A few words...

That's a blog I made to post my stories and anything else I feel like posting! (Which means you might actually come across pictures of something I managed to cook instead of burning, or some joke I found particularly funny... Don't worry if you do, I didn't go mental. Maybe because I already sort of am!)


Take a look around, check out my stories, picking the category you like best and leave me your thoughts! Even a teeny tiny comment counts! Although I really like long comments!

I wanted to thank my wonderful beta, Wendy D, for putting up with me and editing my Twilight fan fics and original stories and for her support! I also wanna leave some love for some co-writers, readers and friends who always manage to distract me by chatting while I'm writing and I just love them for that! So, Lucia, Kenzie, Alexandria and Chloe, I love ya all tons!

Nessie

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

The Arcanum of the Pak-ans ~ Prologue


Prologue

Meliera dashed forward, trying not to look back at her pursuers. She had been running for so long, that she was using every last bit of strength left inside her to keep moving. She could hear the flapping of wings getting closer and closer with each step, and she knew that she was falling behind.

“Shoot!” she muttered, trying to speed up. With her hand she tugged at her right wing, trying to pluck out a feather. When she looked at her fist, she had a dozen of them in it, but she hadn’t felt them being ripped off. They got me for good, she thought bitterly. She tried to take off once more, but her feet stayed on the ground. All I can do is keep running then... she mused.

A shadow passed over Meliera’s head, covering her momentarily, and flying straight ahead. He’s not after me? she wondered, looking at his figure, dark against the setting sun. Only then did she realize why she had been bypassed. The clouds rose high around her, creating a thick wall that obscured her sight from above.

A small smile formed on her lips, and clutching the feathers tightly in her fist, she moved forward, heading for the only place she could be safe, the Kahoy. Omer should be there, waiting for her. If she reached it, they could get away together, just like he had promised.

Just a little longer, she told herself, even though it was a lie. Her “little longer” turned to minutes, and the minutes to hours, until she was moving through shadows; the clouds that once concealed her, now suffocating her, as she tried to find her way through their thick matter.

Meliera wanted to stop. Countless times, she thought to herself she had had enough, that it didn’t matter if anyone cared about her anymore, and that she should just sit down right there and wait for her pursuers to find her. But somehow she kept on moving, until she couldn’t feel her feet anymore, until they were as numb as her wings.

Eventually the sun peeked through the clouds, lighting her path as it rose on the horizon, and she saw the outline of the Kahoy. The great tree stood proudly on the hill ahead, its pale roots spreading around the whole tor like snakes. Meliera breathed deeply, clutched her teeth, and started climbing through the roots.

She let the wind take the feathers from her fist, and held on to the closest root, trying to push herself forward. “Oh…” The cry left her lips without her realizing. She didn’t feel the pain, but she saw a trail of red left on everything she touched. I guess my wings have been dripping all the way here… she assumed. Three arrows aren’t a laughing matter after all. It doesn’t matter though. I’m right here, and Omer said he’ll be waiting by the Kahoy. He’ll be there. For sure.

She tried not to think about the blood, nor her wound, or her pursuers. She merely looked up, at the Kahoy. Only the side facing the north was blooming in this season. Bare of leaves, two lonely branches were covered in petite, golden buds, shyly peeking at the morning sun. It looks so beautiful… is it because I won’t see it again? She felt a tear sliding down her cheek, as she reached the top, and she leaned on the Kahoy’s bark for support.

A familiar figure stepped out of the shadow of the tree. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his feathers were neatly tucked to his sides.

“Omer…” Meliera breathed out in relief. “I… we… we have to get going…”

The man approached her, and placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. She felt a little calmer.

“It’s way out of my control,” she continued, feeling the need to explain further. “We really need to leave. I can’t stop it anymore. I failed. I…”

Omer stroked her cheek, and looked at her sadly.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? You said we would go. This is why you were waiting, isn’t it?”

A frown clouded his face. He took a few steps back, and that sad look just wouldn’t leave his face. “I’m really sorry, Meliera. I didn’t mean for any of these to happen.” His voice was strange, low and raspy. He reached into his clothes and pulled out a wooden whistle.

Meliera’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omer? What are you doing?” She tried to walk forward, but her exhaustion caught up with her. She felt a rush of dizziness, and fell to her knees. She didn’t know what she wanted to say anymore. She just sat there, looking at him, and the whistle in his hand in shock.

“I want you to know… I really loved you,” Omer said, averting his eyes from her tearstained face, and staring off in the horizon. He brought the whistle to his lips, and blew hard.

Meliera felt her sight blurring, and the last thing she saw were shadows of winged people, and the falling golden buds.

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