Silver Moonlight 1
This is yet another supernatural story by me. It has Ryou and Malik in it. The story used to be on , but added to and changed. This in current Egypt, I think. Or, it could be Ancient Egypt. Oh, well. It is short! Read, Review, and Enjoy (RRE)!
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A lone boy stood in the middle of his Egyptian town with a bite wound slowly seeping down his neck. Two blood stained swords lay on the mud-spattered ground. The swords, created of pure silver, possessed the souls of a thousand warriors before him. He had defeated every dark adversary that came upon him, but his victory came back against him one day.
He was Malik Ishtar. In his small town by the Nile, his skills with the silver blades were looked upon in dangerous times, but feared that he might use them against anyone innocent that crossed him. Malik stood with a solemn stance. He never did have parents to praise his skills, just passer bys. The warrior was handsome, with sand colored hair and deep violet eyes, but he was 0alone0. His soul was empty. The blackness of his gaze warded away all. The fierce skills he had learned led him to victory every time. His wounds and bruises were little medals from battle to him.
A werewolf arrived one day. It crawled over the sand and into the fields of the farmers. A man yelled and awoke Malik. He pushed his mind into alert mode and races outside. The creature seemed to be a simple dog, possibly one that had escaped from a villager's house. However, when it reared back onto it hind legs, Malik gasped. The were was large and muscular with its auburn hair glimmering under the moonlight. A line of drool coursed down its face mixing with foreign blood around its mouth. Its howl vibrated through Malik and sent a chill down his spine. He snapped back to reality and ran inside. His scabbards and swords lay on the fireplace's mantle. The worn leather strap fit snuggly over his shoulder and he headed out the door. A hard rain fell outside, pattering on his house's roof. The beast had begun to wonder through the village as many people screamed with terror. A sheep had gotten out of its coral. The lupine hungrily followed it to the outskirts of town.
Malik broke into a full out sprint. All he wore were ivory toned shorts and a matching light jacket with under shirt. His strong legs carried him over the town's outer fence and towards the river. The werewolf caught sight of him and raised itself erect. A deep, menacing growl warned for Malik to stay away. He continued to charge it at full speed through deep puddles while unsheathing his weapons from their cases crossed on his back. The creature roared with unbridled anger and leaped forward, forgetting the sheep's carcass it was devouring. However, it did not react fast enough. Malik sank one of his blades into its shoulder. The silver stab made the wolf yelp in pain. It turned around and snapped viciously at him. He sunk into the wet sand while trying to hold off the were's ferocious strikes. The lycan savage madness allowed him to catch it off guard and slash into its hide. Malik's body hurt from tiredness and the many lesions endured from the fight. The werewolf raked its claws over his back while holding him flat on the ground. Malik twisted around and thrust his blade into its heart. It groped at the weapon, painfully trying to take it out. The lupine hit the earth. Blood dripped from its mouth as it lied motionless on the sand. The ruby liquid glistening on the ground was the werewolf's ... and Malik's.
Death fell upon Malik as he fell to his knees. A scarlet laceration spread across his neck and dripped onto his ivory shoulder. He grinned to himself. After all the years, he would die from a lycanthrope. But, he got it first. Although, Malik would be able to die an honorable death that all great warriors received. All the sudden, he felt energy snake its way through his body. The pure magic of the blades and the dark charm of the werewolf's bite burned in his chest. His eyes widened and he touched his neck. The cut had healed. All over his body, Malik's skin tingled. Rough fur grew and large, jagged teeth protruded from his mouth. Sharp, black claws formed at his finger tips as held his shaking hands in front of his face. A bushy tail pushed out over his shorts' waist band and pointed ears developed under his beige hair.
Malik began to weep the tears of a fallen warrior. He stood up and ran. A giant hill edge the town and Malik frantically climbed it using his claws to gripped the slope. Reflecting the moonlight, the silver blood stained swords lay next to the dead were. Malik did not need them; silver would now kill him.
A new werewolf ran out of fear and anger. The werewolf's curse was now set in his empty soul.