| The warm, pine scent within was welcoming. The low, distraut murmur of worried voices was not. Devonia stood upright at the opening of the structure that served as shelter for the royal family of Rajin. A family that was dangerously small in number. There was no nervous fidget from the panthress as all eyes turned to her strong, but small frame, silouetted against the fading light outside. A commanding voice broke the silence that had befallen those gathered. "Devonia... step forward" Said the King of Rajin. She obeyed. The pieces of bone and shell that decorated the king's armor rattled as he sat forward in a crude throne. He was an impressive being. Strong, capable, and deserving of his title. The throne beside him, smaller to fit a woman's frame, was empty. His queen had been killed, the first of many to fall to a powerful enemy with murderous thirst. "I do not doubt that you have felt the tension in the air... a great disturbance approaching... This peace we've had is at an end..." Gold green eyes shifted across the room, and returned a stern focus upon her. Devonia did not respond. It was not a question. She, as all of those of her race who had been trained in the ancient ways, felt the unease and wariness, like a chill down her spine. A warning. "They come..." The new voice was not unfamiliar. Darkhold stepped forward slowly from left of the throne. An aged panther, though impressive to behold, there were none who would dare defy his place, nor his decisions. The decorated blade of the sickle he held glinted in the light. A weapon that she would be offered, when the time was right, and her training was complete. The mark of the Guardian. Her eyes closed in a vague show of pain. This was it. Those nightmares, soon to be a reality. The meek skirmishes and attacks she'd witnessed was only a taste of the violence to come. She'd known it all along, she'd seen it, too uncertain to admit to her confident people. Visions of claws and exposed fangs flickered across her mind, as it did every night, waking her from a restless slumber. These beasts were merciless. The land had been raped of the lush plantation and life that once beautified the village of Rajin, poisoned by their venom, their blood, and scorched by the fire of their arrows.The lives taken thus far was nothing compared to the count she knew the oncoming battle would leave behind.The jackal tribe that had become their known enemy was on the prowl to destroy them, entirely. "We have to warn them, Darkhold..." Golden rings revealed as her focus lifted to her mentor. "We must be ready to face them..." Darkhold's gaze did not stray from the smaller female before him. In time, his jaw dipped in a silent nod of agreement, and he turned to his king. "My lord..." He began with a subtle bow, vague motion given to lingering guards to be on alert during their absence. "We will return to your side in moments. Please prepare to depart, we must get you and your family to safety." "But first..." Darkhold's eyes moved toward his female disciple. "...We prepare our people for war..." |
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