was loaded, and aimed straight at Amelia's head. They were at so close a range that it would be nearly impossible for him to miss his target. His two buddies were laughing and snidely cheering him on.

Amelia glared as hard as she could, wishing that the imaginary daggers that were shooting from her eyes were real and would impale each man over and over again.

Afraid of her imminent demise, the little girl shut her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip, digging her canines in so hard that they pierced her sensitive skin. She had the taste of blood in her mouth before it ever got there. I'm going to die, Amelia thought with despair, and no one is going to care that I did.

"Ready, girl?" The archer teased. "I'll count to three...One!" Amelia heard the sound of her heartbeat thundering in her ears. All she could think of was the pain that the arrow would inflict when it plunged into her. "Two!" She felt herself waver, and sorrow tore through her soul. She wanted to scream. "Thr-!" There was a loud, unexpected noise from behind her.

Startled, she spun around and out of her waiting daze. Blood from her lip poured down her chin, but she ignored it and watched as a spectacle took place.

There was now a large crack at the base of the mountain. A clawed hand was sticking out from the crack and reaching for the sky. There was person in the mountain, she realized, and he had broken through the rock. A slithery voice met her ears and the ears of the hunters. It gave each of them chills. The voice said, "Ahhhh, finally. Now, I am free."

The clawed hand withdrew and disappeared into the crack. Then, a groaning sound could be heard as the person on the inside began forcing the rock wall upward. Finally, it gave, and various rocks flew in all directions. Amelia fell to her knees to dodge them as they flew over her head. She heard the hunters yelling in protest as they, too, dodged the rain of stone. When the chaos ended, she looked back to see that her enemies were angry, yet unharmed. She hopelessly turned her attention back to the mountain just in time to see who it withheld.

An eerie wind started to blow, and a tall man stepped out from the crevice that he had just created. Amelia felt fear, not hope, rise in her chest at the sight of him. She easily depicted that he was not human.

Long, pointed ears knifed their way through his long black hair, hair so long that it reached his knees and so black that it looked like the night itself. It was beautiful and perfect in a way that was certainly unnatural for humans. It danced wildly around him in the wind.

His pale skin and clawed hands were another reason for Amelia to believe that he was not a human being. And then, for her to worry of, were his unusually, fancy clothes. He wore all black under a green cloak that was whirling as madly as his hair and was made of something finer. There were two sheathed swords on his belt, swords with immaculate, black and silver handles.

Amelia's throat was dry and her hair was standing on end. With this person's arrival, a dangerous weight had fallen on the air. It made her fear the stranger far more than she did the hunters, and, from her back, she could sense it: they feared him as well.

As if reading her thoughts, the man wearing the green cloak turned a pair of glowing green eyes on her and said, "Do not fear me, child." Lightly, he leapt down from where he was standing, which was about six feet off the ground and began to walk towards her.

Amelia didn't have to ask herself who she feared more. The answer was plain. This man who was not a human was much scarier than those who so violently pursued her, but she couldn't help but trust him more than she did the will of the hunters. Distraught, Amelia whimpered and hurried forward. The green-cloaked man stopped and rose a questioning brow when she came before him. Trembling, she squeaked, "Help!" He tilted his head to one side, righted it, then shrugged. Without question, he stepped protectively in front of her. His expression was one of boredom.

Amelia's golden eyes were bright with terror. Had she made the right decision? Staring into the lusting eyes of the hunters, she gulped, knowing that she had no choice.

"S-she's a thief!" The burliest man exclaimed. "We offered her shelter at our tavern, turned our backs on her, and she stole our riches from beneath us!"

The smallest hunter stepped up now as well. Their green-eyed opponent could see his knees shaking as the foolish man said, "Yes! He is right! She is a rotten scoundrel!"

There was something about the air that seemed to have turned the third man to mush. Instead of taking a brave step forward as his companions had, he cautiously swept back behind them. He dropped his bow and gaped in fear.

The strange man in green respected the third man for being less intellectually challenged than his friends. He said, "Her? This child stole your valuables? I can hardly believe that. Girl?"

Amelia looked up and met his icy gaze. She flinched visibly.

"Is this so?" He inquired.

Her mouth was dry, and she was certainly afraid, but she managed to utter a small squeak, "No!" It was true after all. Amelia had done nothing untowardly to the men. She had simply asked them to share some of their food with her. With no parents or guardians to care for her, she had spent most of her life begging strangers for food and shelter.

The man in green grimaced and something like fury swarmed over his features. "You are telling the truth," he stated. Amelia nodded to confirm this, just in case he had held any doubt.

When the stranger turned back to the men, his expression was no longer a bored, emotionless mask. "Wretches," he growled. "She is but a child."

The air shifted and Amelia swallowed the gasp that welled up in her throat. The stranger's irises were completely green now. A strange symbol that she hadn't noticed earlier had appeared under his left eye. It was green and in the shape of a hook. The marking ran in a thin line under his eye and curled upward at its side.

He grinned.

The little girl saw now that he had fangs. The hunters blanched at the sight of such an abnormality. The two more foolish men drew their weapons. The third ran away in a flailing frenzy.

"Your name monster, what is it?" The bigger man demanded shakily.

"Why must you know my name?" The stranger spoke these ominous words before reaching down to his left. Held fast by his belt, there sat one of his sheathed swords. He drew it. The movement of the sharp blade against the sheath made a hissing sound.

Amelia shivered fearfully.

The sword had a silver blade that was flat, long, and curved widely at the end. The hunters became nervous at the sight of such a weapon. They held only knives and daggers against his mighty blade's splendor.

Suddenly, the stranger said, "You asked for a name? I will tell you mine so that you will know the name of the one who brought you to your end. However, your names are not needed. You two foolish prunes did not assess the situation as your comrade did. Even this girl could see that I am not a force to be reckoned with."

"You talk too much. We wanted your name so that we could boast that we'd killed you!" The scrawny man snapped, though his gestures were very stiff and uncertain.

"Is that so? Then I will have it that you are informed of my name. It is Elliott Lavater Lysanthy." Amelia stumbled back at this announcement, stunned into shock. That name belonged to a legendary immortal who defeated a great monster thousands of years ago. Any person in the world, whether old or young, would know that name.

"A mouthful and a lie!" The big hunter roared. "You mock a legend of the people!"

"Foolish mortal...I am a legend of the people!" The stranger-Elliott lurched forward, his blade whistling as it cut through the air. In the split second before it met with the big hunter's flesh, ten-year-old Amelia gulped and backed away. Whatever help she had wanted, this was not it.

* * * * * *

The two hunters' blood was spattered against the contrasting white of the snow. The men's bodies lay incapacitated on the ground, faces no longer discernable.

Amelia stood to the side, face soaked in fresh tears. However, she was not sobbing or wailing fearfully. No. Amelia was standing frightfully still, staring at the disgusting remains of those terrible men, while their murderer cleaned their drying blood from his sword in the snow.

Finally, he seemed assured of the weapon's undefiled state, and began to walk towards the little girl, who stood stock still, too afraid to move.

"I suppose I've spoiled you, ruined your innocence," he said matter-of-factly. Amelia knew better than that. She had seen people killed before. These times were the very opposite of peaceful. It was just the manner in which this man had taken the life of his enemies that was so horrifying. He slaughtered them without the slightest hesitation, without any remorse. It was as if he did it all the time, as simple a task as walking or breathing.

As he stepped closer, Amelia drew back inside her own body. She could not bring herself to run. This man, however terrifying, had saved her and, according to him, was the legendary Elliott Lavater Lysanthy. As much as she wanted to, Amelia could not fathom hating this person, whether he spoke lies or the truth.

"What's your name?" Elliott asked.

She swallowed. "Amelia Spade."

He smiled, and all traces of venom were gone from his features, even his eyes which were earlier full of chaos. His appearance, she saw, had changed. He looked almost human now. His ears were rounded, not long. His eyes were still bright but acceptable for a human. The marking on his face was gone, and the eerie wind had died. The air was still faintly heavy. It was like a light burden being forced onto her shoulders, but it was not as definite as before.

Now this person was kind and elegant. The monster only lurked beneath the skin of the man, who could be a kind, respectable human.

She hoped.

Elliott knelt down and used the end of a sleeve to wipe the blood from her chin. Amelia flinched. She had forgotten about biting her lip earlier.

"You shouldn't do that," he told her. "I can see that you're afraid of me. Where is your home, Amelia? Your family?"

The girl frowned sadly, and as she looked heartbrokenly at her worn shoes, Elliott realized the truth: she had no home or family. He doubted she ever had. His mood softened greatly towards her as he thought sympathetically that they were alike in that aspect.

"I understand," he said soothingly. Then the girl looked up at him and warmth filled her golden eyes. Slightly remorseful, Elliott came to the realization that she was going to stay with him now, whether he liked it or not. In any case, he would not force her way. Company was always welcome, especially for a creature so feared as himself. It was difficult for a demon to retain companions, more so for him than any other.

"Who put you in there, M-master Elliott?" Amelia pointed nervously to the mountain's gaping wound. Elliott smiled amusedly at being called 'master'.

"Monks of the Holy Temple of Benat. There should be an inscription or a spell engraved into the mountain's side. Hm. Let's go see, shall we?" He offered his arms for her to climb into. Amelia, who was still rather small for her age, timidly obliged.

Carrying the girl, Elliott made his way over to the hole and easily spotted the worn inscription. "Here lies the one of ritual and pleasure," he read, "Presiding over the gluttonous feasts of the darkest day of the year. Hah. Bold words for monks."

"What does it mean?" Amelia asked. She could barely understand him, for he worded things so strangely, yet she would strive to know what he meant. Perhaps, if she came to comprehend his ways and personality, she could forgive the terror he invoked within her. Perhaps, she could even forget it.

"It means that I am a monster who is meant to kill other monsters. They shoved me in a hole when the other monsters died, thinking that I might hurt them, too. They also knew that I would stay there until the monsters came back."

Amelia cringed. "Would you have killed those people?" She asked uncertainly.

Elliott looked thoughtful. "Maybe," he said with indifference. "But I don't like to kill things without a reason."

He turned away from the cave and began walking toward the woods. Amelia dug up the nerve to ask, "Are you really who you say you are?"

"Yes, I am." He noticed that she was shaking within his grasp. He frowned. "Please, don't be afraid of me. I promise not to hurt you."

Amelia nodded with uncertainty and tried to keep him talking. "Did you really kill the Miduleh two thousand years ago?"

"That I did." He responded cheerily, not elaborating on the occasion but implying thus, "Though it was not without difficultly, I'll assure you."

"Huh?"

He blinked and looked into her eyes. "It was hard."

"Oh."

They were silent for a long time after that. Meanwhile, Elliott pushed through the trees and bushes with ease, never allowing one to do so much as brush Amelia's arms. The land had changed much since the demon had last been around. He remembered a vast, grassy plain splayed with the occasional lonely bush, not the ellaborate beginnings of a forest.

Amelia was thinking worriedly. She could easily believe that this person was Elliott Lysanthy, mostly due to his actions proving so and her impressionable age. He was also a murderer, which helped the theory, albeit he was a nice murderer who would give his less than conniving opponents more than one window of opportunity to run away.

Amelia quickly decided that, with a little effort, she could like him. There was a lot to consider in that area, but as one who had no family, friends, or education, she needed someone to depend on. Surely a legend would be a good choice as her new guardian. She slowly reached up and wrapped her arms possessively around his neck and snuggled into his cloak, startling him out of his thoughts. Amelia would make sure that he got used to her affectionate gestures. "Master Elliott?" she said.

"Yes?" He replied uncomfortably.

"Thank you."

 

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