Chapter 1
What makes a hero? What sets a person above and beyond the average mortal and rockets them into immortal memory? Conquering the seemingly unconquerable, or perhaps it is the once deemed impossible made possible. Or may be it is fearlessly rushing towards death with reckless abandon sacrificing your own self for the greater good that makes one a hero. Whatever the case may be I most certainly never fit the bill. A simple girl with simple desires was never one to wow the crowds with shows of strength or intellect, nor did I give a particular damn about the way society believed I should or shouldn't live my life.
So how did I find myself in this strange place? One minute I was in my bed sleeping peacefully before I was shaken awake and dragged through the halls of my ancestral castle. Given no forewarning or time to argue as the pop of gunfire and agony laced screams filled the air I was mounted upon my monstrously huge horse a package thrust into my hands and rushed from the scene as fire began to greedily swallow the old building with a roaring crackle that shook the midnight air. Terrified and confused we rode into the black forest that surrounded my home the shouts of strangers nipping at our heels only adding to the confusion. Why were they here why had our home been set ablaze. The bundle in my arms was heavy and oblong wrapped in a ratty cloth that had long since seen better days. The thunder of horses hooves rattled the earth as trees flew past my peripheral view nothing but a blur lost to the chaos as the voices trailing us began to fall farther and farther away until I couldn't hear them and the light from the flames became a distant haze on the horizon. "I think we lost them D'Artagnan," I sighed with no small amount of relief as the black stallion beneath me slowed to a gentle trot. Now as the adrenaline started to fade and my heart slowly returned to a steadier rhythm I could feel the brisk chill against the bare skin of my arms and legs, my toes having long since gone numb. "What the hell is going on why were those guys after us?" D'Artagnan snorted pawing at the ground as his magnificent mane of pitch black hair danced in the breeze. "Whatever the case may be we have to get to town," that said we set off at a quick pace once more when out of the darkness a flash of silver was the only warning I had when burning pain cut through my leg, throwing me to the ground with a merciless thud. Breathless and stunned by the fall I lay wide eyed staring into the shadows of the tree tops helpless to the predator's approach, the dry grass crunching beneath heavy boots. Distantly I could hear D'Artagnan whinny in the background as the shadow of my assailant fell upon me; the harbinger of my doom. "Even now you cling to that sword, truly you are a fool or is your loyalty that great? Doesn't matter now," the voice belonged to a man his eyes seeming to glow with an eerie light as I stared up at the man I was sure was going to be my death.
I didn't have the breath to fight let alone run, the reaper had come for me and I could do nothing as the fear of my end stared me down from the face of this stranger. Vision blurred I hadn't even realized I had begun to cry or perhaps it was the blood loss as I gasped for breath desperately clutching the object (a sword as he had claimed?) to my breast. "Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting my family?!"
Yes why was this happening. We didn't do any thing to any one we got on fine with our neighbors society barely knew of our existence. This was the 21st century for Christ's sake! The days of Clans destroying one another had long since passed, so the only remaining thing to do was to ask: why.
The man grinned more so a baring of teeth that had the light of the moon glinting off his pearly whites deepening the shadows that masked his face. "Why you ask? Don't you recognize my voice at all Britannia? After all with your death I'll have everything that was rightfully mine in the first place!" Looking closer I noted the blond hair and silvery eyes not unlike Grandpa's set into what would have been a fairly handsome if not common face the most distinct feature a large burn scar that curved along the left side of his jaw.
"Markus?!"
"Aye ya wee whore! Didn't think you'd be seeing me again did you?"
"You're supposed to be in prison!" I roared passed the pain in my leg righteous outrage giving me the strength to sit up and throw a punch at his middle that he easily sidestepped and I was laid helpless at his feet again. "Ha! As though I'd stay in such a rat whole, not while you're still out breathing free air! I'm going to slice you from that pretty little cunt to ya throat," blade raised over head I could do nothing but watch as it descended in a silver arch through the air when D'Artagnan in all his dark glory came thundering from the shadows throwing the grown man aside like so much meat and began to prance upon Markus' prone form filling the air with the gruesome sounds of crunching bone, heavy breathing, gurgled cries for mercy and splattering blood. "D'Artagnan stop please! That's enough he's dead just stop!" I wasn't crying for that monster, but I could feel the dizziness set in the longer I sat there the pain from my sliced leg growing more apparent by the minute.
The hulking beast turned with a final snort tossing his head before coming to my side head bent to sniff at the blood soaked appendage. "It's fine my love, but we have to go before his compatriots show up to finish me off." Large dark eyes gazed upon me as he knelt beside me allowing for me to climb on his bare back with slightly more easy though with my wound I was unable to straddle him as I normally would so settled for laying across his back like a sack.
"Head to town D'Artagnan, you know the way right?" Redundant to ask a creature a question they couldn't answer but I'd been talking to him in such a fashion for so long I doubt I'd be able to break the habit even if I wanted to, and I didn't.
Slowly I began to drift in and out of consciousness seeing and not seeing as we passed the trees at a steady gait when there was a sudden change to the air. You know the sensation of being watched, the small hairs along the back of your neck stand on end and the air begins to feel heavy with a certain kind of instinctive dread? Gone was the crisp predawn air the smell of moist earth and the copper tang of blood replaced by an almost antiseptic tang and the quiet thud of D'Artagnan's hooves suddenly hitting hard ground not unlike asphalt, the clicking of his horseshoes ringing loud as a jackhammer. Befuddled I opened eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed, taking in the sight afore us.
A white hallway lined with doors greeted me. Where it not for the bizarre doors that stood sentinel I would have thought we'd ridden into a hospital the walls and floor were so sterile and white. "Next," a monotone voice drew my eyes to the center of this strange place. The owner of the voice was a bland looking man with slightly too large blue eyes framed by thick glasses, surrounded by what I liked to call "organized chaos" odd little things from different eras taking up the surface. "What the fuck desk jockey," was the first thing out of my mouth.
He didn't say anything for a long moment as he grabbed a fountain pen from an overflowing mug, proceeding to write something down. I didn't get a chance to demand much more when the stone door next to us opened and a vacuuming pressure drug both D'Artagnan and I into its darkness.