blood...pain...agony.

A figure flew across the night sky, her blonde hair flying around her face. Blending into her wings that struggled for air. Her armour glistened in the moonlight, revealing her pain stricken face.

Her hand slipped down to the wound on her stomach. The warm, sticky liquid seeped between her pale fingers. The sand hills sailed below her, but seemed to be getting closer with each beat.

Cries echoed behind her. Fuck. She struggled to pick up speed and height. Sweat dripped down the side of her face. She had to get away from them, she had to.

Their cries drew closer. She reached for her scythe, swing it to her right in time to stop a thick black sword from removing her head.

"Give us it!" the swords owner hissed, his scar ridden face inches from her own.

"Give us the key"

"NO!" she shoved the creature off, only to have another fly into her. They struggled in the air before crashing into the sand below. The figure was thrown off, but his scared companion claimed his place in the wrestling match. His scale-covered wings swung forward in the hope to add more damage to his target. Forcing her further across the plateau.

His red eyed companion one again joined the fight by swinging his two daggers at her, only to have one imbedded into the ground and the other flying off into the air.

She took her chance then, taking off at full speed straight up into the air. Forgetting about her previous wound as adrenalin kicked in. I have to get away. She picked up more speed and height with each beat of her wings.

Something flashed past her before appearing in front of her. Scar face with his sword slammed into her, forcing her back down to the ground where she once was. Fuck. The sand came flying up to meet the two falling beings. She swung her scythe's end into his side, while he punched her wound, forcing her to recoil back in time to hit the ground.

The first sounds were the sickening crack of the bones in her wings hitting the ground, her cry of pain, followed by the tear of...metal. Her eyes widened, matching the similar look of the other above her. The tearing continued as the two resumed their decent into the unknown chamber below the sand.

First was the bright lights that lined the ceiling of the building and they descended further down, she noticed people on different levels running towards the railings, watching them fall.

The next wave of pain was her back and already broken wings slamming into the cement with the other's weight pushing her further into the ground.

She saw stars and red...so much red. Collecting what was left of her strength she forced the other off her and rolled away in time to avoid the clink of red eyes dagger scraping the ground of where she once was.

She skidded to a stop near one of the walls of the underground chamber. The gasps and mutters of people wavered around the group. Her vision blurred and darkened around the sides. She had to finish this quickly before she passed out and others got hurt.

She hooked the Snath .1 behind her back before reaching and activating the hidden chain attached to its base. The two hissed, taking their own weapons, red eyes pulled his other dagger out while scar face put his sword out in front of him.

Time slowed as they began their charge. Red eyes threw one dagger at her. The other charged forward with his sword, towards her when she played her plan.

She lunged forward, hooking the chain around the daggers pulling it out of the way. The sword of the other strikes the snath of the scythe, allowing her to slam the blade into his neck.

Blood spattered across her face and armour as his head flew from his body. She swung the scythe across her front, forcing the other to use his dagger to deflect it. She flicked the chain in front of her, casing the other dagger to fly back and imbed itself in it owners neck.

The sick gurgling crept from him before finally crumbling to the ground. Silence was all she heard as she came to a stop. Silence and the dripping of her wounds that covered her body.

She pulled the chain back into the snath and turned to look at her audience. Eyes wide, filled with horror, people staring at what she had done in a matter of second. Her eyes were soon drawn to a group that stepped out towards her.

At the head of the small group was a man in his late 50s, he spoke something but... She couldn't hear. She winced as pain slowly took over her system from the head wound she suffered and the burning of her broken wings.

She vision blurred and darkened more as she fell to her knees. The man stopped walking and yelled something to the group. Her head nodded forward begging for her to fall down into the darkness that beckoned her.

Her last memory before the unconscious world took her was a hand pressing into her shoulder, stopping her from reaching the ground.


Snath = the staff part of a scythe