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Chapter One

Chapter One

A Chapter by Aianarie (INACTIVE)

Chapter One




                Risten ran as far away from the village as she could before she broke down, sobbing herself sick.  She collapsed beside a tree, gasping.  Her lungs burned.


                She sat like that for ten minutes before she discerned the sounds of people fighting.  She froze and listened.  She heard punches, the ching of blades clashing, and the curious sound of something shattering like glass.  The sounds were coming from behind a wall of bushes in front of her.  Curious, Risten crawled forward and peeked between the bushes.


                It was Derek, skillfully fighting two cloaked fighters with daggers.  Risten couldn't see his expression, but Derek's blows were merciless.  His enemies groaned and the smell of the blood made Risten feel dizzy.  She watched in horror as he finished them off with a blade of a blinding blue-white color.


                Risten didn't want to see anymore.  Everything…it was all too much.  She backed up, horrified, and scrambled to her feet.


                She started running again.  The next time she collapsed it was on top of her bed, and she didn't get back up.




                It always started something like this.  Risten would be walking, wandering, looking thoughtfully at the curious forest around her.  The tall, graceful trees with black bark, long branches, and clumps of white, pinnacle-shaped leaves.  But most interesting of all were the deep red fruits the size of a person’s palm, shaped like a rounded heart.


                The forest was not too dark, not too silent, but the solemnity of the White Trees caught an ambiance of mystery that overflowed Risten’s mind.  She shivered and continued to walk down the gravel pathway, deeper and deeper into the woods.


                The forest grew darker and quieter, until it seemed to be deep within the night.  Risten used fire--she had no idea where she had gotten it from--to illuminate the pathway and continue on her way.  Wherever she was going.  She took slow, careful steps.  Traps could be anywhere.  Her boots crushed the gravel beneath them. 


                Risten tossed her wavy layers of dark hair over her shoulder.  She wondered to herself why she hadn’t knotted it up into a braid like usual.  The midnight breeze was blowing it everywhere.  Suddenly she stopped walking.  An owl hooted from somewhere up in the trees.  Risten looked up, and saw the full moon through a hole in the forest ceiling.  It wore wispy strands of gray clouds as a veil.  Something large and black and winged flew over her, and Risten started to run.


                The flame in her hand went out as she ran, and, hearing something in pursuit behind her, quickened her pace.  She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, but came to an abrupt stop as she dangerously approached the very edge of a steep cliff.  There was nothing but fog and trees below.  She looked behind her.  All the red fruits on the White Trees were falling from the branches, and she didn’t understand why.  She looked up, and she saw Ball of Light flying lower and lower over the cliff until he disappeared into the patch of fog.  Did he want her to follow him?


                Before she could decide what to do, someone ran out of the forest and slammed right into her, causing them both to topple over the cliff.


                Risten screamed.  The someone--a young man, apparently--was screaming too.  Risten couldn’t see him.  Was he the one who was chasing her?  She shut her eyes tightly and shielded her face with her arms.  She felt the poof of the fog, the pain of the tree branches brushing across her body, then nothing.




When consciousness returned to her, she could hear water lapping to her left.  It was still night, she had guessed, judging by the darkness and the cold air around her.  Someone was pressing something very cold to her head in various places.  She groaned.  Now that she thought about it, her head was throbbing in several various places.  Her right hip and thigh were sore as well.


                She opened her eyes, and saw Derek’s face, his eyebrows creased in concentration.  He had a bad scratch on his cheek, but otherwise he looked fine.  She realized that it was his hands, only his hands that he was pressing to her head.  He glanced down at her, and smiled a bit.


                “H-how are you doing that?”  asked Risten, her voice a lot weaker than she was used to.


                Shh,”  he said, thumbing her cheek.  “It’s magic.  Rest.”


                She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  After he had iced her head, Derek moved to her side.  How strange, Risten thought.  His hands were like ice, literally.  She opened one eye slightly and looked at Derek’s hands.  They were glowing with a slight shade of light blue.  Risten watched Derek through her eyelashes.  He was so calm and gentle, very unlike any other boy she had ever known.  He had a generous helping of straight, dark hair, and his eyes were bright blue.  His eyebrows were decided, his nose perfect, and his lips pink and soft.  He was beautiful, and Risten wanted desperately to say something to him.


                He glanced up briefly and smirked at her, a knowing look in those eyes.  Risten could feel her cheeks warming.  Telepathy.  Duh.


                She squeezed her eyes shut as pain darted through her skull, and when she opened them, Derek was gone.




She sat up too quickly, and pressed on her aching head with a hand.  Where had he gone?  He was just there a few seconds ago…oh, where had he gone?


                “Derek?”  she said.  Her voice was weak and seemed to go nowhere.  She received no answer.  Suddenly she felt very afraid.  The trees looming around her, the darkness closing in on her.


“Derek?”  she said again, her voice trembling.  Something rustled in the bushes about ten feet away from her.


The pain in her head grew worse.


Risten, that is what you like to be called, is it?  Said a voice.  Risten couldn’t tell if it was male or female.  It was loud and echoed within her mind.  It didn’t sound human.  She wondered if it was another fairy.


You have great power, Otherkind.  Let me help you.  I will show you what you are capable of.  It wasn’t a fairy.  And Risten decided that it was not a friend.


“No!  I don’t want your help!”  she cried, shaking her head.  “Go away!”


Do not fight me, Risten.  You cannot escape me.


Risten shook her head furiously.  “Get out!”


She just realized that she was now standing, holding her head between both hands.


Risten…just listen, my child.


“NO!!!”  she screamed, and then she started running again.  She screamed Derek’s name over and over again.  Branches snapped.  Leaves rustled.  The darkness pulsed around her like a heartbeat.


Help me!”  she cried, her voice hoarse from screaming.  She slumped to the ground, unable to run any longer.  She curled up into a ball and hid her face, afraid of everything and nothing at the same time.




A castle.  A grand spectacle, with many towers and hundreds of rooms.  The sky above was dark blue, and the moon hung high.  Through the silence of the night faint sounds of laughter, chatter, and flute music escaped from the castle throne room.


                A ball.  A frivolous, joyful event.  Beautifully dressed couples twirled and stepped across the marble floor, to the sound of the small ensemble on the stage.  A handsome young man--the prince, sat upon his throne, smiling warmly over the crowd with a brilliant sparkle to his dark eyes.  He looked dazzling in a deep red tunic and white pants that complemented his tanned skin and dark brown hair.  To his left sat a tall, slender, but graceful looking girl with golden hair and dressed in a beautifully simple white gown.  She said something inaudible to the prince, who looked at her fondly and laughed.


                The festivities continued.  The prince and his (girlfriend?) took the center of the floor and danced, the other couples watching in obvious awe.  They soon joined in, keeping a bubble of space around the foremost couple. 


A woman took the stage in front of the band, dressed in a strange gown made of black feathers.  She had waist-length, stark-black hair that rippled in gorgeous cascades over her white shoulders.  The black of her hair and gown seemed to shift between purple and blue in the light.  The woman’s expression was full of shudder-inducing self-satisfaction.  And her eyes.  They were a startling red.  Wait, now she looked different"


--Instead, she was peachy-skinned with very long, white hair, her feather gown now red instead of black.  Her eyes were green as emeralds, and full of calm benignity, like an elf.  Everyone seemed infatuated by her.  She began to sing a ballad in a foreign language, her mid-range voice echoing in throughout the very large room.  The song was slow and murky, with a menacing undertone.


The lights dimmed, and the couples swayed to in fro in a creepy, dream-like fashion.


The prince and his partner soon retired to their seats, and a man with curly hair and an elaborate tunic brought the two of them refreshments.  The girl, apparently, was too young for wine, so she declined it and took a sweetmeat from the tray instead.  The prince didn’t seem much older, but he gratefully took a small glass of the red wine.  He twirled it around in the glass a bit, inhaling its pungent scent.  He looked over the crowd carefully, a gleam of joy and pride in his eyes.  He smiled and raised the glass to his lips.


The singing woman’s voice strengthened and the song intensified, causing everyone in the room to shiver at its mysterious beauty.


Then a cry.  Everyone turned away from the stage and towards the throne.  They gasped with horror.  The prince lay writhing at the foot of the throne, the girl fussing over him, pale-faced and stricken with fear.  The curly-haired man was shouting for something.


One young woman, with a head of wild blond curls, looked back at the stage.  The singing woman was silent.  But she had smirked before she turned and left the stage.




Risten lay there, sobbing quietly, fingers clawing the dirt around her.  Her clothes were stuck to her body with sweat, and her hair was plastered to her face.  Now she was losing it.  She was crazy.  And her throat burned with thirst.  She lay still and listened, and heard the patter of water on the opposite side of a wall of bushes.


                She managed to get up unto all fours and crawl towards the sounds, swatting away the thorny bushes.  One thorn struck her cheek and stung so horribly that it brought fresh tears to her eyes. 


                When she finally reached the water, she squinted at her reflection.  She looked different.  She looked like the red-eyed woman at the ball.  When Risten blinked, she returned to normal.  She swallowed dryly, then her hand slipped and she fell into the water head-first.


                She fell for many hours.  Sinking.


When she finally reached the other side, the surface, Derek was there.  He was dressed in white…no, everything was black and white and completely silent.  Risten stood up painfully and caught a glimpse of her second self, walking towards Derek.


                The black-and-white Risten stopped three yards away from him, with a blank, malignant look to her eyes.   Now she looked even more like the red-eyed woman, just shorter and younger.  Derek was speaking to her, but she didn’t seem to hear him.


                Fire shot out of her palms, surrounding him.  He cried out noiselessly, the flames searing his flesh to the bone.  She stepped through the wall of flames, a shining silver sword in hand.


                With one strike, he was dead; crimson blood staining the white floor beneath him.  Tears poured from the fake Risten’s eyes as she gathered Derek’s lifeless body into her arms, but her eyes still looked bleak and emotionless.


                The real Risten screamed, but no sound came out.


                Fake Risten raised the sword once more, and that was all that could be remembered.


© 2011 Aianarie (INACTIVE)

My Review

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love love LOVE the dreams scene. amazing writing keep it up

Posted 11 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

So full of meaning, i liked it well done Ashley!!!:)

Posted 11 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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2 Reviews
Added on November 9, 2011
Last Updated on November 9, 2011


Aianarie (INACTIVE)
Aianarie (INACTIVE)

Eugene, OR

**IMPORTANT: This account is inactive. To keep up with me, A.M. Wied, follow me at the Facebook link below! Thank you for your support!** Hello~! My name is Ashley and I am a great many things, .. more..


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