Grasping Fate

Flames licked the ebony sky as thick billows of smoke wafted throughout the air. Some houses were already scorched to the ground. Some were still burning.

The heat crackled along the walls, catching onto trees and grass; continuing to wreak havoc on the small town. Crops were destroyed, memories were destroyed, lives were destroyed.

Painful screams struck through the air, bellowing in agony. Mutilated corpses littered the ground, some burnt beyond recognition, some torn to shreds.

A woman stood cradling her twisted, torn-up child; their spine was cracked and splintered, their stomach ripped open.

They took no hostages and left no survivors. That's the way they worked.

Death-defying roars echoed around the ruins, blood-curdling cries and crunches as another life was lost. Beasts that stood on two legs, over seven feet tall shook the town on its axis.

Their sheer ferocity and power was enough to leave a full-grown faery crawling at their feet. Those who lived long enough to tell the tale spoke of their overwhelming sovereignty and lethal aura.

They say that their presence is enough to make your feet crumble and hands shake. The strength of their ambience is enough to make you nauseous, queasy, and downright insane.

This, however, was overlooked by their beauty, prestige, and tremendous wealth.

Shimmering balls, crystal chandeliers, and an army strong enough to take down an entire country was enough to intimidate their neighbors and let their potential for chaos rain down.

Taking what they saw fit, including mates, or as they call them: inamorata.

They are tailored specifically for your chosen half. To fit each other, compliment each other, to love and cherish till death do them part.

They'd normally feel a connection on the first encounter, but on rare occasions, it's the name that seals the beginning of the bond. Only... they never seem to be able to last long without them.

Any beast that dies, the counterpart must go with them. Death truly cannot separate the souls of the beasts for they are so closely strung that insanity reigns when one is no longer living.

Once the possessive creatures find their destined they will never let go, killing anyone who dared to step in their way no matter the cost.

A small girl stands in the wake of the destruction, clutching a tattered bear to her chest, tears streaming down her innocent freckled cheeks.

A cut on her right cheekbone streams with crimson blood, dribbling down her neck to soak her nightgown.

She cries not out of fear but of agony, for her family, friends, and town who now suffer in destruction.

She is too young to know of the story of the beasts, but old enough to feel the agonizing fear of losing everything you hold dear.

Her eyes are still puffy from sleep, her pointed ears twitch at each roar and scream, each loss of life still heavy in the air like the smoke heaving from her eradicated home.

Where she was born, where she'd had her first steps, said her first word, cast her first charm.

She knows that there is no use of crying out for her parents, her friends, for she could already feel their aura slip away.

Her soot-covered hands rubbed her eyes slowly, covering her forehead and cheeks in dirt. The cut still drizzling blood from the wound.

Her cat-like pupils expanding to observe her darkened surroundings, the only light from the remains of the burning buildings around her.

Small sobs racking through her chest made her body convulse and shake uncontrollably, her tiny knuckles going white as she clutched the teddy bear to her chest.

She dropped down, covering her knees and clothes in gooey mud and dirt. She was crying so much she failed to notice the beast looming in the shadows around ten feet in front of her.

Its blade-like claws dripping in copper blood, sooty fur matted with dirt and claret with the stench of death surrounding it.

Its jaw was clamped shut, eyes glowing a rich golden in the night like two fallen stars.

Elijah stood in the obscure shadow, fighting every one of his instincts. He wanted to comfort her, tell the small girl it would be alright. He knew he couldn't, not like this.

Not covered in the blood of her people. He quickly shook his head, slicing his claws into his hands before they reached out for her. That night, his mission was to kill the faeries living here.

Young and old. Anything with a heartbeat. They were direct orders.

He'd always been one to follow them, that after all is how he'd climbed the ranks, easily becoming one of the most efficient killing machines in the entire fleet.

It had earned him countless medals, a seat with many important people and an actual say in what was considered a good opportunity for the kingdom. And how? By leaving his emotions and getting it done.

Disconnecting from himself to achieve the best result. So why now did they decide to sneak up on him? To make him feel an ounce of guilt.

Another sob raked through the girl's chest. It broke him out of his trance and made him jump so much he shifted back to his human form completely.

His body going into auto-pilot and taking a step towards the girl. Elijah forced himself to remain stark still, careful not to alarm her. What the fuck is wrong with me?

he inwardly snapped, a tiny growl being released from his chest, vibrating the ground around him.

The girl's ear pricked in his direction, her body instantly going rigid in fear.

Elijah felt a deep slice in his chest, some part of him didn't want this little girl afraid, especially of him.

A hot heat spread throughout his chest as he forced his feet backwards, slinking back into the shadows, into the unknown. His chest wrenched painfully at each step he took, his heart clenching.

What the fuck? Elijah gritted his teeth together, the pain in his chest increasing with every passing second.

His beast was clawing painfully inside him, its claws piercing through his stomach to create a gash along his skin.

He growled lowly, internally struggling with the beast, the blood slowly dripping down his stomach as the wound began to heal itself.

A gradual pressure was building in his mind, making him flinch and claws extend. His body was beginning to lose control but he had no idea why.

His beast roared in his chest, the clawing and slashing got worse, now tearing through flesh at every chance it had, causing Elijah to stumble. He may heal fast but not this fast.

Elijah growled out loud again, as if to serve a warning to his beast. Each slash was painful, like knives constantly stabbing him, each wound just about healing before another one was ripped open.

His hands flew to his stomach, trying to stop the slashes from opening even more, only for his hands to be covered in thick crimson blood.

Lycanthrope blood was different from any other creatures'. It was thicker and a lot more sticky.

This is because it allows the wound to close and seal easier, therefore resulting in a quicker healing time.

However, at this moment, Elijah wasn't impressed. The sticky substance coated his torso and clung to his remaining clothing in thick globs.

His hands were covered in the ruby red blood, his whole body drenched in sweat. The pressure increased, edging him forward, towards the little girl. The beast continued.

Each rip, claw, and slash created more panic in Elijah's head.

Something was wrong.

The beast roared again. Forcing his head upwards when he heard a small snap.

The small girl was still crying, her salty tears filling the air but there was a new scent. Another beast.

His own beast went still, the pressure remained, if not getting worse, but the clawing stopped. The beast's attention was on the new arrival. He was here to finish the job Elijah had not yet started.

The beast thundered in his head, stabbing pains shooting through his body.

Lycanthropes and their beasts cannot communicate by words, only emotion. The only time it's been recorded that a lycanthrope and their beast communicate is through the discovery of their mate.

So to feel such strong, heavy emotion towards a faery was unheard of... Unless. Elijah shook his head immediately. No. A person like him was undeserving of a gift like that.

His head pounded again as his beast shook with fury.

The pressure got worse.

His eyes snapped back to the new beast, silently prowling in the shadows. He knew their next moves and it made it a heat of white hot anger pummel through his chest.

The beast would do it's job then leave the little girl.

Leave her in an unmarked grave, never to be heard of again. The imagery made his whole body convulse. Something about her intrigued him and she wasn't going to die tonight.

The beast was just about to go in for the kill when Elijah emerged from the shadows, his aura made the beast hobble slightly on its feet, half emerged from the shadows.

He growled, his chest vibrating.

“Leave. Now.” His deep voice was thick with command, no room for argument.

The other lycanthrope shifted back, revealing his somewhat acquaintance, Mason. They'd been in the same regiment a few years back, but Elijah had proven himself a better asset to the high ranks.

“You heard what he said, Elijah. No one makes it out of this village alive.” Mason stated, his eyes darting towards the little girl who was now as white as chalk and shivering in fear. He could feel it rolling off of her in waves. Her wide cerulean eyes stared straight at Elijah.

Alessandra shook with fear, it gripped her stomach and made her feel nauseous, the two men in front of her were staring at her and talking, she didn't speak their language. No one in her village had.

The only language she had known was that of her ancestors: Torobic. Anything else sounded like gibberish. Especially whatever they were speaking.

The man with bright golden eyes suddenly stiffened, his whole body shaking, his ambience made her cower, forcing her to bow her head in submission.

Quicker than her eyes could follow he was towering over her small frame, facing the other man who's eyes had suddenly turned murderous.

Something about the man with the golden eyes made her feel safe, she didn't know why but a sense of calm and peace slightly eased her shaking form.

It wrapped around her like a blanket and she felt strangely... protected.

It almost felt like her parents embrace, the feeling of safety when she was scared during the horrendous thunderstorms in the summer during the loud bangs and crashes.

Tears prickled at her eyes as she was reminded that their aura was no longer there, but it confused her that she still felt that odd sense of serenity.

Her body felt as if she were possessed when she edged closer to him, his long-tree like legs edging back themselves.

The feeling intensified as more gibberish-like words were exchanged, she assumed they were arguing from the harsh growls, but somehow, she didn't feel as afraid.

She was no longer shaking out of fear, but was now clouded with confusion. What were they talking about? she pondered. She may be only seven but she wasn't stupid.

Soon the man standing in front of golden eyes snapped their jaw, growling loudly. Golden eyes said nothing, only glaring at him. Then he turned and walked away, tense in anger.

Elijah turned to the little girl, crouching down to her height. He'd just told Mason that if he were to even think about hurting her that he'd snap his neck, to which Mason got a tad bit angry.

“What is your name?” Elijah asked in Torobic, knowing they wouldn't have taught Latin in this village.

Alessandra's eyes widened, he could speak two languages? She could only now see is face. The dried blood coating is chest and stomach.

He had a scar that ran from the top of his shoulder down his chest and a tribal looking tattoo on one side of his neck. His eyes were a bright golden that illuminated his face in the darkness.

His teeth looked perfectly straight and his jaw was as sharp as a knife.

“Al-Alessandra.” She stuttered nervously.

Elijah stiffened, his beast went still. No. How. She couldn't be.

Then came that word. The word that seals their fate.

“Mine.”