Title: Shunned
Author: Zenchi
Category: Labyrinth
Rating: Pg13-R
Summary: A child, not quite a girl, but still not a woman, is hated by her father and forgotten by the world. What happens when she receives a birthday gift from her aunt, the gift of a small, leather-bound black book, with the words 'Labyrinth of Logic' printed on its cover?
Authors Note: As you must have noticed, I've been having a bit of an identity crisis. While Raven is a beloved part of my persona but I feel that I have grown out of the name, thus we have Zenchi. Zenchi is a Japanese term for all knowing/omnipotence ;-), and I thought that it suited my self-assured attitude quite well. Again, I appreciate all reviews.
~Zenchi ~
Disclaimer- I own nothing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The path twisted and turned through the dense foliage, little light found its way into the great thickness of trees and shrubbery, making the forest take on a hellish darkness. Though she knew she should be feeling frightened and uneasy, Constance felt safe, for the path she walked seemed to glow with a faint and almost pulsing light of its own. It was a comforting beacon in the nightmarish forest to which she traveled. Her bare- footed steps were quick and she took care not to waver from the comfort of the path. She knew not what lingered in the darkness or the shadows, she didn't want to know.
As she quickly traversed the narrow, glowing path, something moved to her right and her body instinctively jerked to a halt. Deep in her subconscious some primal and fierce instincts warred with each other, caught between faking dead and running from the unknown creature.
As she stood stationary at that place in the path, noises and movements began, slowly at first and then with increased fervor. A small jump here, a rustle there, but all too soon she was engulfed by movement, dark creatures with faintly glowing red eyes whirled around her. The creatures drastically ranging in size, from extremely small to the dangerously large, began to bounce and zip from the unknown darkness on one side of the path to the thick brush on the other; where they promptly disappeared. She quickly and violently thrashed and turned from side to side, hoping and trying to avoid being hit by the unknown beings as they propelled through the air at high and unyielding speeds.
At what seemed to be an excruciatingly slow pace, the small creatures began to dissipate and as they did Constance vaguely remembered the nightmares she had that began that very same way. She shuddered as the memories of her childhood frights flooded her mind causing what little color she possessed to drain from her frail features, those nightmares of beasts' and unknown peril had kept her awake and terrified on many a dark night.
As the last creature hoped across her path something like a flame of warning flared in the back of Constance's mind and as her terror began to rise so did the wind. She stood perfectly still and trained her ears on a disturbance deep in the forests' dark and unforgiving depths. It was like a low vibrating or hum, it was almost like the sound of a large trucks engine running in the distance, but that wouldn't be possible here. Whatever it was, was getting closer, and with every passing second it reminded her more of a low and predatory growl of an angered animal than the sound of an engine.
With that thought she was stricken, before any rational thought could come to mind she became possessed by her self-preserving instincts and began running as fast as her bare feet would take her.
She had been here before. All of these things seemed to be familiar, sickeningly so. She had ran from this creature many times before and only escaped it when the sun rose. It was a manticore, a large creature with the body of a red lion, the face, ears and blues eyes of a man and a powerful stinging, scorpion like tail. It had been something she had read about in a history of Indonesia when she had been a small girl. Tales of how the creatures' three rows of three would rip through a humans flesh in the same fashion that a knife would butter had rooted a deep fear in the girl, one that had survived childhood and adolescence.
She was living in a nightmare. She shuddered at the thought, she had to escape. She pushed her limbs to the limit, forcing them to move at a pace that had been unknown to her until that day. A damp sheen of cold sweat formed over her skin and her breathing became labored with panic and exertion. Dark trees passed by her line of vision quickly and the wind became more violent with every panicked gasp she inhaled.
She followed the glowing path religiously, never wandering from its safe light. She followed to a straighter stretch and with a small, forced smile she picked up her speed. She tried to keep herself moving like that, flowing with a speed and grace that was new and uncomfortable to her. Then she tripped.
Her foot caught on small root or branch that littered the path and she went hurtling through the air and tumbled to the ground several feet away from her starting point. She skidded over branches and brush, pain flowing through her as the soft and delicate flesh on her limbs clashed with the bark of fallen tree branches.
She rolled to a halt and lay motionless for several long moments, her hollow breathing and the manticores enraged growls were the only sounds to be heard. With a low groan she pushed herself up on her elbows and found herself in complete darkness, the path had disappeared. With a stifled cry she realized she was lost in this land of nightmares with no escape root to be found.
Her thoughts became muddled as she quickly tried to review her options, only to realize she had none. She stood on shaking legs and as low and feral growl sounded almost directly behind her she began running again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tristram took brisk steps down the ivory corridor as he traveled to the thrown room; he felt unease seep into the pit of his stomach and as some unknown sense flared in the back of his mind his pace quickened. He paused for a split second before the large ivory and silver doors before slinging them open with an inhuman amount of force. He aloud his impassive mask to slip into place as he took composed and slow steps into the room, not bothering to acknowledge the large amount of strange creatures that had filtered into the room in his absence.
Cadmus and Westley stood in the center of the room, directly before the thrown, waiting to report to their lord and master. Westley took in the fierce look that filled his kings' eyes and almost fell back a pace; he diverted his gaze to a point on the wall behind his lords' head and forced himself to stand still. Many of the other less brave, creatures that littered the room pressed themselves against the walls and away from his intimidating form, hoping not to call attention upon themselves.
The magic that surrounded and flowed through Tristram was almost tangible, the atmosphere crackled and sparked with his powerful energy. It was at moments like these, that Cadmus was reminded exactly why the tall man before him was a king.
Tristram came to halt in the center of the vast thrown room only a few paces in front of his advisor and page and without greeting or introduction demanded to know what had happened. Before either could answer he directed a meaningful gaze towards a door that occupied the wall to his far right.
Nodding quickly in understanding, Westley rushed forward and opened the door. He bowed his head as Tristram fluidly waltzed past and hoped that the action of submission and respect would earn him extra favor and spare him any of his sovereigns' anger in this time of worry. He stood silent as Cadmus entered behind his king, knowing that his place as a page was well beneath that of the elderly Lamian advisor.
He quickly entered the room and silently shut the door. He turned and took in the familiar surroundings that were affectionately dubbed 'the viewing room.' It was spacious and beautiful; decorated in dark, rich woods and flowing white fabric. It was almost unearthly. Dark mahogany furniture was placed strategically in spots on a pristine white marble floor. Heavy white drapes flowed from the ceiling to cover monstrous open bay windows, with every breeze they seemed to move with a life of their own and when they twisted away from the large windows one could see the beginnings of twilight filter into the room.
Though all of these decorations were beautiful in their detail and eye pleasing features, they paled in comparison to the focal point of the room. It sat on a large silver and gold carved stand; it was large, round and as clear as fresh water. It was a crystal, massive in proportion and meant for viewing things that would be blurred and distorted by the smaller versions that Tristram controlled so easily. This crystal had been a gift from Jareth for their three-hundredth birthday, he possessed it's pale blue twin in a room quite similar to this in his Goblin Castle.
"Your majesty, if you will allow me to explain." Westley began slowly as he watched his lord and master carefully as he approached the crystal and moved his hand in a circular motion in the air over the orbs surface, the interior of the crystal began to shift and change into a dark image, "She is caught in her own living nightmare. A manticore is pursuing her through the forest of nightmares; if it continues to chase her until these last two hours expire then you shall win the game. But, if she allows herself to become to deeply involved in the nightmare, she will drive herself to insanity." He finished his sentence slowly and watched as an alien emotion drifted across Tristrams features, only to be hastily swept away and replaced with a cold mask that so greatly resembled the villain to which he was supposed to be portraying in this play that Westley almost stepped back in shock. His normally passive and kind king was acting strange indeed.
Tristram directed a cool glare at his young fey page and as he spoke restraint was apparent in his normally smooth and political tone, "It would be a pity to waste such a mind, she is the most complex and challenging creature I've come in contact with." he paused as he shifted his gaze back to the view orb, she struggling in the darkness there, "I believe she can challenge me further."
Both lamia and fey watched in barely hidden shock as their king pulled a crystal from the air. Cadmus, realizing Tristrams intentions somewhat sooner than Westley, took a slight step forward and urgently tried to make his King see reason, "Are you sure of this sire? You are risking an incident similar to that that the newly crowned High King experienced, if those events should be repeated you will show weakness to the Seelie Court and surrounding kingdoms. Your family cannot bear any further scrutiny from the Seelie Court without the risk of being removed from your positions."
"Do not question my decisions, Cadmus. The Seelie Court knows that it would be impossible for them to remove our family from our thrones and titles, we have the greatest connections to the Underground and it's power, for our family line sprung forth from the first Labyrinth its self." Tristrams' reply sounded cool and indifferent, he did not wait for a reply tough. He simply disappeared from the room.
With a defeated sigh Cadmus turned to Westley, "Well, that could have gone better."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Constance stumbled in the darken wood, large roots and fallen limbs making her feel as though she were navigating an obstacle course in the dark. Gnarled, black branches reached out from the shadowed abyss and seemed to grab at her like desperate, arthritic hands. She struggled to keep herself steady and upright, as gusts of wind that blew in time with her frustration, shoved those large branches into her and her unseen path.
She almost screamed as something reached from the darkness and caught hold of her shirt. She turned quickly, trying to disentangled herself, but only managing to tear a dead tree limb from her shirt; successfully ripping the thin cotton fabric that covered her lower back and right side. With a rather loud explicative she turn and started in a different direction, she could hear the manticore coming closer and she didn't have time to waster on trivial matter like her clothing.
The manticores furious growling grew closer with every passing second, no matter how strong her efforts were to escape it, it still closed in. She tried to calm her breathing, praying to whatever higher being that was listening that she wouldn't panic into error.
A strange feeling washed over her, a sixth sense alarming her to the presence of another being, and it was closer than she dared to think. She skidded to a stop, tearing the soft soles of her bare feet in the process. The wind grew deathly calm as she listen to all that was around her, hoping she could pin-point where this new creature was located before it could do something to harm her.
Her fear growing at an alarming rate and she could only whimper when strong, gloved hands reached out from behind her and gripped her shoulders. She was forcibly spun around to face her assailant, and she quickly clamped her eyes shut and bowed her head, not wanting to meet her fate just yet.
"Oh, do stop the dramatics and look at me." a strong, accented voice sliced through the air, causing her to slowly open her eyes.
She was first met with a pair of shinning brown knee boots, then, as she slowly raised her gaze she saw tight breeches that were colored a strange light tan. A flowing poets shirt of the same color was tucked into the waist band of the tight breeches, a fitted leather vest the same color as the knee boots covered his chest and shoulders. Both shirt and vest were opened to reveal a good deal of his pale and lightly muscled chest, a strange golden pendant lay in stark contrast against his skin. His bright, burnished gold hair hung down on to his shoulders in wild, yet attractive disarray. Her eyes slowly crawled up his face, starting at his small, but still strong and defiant chin, thin, hard mouth, his beautiful and aquiline nose, strange liquid metal eyes and sweeping golden eye-brows. He truly was a beautiful creature.
In the few seconds it took to reach his eyes, she had aloud a small, almost inaudible gasp to escape her throat and the wind had gone from deathly calm, to violently harsh and back. Tristram smiled, almost cruelly down at the young woman he held in his hands. Her eyes were no longer wide with fear or averted from their unknown destiny. They were gazing at him intently they held a light of wonder within their rich, dark violet depths that he had only seen in the eyes of children and infants. Those eyes, he noted sadly, were marked by something unseen. It did not impair their beauty in anyway, but it caused her to have an added air of mystery and danger.
The manticores loud and feral growling brought them both crashing back to reality and reminded him of the current situation, the beast was upon them. "You will not die in this place." he whispered as he quickly wrapped an arm around her trim waist and willed them to the trees on the outer edge of the forest that was closest to her next challenge.
Constance found herself in the arms of the handsome and frightening Lamian king, and for some unknown reason, she wasn't protesting. The now bare skin of her right side shivered beneath his gloved hand, delighted at the contact. A strange, warm feeling swept through her, it was like a mixture of joy and giddiness she had never experienced before. A gentle breeze swept over their forms as the scenery changed around them, it was light and warm, almost caressing.
Tristram looked down at the girl in surprise as the breeze passed over them. Did she know how telling her untrained powers were? No, of course not, he berated himself. If she knew, she would have already reigned in her powers and hidden the emotions further beneath the surface.
As she unconsciously wiggled in his grasp he remembered the position and swift released her small body, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Quickly leveling her with an even gaze, despite his own turmoil, he said "This location should allow you to continue your quest."
"But, shouldn't there have been another challenge in the forest?" Constance found herself blurting out, not even realizing she had even opened her mouth.
"The challenge was to make it out alive." he answered briefly as he stared at her slight form with a hint of interest, "But if you would prefer to chance expulsion from the game, I would be willing to test your intellect."
Looking at him carefully, hoping that her gaze wasn't as obvious as his, she debated whether or not to take this chance. If she didn't she could continue on and risk losing, but then, she wouldn't be here in his electrifying presence. "Alright then, what is your challenge?" her voice rang out clear and a smile spread upon his thin lips, she wondered if she had made the right decision.
With a deadly feral smile he took a step back and spoke lightly in his beautifully accented voice, "It is a simple riddle. Answer correctly and you may proceed to the next challenge, but answer wrong and loose everything." with that said looked into her eyes and began to recite the riddle that would determine her future, "To the bold, I am a weapon. To the gallant, I am a pin. To the bridesmaid, I am a win. To the bride, I am a dream." with a heavy exhale he signaled for her to answer.
She looked at him for several minutes, forcing her mind to think of what those things had in common. Why did he have to be so difficult? With a heavy sigh she squared her shoulders and looked into his metallic eyes, "Silver. A silver bullet is a weapon, a silver star is a metal for gallantry, a silver medal is given to a runner up which could be a bridesmaid, and silver wedding is a dream for all brides." she answered quickly, hoping not leave anything out.
A slow grin spread across Tristrams features as he clapped his gloved hands, "Very good. You may continue your quest young halfling." his voice took on a condescending note as he whispered "Do not expect me to save you every time you face danger."
Although there was a threat in those words Constance found herself thinking his voice was still lovely and she hated him for making her want to swoon every time she heard it. She hated him for making her want so many things.
With a final bow and a smirk that said he knew what she was thinking, he disappeared with a twist of his cloak and a shower glitter and Constance was once again alone.
Author: Zenchi
Category: Labyrinth
Rating: Pg13-R
Summary: A child, not quite a girl, but still not a woman, is hated by her father and forgotten by the world. What happens when she receives a birthday gift from her aunt, the gift of a small, leather-bound black book, with the words 'Labyrinth of Logic' printed on its cover?
Authors Note: As you must have noticed, I've been having a bit of an identity crisis. While Raven is a beloved part of my persona but I feel that I have grown out of the name, thus we have Zenchi. Zenchi is a Japanese term for all knowing/omnipotence ;-), and I thought that it suited my self-assured attitude quite well. Again, I appreciate all reviews.
~Zenchi ~
Disclaimer- I own nothing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The path twisted and turned through the dense foliage, little light found its way into the great thickness of trees and shrubbery, making the forest take on a hellish darkness. Though she knew she should be feeling frightened and uneasy, Constance felt safe, for the path she walked seemed to glow with a faint and almost pulsing light of its own. It was a comforting beacon in the nightmarish forest to which she traveled. Her bare- footed steps were quick and she took care not to waver from the comfort of the path. She knew not what lingered in the darkness or the shadows, she didn't want to know.
As she quickly traversed the narrow, glowing path, something moved to her right and her body instinctively jerked to a halt. Deep in her subconscious some primal and fierce instincts warred with each other, caught between faking dead and running from the unknown creature.
As she stood stationary at that place in the path, noises and movements began, slowly at first and then with increased fervor. A small jump here, a rustle there, but all too soon she was engulfed by movement, dark creatures with faintly glowing red eyes whirled around her. The creatures drastically ranging in size, from extremely small to the dangerously large, began to bounce and zip from the unknown darkness on one side of the path to the thick brush on the other; where they promptly disappeared. She quickly and violently thrashed and turned from side to side, hoping and trying to avoid being hit by the unknown beings as they propelled through the air at high and unyielding speeds.
At what seemed to be an excruciatingly slow pace, the small creatures began to dissipate and as they did Constance vaguely remembered the nightmares she had that began that very same way. She shuddered as the memories of her childhood frights flooded her mind causing what little color she possessed to drain from her frail features, those nightmares of beasts' and unknown peril had kept her awake and terrified on many a dark night.
As the last creature hoped across her path something like a flame of warning flared in the back of Constance's mind and as her terror began to rise so did the wind. She stood perfectly still and trained her ears on a disturbance deep in the forests' dark and unforgiving depths. It was like a low vibrating or hum, it was almost like the sound of a large trucks engine running in the distance, but that wouldn't be possible here. Whatever it was, was getting closer, and with every passing second it reminded her more of a low and predatory growl of an angered animal than the sound of an engine.
With that thought she was stricken, before any rational thought could come to mind she became possessed by her self-preserving instincts and began running as fast as her bare feet would take her.
She had been here before. All of these things seemed to be familiar, sickeningly so. She had ran from this creature many times before and only escaped it when the sun rose. It was a manticore, a large creature with the body of a red lion, the face, ears and blues eyes of a man and a powerful stinging, scorpion like tail. It had been something she had read about in a history of Indonesia when she had been a small girl. Tales of how the creatures' three rows of three would rip through a humans flesh in the same fashion that a knife would butter had rooted a deep fear in the girl, one that had survived childhood and adolescence.
She was living in a nightmare. She shuddered at the thought, she had to escape. She pushed her limbs to the limit, forcing them to move at a pace that had been unknown to her until that day. A damp sheen of cold sweat formed over her skin and her breathing became labored with panic and exertion. Dark trees passed by her line of vision quickly and the wind became more violent with every panicked gasp she inhaled.
She followed the glowing path religiously, never wandering from its safe light. She followed to a straighter stretch and with a small, forced smile she picked up her speed. She tried to keep herself moving like that, flowing with a speed and grace that was new and uncomfortable to her. Then she tripped.
Her foot caught on small root or branch that littered the path and she went hurtling through the air and tumbled to the ground several feet away from her starting point. She skidded over branches and brush, pain flowing through her as the soft and delicate flesh on her limbs clashed with the bark of fallen tree branches.
She rolled to a halt and lay motionless for several long moments, her hollow breathing and the manticores enraged growls were the only sounds to be heard. With a low groan she pushed herself up on her elbows and found herself in complete darkness, the path had disappeared. With a stifled cry she realized she was lost in this land of nightmares with no escape root to be found.
Her thoughts became muddled as she quickly tried to review her options, only to realize she had none. She stood on shaking legs and as low and feral growl sounded almost directly behind her she began running again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tristram took brisk steps down the ivory corridor as he traveled to the thrown room; he felt unease seep into the pit of his stomach and as some unknown sense flared in the back of his mind his pace quickened. He paused for a split second before the large ivory and silver doors before slinging them open with an inhuman amount of force. He aloud his impassive mask to slip into place as he took composed and slow steps into the room, not bothering to acknowledge the large amount of strange creatures that had filtered into the room in his absence.
Cadmus and Westley stood in the center of the room, directly before the thrown, waiting to report to their lord and master. Westley took in the fierce look that filled his kings' eyes and almost fell back a pace; he diverted his gaze to a point on the wall behind his lords' head and forced himself to stand still. Many of the other less brave, creatures that littered the room pressed themselves against the walls and away from his intimidating form, hoping not to call attention upon themselves.
The magic that surrounded and flowed through Tristram was almost tangible, the atmosphere crackled and sparked with his powerful energy. It was at moments like these, that Cadmus was reminded exactly why the tall man before him was a king.
Tristram came to halt in the center of the vast thrown room only a few paces in front of his advisor and page and without greeting or introduction demanded to know what had happened. Before either could answer he directed a meaningful gaze towards a door that occupied the wall to his far right.
Nodding quickly in understanding, Westley rushed forward and opened the door. He bowed his head as Tristram fluidly waltzed past and hoped that the action of submission and respect would earn him extra favor and spare him any of his sovereigns' anger in this time of worry. He stood silent as Cadmus entered behind his king, knowing that his place as a page was well beneath that of the elderly Lamian advisor.
He quickly entered the room and silently shut the door. He turned and took in the familiar surroundings that were affectionately dubbed 'the viewing room.' It was spacious and beautiful; decorated in dark, rich woods and flowing white fabric. It was almost unearthly. Dark mahogany furniture was placed strategically in spots on a pristine white marble floor. Heavy white drapes flowed from the ceiling to cover monstrous open bay windows, with every breeze they seemed to move with a life of their own and when they twisted away from the large windows one could see the beginnings of twilight filter into the room.
Though all of these decorations were beautiful in their detail and eye pleasing features, they paled in comparison to the focal point of the room. It sat on a large silver and gold carved stand; it was large, round and as clear as fresh water. It was a crystal, massive in proportion and meant for viewing things that would be blurred and distorted by the smaller versions that Tristram controlled so easily. This crystal had been a gift from Jareth for their three-hundredth birthday, he possessed it's pale blue twin in a room quite similar to this in his Goblin Castle.
"Your majesty, if you will allow me to explain." Westley began slowly as he watched his lord and master carefully as he approached the crystal and moved his hand in a circular motion in the air over the orbs surface, the interior of the crystal began to shift and change into a dark image, "She is caught in her own living nightmare. A manticore is pursuing her through the forest of nightmares; if it continues to chase her until these last two hours expire then you shall win the game. But, if she allows herself to become to deeply involved in the nightmare, she will drive herself to insanity." He finished his sentence slowly and watched as an alien emotion drifted across Tristrams features, only to be hastily swept away and replaced with a cold mask that so greatly resembled the villain to which he was supposed to be portraying in this play that Westley almost stepped back in shock. His normally passive and kind king was acting strange indeed.
Tristram directed a cool glare at his young fey page and as he spoke restraint was apparent in his normally smooth and political tone, "It would be a pity to waste such a mind, she is the most complex and challenging creature I've come in contact with." he paused as he shifted his gaze back to the view orb, she struggling in the darkness there, "I believe she can challenge me further."
Both lamia and fey watched in barely hidden shock as their king pulled a crystal from the air. Cadmus, realizing Tristrams intentions somewhat sooner than Westley, took a slight step forward and urgently tried to make his King see reason, "Are you sure of this sire? You are risking an incident similar to that that the newly crowned High King experienced, if those events should be repeated you will show weakness to the Seelie Court and surrounding kingdoms. Your family cannot bear any further scrutiny from the Seelie Court without the risk of being removed from your positions."
"Do not question my decisions, Cadmus. The Seelie Court knows that it would be impossible for them to remove our family from our thrones and titles, we have the greatest connections to the Underground and it's power, for our family line sprung forth from the first Labyrinth its self." Tristrams' reply sounded cool and indifferent, he did not wait for a reply tough. He simply disappeared from the room.
With a defeated sigh Cadmus turned to Westley, "Well, that could have gone better."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Constance stumbled in the darken wood, large roots and fallen limbs making her feel as though she were navigating an obstacle course in the dark. Gnarled, black branches reached out from the shadowed abyss and seemed to grab at her like desperate, arthritic hands. She struggled to keep herself steady and upright, as gusts of wind that blew in time with her frustration, shoved those large branches into her and her unseen path.
She almost screamed as something reached from the darkness and caught hold of her shirt. She turned quickly, trying to disentangled herself, but only managing to tear a dead tree limb from her shirt; successfully ripping the thin cotton fabric that covered her lower back and right side. With a rather loud explicative she turn and started in a different direction, she could hear the manticore coming closer and she didn't have time to waster on trivial matter like her clothing.
The manticores furious growling grew closer with every passing second, no matter how strong her efforts were to escape it, it still closed in. She tried to calm her breathing, praying to whatever higher being that was listening that she wouldn't panic into error.
A strange feeling washed over her, a sixth sense alarming her to the presence of another being, and it was closer than she dared to think. She skidded to a stop, tearing the soft soles of her bare feet in the process. The wind grew deathly calm as she listen to all that was around her, hoping she could pin-point where this new creature was located before it could do something to harm her.
Her fear growing at an alarming rate and she could only whimper when strong, gloved hands reached out from behind her and gripped her shoulders. She was forcibly spun around to face her assailant, and she quickly clamped her eyes shut and bowed her head, not wanting to meet her fate just yet.
"Oh, do stop the dramatics and look at me." a strong, accented voice sliced through the air, causing her to slowly open her eyes.
She was first met with a pair of shinning brown knee boots, then, as she slowly raised her gaze she saw tight breeches that were colored a strange light tan. A flowing poets shirt of the same color was tucked into the waist band of the tight breeches, a fitted leather vest the same color as the knee boots covered his chest and shoulders. Both shirt and vest were opened to reveal a good deal of his pale and lightly muscled chest, a strange golden pendant lay in stark contrast against his skin. His bright, burnished gold hair hung down on to his shoulders in wild, yet attractive disarray. Her eyes slowly crawled up his face, starting at his small, but still strong and defiant chin, thin, hard mouth, his beautiful and aquiline nose, strange liquid metal eyes and sweeping golden eye-brows. He truly was a beautiful creature.
In the few seconds it took to reach his eyes, she had aloud a small, almost inaudible gasp to escape her throat and the wind had gone from deathly calm, to violently harsh and back. Tristram smiled, almost cruelly down at the young woman he held in his hands. Her eyes were no longer wide with fear or averted from their unknown destiny. They were gazing at him intently they held a light of wonder within their rich, dark violet depths that he had only seen in the eyes of children and infants. Those eyes, he noted sadly, were marked by something unseen. It did not impair their beauty in anyway, but it caused her to have an added air of mystery and danger.
The manticores loud and feral growling brought them both crashing back to reality and reminded him of the current situation, the beast was upon them. "You will not die in this place." he whispered as he quickly wrapped an arm around her trim waist and willed them to the trees on the outer edge of the forest that was closest to her next challenge.
Constance found herself in the arms of the handsome and frightening Lamian king, and for some unknown reason, she wasn't protesting. The now bare skin of her right side shivered beneath his gloved hand, delighted at the contact. A strange, warm feeling swept through her, it was like a mixture of joy and giddiness she had never experienced before. A gentle breeze swept over their forms as the scenery changed around them, it was light and warm, almost caressing.
Tristram looked down at the girl in surprise as the breeze passed over them. Did she know how telling her untrained powers were? No, of course not, he berated himself. If she knew, she would have already reigned in her powers and hidden the emotions further beneath the surface.
As she unconsciously wiggled in his grasp he remembered the position and swift released her small body, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Quickly leveling her with an even gaze, despite his own turmoil, he said "This location should allow you to continue your quest."
"But, shouldn't there have been another challenge in the forest?" Constance found herself blurting out, not even realizing she had even opened her mouth.
"The challenge was to make it out alive." he answered briefly as he stared at her slight form with a hint of interest, "But if you would prefer to chance expulsion from the game, I would be willing to test your intellect."
Looking at him carefully, hoping that her gaze wasn't as obvious as his, she debated whether or not to take this chance. If she didn't she could continue on and risk losing, but then, she wouldn't be here in his electrifying presence. "Alright then, what is your challenge?" her voice rang out clear and a smile spread upon his thin lips, she wondered if she had made the right decision.
With a deadly feral smile he took a step back and spoke lightly in his beautifully accented voice, "It is a simple riddle. Answer correctly and you may proceed to the next challenge, but answer wrong and loose everything." with that said looked into her eyes and began to recite the riddle that would determine her future, "To the bold, I am a weapon. To the gallant, I am a pin. To the bridesmaid, I am a win. To the bride, I am a dream." with a heavy exhale he signaled for her to answer.
She looked at him for several minutes, forcing her mind to think of what those things had in common. Why did he have to be so difficult? With a heavy sigh she squared her shoulders and looked into his metallic eyes, "Silver. A silver bullet is a weapon, a silver star is a metal for gallantry, a silver medal is given to a runner up which could be a bridesmaid, and silver wedding is a dream for all brides." she answered quickly, hoping not leave anything out.
A slow grin spread across Tristrams features as he clapped his gloved hands, "Very good. You may continue your quest young halfling." his voice took on a condescending note as he whispered "Do not expect me to save you every time you face danger."
Although there was a threat in those words Constance found herself thinking his voice was still lovely and she hated him for making her want to swoon every time she heard it. She hated him for making her want so many things.
With a final bow and a smirk that said he knew what she was thinking, he disappeared with a twist of his cloak and a shower glitter and Constance was once again alone.