Prologue

I was running.

My legs were heavy and stiff, my nose pink and cold, my ears feeling as if they were frozen. I tried to run faster, my feet protesting against my tired efforts, but doing as I willed just the same. I didn’t stop, even if it felt as if my lungs were about to burst. Sheer determination kept me going, even if the physical aspects urged me to at least slow my pace a little bit. I was not going to do that. Not here; it was too dangerous. I had to get away.

The cold wind stung my eyes; I knew he was near. The wind blew harshly, making my dark hair whip at the sides of my face. It hurt, but I managed. Suddenly, it was as if branches were everywhere. I had to get out of my way to dodge each and every one of them, because I knew that one hit from even the smallest branch would distract me, therefore slowing me down. At least getting them out of the way would at least only slow my pace a little bit.

I huffed, listening to everything as I ran. I realised that there was nothing to listen to: it was all dead silence, except from my tired breathing and my heels digging into the cold snow. I did not stop: I knew better than to be deceived by the peaceful silence that surrounded me. Only the woodland animals made their own little sounds, scattering here and there due to my presence and his. I was not to be fooled by the somewhat eerie silence that surrounded me.

I leaned on a tree, and then took off my shoes. It would be easier to run with my bare feet digging through the cold ice than to have the heels of my shoes sink into snow. Even if I felt that my feet would instantly freeze, they didn’t. My dress was ruined, and so was my hair. I sighed. I should not think about such trivial things.

Again, I was on the move. I ran faster now, even if my feet felt as if they were about to come off. The heat supplied by my wildly beating heart kept my feet moving faster. My breath came in short pants, and I willed myself to run faster, even if I thought that my lungs were going to burst. I had to get away from him, and from everyone else like him.

The night, which has been previously full of splendour and glamour, had been turned into a nightmare. One minute, I had been drinking the most wonderful wine from Spain, with my friends and all the other nobles, and then everything changed. I had not been able to sense the sudden change of emotion: Hunters hide their emotions well, after all. I blinked, and suddenly, hounds had broken all those windows and ruined the whole get-together. I remembered how we all shouted as friends turned into enemies, and nobles turn into people we barely know. I had remembered, most of all, dancing with the man who was giving pursuit at the very moment.

Oh, how I remembered his undaunted silver-blue eyes. How I remembered how his golden-streaked ebony hair gleamed under the chandelier above our heads! He had spoken to me so clearly and calmly, and had hesitated when he was ordered to kill me when I escaped. Was this all just a ruse to lure me out? To make me believe that I had to trust this person who was one of the many that intended to kill me at the moment?

I found a tree and climbed up, not really minding the sharp pains that stung my cold, bare feet as I used them to ascend the tree. I shivered, and then looked at the direction from which I came from: the estate had been completely destroyed. I could see the wild fire that the Hunters started. I held back a sob: showing such weakness in hours of complete failure was not how I had been taught. Sobbing was a human emotion. I was not human, even if I showed signs that I was. Of course, that was my body’s instinct.

Then, I heard a twig snap a few feet from me, on the snow below. I looked down, and there he was. He was alone, and I was sure of it. He had no other companions: I knew him well. If he would go “hunting”, he would bring a few friends for the fun of it. He obviously didn’t bring any: I could not hear a thrumming soul within a few miles.

“Elizabeth,” he called out. No, I would not come out. I know knew what he really was: he wasn’t the person I thought he had been way back when. I bit back a whimper: my heart called out to him as well as his called for mine. Even if I didn’t want to, I knew that I yearned to be next to him and stay there. I wanted to hold him and tell him that I loved him so much, but I knew I couldn’t. “Elizabeth,”

Then, before I knew what was happening, he looked straight at me, as if he knew I had been here all this time. He opened his mouth and, instead of calling out to his fellowmen, he said: “Come down here, Elizabeth. No one will hurt you,”

I knew the tone he used, because I knew him so well. I knew that he was serious, and those last words were a promise. Slowly, I began climbing down. Instead of having to go through all that pain again, I jumped: I knew that he would catch me, and he did. He did not put me back down on my own two feet, but carried me, just like that. His eyes travelled from my bloodied face to my blistered feet. His eyes were raging: he wanted to know who did this to me. Of course, both of us knew that it was his fault from the very beginning. I did not want to point this out to him.

Suddenly, before he could say a word, footsteps emerged from out of the blue. We were surrounded in the blink of an eye. I felt fear and anxiety creep up to me in a slow crawl. Would he betray me? Would he hand me, the filth, to his comrades and brothers?

No, it was apparent that he intended to keep me in his arms, just like this.

“Good work, lad!” I heard his father say. He looked like him…only that his father looked like the older version. “I truly am grateful to have you as my son! Now, hand that piece of filth over here, and our men will do the rest.”

“No,” he said, his tone defiant and sure, not caring any less about anything at all. Was he really risking his life for me? But I was nothing compared to him! In my eyes, he was a god, while I was a thing like his father said I was. Did he not understand that his beautiful life would be in jeopardy as well?! “No, father. I wish to keep this girl that you call ‘filth’. I do not want her blood to be spilled on my family’s honour,”

Obviously, he did not care about his life at all. I wanted to tell him that I was nothing---a low-life---compared to him, but I knew better: he wouldn’t listen. He was as stubborn as I was when it came to the rules. But why would he care about my life?!

“My, my,” his older brother said. “Jayce, I’ve certainly not seen you like this since the death of your beloved Rose.”

“Scum!” his father shouted at him, holding a gun in hand. Instantly, I was afraid. I was shaking in fear. “How dare you disgrace me like this! I take back every compliment I had given you! I’d rather have a dead son than have him with that…that thing in his arms!”

He did not move; he did not even talk. I could see that this hurt him quite well, but he certainly did not show it much. I just knew that he was sad about this: being disgraced by his own family in front of their own servants and workers. His frown got deeper, marring his beautiful, god-like features only slightly. Even in this dreadful situation, he still held himself well.

Not even a whimper could muster its way from my bosom as I heard the gun’s safety click. We were dead. What’s worse, I would cause his death. Even if I knew that it was ironic how I tried to stay away from him earlier, I didn’t want to be separated from him anymore. Not this way, at least.

Then, the gun shot echoed throughout the forest, silencing everything else. I couldn’t hear anything anymore. One moment, I was looking into his face under the moonlight amidst the enemy’s presence, and the next, I was enveloped in his body. I felt warm liquid trail down my cheek, and it soon covered me. I made the crucial mistake of turning him over.

We were on the ice, and it was a horrifying sight: his blood seeped on the ice, red contrasting white in a manner that I did not want to think about. His blood covered me. I held my bloody hand to my mouth, idiotically trying to revive him in my mind by inhaling his scent, and accidentally inhaled the steely scent that was his blood. I gagged, and then sent his father and brother murderous looks. Even if I knew that it was probably my fault that we were in our current situation, it wasn’t me who killed him, and it wasn’t I who held the gun that ended his life.

His father sent back my glare, and I knew that I would forever hold a grudge against him. I would always remember how his dark blue eyes seemed to shine with madness under the light of the stars. Even though my legs were weak and were to the point of freezing, I stood straight. My knees didn’t even so much as quiver. I stared them straight in the eye and said the words that would bind me to Jayce’s soul forever:

“I swear by my blood that I shall kill whoever lays so much as a hand on my beloved,” I said, my words strong and hard, but my spirit quivering. “I will never die as long as every last Hunter is dead.”

“Woman, why do you have such courage?” the father asked. I just narrowed my eyes at him. He laughed. “Such strong words, so little spirit. No matter. I will kill you anyway.”

He paused, holding the gun’s barrel to his forehead. Again, another stupid thought entered my mind: I wanted him to accidentally pull on that trigger and kill himself. I knew, though, that this wasn’t likely. Hunters were very experienced when it came to holding murderous weapons. He smiled evilly at me and said: “And such strange choice of your last words, my dear, but I’m afraid that that was the only chance you’ve got.”

His gun fired, and pain exploded in me before everything went black. For the first time in so many years of staying so young, I died.