A Daemon Apart

Part One

Foundation

A leaf floated off from a tree, winding down gracefully before it was abruptly snatched away and forced to follow in the breeze left by the man who ran by.

The ground trembled under his footsteps; small bushes quivering, dead leaves flying up and away from the cold, barren ground. Harsh breaths filled the otherwise silent night, little clouds of white twisting lazily into the dark sky.

Steam engine. I must look like a small steam engine, he thought, shoving branches away from his face as he ran. A roar sounded out from behind the running man, the ground trembling further as a heavier weight chased him. Nearly silent, a fox ran alongside the man, sharp eyes glinting as they roved in the darkness.

Left. Turn left up ahead and then turn right. That…should save us.

Blond hair bleached white in the little moonlight that permeated the trees, the man kept running, following the fox that ran ahead of him. He trusted it to see what he couldn't.

Another rippling roar sounded out, and the ground quivered.

He put the last piece of paper carefully into its place, grinning and stepping back with satisfaction. Balanced precariously on top of a filing cabinet, were neat stacks of papers. And in each stack of papers, there were bundles tied together with different coloured ribbons. A bright blue ribbon adorned a bundle on the right, a vivid green on another, and a yellow shone faintly from somewhere near the bottom. More colours peeked up from their place in the drawers. Colour coded most probably.

"Perfectionist," snorted a voice from the desk, making Arthur Kirkland glance over. A blue-furred fox was draped across the bureau, paws crossed and snout resting on them. Arthur rolled his eyes, closing the drawer and stepping back with a pleased look. The rainbow vanished.

"I am not a perfectionist. If I was one, I would be long dead," he replied, voice laced with a posh sounding, public school English accent. There was a short silence before the fox let out a rumble of laughter. Arthur turned, a piece of pink ribbon in his hand, to face the fox. It was smiling.

"And just why are you smiling?" he asked, crossing his arms and unable to stop his own smile. The daemon – for indeed it was one – looked up, opening his eyes and blinking innocently.

"Am I not allowed to even smile any more?" he asked. The Englishman opposite him sighed, opening his mouth to reply when the door to his room was knocked on. The fox continued lounging in his place, closing his eyes again, and Arthur turned to the door.

"Come in," he called, green eyes blinking wearily, before he sat down on the nearest available surface (it was a rickety, old chair). The door swung open and a man looked inside.

"You're still here. Why am I not surprised?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Go home."

"I was just leaving. Come on Kyalen." The grey fox – his species, obviously not the colour as that was a rich dark blue, the chest area a rippling silver – leaped off the desk and trotted over to his human, giving a polite nod to the man's hawk daemon. The bird also gave a nod, shuffling her wings importantly but in a rather coy manner. Kyalen mentally sneered at the small display.

The journey home was near silent, with Kyalen and Arthur both walking silently. However, ten metres away from the house, Kyalen came to a halt, sniffing the air delicately. The Englishman paused too, casting a suspicious glance around. People milled around the streets, their daemons held protectively to their chests and making sure not to accidentally brush someone else's daemon. If Kyalen was feeling threatened, there was most likely a possibility that they were being hunted down. But they said… Shaking his head to dispel the thought, Arthur looked down at his daemon.

"Intruders. They've been gone for about," A deep sniff here, "…three hours. I don't know who they are. I haven't smelt them before. However, I can identify their daemons. There were three of them. One of the daemons was a falcon, the other an ocelot and the last a leopard." The fox paused, sniffing again, his ears twitching as a harsh horn honked somewhere in the distance. It no doubt hurt his ears.

"I don't think we should go inside." But Arthur was already moving, walking forwards and throwing open the door to his house. Kyalen spared a moment

Everything was in shambles. The furniture had been destroyed – couch stuffing was everywhere, the refrigerator had spilled its insides out, the television had been ripped from its stand – and there was a familiar smell inside the whole house. Both human and daemon paused, glancing at each other with thinly veiled understanding.

"I would suggest you run," growled a voice behind them menacingly.

Panserbjørne. Neither hesitated in running out the backdoor and into the forest, legs pumping furiously and hearts racing as the bear behind them let out an almighty roar.

I pricked my ears up, picking up the sound of armour gliding smoothly over joints. He was gaining on us. Arthur was running beside me, mouth open as he heaved in breaths and focussed on not tripping. He seemed to be concentrating on finding a route. I didn't need to think as much. The scents around me were familiar, comforting even. Behind us, the panserbjørne had moved slightly to the right just as an upwind blew past. The stench it brought with it was unpleasant. And that was an understatement. Glancing around to confirm my suspicions, I flicked my tail and veered off towards the left. Arthur would follow.

Danger, the scents from the trees sang out. Our territory. There were marks left by large animals everywhere in these parts of the woods. Broken branches, charred tree stumps, carcasses left to rot, bits of scales snagged onto bushes, broken claws. And yet…

Family.

I felt more at ease immediately. We were in our territory. Arthur's breaths were getting a bit more laboured as we ran, and the bear was still roaring. A small part of my mind scoffed at it. The prey will run, it said, you're warning it.

I let out a howl of my own as I saw the familiar shape of a building.

Arthur risked a look over his shoulder and nearly tripped over as he caught a glimpse of how close the snarl on the armoured bear's muzzle was. The white bear let out a fearsome noise and bared its pointed teeth, practically reeking of bloodlust. The blond gasped in another breath and narrowed his eyes, trying to see a bit more clearly in the dark. Human were not known for night vision. For the sixth time that night, Arthur wished he could see well at night.

The faint light from the stars filtered through the sparse leaves that still clung to some trees. It wasn't much to go on. Bitter winds had risen, making loose dust and leaves alike fly around in the air. A magician casting an animation spell, almost. Green eyes were filled with determination as the man ran next to his daemon.

"Go ahead, Ky. Warn them. And tell them to hurry," huffed out Arthur, risking another glance back. The daemon immediately ran much faster, a streak of blue and silver in the dark of the night.

There should have been a tug as the bond was pulled. There should have been pain as he moved out of sight. There should have been tears.

There was nothing.

Arthur's brothers were already outside when the fox arrived. There was only a flick of the tail as a greeting, and a tilt of the head in the general direction of the mayhem that was needed.

The three brothers were standing still, looking like ancient sentinels in the faint moon-glow. Behind one of them, the second youngest one, was a shimmering gate that let out faint light. Gavyn was holding a knife in his hand, which he carefully sheathed before closing the gateway behind him with ease.

Gavyn was the second youngest of the four, and the one that was the most close to Arthur himself. His hair was a dark blond, spun gold, and his eyes were a shade darker than Arthur Kirkland's. He was dressed in the casual clothes of his universe; a loose white shirt that was open at the cuffs, dusty green cargos with multiple pockets, and a white robe that had been pulled on over it all. The look was finished with worn white sandals on his feet. White. The colour of the scholar, the healer, the priest. And yet, he couldn't be farther away from all of that. Away from the whole nonsense of The Authority. Away from the nonsense of The Magisterium. His daemon, Staratelj, was perched on a tree, her grey gaze sharp as she flew down. Her feathers were a pure white, making it slightly easy to think she was a dove. The hunter's beak was a harsh difference.

"What did he get himself into this time?" she asked exasperatedly, shuffling her wings and taking her claws out. They gleamed slightly in the dim lighting. Gavyn glanced up from where he was kneeling with a grin.

"What he always does," grunted out another female voice.

Arzairrah. The second oldest daemon present. She was a snarling coyote, with her fur a rough dark grey, with the tip coloured black. Her black eyes were glowing with disapproval as she stared out at the two figures, completely still except for the swivelling of her ears. Her human, Arthur's older brother, looked up from his gun.

Fionn Kirkland was the second oldest brother, and rather unlike the other two already mentioned. He had thick auburn hair that settled on top of pale, pale viridian eyes. A small troop of freckles marched over his nose, and a thick silver hoop decorated one of his ears. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a black jacket pulled over it all – it's sleeves shoved to his elbows – and was holding a gun in his hands. As if to defy the effect caused by his handgun, a pouch of herbs hung around his waist, accompanied by something that looked rather like a stick.

"Did we all have to come? Gavyn, either you or Iain could have finished it off yourself," grumbled Fionn, his voice dripping with his Irish accent. Not that it was very unnoticeable. "I don't like this place."

Gavyn snorted, straightening and making sure his robes were okay, before pulling his hood up.

"We hadn't visited him for a long time. I thought we could all meet," he replied, winking at the oldest brother.

Iain Kirkland. Iain Kirkland was feared. Very feared. And not only throughout his universe. With his imposing stature, fearsome eyebrows, and flaming hair, many said the man looked like fire personified. His personality was just as turbulent and burning enough for it. And he was old. Older than most thought of him. His eyes, on the best of days a light green, were always clouded with passion. Passion for teaching, for fighting, for anything he did. His daemon, Aeroga, gave a sharp noise.

"He's coming. You really do need to teach him better Iain," she tutted. Aeroga was a crested hawk, with sharp gold eyes and nondescript brown plumage. Easy to lose, easy to ignore, but the gleam in her eyes told what she thought of that. Iain made a noise, shrugging his shoulder and making his daemon fly off it. She hovered in the air, flapping her wings to stay aloft, before letting out a piercing shriek.

The running figures came into sight. A man, short blond hair and vibrant green eyes, being chased by a huge armoured bear. There was a warning bellow from the bear as it let out a yell.

"Death awaits you Arthur Kirkland!"

"Bloody hell," said Gavyn, quickly running a hand over the knife, mumbling a few words and making it glow green. He had an impressed look in his eyes as he studied the violent bear that chased his younger brother. Once his knife was tucked away safely in its sheath, he turned towards the bear and cast a glance at his daemon. The white hawk screeched.

Arthur panted, chest expanding and contracting rapidly in search of air. A drop of sweat slid down the side of his head, cooling quickly in the cool night air. The bear was uncomfortably close, and Arthur could feel it's hot breaths gusting over his back and head, laced with the smell of meat and fish. Warm huffs seeped through the blond's thin shirt and made the sweat sliding down cool fractionally. There was a tell-tale glint of starlight on blond hair ahead of him. Brothers. The Englishman breathed a small sigh of relief and ran the last few metres with more ease.

"Your puny friends can't save you, Arthur Kirkland! I am a panserbjørne!" The blond almost rolled his eyes. As he neared his family he noticed Fionn wink at him. Understanding the gesture, Arthur skidded on the ground, dropping into a roll and tumbling to his daemon. There was a yell behind him and the firing of a gun.

Fionn stood stiffly, legs spread and arms braced carefully as he shot. The bullet dug into the soul armour, the impact of it knocking the bear back a couple of steps. Gavyn let out an appreciative whistle, shifting his stance to accommodate the change in position.

"Nice shot. I can do better." Without waiting for a reply, he raised a hand and pointed it forward, barking a spell. A whorl of sparks flew from the tips of his fingers, blasting the bear in the eyes. The Irishman, Fionn, snorted, crossing his arms.

"Witch," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Half-witch."

"Shut up, y' both," growled Iain, twirling his staff, pointing it at the panserbjørne and shooting out a beam white light (chants included). As the white faded and died, it revealed the bear frozen in mid snarl. Gavyn made an interested noise and moved to tap the ice, humming. Fionn holstered his gun and gave Arzairrah a pat on her head, moving over to check up on Arthur. The Englishman was on the ground, sitting with his back against a tree and idly running a hand through Kyalen's thick blue fur.

"Feeling okay, Art?"

"Better. Try not to put it off until the last moment next time, Fionn. You worry me."

"Everything worries you."

Iain put his staff away and moved to crouch in front of the Englishman.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked Arthur. Before he could reply, Gavyn half-turned, making the knife hanging from his hip glint from it's sheath. A shudder went through the youngest blond and he pressed his back further into the tree, trying to subtly move away from whatever was affecting him. Fionn groaned and turned to his Welsh brother and was about to say something when Arthur promptly passed out. Kyalen blinked and looked at the others hazily, lying down himself.

"Dust," he hissed out, sending one last glare towards the knife before closing his eyes. Iain pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right. Gavyn, shield the dagger properly. We don't want him fainting again. Fionn, help me pick him up."

"Aye, aye," grumbled the Irishman.

"Prat."

It was a warm night there.

A warm breeze flew outside the café, tousling short hair and making longer hair drift around aimlessly. The calming chatter of people could be heard even inside the shop.

A man sat at a table in the corner, a sketchbook spread out before him and a pencil perched on hi table next to it. Running a finger over the picture of the man he had drawn – blond, thick eyebrows, green eyes, fierce snarl – he drunk in the sight.

"Who are you?" he breathed.

There was only the light tinkle of the wind on the wind-chimes as an answer. Glancing out at the setting sun, he let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. His eyebrows furrowed lightly and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"Who are you?" he repeated.

The setting sun over the buildings didn't reply.

Hello, my dear readers.

This is my first fanfiction, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. It is a HDM!AU, as I'm sure you've already noticed. It is going to be a chapter story and I hope to actually gain readers. After all, a little encouragement wouldn't be all that bad.

I hope you enjoyed.

If anyone wants to beta it, or help me, then please don't hesitate to PM me.

Please review. English is not my first language and help would be appreciated.

Love,

Trenela (Forever An Unfinished Tale)