"A Slayers Rite of Passage"
Indonesia, 926 A.D.
Jakrhi Ab-Dhaila walked through the maze of tunnels and pathways, barely lit by the flickering torches which led her around every bend. She gripped the stake firmly in her hand. Her heartbeat was fast, she was breathing heavily, but tried to keep her paces silent for fear of the demons discovering that the Chosen One had found them. She got a bad feeling about this, the feeling that she was walking right into a trap. But her watcher insisted on her investigating this particular nest, a nest of vile bloodsucking beasts who had reigned over her small fishing village near Bali for months.
"Stay calm." she told herself.
In the four months of her active duty, she had never had as bad a feeling as she had now. Although her tenure wasn't as prolonged as other Slayers she had read and heard stories about, Jakrhi had taken out an ample amount of demons and vampires alike. But lately, since she had turned eighteen, she has been feeling weaker, less coordinated, vulnerable. Her watcher told her it was a touch of something and he dismissed it. She had read of many Slayers, if not all, not living past the age of eighteen, and she wondered, did a Slayer's eighteenth year signify that they were too old to do their job, that it was time for a new girl to take their place? Of course, this suspicion had been put to rest when she read the scrolls of a watcher from Ancient Greece, who had a Slayer, named Thessily, reigned for over seventeen years.
Putting all thoughts out of mind, she walked through the tunnels and cavern formations, and much thanks to the torch light, she saw a flicker of movement ahead. She sped up in paces and ran head-on into her opponent; his face deformed and contorted, fangs of ivory glistening in the firelight.
She tried to execute an uppercut, but in her weakened state, the vampire easily blocked it and sent her flying into the cavern wall behind her. She tried an inneffective series of hand-arm techniques, but she was too weak. She retreated, the vampire followed.
"Oh God," she said, wincing in pain "I am going to die here." she looked around, searching for the best way to escape, there were no tunnels or escape routes where she stood. Trapped. She managed a few blows, but her opponent was barely affected. Jakrhi was frightened, bleeding, and trapped. She swung her arm, connected, and swung again with her freed arm, but the vampire grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. Jakrhi tucked and rolled and sprang to her feet, readying her stake. The vampire turned, and before it could react, the Slayer shoved the stake into his chest.
Feeling triumphant, she wiped the sweat from her brow. She watched as he turned to dust. Jahkri turned and she saw that another vampire awaited her, she gasped as his fierce punch hurled her into the rear wall.
Weaponless, she went into a fighting stance, fists in the air and feet firmly planted. What the Slayer didn't know, was that a second vampire was creeping up behind her. He attempted an attack from behind, but Jakrhi flipped him over her shoulders and moved towards a granite pillar. She walked around it, hoping to evade the vampire's attack. She saw that the vampires had been blind sided and were looking for their target, the Chosen One used this to her advantage and turned and ran.
As she scurried through a series of pathways, she saw a hole above her, she followed the light from the moon and used the rocky walls to climb up to the small opening.
She had done it, she had survived the dreaded test of a Slayer's prowess. She had almost freed herself, when she felt a cold clawed arm reach up and grab her ankle, pulling her back in. Her nails dug deep trails in the dirt as she tried to regain some kind of hold to the earth. The screams of the Chosen One could be heard as she fell all the way back down into the cavern, which would now become her final resting place.
Jakrhi Ab-Dhaila the Vampire Slayer, was dead.
THE END
