Deep in the forest of Dreamdark, a huntress lay in wait. She knew that her prey would come to her, so why waste energy hunting it for herself? Nay, better to wait, and listen. Listen to the whispers of the forest, of the beasts within, the mutterings of Black Annis, and the distant snarls of snags. Devils. They had invaded her home and destroyed her clan. She was all that remained. And who did she have to thank? Why, the Rathersting and the Magruwen's champion, Magpie Windwitch. It was they who had released those snags, they who had doomed her clan even as they fought to save the world.
They were doomed anyway. The faeries of her clan told of days when they were brilliant with magic and hunted by none, when the clan of Nightstalker was a famed name, one who was honored by all. For what other faeries could disappear at will into the shadows? Not only hide in the dark, but turn invisible even in the light? Ah, but those days were finished. She was the last, and even though her gift was the strongest her clan elders had ever seen, she was a far cry from her ancestors. The Nightstalker clan had wielded other magicks then, during the Dawn Days. Magic that let them trade bodies with all other creatures of the world, magic that led them to draw the dark like paint, spinning dark ghosts into being for their servants. She had none of those gifts. They had not been seen for millennia in her clan. And now they never would be. She was the last.
Opening black, translucent wings that were reminiscent of a butterfly, Artemis Nightstalker flitted forward, a speck of shadow moving within shadow. The night was quiet, as if in wait. Her hand going to her knife, Artemis tensed. Suddenly, a gruesome sound filled the air, a wet, violent crunching of bones and the hoarse, labored breathing of the snag that she had been hunting. Dropping from her branch in absolute silence, silver knife in hand, she struck, knowing that her kin in the Moonlit Gardens were ready and waiting for her latest victim. The Nightstalker clan had been one of the clans to produce devil fighters in the Dawn Days, and their descendants had continued the training, even though it had seemed that snags were gone from the world. This was a low snag, and she dispatched him quickly, her breathing still calm even when her opponent was dead.
Wiping her curved silver blades with a piece of moss, she reached out a pale hand and plucked the teeth of the devil from its mouth. Even her hidden clan had heard about the protection spell that would keep devils from entering a dwelling; a devil's tooth, embedded in the doorway. She had to give credit to the Magruwen's champion for that, although it left a sour taste in her mouth. Stowing the teeth – surprisingly white and rather beautiful in a savage way – in a leather bag at her waist, Artemis sheathed her knives and took to her wings once more. For many days, now, she had gone into Dreamdark and deposited the teeth she found at Hai Issrin Ev in the dead of night. She didn't know how her gifts were received, but she felt better for it. Let others be protected from the fate that had befallen her clan. She would not rest until every devil was bottled or killed.
She was so focused on her mission that she did not notice the slavers who snuck through the shadows. They seized her by the wings and yanked her into the darkness that had once been her friend, but now hid her from the world as she endured what no faerie should endure. The slavers were an ugly, twisted lot, a hodgepodge of faeries and hobgoblins, who sold faerie slaves to other faeries who were as twisted as themselves. Female faeries in particular were valuable, because there were certain corrupt men who would pay a high price for a young girl.
With a shriek as feral as that of a hunting falcon, Artemis fought back, her knives carving into her attackers, but there were just too many. For every slaver she incapacitated, there was another. A hobgoblin seized her around the throat and clapped chains on her wrists. "You're ours now, girlie," he said hoarsely, snickering evilly. His beard was matted and snarled, crawling with bugs and who knew what else. A cruelly handsome faerie grinned at her salaciously as he fastened chains to her ankles. He unbuckled her sheaths, sliding the knives into them and hooking them onto his belt.
Artemis struggled, but it was too late. The bonds were tight. The hobgoblin shoved her towards the handsome faerie who had taken her knives, saying, "If ye want yer way with her ye better do it fast. Molgorn will want this one."
"Aye, Al. I will." Fear blossomed in Artemis' heart as she realized what they were saying.
"No!" she screamed. Her wings snapped open, lifting her into the air, but the chains weighed her down. A hob grabbed a wing and yanked her back down, sending sharp bolts of pain through her. The one that the hob Al had addressed, the faerie, pulled her close to him, his emerald green eyes twinkling.
"Don't you want to come to bed with me?" he crooned, stroking her side, her hip. Artemis stomped on his foot. "Skive!"
He wrenched her around, bringing her face so close to his that she could smell his foul breath. "A feisty one, eh? I can fix that. Molgorn will thank me."
"Don't break her, Jaz. Molgorn won't pay for a badly used one." They were talking about her as if she was…just a piece of merchandise. Which she was, to them, anyway.
"I want to stop by the tavern," another of the faerie slavers said. "I want a girl of my own." His voice was too cultured to have been brought up a slaver. He must come from a good family, Artemis thought.
She took the chance and lashed out with elbows, freeing herself from Jaz's hold. She surged upwards again, straining to escape, visioning the glyphs for flight and speed, using them to accelerate her ascent.
"Hoy!" A faerie grabbed her ankle, and as they dragged her down, two hobs each took one of her wings.
"She's too much trouble, this one," somebody snarled.
"You try it again, and we'll take your wings off," Jaz said, smiling cruelly. No faerie had taken them up on that yet. But then, no faerie had been a Nightstalker. Artemis disappeared before their eyes, and in their shock, they let go of her. But there were too many of them. Every way she turned, she was blocked, even above. Her wing brushed against a hob, and he grabbed ahold of her, ruining the illusion as he yanked. Pain lanced through her again, but she didn't let it show on her face. She summoned the energy to spit in Jaz's face even as he scowled at her. "You asked for it."
Every nerve in Artemis's body screamed as hobs seized her wings and yanked. A faerie held her still while Jaz drew one of her own knives. His face was a mask of fury as he brought the blade down on the joints of her wings, where skin met membrane. The pain blocked out everything else. There was no Artemis, just pain. Searing, twisting, stabbing pain. She couldn't even scream as she fell, the darkness encroaching on her vision and turning the world black.