Beast King –

The gate stood in front of me, looming over me, its great iron spikes spearing the sky which seemed to run blood red and orange, like torn flesh on the horizon. The sky darkened as the sun set, and yet the gates did not budge. They sat there, heavy and tall, unmoving, metallic stalagmites.

Dead, browning leaves crumpled at my feet as I moved towards the gates. I thought to push on it, lifting my hand not more than inches away from the cold, rusted metal before, upon their own accord, the gates swung open. I instantly regretted my decision to come here, to open the door between me and the world. Regretted ever picking up the map that led me here, promising adventure, mystery, reward. Regretted the day that I decided to talk to Jonny, seller of bobbles and goods. But it was too late for regret, I realized, the wind almost pushing me forward, into the dark future I'd chosen for myself.

The twin gates screeched and groaned, the ominous noise bouncing of the stone walls that surrounded the fief. As I walked through, past the gargoyles guarding the inner wall, I felt their eyes pour into my back, stabbing through my soul. And before I even had a chance to glance back, the gates swung back closed, as if on newly oiled hinges. Their judgment had been passed. I would remain here for eternity, living out the rest of my (short) life in the abyss of my mistake. My choice. My fool's errand.

The walk way formed in the bailey, cobbled and slippery. Shadows of decrepit and destroyed artwork followed me, like the souls of the dead, clinging to the life light that might illuminate softly from my being. Chills ran down my spine – as though the shadows touched me, stealing my essence for their own – and I clutched my cloak tighter about my body. That didn't stop me from glancing back at the sound and echo of my own footsteps only to see no one, though, and as the wind and overhanging branches clawed at my hair, I grew grateful for its short length.

When I was younger, I'd liked to play around the trees in the schoolyard with the little boys, ignoring my own gender completely. And when one is around trees, one is also around tree-sap. Lots of tree-sap. Eventually, my parents took the shears to my hair, and I've kept it that way ever since (much to my mother's dismay). Shorter in the back, longer in the front, bangs clipped just above my eyes.

My eyes… now isn't that a touchy subject. Everyone that I've ever met has had blue eyes, but mine, mine are green. Not the blue-green, teal color of my parents, just green. Dark emerald circles the edge of my irises, fading slightly, and then darkening to almost black as it nears the center, molding with my pupils. This of course greatly contrasts my pale complexion, though my dad always said its complement to the slight red in my hair was more noticeable. And for all that he was a man of his word, I never believed him.

I never did bother to pull the hood of my cloak up to shield my head though, knowing fair well that I'd take it back down once I went inside. Why waste the energy? I thought, but looking ahead, I seriously debated it, because 'inside' looked a long ways away.

As I neared the double doors that served as a main entrance, the ground grew smooth, more so tiled than cobbled, and the long forgotten statues became more whole, the grotesque features more frightening. Finally, I reached the doors, creaking one open just enough to pass through and shut it softly behind me.

The inside of the keep, a long wide hall, pillars reaching the two-story high ceiling and dark carpet rolled out to the far stairs, was not, though dimly lit, surprising. It was in many ways similar to the keep of my own fief. I'd only been there once, though, and during the day when light lit up the hall through shafts in the walls. You might say that I really wasn't much of a judge. Still, I glanced around, searching for the doors that should be surrounding the room, and tip-toeing off to the one with light shooting under the crack between wood plank and tile.

As I neared the light, my ears became accumulated to the faint sound of whispering behind the door. The odd part though was that it seemed to be a one-sided conversation, the speaker waiting for an answer and then talking again before I ever heard the other side. I leaned up closer to the door, hoping to hear the voice or voices a little clearer when something large brushed up against my leg, almost causing me to topple over. When I regained my footing, the person behind the door grew quiet, though I could sense that they hadn't finished what they had intended on saying.

Abruptly, the door swung open, for no other reason than the fact that it wanted to, because no one (not I nor anyone else) appeared to have touched it. I was bathed in an expanse of light, my eyes squeezing shut before they could adjust to the brightness.

"Come here, boy," a low, dark voice said to me, and I felt my chin raise as I blinked away tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Many people had gotten that wrong before – which was understandable, especially due to the squire's clothes that I was wearing – so I didn't quite understand why that made me feel… betrayed and hurt, but it did.

I glared back at the man once my eyes could open. "I'm a girl," I said, correcting him. As he mirrored my glare with his own, I had but seconds to take in his appearance. Oily black hair, cut short covered his head, and dark brown eyes shot back, piercing my own. His jaw was clean-shaven, including the area beneath his sharp nose where most men fashioned a slim mustache. His skin was a tanned color, though it looked more natural than that of someone who worked out in the sun, and he wore a lose-fitted, cream-colored shirt, simple brown trousers, and knee-high, leather boots.

"I said, come here," he repeated, beckoning with two fingers, and I felt the air push me forward, clinging to my clothes and pulling. I fell forward, falling to the ground in front of his chair. The man bent forward, placing his fingers below my chin and pushing upward, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Who are you? Not one of mine, else wise you'd not be eves dropping."

"I'm the daughter of Tamier and Laurine Deisi of the fiefdom of Lord Revierence," I spat at him, hoping he'd let go of me.

He only narrowed his eyes and continued his questioning. "The blue-eyed people? I knew not that elvish blood ran so thickly in their veins, though they some how managed to hide their eyes."

"Elvish?"

He laughed, deep-throated and full. "Obviously they didn't know it either… or perhaps you are an adopted bastard?"

My breath hissed as it left my mouth at hearing that word. "I'm not a bastard," I told him, almost whispering it.

He let go of my jaw, and I rubbed at it gently as he continued, "Then it seem that we are at an impasse, as it seems I have no further questions and cannot dispose of you within these walls, and you cannot leave if you treasure your life."

"Excuse me?"

The man stood up, and glanced down his nose at me. "The spell that binds me to this castle, and deems me in control of it and its inhabitants also forces me to welcome any weary travelers searching for a safe haven into its walls. As you are my guest, I cannot harm you."

"How gentlemanly," I muttered under my breath, regretting it as soon as he grabbed at the back of my head, inflicting a sharp pain in my scalp as his fingers pulled against my short hair.

He bent down and whispered into my ear, "But I have found ways around that spell, holes that the witch had not intended. I am not allowed to maim, but torture, without drawing blood or breaking bones, is always a possibility. It would do you well to remember that."

He stood and left me on the floor, gasping in pain, until it mollified into prickles and then a dull throb. A wet nose nudged my cheek, and I looked up, meeting eyes with a creature I could only classify as a hellhound, like the many from my grandmamy's stories of things that go bump in the night. It had the form of a Doberman, but was much taller, its head probably reaching my waist, had I been standing, and I am not short. It's coarse, black fur took on a greenish tint, even when bathed in golden candle light, and dark, menacing ram's horns protruded from either side of it's head. Its paws were also large sporting sharp retractable claws, like a cat, and its eyes were the color of red-hot coals. Seeing it, I couldn't help but shrink away.

The hound nudged my face again, and I knew that it wanted me to follow it. I pulled myself up, standing shakily, and it leaned against my legs, helping to support my weight. As soon as it seemed I could stand on my own, it began walking out the door, and I placed my hand on its back, incase my knees began to feel weak.

We made it up the stairs in the hall with some difficulty on my part, and eventually found ourselves winding through hallways, and up another small set of stairs (this time with a railing for me to hold onto), before we stopped at a small, pink toned door. The dog's eyes glowed for a moment as it stared at the door, and as before, the door, with no further urging opened. It occurred to me that this was very much the same as how the gate and the other door opened. I didn't dwell on the thought long though, before I was led into the room.

The room was fancier than my own bedroom at home, including a large four-poster bed, a cream-colored wardrobe, a desk and chair, drapes covering a glass door that led out to a balcony, and a stand upon which a small bird sat. The bird opened its eyes, cocking its head in a drowsy manner, as though it had been asleep for some time.

I fell back on the bed, blurting out the question, "Where am I?"

I hadn't meant to ask the question, but when I got an answer, my head whipped around to the hound that appeared to be listening intently. "You are in your new quarters," it replied, matter-of-factly.

I was too tired to be surprised by the fact that it could talk, and moved on to ask, "Why?"

"Because it is the Master's wish," the hellhound replied again, in the same tone.

"Why?"

"Because he must offer you refuge. It is your choice whether you accept it or not."

"But why must he offer it?"

"That is not for me to say," the dog whispered, looking away.

"Why?"

"Because it is not my story to tell."

"Why?" I asked beginning to feel repetitive.

"Because it isn't," the dog repeated, glaring at me. "If you wish to know, talk with the Master about it, though I wouldn't suggest it, seeing as how you're already on his bad side for coming here. If he had not been distracted, you would have not made it into the Master's den in the first place."

"And does this 'Master' have a name?" I asked.

"To say his name would be to call one to his attention," it muttered, glancing around the room, "but seeing as you are probably already at the top of his thoughts right now, you may call him Damien."

"And what of yourself? Do you have a name?"

The hound looked surprised, as though it had never been asked its name, but the emotion subsided and it replied, "I am called Jisi."

Curious I asked, "And is that short for anything?"

Jisi nodded and answered, "Jisuiariani."

"Well isn't that a mouthful," I said, rolling the name over my tongue.

"You'll bet it is, child," I heard something squawk from the corner of the room, and looked to see the little bird flying over toward us. I identified it as a starling just before it landed on my shoulder. "That's why we shortened it when he came here. M' name's Phoebe, and by the trees, I haven't seen an elvishman in the longest of times."

"Excuse me? I'm not an elf, and I'm also a girl. My name's Kiara," I told her.

"Oh I'm sorry, child, it's just, your hair, and your clothes," she glanced over my body, and I saw what she meant. My thick cloak had been draped over my upper body, so it was reasonable that she'd gotten it wrong. I may have been sixteen, but my chest seemed to disagree. The starling, Phoebe glanced back at my face and said, "And you most certainly are an elf. Only elves have the trees in their eyes and the soil in their hair, though it appears that you might only be half elf at best."

"I'm not elf… my parents are-" how had Damien put it? "-are of the blue-eyed people."

Phoebe only shook her little head and muttered, "Accidents do happen. Now, you need to go to sleep."

My eyes closing, I nodded to that, and leaned back against the pillow, losing consciousness immediately.

I awoke to the sound of "RISE AND SHINE!" being screeched into my ear, and I pulled the pillows over my head. "Kiara, get up Hun," the voice said again. I could almost see my mother, shaking my shoulder, until reality flashed, and I realized that the voice was Phoebe, and the thing shaking my shoulder was Jisis's nose. I tried to burrow farther under my blankets, like I had for the past fortnight, sleeping away the days. "Get up! You need to actually do something, meet someone!"

I shook my head, remembering the 'people' that Phoebe had introduced me to, the chef – who was actually something of an oversized lizard – included, having been late to most meals. In the mornings, I'd wander the halls and rooms, half-awake, until night settled and the torches flared, and I'd scurry back to my room. One night, about three or four days after I'd arrived here, I'd forgotten the way back to my room, and ended up in an emotional breakdown in the middle of the hall. All that I could remember of it was that I was alone, and the torches along one of the walls went out, and then the other, and then the darkness swarmed upon me, cloaking me in a veil of fear. It tore at my clothes and hair like ravenous wolves, and slimy fingers raked across my face, trying desperately to grab hold. I remember calling for somebody… and then waking up in my bed, a glowing amber stone hanging around my neck on a leather cord. Hence forth I'd never taken it off, and I'd never gotten lost, and I'd never been bothered by the shadows.

But Phoebe told me that this was going to change, that I wasn't going to sleep away the days anymore, and she meant it. "Come now," she cooed. "You've managed to stay the longest of anyone who's come here."

"Oh that's comforting," I muttered. My mood had grown sour after the last week; when the starling had started waking me up in the mornings. "There's nothing for me to do here. Why bother getting out of bed?"

Phoebe sighed, and wiggled far enough under the pillow to bite the lobe of my ear with her beak, which sent me flying into a sitting position rubbing my ear. "For whatever reason, the Master seems to have taken a likin' to you, Hun. He's somehow warded the room, and I suspect it's with that stone you keep wearin'. Usually the shadows find a way to haunt this room as well. That's what drove the others crazy." I nodded, remembering the first few nights, when I'd wake up shivering, despite the many woolen blankets and comforters that I might be using. I also had a few nightmares, but once again, ever since the night of my breakdown, it'd all gone away.

"Why don't you show her the library?" Jisi asked, and my ears twitched. I turned to stare at the hound in disbelief. His head was cocked to the side, making his head look lopsided due to the large horns spiraling around his head. He had been very un-talkative after the first night, which I took to be his nature, and every time he uttered a word, I was amazed that he'd bother to speak up.

Phoebe, who was obviously used it, snatched the idea like a fish out of water, proclaiming, "That's a great idea! All we have to do is get Hans to cook her up some breakfast, and we'll be on our way." Apparently I'd missed breakfast again, so we headed down to the kitchens as soon as I'd changed out of nightwear and into a pear of trousers and a pale green tunic.

Hans, the lizard in an apron, commonly referred to as a basilisk (because of his tendencies to eat rocks), nodded his large reptilian head at us as we entered. Only a few minutes after sitting down at the small table in his kitchen did I get my food, which led me to believe that he'd begun to prepare for my tardiness lately.

We left as soon as I was done, Phoebe flitting nervously around my ears, muttering silly calculations as we turned down an unfamiliar hallway. "He wouldn't be there today," she mumbled just as I opened the door. I stepped through and heard the starling whisper to Jisi, "You suggested this on purpose didn't you?"

The hound paid no attention to the bird, brushing past me to the center of the room, where he sat at the arm of a chair. A hand reached out to pet the top of his head, and Jisi's tail wagged in lazy circles against the floor. He tilted his head back, as if to get the hand to scratch around his ears, and he glanced back at me with one red eye. When I didn't move, his head tilted back down, and he stood up, walking back over to me. He nudged his nose against the back of my knee, urging me forward. I walked in a trance like state over to the armchair.

As I got closer, I recognized the short, black hair, and my pace quickened, though I couldn't say why. I laid my hand on the back of the chair, and his came up to encompass mine. He looked up from the page of some book he'd been reading, and stared calmly into my eyes. And what eyes he had! I'd only seen him a few times, so I'd never paid attention to the finite details. Dark lashes surrounded darker eyes, streaked with red and slitted ever so slightly. I didn't even realize I'd spoken until seconds after I heard it myself, "Damien."

Tears ran down my cheeks like mini waterfalls that didn't stop, and I didn't try to make them stop. Damien reached up, catching one of my tears in the palm of his hand saying, "Elves are such emotional creatures if not taught self-control. I bet you don't even know why you're crying."

I frowned, and rubbed at my eyes, but the tears wouldn't stop. I could feel my cheeks grow red in agitation, but he continued, "I know why you're crying though. Why everyone cries near me. It's because you know that I've done things that would make your skin crawl, and your heart weep." I tried to shake my head, but he insisted, "Yes, and that's why you should leave." He stood up as I shook my head, and walked around the chair. He put his hands on my shoulders, and I realized just how tall he really was. If I was 5'10" and only made it to his chin, then he was way over six feet. I gazed up at him, tears still leaking out the corners of my eyes, and he stared back down at me, only for a moment before he pulled me into a strong embrace. I didn't know why, and I couldn't say how, but for whatever reason, I felt safe in his arms. I burrowed into the clean shirt he wore, inhaling his scent. He smelled of burning wood and old paper that reminded me of sitting in front of the fireplace at home. I wasn't going to forget him. I knew that somehow. Even if I left, I'd remember him, yet I hardly knew him.

"Go," he whispered in my ear.

"I need to ask you something," I said, remembering my conversation with Jisi the first night. "What is your past?"

"A long story," he replied, pushing away from me.

I grabbed onto his shirt, so that he couldn't push away. "Then what are you?"

He ceased to push, to move, to even breathe as far as I could tell, and we stood there for a long time, until he pushed my head under his chin. My head rested at the nape of his neck, and he said, "I'm the monster of monsters. A thing so evil I'm not to be thought of or talked of, except in fear." His hand fisted at the back of my head, and he added, "I'm the thing so dangerous that I had to be locked up in my own castle. Locked up so that I couldn't harm the innocent."

I recognized the line from an old tale my grandmamy told me once, and the words slipped out of my mouth, "So that he couldn't harm the innocent, we locked him up till his time is spent. Till he forgets his thirst and feasts, we'll lock up the King of Beasts."

Damien nodded, and recited the rest of the poem:

"We didn't know how,

But we've learned it now:

Send for the witches,

And pay all a man's riches,

Till we find out who knows,

And wait till she shows.

She'll show us her tricks,

And we'll build the house of bricks.

Then sow in the bones,

And let him chose from the stones,

We'll seal his fate,

With our simple bait."

Damien shook his head. "I'd never realized that the bones of innocent deaths would lock me within my own castle. And that trinket around your neck, that's my ticket out. If I can separate right from wrong."

My eyes widened, and my fingers shot up to the polished amber at the base of my throat. "This is sealing you in here?"

He nodded. "But I don't know how to break it. Essentially, I've given up. As the stone is now yours, when you die I die, and all that remains of this place fades away."

I looked over at Jisi and Phoebe, and thought of all the creatures that sought refuge here, and Damien, seemingly reading my thoughts, "I control them all and they know that. That was the power I was granted in return for my title. The King of Beasts is what I am. If I fall, so does my empire."

"You won't then."

"I've already told you, I've given up. And now, you may leave. Leave this castle, and go back home."

I stepped back, shaking my head. "No." I couldn't leave. Not now.

Damien's eyes began to glow, and the same fear that overcame me on that night of shadows washed over me again. I stood frozen in place as he repeated, "Leave."

I didn't know what to do. There was nothing else I could do. The tears that had stopped just minutes ago poured down my face, which only served to make him angrier. I had to get away.

And I did. I ran down the halls, and to the main entrance, snatching up my cloak, and throwing it up over my shoulders. The doors opened before I even reached them, and by the time I was in the bailey, I was gasping for breath, and rain fell in droplets all around me. The gates were already open before I even saw them, and the guardians cried, rain dripping from their eyes. The gates shut as I passed through them, and that was the last I saw of the castle. The last I heard, a roaring cry searing the air.

In the summer of my eighteenth birthday, I found myself wandering around the graveyard where my parent's were buried. Tamier and Laurine Deisi had both caught a case of the flu the earlier year, dyeing before their time, as their own immune systems killed them. I managed to avoid the illness, and had been living off the little money that had been left to me for the past year. But money was growing short, I realized as I placed a flower on my parent's graves, and I only had two options. One was to marry, as I was now eighteen, and the other was seemingly impossible. I only had but one reminder of his world, and that hung around my neck. Amber. It was the one jewel I wouldn't sell to stay alive.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't hear Corbyn's footsteps as he walked up to my. Corbyn was my childhood friend, and present-day suitor, but I never thought of him that way, even when he asked me, "Have you made up your mind?"

"About what?"

"About my proposal."

"Oh." I fingered the amber pendant and replied, "I don't think I can."

"Why not?" he asked, his tone upsetting. "And what's so special about that pendant? Why do you always finger it when I ask you?"

So he had noticed. "It belonged to… a friend of mine."

He caught on quickly. "And you prefer him to me?"

I stood up and dusted off the skirt that I was wearing. I'd grown accustomed to wearing them now. It was my mother's last wish, really. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

I turned around to face him. "I mean I don't know. I never really got to know him."

Corbyn walked over, closer to me, and laid a hand across my cheek. He leaned in and kissed me lightly, but I turned away. His hand slapped across my face, and I felt it sting, but I didn't care. "Do you know now? You won't even let me kiss you."

I stared at him blankly. Kiss? Why did it feel like it lacked emotion? Was it because I wanted Him to kiss me instead? Was He even… real?

In my mind, I reached out to the monster, concealed behind bars and walls, connected to my only by a pendant, but then so much more. He was there, struggling with me, the fingers of our minds almost touching-

Corbyn's hand shot across my face again, and tears leaked out of my eyes. I ran. Out of the cemetery, out of the fields, onto the roads. How had I gotten there all those years ago? I didn't remember, but I knew all the same. The distance seemed shorter though now, but once again, as I reached the gates, the ones that had hidden themselves for two years, the sunset ripped across the sky. When I was about ten feet from the gate, I collapsed, wiping the dirt and tears from my cheeks. I'd found him again.

Only then did I hear the plodding of hooves behind me. Only then did I recognize Corbyn's voice. Only then did I realize that he had followed me here. Only then did I realize that that was possibly my most greatest mistake.

"So this is where he lives, eh? Then perhaps I ought to make you forget about him."

My eyes widened at the thought of Damien being useless and unable to fight back within his own home. "No," I whispered. "Don't let him in, please." But it was too late. The gates swung open as Corbyn grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.

"And you get to watch."

I cried as he pulled me through the bailey and through the front entrance. As we made it through, I sank to the floor, catching the glimpse of Damien sitting on the stairs, cradling his head in his hands. I whispered his name, and he looked up, just long enough for me to catch a true glimpse of his face. It hadn't aged since I'd left, though I didn't expect it to, he still looked the age of twenty-one. But his eyes, his eyes were clouded in grief, lighting instantly as he saw my face, and then darkening in betrayal as he realized I'd brought with me a man set on killing him.

I wanted to run to him, to be held in his arms like last time, but running here had zapped all my strength. I couldn't even stand, and I had barely enough energy to hold up my head and watch his doom play out before my eyes.

I didn't see Corbyn step forward, because my eyes were locked on Damien, but I heard the tell tale hiss of steel leaving a scabbard slice through the air. Momentarily I glanced over at him. The dark look masked upon his face, ominous in the dim light, only added to my apprehension and terror. As Corbyn took a step forward, my head spun around to look at Damien, only he wasn't there. Instead, he lurked in the shadows at the edge of the stairs, waiting, but this wasn't the Damien I knew. No, he was truly a monster now. His hands and feet had morphed into enormous paws as he stood on four legs instead of two. Long, dark hair covered nearly his entire body, except for the area along his spine and down to the tip of his tail which was coated with a spattering of dark green scales that molded into the fur. His head was like that of a feline's, with dark red, glowing eyes, and the two six inch fangs of a saber-toothed tiger. The shadows that had for so long clung to myself slid off of his back like oil on water.

He didn't even bother to share my gaze as he walked out into the torch light, allowing Corbyn to see his beastly form. "So this is the one who's kept you from returning my proposal. Or perhaps he ate your 'friend'," Corby spat. He added with contempt, "King of Beasts. Ha! Today is your last."

I heard Damien snarl as my mind screamed, no, no you don't understand! I don't know who I would've been speaking to had I said it allowed, but it didn't matter. I couldn't do anything now. I was going to watch this man kill the love of my life, I realized, and I wasn't going to do anything.

I felt something brush up against my side, but paid it no heed as Corbyn and Damien walked closer and began to circle each other. Corbyn lunged, but his sword slipped carelessly of the scales coating Damien's back. He waited for Damien to attack back, but I knew that Damien wouldn't. That he couldn't. When Corbyn realized this, he lunged again, the tip of his sword slicing across Damien's cheek. Damien whirled around and hissed at his opponent, his eyes glowing bright red. When I heard Corbyn's sword clatter to the ground, I didn't understand, but then I remembered how much fear Damien could instill with just a look.

I watched as the shadows slithered across the floor like snakes, merging as they neared Corbyn. Power flared around Damien, controlling the shadows until they had been correctly directed to Corbyn, where they latched on without help. I heard Corbyn's shrieks of terror, and watched as he writhed in pain. My eyes swelled with tears for the man who had once been one of my best friends, though I detested him now. "No," I whispered. "No. Damien, stop. This shouldn't be happening."

Damien padded over to my side and I latched onto the thick fur coating his body. I breathed in the scent of burning wood, the same one I'd remembered from so long ago, shaking my head. "Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please. Don't hurt him."

Damien glanced back at the man I talked of, and I felt the shadows and dark spirits dissipate, slinking back into the corners of the hall. I heard the hysteric laughter of the man I had just saved. But I didn't hear the one thing that would have helped me save the other. His footsteps, coming towards us. I didn't see Corbyn raise his sword once more, only to plunge it into Damien's side. No, I only heard Damien's roar of pain, only saw his legs give out as he crashed to the ground, blood pooling around the wound in his stomach. Only saw dark, black and red lights glitter around his body before they melted away to show his human form, clothes in tatters, the cream shirt he favored, soaked in his own blood. Only felt his hand rise to cup my cheek as he mouthed "you came back," before he was gone.

Corbyn's laughter cut through the air again, as his sword cut just under my arm. "And you can die here with him," I heard him say. I heard the great entrance open as he walked through, and I also heard his blood curdling scream as the shadows of the earth swallowed him as they had wished to before.

I now had two dead men on my hands. Two? No. Damien couldn't be dead. I wouldn't let him die now. I moved over to his side, barely pausing to tear my skirt and wrap a bit of cloth around my own wound. Blood still slugged out of the open wound, and I prayed to dear life that it wasn't deep enough to be fatal. My hands shook as I held them over the wound. Gathering the courage, I laid my hands on his torn skin, before pressing down and together. The bleeding needed to stop, or at least slow down, so I cleaned away a bit of the excess blood from around the wound, allowing me to see it better. My heart leapt when I heard a soft moan escape Damien's lips. He was alive! But I needed to keep him alive, and some ancient instinct moved me to call on the earth that lived beneath this castle.

It was there. A powerful force of nature gathering at my call for help. I felt the magic of it seep up through the ground, and gather around my hands. I ignored Damien's cry in pain as it set about, healing organ damage, and them muscle tissue, and finally pulling together shredded skin, scabbing it, then crumbling away to leave bright pink scar tissue.

I gasped for air as the magic and power left me, leaving me with a fatigue worse than the one I'd started with. I fell to the ground passing out just after I felt the amber drop around my neck shatter.

I blinked as sunlight filtered into my eyes. I thought I'd remembered to shut the drapes at home, but when I could see, I realized that this wasn't my room. Nor was it even my house.

Something heavy weighed down the mattress at my side, and before I could turn to see what it was, I heard, "I always wondered why, in history, elves only lost battles on barren land. Obviously the power of the earth is worth more than I thought to some."

"Damien?" I asked, my throat dry with sleep.

His hand cupped my cheek. "Yes, Kiara?"

I could see his face now, no longer contorted in pain, and I frowned. "I thought," I started to say, but then my memory caught up with me and I shook my head. "Never mind."

Damien smiled, and kissed me on the forehead. I tried moving to a sitting position, but when I placed my weight on my arm, I toppled back over. My arm and side were bandaged better than they had been last night, but still throbbed. I sat up again, this time placing my weight on my other arm, until I could lean back against the pillows.

I was in the room that had been dubbed mine while I had lived in Damien's castle, now well lit by the light streaming through the glass door. I reached up to grasp the amber drop around my neck, but when I only found leather chain, I frowned. "What happened last night?"

Damien grabbed my hand, covering it with his. "The spell broke."

"But why?"

He smiled and said, "Because with your help, I made the right choice. I saved the man as best I could."

"But he died anyways. I heard it. The shadows ate him."

Damien shook his head, his eyes staring into mine. "Only because he had welcomed so much darkness into his heart that they found free passage. Last night I was debating as to whether I wanted to meet the same fate before you came."

"But I saw you. The shadows slid off your back with ease. They weren't able to latch on."

"Only because you came," he whispered. His arms wrapped around me as he added, "I found hope in your coming back. It made me forget all those days alone, sinking into the darkness."

My arms wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into his unkempt hair. "I felt alone without you, too."

His arms tightened around me, his hands massaging up and down my back. "Then you don't ever have to leave. I'll always be with you," he whispered in my ear.

"No, I don't have to leave, and I never will." It was a promise.