Dark shadows concealed the glade, though the lake shimmered with the bright moonlight. The lake was at the far left of the glade, while the grass was becoming the dead yellowish color. There were tints of green in the changing season, though crimson and amber were the dominant coloring.
The trees bent, branches screaming in protest, the wind whipped into frenzy. Leaves became a dangerous dome around the glade, causing an updraft of detached grass to join them in the air. Their dance, a dance of final life, was drastically becoming more frenzied as moments went on.
Rain drove through the dome of leaves and grass, causing an explosion of reactions. The leaves that were still attached to the trees were torn away from the branches that brought them life. Silent devastation vibrated through the animals and two combatants that were in the vicinity of the glade.
The shy, wary deer stepped, slightly out of the shadows and safety of the line of trees. The deer's large, bright eyes focused on the threats, though they had gone unnoticed. Those of the wing, who had bravery, courage and gluttony, screamed their outrage and eagerness into the clearing. The deer herd vanished into the trees, bleating their sudden terror. The atmosphere in the glade transformed into blood lust.
The bird of carrion squawked in delight, ignoring their noble counterparts reprimanding screeches. Their dark feathers suddenly becoming an explosion as their noble counterparts slammed into them, while they sat upon the branches. What happened to the safety of the forest? Was the few question reverberating through every animal's bodies. Where had gone the order?
A large feline shape emerged, dark oaken eyes glittering. The feline would end this madness, being the sole heiress of this territory. She felt the roar begin within the confines of her abdomen, surging with power, anger and disgust as the roar started becoming more pronounced. The roar had such ferocity, it stopped the animals attacks, froze everything in place. She felt the settlement of the animals, though the bloodlust spiked. She narrowed her almond shaped gaze, lashing her great tail.
Lightening flashed into the air, as it had become a storm. Were there divine powers or celestial beings controlling this atmosphere, intervening in any attempt to cease this occurrence? The raindrops became heavier and dense as thunder rumbled in the distance, rolling in closely.
Steel flashed cruelly as revealed by their withdrawal from their sheathes. A dark stony metallic shine glinted darkly on the south side while a blizzard-storm shine appeared on the north side.
Two sets of human orbs darkened as they focused on each other. A bright eerie silvery-teal while the other was a dark blood oaken. As contrasting and warring as the shades of their eyes, their skins were as well.
The eerie silvery-teal eyed being had ashen, porcelain-like skin tone with apparent scars. The face was entirely feminine, nearly angelic, though the expression was dark and controlled. Her lips were pale with a touch of rose tint, while her cheekbones were a little more angular, giving the impression of a feline. A pronounced scar ran from underneath the bottom of the rightside her jaw line to the left side of her eyebrow. She lifted her black-leathered gloved hand, which the cuff was tight while the rest was loose fitting, to fully take her hood off. She had hair as dark as a raven's wing, black as sin, which reflected beautifully from the pale moonlight. She lowered her hand and un-locked the collar on her cloak. She wrapped her fingers along the snapping side of the collar to throw her cloak off. Her clothing was simple yet masculine. She wore a tight shirt that was sleeveless, yet baggy around her torso. Her pants were tight around the thighs and loose starting at the knees, being tucked in by the half-calved black boots she wore. A silvery insignia glittered across her back, it seemed to be of a dragon.
Her opponent did the same, in a similar manner. He pulled his hood off to reveal himself. There was a beige-sandy colored bandana that complimented his deep fiery crimson hair, which was spiked backwards and upwards. His face seemed to be smooth and without any visible scars. His skin tone was dark and extremely sun-kissed, though it was a natural tone. He shrugged his shoulders, allowing the cloak to part and give his arms freedom. His shirt was a dark canvas colored, though it was skin-tight. It revealed his toned muscles, and a few scars ran across his arms. His pants were a dark woodsy color that was baggy from underneath the sash that kept his pants upright. There was an insignia of a Phoenix on the front of his shirt. His boots were similar to hers, though modified to allow freer movement. He had a dragon-skin belt that held his hand and half sword/daggers on either hip. The hilts jutted out, revealing a scimitar appearance, though there were rubies at the end of the hilt. The handle was gold engraved with the phoenix and a wind motion around the insignia.
"My Children of Death." A rumble surrounded. "Should one of you lose…" The voice trailed off, seemingly in the direction of the female combatant, for her exhaustion showed only to the unknown speaker. "You will no longer have my protection and will lose memory of your service to me." There was a bloody silver haze that seemed to appear and surround the field. "Your suppressed emotions and slight memories will surface." The voice decreed, both combatants feeling the magic swirling through their already weary bodies.
"NOW FIGHT!" The command whipped into the atmosphere like two swords screaming against each other.
Both male and female surged forward, they were only a flicker of movement to any human, whether trained or not. Two hand and half swords against a double-ended blade.
The only sound was the muscles popping against the force each other were emitting. Their eyes locked, the atmosphere and temperature dropped to near freezing temperatures. The double-ended blade lightly scratched the earth, as if a soft lover's caress. Both did a shoving motion to gain momentum to leap backwards.
A quick succession of clicks revealed that the double-ended blade could become two silver blades. A small, amused smirk made its way across their stoic expressions. The crimson-haired male leapt into the air after lowering himself. He spun his blades around his finger-tips before wrapping his fingers on the hilts with the edge of the blades faced forward.
The female lowered her blades to the sides of her thighs before she raised her arms to shoulder height. She went into a slight crouch, leaning backwards to give herself a better maneuvering position. She lightly dragged her right foot in a backwards motion that was equal with her shoulder. She then pushed herself off the balls of her feet to do a difficult back flip.
One of the daggers was only a scant centimeter from where her neck used to be, while the other was swung in a wide arc, where her breasts and shoulders were. She flipped the blades around in her small, petite hands. She swung her arm back, while arcing the other to the direction of her opponent.
The male dropped, swinging his left leg, tripping the female before him. He surged forward, pushing himself forward on the balls of his heels. Just a scant second more and he would have sliced her shoulder open, had she not pushed herself away with her blade. The tip of the blade had caught the bridge of his nose, causing a small rivulet of blood to drip down his face.
A low hiss if irritation escaped the male, though his eyes flashed. Weakness. He thought while pushing himself to stand up right. He sensed the exhaustion, after so many years of battling side-by-side… He narrowed his eyes in self-disgust, self-hatred. His eyes darkened as he retreated a few steps, still holding his sword-daggers up at chest height.
He lowered his head for a moment, allowing his hair to conceal his eyes. He inhaled meditatively, exhaling in the same manner. He opened his eyes and narrowed them upon his opponent, knowing she had done the same. They were once allies, they were once companions and lovers of a sort… Now it was finished as their Master and Lord had decreed. There were no attachments allowed, nor condoned when given an order. Only victory and success were their options. Failure meant death, even if they were his children. He raised his head, high and distant once again.
No familiarity… An enemy standing… Traveled through both their thoughts, to reveal the unison and upbringing they both had. Any enemy standing, is a failure. Was their last coherent thought as companions, as kindred souls.
Separation. The two combatants were aggravated at an alien feeling running through their veins. Was this the cost of attachment…
They surged forward again, this time to deliver the death blow… To kill…