Hey reader,

Let me just tell you, it is indeed a privilege for me for the fact that you are just reading this piece of fanfictional story that I have written on my own, twisting and turning the existing plots and characters of my favorite Amanda Hocking. I agree wholeheartedly that "Alive and Dead" is indeed a very long piece of fanfiction, with several chapters. But let me advise you, just by seeing the length of this story, don't quit reading it. I mean, you read the entire Trylle series, and you can't spare time for this. Because, even though the story has a sad and my-world-sucks starting, I can assure all readers that this story will definitely have a beautiful, my-world-could've-never-been-better ending.

– Sharanya Staad –

Chapter One

Assassination

At this point of my life, it seemed impossible to figure out whether what was happening was happening in the reality or in my dreams. Maybe if I woke up from the dream that I was living, I would still be napping in my history class and my waker would be Mr. Meade, ordering me to go to the headmaster's office. And maybe if I even tried to use persuasion (the supernatural Trylle ability I possessed, which enabled me to manipulate people in a pretty creepy manner) on Mr. Meade, there would be no effect and he still would be glowering at me like I just killed his wife.

Maybe after waking up, if I looked around to see who all had watched me wiping the drool from my chin, I would notice every high-school student staring at me except for Finn Holmes (my ex-tracker and lover; also my first love, which had turned out to be ultimately pretty unsuccessful).

It was an eerie type of feeling; too much unlike a dream and like the reality, and too much unlike the reality and like a dream. First of all, all that I was viewing inside my dream seemed far too unnatural and inhuman to actually be real. The shocks that my heart radiated also seemed like the moment when I'm about to wake up from a dream and face the reality.

But I didn't wake up to face the reality; I was already facing it. The reality shocked me; first of all a limp head separated from the rest of its body rolling at my direction. When the head stopped, bumping at my feet, I looked down to see whose decapitated head it was. Dark, long cropped hair, identifying the person as a troll; bloodshot eyes that actually were in shock; the evil smirk turned into a pained curl of the lips. Nothing would make me mistaken even the decapitated remains of this man to be the Vittra king – Oren – my own biological father whom I had just killed seconds ago.

The rest of his body in expensive greyish slacks and a silken dress shirt lay somewhere nearby. I could see the raw flesh even through my emotionally blurred vision, sticking out of the throat, and the gruesome blood staining the shirt like wildfire. That was all a minority; so were Kyra and her fellow Vittra tracker writhing in pain, trying unsuccessfully to scream and instead letting out a horrible guttural groan.

The thing that caught most of my attention was the limp body of Loki lying on the ground, the fancy sword with the diamond-crested bell guard piercing him straight in the heart, where he had already borne an existing scar, and the tip of the blade sticking out from his shoulder blade.

I still remembered his last seconds of life, when he had literally been hanging from Kyra and another male tracker's grip. When Oren had picked up the sword and walked towards him, and I had been pleading him to stop and promising every single thing in return. Just as the sword had pierced his heart and the Vittra trackers had let him drop to the ground, he had just managed to utter one last word "Sara . . ."

I had unintentionally used some of my telekinesis and managed to put Oren in a pretty defenseless state, after which I had assassinated him by cutting off his head. Loki's body lying on the floor was the most horrifying thing I could have ever been near, but still I ran towards him as fast as it was possible with the long chiffon stuff I had chosen to wear for a war.

Everything about him suggested that there was no way he could be saved, and that Oren had done whatever he had desired to do to him. Blood poured from his wound, his eyes were motionless, unblinking, there was no hint of movement or jerk in his body. Yet even dead, he looked so gorgeous to me, with his dirty blonde hair through which I had always loved ruffling my fingers, his sweet lips which would do everything as to joke even at critical times to kiss me tenderly, and his tanned skin which I had always seemed a pleasure to have contact with.

I leaned down next to his corpse, watching the Loki whom I myself never knew that I had loved so much. The bile in my throat had risen at such an unbearable level that it was hard to swallow it. Tears poured down my eyes and my lips let out a shaky sob, which eventually turned into a series of wails.

Despite the blood on his shirt, I pressed my face to his chest, wanting to seek his warmth and hear his heart beating for me. "Loki, Loki" I gulped and coughed, choking myself on my own sobs. "Please come back, I love you. You're the only thing I need now, please come back to me Loki."

I got up, and not caring to wipe any of the tears or blood staining my face, I reached out for his mouth. I blew in air inside his mouth, feeling his chest rising and falling shakily under my palms, but it was completely useless. He was dead, for once and for all. There was no way I could bring him back from the dead.

"Loki, please, I love you" my voice broke down, and it must have been quite a while with me sitting down beside him and crying, before I noticed someone else behind me.

In a red gown with black embroidery in it, stood the Vittra queen – Sara. Her hair was perfect in its sleek ponytail and so were her skin and clothes. She didn't seem to show the least participation in the war, and I wondered where she must have been hiding during the time the entire Vittra kingdom was in chaos. Loki's last word was her name – a fact that made me feel slightly jealous since I was probably supposed to expect something like my name or 'I love you' from his mouth when he was dying – but I didn't have any more time to waste, feeling jealous about things. If Loki had said her name, it was sure to be for an important purpose – a purpose that would have been his ultimate key.

For a moment I just looked at her physically, comparing her perfect looks to my imperfect and messy ones. But then I looked at her genetically, and realized the following facts: Sara Elsing was a troll, being half Trylle and half Vittra. Her Vittra traits made her infertile and the Vittra queen, and her Trylle traits made her a healer. It took me a while to realize that she could actually heal people, and that she could also heal Loki. That was what his last hope was, that Sara being the closest Vittra to him would definitely find a way to heal him even if his condition would be humanly irreparable.

"Sara," I said, sounding partially so thankful and relieved, and partially choked up.

"You're really in love with him." She said gravely, but I didn't need to be told that. Nothing would have made me realize how badly I was in love with Loki until this moment.

"Sara, you have to heal him. You have to save him. We can't . . . leave him like this. We have to do something . . . anything." I managed to say that much without bursting into tears again.

"Ever since I had realized how much endangered Loki was by the Vittra king, I did everything I could do save him; to protect him from the claws of Oren. I still would do the same, but how can I ever explain to you the complications of his case at the moment. He's dead Wendy; it's as simple as that. He cannot be brought back to life, no matter whatever efforts you put into this."

The words felt like a cold pang of distrust, since I had always differentiated Sara from the other Vittra, thinking she might be more cooperative, understanding and thoughtful than her husband. It felt horrible knowing that the only person who could have helped me at this critical moment was not doing so, and of course other healers like Aurora Kroner would not have accepted such requests even when ordered by the queen, so Sara as my only hope in being able to help Loki.

"Please, I can't see him like this. I can't live without him, and you have got to understand what I mean by that." I pleaded, tears staining my neck and chest.

"I do understand, princess, surprisingly very well. I'm just not capable of –" she started, but I cut her off, standing up from my kneeled posture on the floor beside Loki, and coming towards her.

I must have scared Sara since she slightly flinched and seemed to also move back a little when I approached her. But that didn't make me step back and try to ease her; I was anyways going to torture her, and a little natural intimidation would do well with it. I gathered up whatever little energy I was left with, and using the best of that concentration, thought as piercingly as I could Sara, you are going to do whatever you are going to, use whatever powers you possess, and you are going to heal Loki. You will bring him back from the dead.

"Princess, you are too weak to try to use persuasion on me. I suggest you get some rest and I'll explain you the details later." Sara came forward and tried to comfort me. But I wasn't in the mood to give up, since I was all but desperate to awaken Loki from the dead. I continued mentally saying You will go heal Loki, right now. It is the only thing you need to do right now. You have to bring him back from the dead; I need him alive and you have to do it. And very soon I was muttering the same things physically.

Sara however didn't get hypnotized, and tried to talk me instead into not trying to waste my energy and how she could not get Loki back to life even if she tried. My eyes were getting painful, keeping them constantly open, and soon something thick dripped from them. I assumed them to be tears but when I got a hint of the smell, I knew it was blood.

Moisture dripped from my nose, and my ears felt wet – all of which was unmistakably blood. I opened my mouth which felt thick inside with the claustrophobic temperature and moisture inside, and a stream of blood went down my lower lip, trickling down my chin. I looked down at my exposed forearm, and it blood came oozing out of the veins in my wrist and from the carpel joints.

Black spots interrupted my vision, and I tripped on something – probably Oren's head – and then the spots became an entire canopy of blackness.