The waves crashed onto the rocky shore of the Blessed Isles. As Kalista reached the sandy shore of the cove, she slipped off her boots and left them on a flat rock about 100 paces from the sea. The coarse sand tickled her feet as she continued walking towards the water. A pace behind her, she knew that Arcas had done the same.
"How did you find this place?" She asked, her long, dark brown hair fluttering in the mild sea breeze. She almost wished that she had her helm to keep it from getting in her face.
"My parents used to take me here when I was a kid," he replied, standing beside her and looking out to the perpetual storm that surrounded the coast of the Blessed Isles, the breeze moving his significantly shorter, white-blonde locks, "I haven't been here in years, but it doesn't seem like anything has changed.
For a moment they stood in perfect silence, standing side by side, letting the sand work itself between their toes. Far offshore, a bolt of lightening struck the ocean.
"Arcas, I," Kalista began, but she was quickly interrupted as he leaned in. She felt his hands grasp her sides, pulling her closer to him. Just as her lips were to meet his, her eyes opened.
Kalista looked around and saw that she was not on a beach on the Blessed Isles, but in her room in the Institute of War. Well, she supposed that calling it a room was a bit of an exaggeration. A more accurate description would be cell, which is what is was. It was a windowless cell with only a single, heavy door leading to the outside world.
Kalista laid her head back down on her thin pillow and looked at the ceiling. That same dream had haunted her for weeks now, perhaps it was a memory, but she wasn't really sure anymore. The living dead didn't really need to sleep, but Kalista had decided to take it up again as a hobby to kill some of the time she had now that she was locked in her cell. Besides, she thought, it gave her a chance to try and temporarily remember some of her mortal memories. It had been centuries since she had been able to remember, after all. With every soul she took, her strength grew and her sense of self became further and further away. That terrified her because she couldn't simply cease her work; there would always be more vengeance to seek, more betrayers to slay. There were times that she wished she could end it all because sometimes she barely remembered her own name. Her soul was becoming lost among the thousands of others that gave her strength, and she didn't know if there was a way to stop it.
Kalista rose, trying to shake away some of the thoughts. She had little left but her thoughts, so she had to be careful to keep them in check, or else she would end up spending her days wallowing in her own misery. And Gods knew, she had more than enough misery.
Instead of turning towards self-pity, she turned her thoughts to the burning hatred she now harbored for the Summoners. It was they who kept her prisoner in this cell, unable to leave because they possessed her precious Black Spear. Without that weapon, she could not make the pacts which bound those seeking vengeance to her, and she lacked the power to escape.
For the time being, at least, Kalista had to accept that she was a prisoner to the Summoners, and there was little she could do about it.
So here is the beginning of my latest story. I'm really bad with beginnings, but I have some big plans for this story and I hope you all will like them.
I'm taking a bit of a different approach with this story than with Something to Believe In. At this point, I have most of the story planned out, and I'm working on each chapter whenever inspiration strikes for it, so my updates are not going to be as regular or scheduled as they have been in the past... That being said, I'm already happier with the content that I've made, and that will translate into longer chapters in the future (Chapter 3 already has more than 2000 words, and I haven't written everything that I've planned for it!) Right now, only Chapter 2 has proven to be hard to write, but after that updates should be much quicker.