Legacy
Written by,
Brianna Phillips
Stroke of Luck
Hanging by threads of
palest silver
I could have stayed that way forever
Bad blood and ghosts wrapped tight around me
Nothing could ever seem to touch me
I lose what I love most
Did you know I was lost until you found me?
A stroke of luck or gift from God?
The hand of fate or devil's claws?
From below or saints above?
You came to me
Here comes the cold again
I feel it closing in
It's falling down and
All around me falling down
You say that you'll be there to catch me
Or will you only try to trap me
These are the rules I make
Our chains were meant to break
You'll never change me
Here comes the cold again
I feel it closing in
You're falling down and
All around me falling
Stroke of luck or gift from God?
Hand of fate or devil's claws?
From below or saints above?
You come to me now
Don't ask me why
Don't even try
A stroke of luck or a gift from God?
The hand of fate or devil's claws?
From below or saints above?
You came to me
Here comes the cold again
I feel it closing in
It's falling down and
All around me falling
Falling, falling
Falling, falling
Falling, falling
Prologue
No Mercy
Dante entered the tavern. She had been traveling further than she had expected to that vile night. Her long, slender legs were weak, muscles throbbing, throat parched. She had discovered a nearby town and had decided to survey the brand of ale they offered. When eyes lain on her cloaked, broad form, they narrowed. Some people gasped. It was as if death had wandered into the tavern itself to perish all who got in "his" way.
"The tavern is not open for... strangers, such as yourslef," the man behind the counter rasped, face old from living so many years, eyes bright blue, much like her own sparkling skies. His pants hung down his legs, below a large beer belly that naturally came with being a tavern owner.
"I want some ale," Dante flatly stated, moving her hand to the hilt of her sword, aware of her surroundings. If anyone attacked her, their guts would be spilled onto the wooden floor in seconds.
"That is something I can not help you with, stranger," he murmured, tone quiet as a grave. He seemed to not want to attract attention to himself, although a cloaked spectacle such as herself was enough to raise the dead.
She felt like threatening the man, leaping over the counter like a deer, wrapping her hands around his bloated neck. Perhaps then would he serve her what she desired. Instead, she stormed out of the tavern and into the cold night air. This what where she met her fate.
***
Back in the tavern, Jorgose, the tavern manager, motioned his guards over, warning them that the woman Lord Largias was looking for just wandered blindly out of the tavern and was headed south. He grinned when the guards rushed out, face expressions that of a hungry wolf, eager to devour its victim, ripping its flesh into thousands of pieces.
***
Dante stepped angrily in a cold puddle, ignoring the wetness that soaked her through her boots, causing shivers to cascade up and down her spine. Her thoughts clouded her mind, resulting in tragedy, for she could not hear the soft footsteps closing in on her. However, she did hear the ring of swords as they were drawn.
She barely had time to turn around. Rough hands gripped her and forced her to stand a certain way, facing a young man with as built a form as her own, brown eyes almost lifeles as he raised his sword, metal glinting in the indigo of the moon. His face was contorted, neck veins standing out as he brought the sword down and struck her shoulder, purposefully making her feel excruciating pain. He laughed as he tortured her, bled her. The ground became littered in her red liquid. It soon blended with the rain, going about unnoticed. Her screams were not. Though a mile from the village, the people could hear the inhuman screams coming from the woods as the men tortured her.
Every part of her throbbing form felt light. Darkness began to devour her until a blinding light pierced her vision. Unable to contain the force of fire raging at her, she closed her eyes, her heart beating one final time, lulling to a slow halt as unconsciousness reigned surpreme.
Chapter One
Introduction of Talon
Talon had heard several rumors. Things had been alternating since the mysterious death had been reported several moons ago. The land seemed to grow darker. Hateful. Unkind. Everytime she spoke with someone, they seemed hostile. She pondered if they were blaming it on her for absolutely no reason. She had done nothing to the poor woman they had all heard screaming at the top of her lungs. If she was adroit enough, she would have been very responsive to the woman's pleads. She would have saved her. But, she was nothing more than a commoner, a young girl on the verge of womanhood, living on a farm, betrothed to a man whom she had no correct feelings for (although they had talked many times, but about recent gossip, nothing serious or loving, as she had hoped would be the case). She wanted her betrothed to be perfect for her and he was the exact opposite of her fairy tale dream that every girl her age had so often invented.
She watched as people strutted by her, going about their usual business, tending to goods, exploring the town for the millionth time, moving into the tavern for reasons that she had never performed herself. She hated seeing the people who spent their time getting drunk. They were wasting their money and lives, just to get a taste of lifes "happier" expectations, as people in town called it. She also despised the women who worked there, whom were often caught fornicating with men from the bar.
What Talon completely longed for, was adventure, love, action... And, soon... Soon, she would get just that.
Chapter Two
Ticket Out of Hell
Dante awoke in a fiery realm. Her hands were bloody and bound, yet her body seemed to be intact. The men had mercilessly chopped her into pieces, first striking her in weak places, not letting her die with ease. It had been a nightmare. Being a corpse, she had forgotten for quite awhile.
The heat began to burn her skin. She yelped in pain as the flames licked her face, but cocked her head when she heard someone approaching her from behind.
"I knew you would be joining us soon, Dante Liberante," a pale, cold voice murmured from behind her.
"I would turn to look at you for whom you are, but I am a prisoner who can not move an inch at the moment," she said, speaking loudly over the flames that boiled around them.
"I have a proposition for you," the voice drawled, changing from hoarse to a low sweetness that she found herself unable to resist.
"Anything," she murmured before she could stop herself, blue eyes closing as tears from the pain of the licking flames fled down her cheeks. The armor under her cape did nothing to lessen the pain, only encourage it, as the leather and metal grew heated with every rising fatality.
She felt the manacles on her leg and feet tremble. Her eyes grew wide as they shattered into dust, poised now at her feet.
"Take this sword," the voice ordered, firm and commanding now.
Again, she was unable to contain her obedience. She turned around slowly, puddles of blue wide as they lain on the gruesome figure before her. His eyes were embers, glowing blood red, face contorted, completely unhuman, a cape like her own covering a form that seemed to be so thin that if you barely touched it, it would crumble into dust, as the very manacles that had bound her did.
With bony fingers, he thrust the sword at her, holding out the intricately carved handle.
"This is your destiny, Dante. Don't turn away from it," he lulled, voice slow now. Evertime the creature spoke, the voice alternated. She found that very strange, but was uncontrollable to her emotions at the moment.
She took the sword and gasped at the power that jolted into her. Fresh armor surrounded her body, a darker color. Blood red just like the creature of death before her. It was unlike anything she had felt before. The mere strength forming itself in her veins was enough to slaughter five hundred men with adroit ease. It was the most magnificent feeling she had ever felt.
"Go now, vampire. Destroy your enemies and live eternally. Beware the sun. It will be your greatest enemy, as well as your emotions to the talon..." creature warned, eyes now glowing a demonic green as she was cast back into the world she had been slaughtered from.
Chapter Three
Soul Fire
Talon opened her eyes, sighing when she awoke in the same damp house, to the same sound of the rain pattering as it collided with the roof above her head. She tucked her long, strawberry blond hair behind her ear, slipping out of bed, changing into her usual cloud-colored dress, vest blue wool sweater covering her firm breasts and slim waist, small shoulders and back.
She wandered lazily to her dresser, glancing at herself in the mirror, unsure of how to think of herself. Most men would find her attractive. A lot of them whistled as they feasted their windows on her emerald green eyes, young looking face and slim, beautifully formed body. Most of them swooned and stuttered when she stopped to speak to them. She found it odd, but a reassuring comment, although she had never been attracted to any of the men in the village. None had caught her fancy, so to speak. She was more into the dark, mysterious, callous type. There positively wasn't any of those around town. Not that she knew of anyway. Although, talk pinned the stranger that had been brutally murdered to fit that description. But, no one would know for sure because she was no longer among the living. It was a tragic accident, one that Talon regretted hearing about.
She wandered out of the house, ignoring her mother and father's warning, they always hated it when she left the house without permission and without eating what they called a "good breakfast". She was in no mood to quench her thirst or fill her stomach. She needed fresh air, that was her first priority when she woke up in the morning. It was like a habit that could never be unchained. And, the sun... oh, how she loved the sun. Its rays seemed to touch her soul, fill it with fire that she had never ever felt before. It seemed to cast an incredible light into her mind and veins. She found herself weary when winter came, the sun was hidden behind gray skies. Those times were dark for her, she never desired them, despite the fact that that time of the year always exposed itself for everyone in town to see and feel. She feared that her life would never be the same, without the heat and warmth that the sun provided.
Chapter Four
New Surroundings
Dante awoke in a dark tomb. The walls around her were damp, she could faintly hear water dripping in the distance, among other rooms of the crypt that she was now located in. Somehow, she had been sent back from where she came from, back to the mortal realm. Yet, she felt stronger. Unstoppable. Her thirst for vengence and blood surged through her in quick strokes, causing her to stumble wildy through the tomb, searching for exits. Her throat was killing her, her mind was screaming for the sweet taste of bright red liquor that she so needed to possess. Somehow, she found the darkness of the tomb welcoming.