A/N: I looked over the previous upload of this story, and frankly, it made me want to throw up. So, after much careful planning, I came up with an improved, and let's face it, better, version of this story. It's longer, mopre detailed, and most importantly, doesn't want to make me claw my eyes out. So, for all you lovely people out there who I may or may not have had the privelige to meet, here you go. Enjoy!
-Dark Lord Ganondorf
Blood stained the man's dark clothing and his ash grey hair was twisted and matted with a crust that was darker than the blood that stained his clothes, but it was blood none the less. A silver blade glittered at his side, but it was not the light of the moon that reflected off it; there was no moon out tonight.
No moon, no stars, not even the faintest glimmer of light fell upon his clothing or his weapon, like someone, or something had taken it all away. Like they had stolen the light that would allow him to find his way through the dark, dense forest.
Vines snatched at his clothing, tearing into his skin, lashing his face. Deep lacerations opened up in his ash grey skin, more blood stained his clothing. Falling to his knees on the cold, soaked earth, he dragged a hand through his thick, matted locks, stained deep red with his own blood.
Howling in anguish, the young man impaled his sword in the trunk of a nearby tree; chunks of bark flew into the air, spinning in all directions. One shard whizzed past his cheek, opening a new gash - thin, but still there and he growled in pain, lashing out with his blade, impaling in the trunk once more.
As the silver blade bit deep into the trunk, a young woman appeared, rounding the trunk of the tree he had just tried to slice in half. Her dirty blonde hair whipped around her shoulders, tousled by the gentle wind that blew through the trees, cutting like knives into the young man's pale skin.
Taking no notice of her, though he could see her, he ignored her and continued to lash out with his blade, relishing the sound it made as it bit hungrily into the trunk of the gnarled, twisted tree, dark against the infinite blackness of the sky above.
But the blur of silver never made it to its target. The young woman who stood beside it had caught the deadly steel within the palm of her hand, drawing no blood, which the man found astonishing. What kind of monster was this woman?
"Stop," she commanded.
Wrenching his blade from her iron grip, the ash haired young man swung again at his target, this time shearing cleanly through the slowly crumbling trunk of the aged tree. He grinned as he saw the tall, majestic being crash to the ground, sending flurries of birds and other beasts wheeling into the sky and scurrying away from the noise, attempting to find some form of safety.
"What is it that gives you such pleasure in destroying those objects close to others?" she asked a sad smile upon her face. Or maybe it was a smile of pity.
The young man did not answer. He sheathed his glittering blade and turned away from the woman, striding through the forest, occasionally glancing up at the moonless, starless sky above him.
And the woman followed. She moved effortlessly through the trees, all the time keeping her eyes on the man before her, tracking his ash grey hair as it weaved and bobbed, the shining blade in his had occasionally lashing out and cutting into a tree as he strode past.
Sensing something was wrong; he whirled round, blade flashing, and glared at the figure before him.
The woman stood, silently, her pale white face like a ghost in the darkness of the night.
"Still here?" he growled.
"I cannot let you get away with destroying this forest." she answered calmly.
The young man snorted in contempt, before turning and stalking away through the trees.
And yet, still the woman followed. She followed until the man turned once more and his eyes flashed red with anger at seeing her face again.
"Leave."
"I shall not." answered the defiant young girl.
And still, she followed, ducking and weaving through the maze of gnarled, twisted roots and branches, their claws snagging at her long, flowing dress as she ran silently through the woods.
Hearing a twig snap behind him, the annoyed, nay, enraged young man drew his sword and raised it to the heavens, the light of the stars that had somehow reappeared above him glittering on its reflective surface.
Bringing it down with a yell, he felt it bite deep into the woman's side, felt the warm rush of crimson as it flowed down the blade of the sword and onto his arm, soaking his tunic and staining it an even deeper shade of red than it had been before.
Waves of crimson burst forth from the wound, turning the crystal white dress the woman wore a hideous blood red. An agonized shriek tore itself from the woman's lips, the dried blood already beginning to flake around the wounds the teenager had inflicted upon her.
A sadistic smile danced maniacally across his face, twisting his features, making them appear monstrous in the fading light. Raising his blade, he ran his tongue along its glittering surface; it was forked, like a snake's would be.
The young woman shivered with disgust; she could almost feel the cold steel of the blade, like fire, biting in to her flesh. Pain lanced up her arm, from her wrist, crawling slowly towards her shoulder. Looking down, she saw that he had her wrist held tightly in his iron grip.
"You didn't see anything," he growled, tightening his hold on the girl's arm. His nails dug deep into her flesh, opening up shallow laceration in the pale white skin of her arm.
She nodded, crying out as he ran the blade if his sword along her stomach, cutting open her belly, gutting her slowly, like a fish. Coughing violently, she fell to her knees, blood pouring from her mouth, staining her teeth, once white, a ghastly blood red.
The sadistic man before her grinned maliciously. "Before you die," he asked, "would you like to know my name?"
She spat at his feet, glaring furiously up at her captor.
He flew into a rage, impaling his sword in her side, causing her to cry out in pain as blood erupted from the deep, jagged gash made by the sharp steel of the sword.
Coughing again, she spattered the ground with fresh blood and she sank forwards, shaking violently. "Please," she begged. "end this now…"
Grinning sadistically, he shook his head and kicked her roughly under the chin, the toe of his boot biting into her flesh, drawing a line of blood across her flesh. "I don't think so."
Lashing the tip of his sword across her stomach, he jammed his boot into the gaping wound, causing her to cry out in agony as she felt the sharp metal tip dig into the raw flesh of her stomach, drawing blood from the already deep gashes in her belly, that he was only making wider, torturing her to the point of insanity.
She could take it no longer. Lashing out with the heel of her boot, she struck him in the leg, and he reeled back from her, clutching his ankle and bawling a torrent of swear words as he screamed in pain.
"Damn bitch," he snarled. Striking out with his own boot, he jammed it into the widening gash he had made in her stomach, and sent her flying backwards with a howl of pain and agony.
Her head struck an overhanging branch, and a thin line of blood began to streak down her forehead, seeping slowly from the gash it had made in her skin.
The ashen haired man leered over her crumpled form, sword raised high, the faint moonlight glittering off its pale silver surface. It was time to end this charade. Kicking her to the floor, he tore open her tunic with a swipe of his blade and grinned evilly, before releasing his grip on the hilt and letting it drop.
It cut through the air like a hot knife through butter, sinking hilt deep into her chest and burying itself in the ground. The auburn haired girl coughed violently, blood spilling from her mouth, dripping down the front of her tunic and staining it an ugly blood red.
She felt the blade shift in her chest, cutting into her right lung, and she coughed again, losing air fast. She could not hold him off much longer. She could not breathe.
Kicking out at him, she attempted to strike him from where she lay. But she could not. He laughed and danced away, grinning. "Nice try girl," he sneered.
"Damn you…"
"What was that? Oh well. Time to die."
He tore his blade free from her stomach, and brought it down; the moonlight flashing across its surface as it descends, slicing through the air, whistling as it drops towards her head.
And at the last moment, the ringing of steel on steel filled the air. Looking up, he saw that his captive had drawn a sword of her own and was holding off the oncoming strike with all the strength she possessed.
The ashen haired man growled in frustration, and tore his blade away from hers, lunging towards her fallen body, jamming the blade into her collarbone, splintering the tree behind her and severing the nerves that joined the muscles to the ligaments and pain receptors.
Blood exploded from the wound, staining her dress, once white, a beautiful blood red. A scream of agony tore itself from between the girl's lips, splitting the dry, cracked tissue and releasing more blood from the many fractures.
A smirk formed on her captor's lips, not a smirk of pity, but of victory. He had won. She was going nowhere.
"I'm bored," he yawned. "Let's end this, shall we?"
The sword came cutting through the air, its wicked steel edge shining in the faint moonlight that had wormed its way between the cracks in the canopy of trees above. And that was the last thing the girl saw before all faded into blackness and she surrendered to the endless abyss that was death…