Vampires, Fey, And Demons

Chapter 1

Finally. I might be able to escape them for a while here. This place is beautiful. But it won't be permanent. It never is. I think bitterly.

I look at my surrounding. It certainly is beautiful, but, as always, extremely temporary. I'm in a forest, lush and green, bright with sunlight dappled by the trees, their branches waving in the slight wind. I approach a pond and look at my reflection. My pale green hair hangs, matted, to my jaw, my pale skin and pointed ears hinting at my Elven heritage. Honey-colored eyes stare back at me, eyes that have seen much more than my fifteen-year-old body implies. Yet my eyes are tinged with red, my skin paler than usual, the curly 'J' on my neck standing out even more than usual. I am getting hungry; the two-inch silver fangs glittering beneath my top lip agree.

I'm jerked from my thoughts by a rustling- one that has become disturbingly familiar over the past few days.

"Alright, enough already. I know you're there, show yourself." I say. This hasn't worked in the past, but I try again, in hopes that I will finally be able to meet my shadow.

This time, to my surprise, whoever is following me heeds my call. A person steps out of the shadows of the trees behind me. When they enter a spotlight of sun, I see that, from the stance and build, it's a guy. He wears all black. Black jeans, a black hoodie, and what look like black moccasins. His hood is up, so I can't see his face, and the rest of his clothes are arranged in a way that blocks all view of his skin.  He steps into the shadow of an oak and removes his hood.

He looks to be about sixteen. He has skin so pale it looks like marble, gold fangs glitter on top of his bottom lip, standing out against the colorless, flawless flesh. His hair is messy, longer in the front than it is in the back, and silvery grey in color. His eyes are blood red, but they have a metallic shine to them. He seems to glow faintly silver.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"Joax," his voice is soft and kind.

"Why are you following me?" fear clutches my heart. He's had plenty of time to harm me if that was his goal, but still...with the people chasing me, I always have to be cautious.

"Because you are not one of them," his red eyes seem to glow with an emotion I've only seen in my parents, but I still can't identify it.

"One of whom?"

"The Trukin,"

I am frozen, frozen in place, time, and thought. The Trukin? I know of only one group called the Trukin; the majority of vampires. They are blood thirsty, terrifying. The ones who are after me. But, he has fangs as well. Gold ones, which is strange in of itself. But if he is not Trukin, then does that mean that he's like me? That he hates the monster that he was forced to become? That he despises the fact that he must kill to survive?

I fumble for words when suddenly, pain rips through me like a jagged bolt of lightning. I have gone too long without blood. I arch my back as I feel claws ripping through my fingers and toes. My vision clouds, then becomes unnaturally clear, but only in colors of heat. I have gone Hunter. I see in infrared, I am faster than light, I will stop at nothing for blood. All common sense deserts me as animal instinct takes over and I am driven only by the smell of blood.

I scan the trees. The only heat source, the only possible source of blood, is Joax. I lunge, jumping at his throat.

Tear. Rip. Kill. Blood. These thoughts run through my head as I fly through the air towards Joax.

I slam into him, but he doesn't fall. Instead, he catches me, pinning my arms to my sides and rendering me motionless. I snarl at him, and when I speak, my voice is a raspy hiss.

"Blood. Kill. Rip. Tear."

"Yes, I know. But not me. Try..." He tilts his head, as if listening, "That way."

He turns and I spot a large buck grazing a few miles away. He releases me, and I spring, snarling at the helpless creature. It tries to bolt, but I sink my fangs into the artery in its neck. Metallic blood fills my mouth, and I drink. I drink until the deer is a dry husk, and my face is smeared with crimson blood.

"Better?" Joax is still standing in the shadow.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"I know what it's like to be hungry. Being what I am, I get more hungry than most."

"What are you?"

"A pure vampire,"

I gasp. Pure vampires are very, very rare. Of the eight races of Elvana, pure vampires are the rarest, and even fewer resist the Trukin.

"Really? Then why are you not with the Trukin?" I am wary now.

"Because I am not that way. I am not evil like they are. Once there were four, now there are two." His eyes hold the sadness of infinite years.

"Pure vampires or non-Trukin?" Seeing as there are so few of both, it is a valid question.

"Non-Trukin," he looks sad as he says this.

"Four?" I hadn't realized that anyone but I had resisted the temptation of the Trukin.

"My parents. Both Turned in their twenties. Both killed six years ago... both killed by the Trukin. They died because of me. They were protecting me from them. From Jaxan." I stiffen, the brand on my neck seeming to pulse, "I'm the last pure vampire, the only one still alive. I'm not.... I'm not supposed to exist." He bows his head and drops to the ground, shaking with what I know are sobs. Silver tears fall onto the ground by where his hands are clenched on the ground.

"Yes, you are. You, just like everyone else, were put in this world, this life, for a reason. You have a reason to exist. So do I. Even if that reason is to give ourselves over to Death like a pig for slaughter, it is still why we exist. You have to live until it is time to die. Do not give up." I walk over to him and put my hands under his chin, forcing him to look into my eyes.

"Do not die because life gets harder than you think it should be. If I am any indication, death, betrayal, fear, danger, and grief will not prevent you from living. You don't get to give up, to lie down and die, just because you don't feel like continuing. You will continue, whether you want to or not, you will live. You do need to exist."

He stares at me for what seems like eternity, then slowly nods. I realize this is the closest I have been to anyone for five years. I lean back out of the shadow, but he does not follow.

"I will not allow you to die,"

"Thank you," he pulls his hood back over his eyes.

"I can't let someone throw their life away. Not after what I've seen...what I've done." I avert my eyes and wrack my brain for another topic.

"Why do you always wear black?" It's a sincere question, even if it's a way to keep him away from my past.

"Sunlight burns me. It's part of being a pure vampire. Sunlight burns, gold fangs, blood red eyes, and you're constantly Hunter."

"That doesn't sound fun."

"You get used to it...and you get used to the pain and terror you cause to everyone around you." He sounds like he's about to start crying again.

Dear gods...This guy has serious problems. I think as I look at him. Yet, as I do, a strange, warm feeling wraps itself around my heart. I realize that I want to protect him, and instantly panic. Why do I care about the strange vampire that's been tailing me for days, and just met now?

"I'm sorry...I must seem really pathetic." He looks at me with a wry grin that's barely visible through the shadows under his hood.

"No, actually. I envy you a bit, to tell the truth." I am telling the truth, I wish I could cry.

"Why?"

"Because I can't cry."

He stares at me, sympathy and horror scrawled across his face, "What?"

"I can't cry. It is physically impossible for me to shed tears."  I look him straight in the eyes as I say this to prove that I am not lying.

"How so?"

"I can't. It's just a fact of my existence."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. If I was going to blame anyone, I would blame Jaxan and Cyrinth. They're the ones who made me cry so much that I can't anymore." Rage boils inside me as I remember the two people who have plagued my existence for the last few months. But guilt also makes its stand in my chest.

"Cyrinth?"

"My sister. She blames me for...well, she hates me." It's at times like this that I wish I could cry.

He looks at me sadly then looks away and we walk in silence. I'm glad that he has enough sense not to ask about my past. That would not be pretty. We walk in silence for a while, and I take the time to watch him. He walks straight, like he's confident that he can defend himself. I notice that he's lithe and, from his bearing, probably stronger than he looks.

The sun sets and the forested world around us is bathed in shadow. Joax lowers his hood with a sigh of relief. In the velvet blanket of night, I realize that he actually does glow silver.

"This is the one time of day that I can really relax. No sun, so no chance of burning to death." He says it with a slightly wry tone.

I open my mouth to reply when I see my breath pluming in the previously warm air. This is bad. I spin around, searching the sky and the shadows beneath the trees. There. There, in the shadows, a vortex of ice is approaching extremely quickly, growing ever bigger. Soon the frozen tornado is feet in front of Joax and I.

Atop the ice floats a tall, elegant, terribly familiar woman. She has blonde hair so pale that it's almost white, and ice blue eyes equally as pale as her hair, so they're almost clear. She wears blood red robes with purple rings on either side of the wide, flowing sleeves. Her hair and robes are whipping in the wind created by the vortex, held in place in areas by a huge broadsword strapped diagonally across her back.

"Hello, monster,"

Chapter 2

"Hello, monster,"

I sigh, "Hello, Cyrinth. Joax, meet my sister, Cyrinth."

"I see no sister. My sister was killed five years ago with my parents by a bloodthirsty fiend that now stands before me, destined to be killed. I became my noble, current self to destroy you, and I will succeed in my quest."

It's at that moment that I sense that more than two pairs of eyes were on the fight, and, more, specifically, me. I look around, flaring my nostrils in hopes of catching a scent. I catch an arid smell from the west, one that reminds me of the Fallen Desert, one of the only places that have ever accepted me. But, how could one of them be here, in the middle of the forest? I look around, and catch a fleeting glimpse of brown, purple, red, and blue just as Cyrinth arches her back and howls in fury and pain. The blade of a slender, silver katana is sticking between her arm and her torso. However, it had only grazed her. We all turned, and through the vortex of ice and the leaves beyond I can see a small girl, about five years old.

She has dark skin, with purple stripes lining her thin arms. She's small and wiry, her silvery-blonde hair cut in the style of the desert people so that it slanted from the back down to her front. Her light-weight tank top has two shoulder straps on each arm: one at the base of her neck, and one about a quarter of the way down her upper arm. Her bright blue eyes widened with terror as Cyrinth towered over her.

"Cyrinth. Why did you do that? You say I'm the monster, but I think the real monster here is you." I say in a desperate attempt to distract her from the strange desert girl trying to save me. Unfortunately for me, it works.

"I'm the monster?" she snarls, turning towards me, "No, you are the monster. You killed my parents, not me. You are a vampire, not me. You are a merciless fiend, not me. I am not a monster. You have committed murder; you ran like a coward from justice, you are to blame. You have no right to blame me for your crime. I am the one who watched as the thing my sister became, the thing standing in front of me, ripped my parents to shreds. I am innocent."

I hold my ground, not showing how deeply the words, the truth, cuts me, "No, Cyrinth. I am not a monster. You think I enjoy this existence? You think that I enjoy having to kill to survive? I hate myself, Cyrinth. If I could go back in time, the first thing that I would do is go back to that night five years ago and tell us all to flee, to run as far away from that house as possible. But I can't reverse time. I can't fix things. I can't change the past. Neither can you, neither could our parents, neither can anyone except for the Elemental God of Time, who may or may not even exist. But don't think for a second that if I don't regret my fate, our parents' fate, and my fate, you are entirely wrong. Don't delusion yourself into believing that if it was possible I wouldn't-" surprisingly, it's Joax who cuts me off.

"No, Firkoa, I can't even let you say that. Not after what you said earlier. If I can't lay down and die, that neither can you."

"Oh, so you got another monster involved? You're hiding behind another? At least this is befitting of you, coward. But, you, other vampire," Cyrinth spits the word 'vampire' like it was poison, "I'll give you one chance. Run. Run before you forfeit your life to me by aiding a criminal."

Joax looks shocked, and I feel a bolt of rage towards my sister rip through me.

"And you," she says, turning back to me, "Don't you dare even try to rationalize my parent's deaths. And even if your facts were true, what about Ryx?"

I have to flinch at that, Ryx's murder has been weighing on my mind as much if not more than my parents'. Ryx... The face of a laughing boy with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair flashes in my memory.

"He wasn't my fault. I regret the fact that he was killed, and that's one of the reasons that I refused to join Jaxan and his Trukin horde. But I can't take responsibility or blame for his death, no matter how brutal it was." I struggle  to keep my face calm even though inside I have been shattered into a billion sharp, tiny pieces. I could not help the fact that he was coming to visit me for my fifteenth birthday and met Jaxan as the violent, bloodthirsty vampire left. I had found his shredded remains the next morning. The image still burned in my mind as I slept, and I could not cry now because of the bloody death of Ryx.

"Not your fault? How is his bloody massacre not your fault? If that jackass of a vampire hadn't come to Turn you, then Ryx wouldn't be dead! It's your FAULT!" Cyrinth is screaming at me now, every word ripping my soul like a white-hot scythe.

Wait a minute....Scythe! I'm such an idiot! I mentally berate myself for forgetting about the enchanted ice scythe with the twenty-one-foot-long leather-wrapped handle and fifteen-foot curved blade strapped to my back. I draw it and Cyrinth laughs, an evil, remorseless sound that makes frozen sparks dance along my spine.

"You really believe that you can destroy me with my own element? I didn't think that even your mind, nae as it is, would be capable of that immaturely inane thought. You really are an impertinent beast. Ah, well, you will be dead soon enough. Now die!" I am still paralyzed by the pain of the memories that her words have brought back, crashing like a wave from a tsunami. I am brought back to the danger my life was in at the present moment, not the danger from five years previously, by Joax ramming me out of the way as, once again, Cyrinth attacks me. The small, desert girl is only visible through the leaves by her owlish blue eyes. At least she is safe.

Cyrinth snarls and casts a bubble of solid ice around us, blocking any help from Joax or the girl. I am alone. I face the woman who was once my twin sister. But now she has aged to twenty, while I am forever fifteen, forever trapped in a world of blood, shadows, and memories. But she is no longer the Cyrinth who was my closest friend; she is now my mortal enemy. I must destroy her.

I wrap that last thought around myself like a shield and face her as an enemy, person who will kill.

You say I'm a monster. Fine. Then I'll kill the last of my family, and sever the last of my ties to my blood-stained past.