The door swung open and the older man and his companions stormed into the house. During the frantic rush into the main room of the house, the older man did not have pause to examine his surroundings. He was greeted by an eye full of ostentatious decorations and furniture that spilled from room to room. Their full grandeur covered by a blanket of darkness, the home owners left themselves in the dark to not gather attention, smart, he thought to himself. As his gaze slowly trailed across the foyer he was startled by two faces gazing back at him. His shock was broken by the slam of the ornate front door and the sound of heavy locks clicking into place, the sound of salvation, but also, an unnerving sensation crawled up the older mans spine. Hopefully, the beast has been felled.

  The faces quickly changed from warped scared faces, to stern and cautious. An older woman had her arms behind her back, shielding someone, and a younger woman was close to her side, holding a rapier. The resemblance was uncanny between the two, thick large eyebrows, prominent, elegant straight noses and sharp, high cheekbones. The moonlight crept in through the cracks of the boarded windows and bounced off of their pale skin, it gave both women an ethereal aura. The older man caught himself transfixed by their beauty, until he saw their pointed ears. Aelves, he thought to himself, his throat tightened and he felt himself begin to sweat. The older man had heard stories about aelves in his youth, they range from tales of festivity and hospitality, to terrible recounts of ritual sacrifice, decadent orgies and the devouring of human children. He swallowed hard, and prayed to the gods that the former was true, and not the latter. His attention turned to the sword that was pointed towards him, it was held with grace and poise, the young woman obviously knew how to use it.

  The sword was immaculate in design, its elegant blade soaked in the moonlight that crept across the main room. Twin serpents intertwined along the handle, interrupted by the young woman’s hand, then meeting together at the pommel. The serpents heads met at the pommel and appeared to be, either attempting to devour one another, or comfort their twin with a kiss. It was an ambiguous depiction of the old Gwydonian legend, ‘the twinn wyrm sweostor’. The older mans memory was still sharp, he recalled the famous story told to young Gwydonian siblings about the importance of not bickering with family as they were bound tight together like the twin serpents, and like the twin serpents, could not devour one another as they would split themselves in two. So better to kiss and make peace instead. What an odd legend he thought to himself.

  “Interesting blade, young lass.” The older mans voice drawled into the room, its deep and rich texture offended the still air. Silence, and then the younger woman retorted “I am no lass, I could cut you into ribbons, if I so desired.” the voice was pointed and sharp, it hit the older mans ears with bell like clarity. He summed up the younger woman, her pose was disciplined, a seasoned fighting stance. He would have chalked her stance up to posturing nobility, however, there was several scars that traced along the woman's right arm that was wielding the blade. A duelists arm, earned by multiple bouts with ‘dancing’ partners. “Aye, you could, I can see that young lady.” He said.

  “Are you friend or foe?” The woman whom he assumed to be her mother, spoke up. A similar but deeper tone entered the fray, the same clarity, but not as pointed. “Well, you did let us in.” The mans voice felt crass and undignified compared to the aelves, but he pushed on. “I am just seeking shelter for my daughter on this night.” He beckoned to his daughter, who had followed in behind. She was being supported on the arm of his companion. “My name is Everett Smith, I hail from Brimholt, its about five days ride from here.” He paused, waiting for an interruption, the aelves were stoic and poised as they listened. “I had travelled to the capital in pursuit of a kidnapper who had taken my daughter, Abigail. I am also accompanied by my brother Oscar.” He pointed towards the other man, who responded with a gruff grunt. “The men who lay in the street were good, honest men from our town.” The older aelf lowered her guard and seemed satisfied with the explanation, the younger aelf did not. “Firstly, we did not let you in, we were compelled to act, as your misguided attempt to knock down our door could have doomed us all if you were successful. Secondly, that is quite the story, thieves have been known to prow-.” The younger elf was unable to finish as the older aelf raised her hand and cut her off. “Enough Neesa, they would be the most foolish of thieves to one, attempt to fight the beast, and two, waste their time saving a woman they did not know.”

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  Her voice was stern, but fair, the sound of a mother talking some sense into her child. Neesa frowned, then relaxed her frame and face, she ruffled her short dark hair that rested just below her eyebrows and met the upper edges of her luminous green eyes. “I understand your concerns.” Everette’s voice returned, coloured by his rural accent. “And I apologize for putting you at risk by smashing your door.” The words were spoken earnestly, just like Everett, who vocally presented as an earnest, but well meaning man. Physically, there was a strength to the man, even past his glory days, he was a man who stood tall and proud. He easily loomed over the aelves with a stature that would be imposing, however, his calm communication belied his physicality. His short blonde hair was dusty and highlighted by splashes of grey, with a beard of the same colouring. His face was carved and chewed by the teeth of time, but he was rugged and handsome. The bags under his eyes told the tale of a desperate man trapped in the living the nightmare of any parent.

  “Was your daughter kidnapped by the beast?” Neesa asked inquisitively. “No, she was not.” Everette responded. “We travelled hard and fast in pursuit of a man, we had not known about the news of the beast incursions in the city.” His voice was calm and measured. “However, when we confronted the man on the outskirts of the city.” He paused abruptly, weighing up his next choice in wording. “He took the form of a beast and leapt far away from us towards the city, our party split as many a man did not sign up to wrangle with a beast.” Silence, the older aelf nodded, to let Everett continue. “We did not know that the Bloody Hands had taken over the city streets, we got ahold of those whistles and snuck our way through the old town district, where the beast had been last spotted” Everett's retelling of the tale was compelling and deliberate. “We skulked in the dark for a few hours, tracking the beast through the streets. It was much easier than expected, a creature like that leaves plenty of trails behind in the city.” Still silence from the aelves, they were however, much more relaxed. The mothers arms were still outstretched behind her. “We found Abigail first, naked and afraid, then the beast ambushed us, it had been leading us into a trap. We fought hard and all of us did not make it, gods, their poor families.” He stopped solemnly, lost in thought.

  “Compelling, indeed it is compelling.” The older woman spoke up. “But, a man cannot turn into a beast like that. Since the dawn of time, certain aelves and druids could turn into natural animals, cats, bears and the like. However, there is no way a mere human, unfamiliar with natures magiks could turn into that monstrosity.” She spoke clearly and enunciated her words with great effort. “I saw what I saw.” Everett said, realising he sounded very blunt. “I don’t understand a lot in this world, especially when it comes to the realms of magik. I just want to get my daughter home.” He turned to her, love and kindness in his eyes. She stumbled forward and burst into tears in her fathers arms. She was beautiful, even when her face twisted in agony and sadness. Tears flowed down her large blue eyes and down her round cheeks, her face flushed with redness.

  “Neesa, fetch some clothing for Abigail, take your sister with you.” The words were prompt and clear from the older aelf. “Excuse my rudeness, I should formally introduce myself, I am Nyrielle Vallithra, my eldest daughter Neesa, whom you have met.” Neesa nodded in response. “And, my youngest daughter Isilira.” A small figure appeared from behind Nyrielle “Hello!” Her tiny voice bounced melodically as Isilira revealed herself. She waved enthusiastically before joining her older sister. “What a lovely home and family you have, thank you so much for your hospitality.” Said Everett. The house appeared much warmer before Everett, although worry had crept into the corners of his mind.

  “That kid killed that fucking monster.” Oscars gruff voice butchered the air around it, like a butter knife felling a tree, Everette and Oscar often joke that his voice could peel varnish off of furniture. Tears streamed from Everett's face “We did it, we made it.” he looked at his daughter, finally out of the nightmare that had consumed him. Even in his delirium, he could not help but notice that Nyrielle eyes were wet and her cheeks slightly flushed. A look of admiration, one parent to another, but also, attraction? Surely not. I must be tired he thought to himself.

  Isiah furiously consumed the beasts heart, his body surging with vitality. As he finished his final mouthful, his attention was drawn back to his pounding chest. Shit. His head was throbbing, his chest tightened. He fell to his knees, and assumed his meditating position. Count down from ten, focus on your breathing. His body began to vibrate and he felt his stomach churn. I’ve had too much powder, I have to hold on. His vision blurred and his head started to sway back and forth. Count down from ten, focus on your breathing. His teachers words rang in his mind, a way to bring him back from his overdose. He dung his fingers into his knees in an attempt to ground himself. Ten...nine; his chest heaved in pain, each breath felt like a hammer to the chest. His ears were ringing as he felt liquid pour from them, he knew it was his blood. Eight...seve-. His head swung upwards violently and then, blackness.

  “Looks like that kid just kicked the bucket too.” Said Oscar.