Since the day Kat DuPont made a deal with the Fee of the Earth Realm, each realm has begun to merge. Follow along with Rise of the Realms flash fiction short stories, and watch as her consequences unfold.
To the readers: Each flash fiction will be written from scratch at the time of posting – a complete “on the spot” writing of the author’s imagination. Each story will be written and posted immediately, untouched by an editor. At no time may this be copied or reproduced in any way, without permission. (C) D. Fischer 2018.
The Past – 17th Century France: Myla’s Deleted Scene From Reborn (Rise of the Realms: Book One) – a dark, Epic Fantasy series.
I bend to my twins, kneeling against the splintering, wood-planked floor, and kiss their forehead. They smell of sweet peaches, and gently, I run my fingers through their tangled, blonde locks. Their trembling bodies are so little, so innocent. They fear what goes on outside our home’s four walls, the screams of the night unmistakable. Until today, I’ve managed to keep us safe and hidden.
Screams from the outdoors filter in through the house’s thin windows. I have no choice – no choice but to unleash the very beast I’ve kept hidden from human eyes, if only but to save my girls from a painful hanging at the command of those I protect.
I’ve made my choice, and even if that choice is my end, it will be their beginning. I’m determined it so.
I look them both in their baby-blue eyes. Glistening tears stream down their plump, scarlet cheeks. They don’t understand what’s going on, and for that, I am grateful. Vampires roam the village, destroying everyone we know, draining the life from all those I protect, when who they truly seek is me. That knowledge would rip them from their youth.
“Stay here,” I begin, my voice husky, thick with emotion. I may never see them again and consuming dread threatens to choke me. “Don’t open the doors. Don’t let anyone inside. Do you understand?”
Throughout the dark common area of our small home, a glow illuminates the planked walls, casting shadows behind them.
“Momma, your eyes are glowing,” Tessa whispers, the bravest of my twins.
Bending forward, I ignore Tessa’s observation and press another kiss to her forehead, whispering against her soft skin. “Stay here. Nana Erma will come for you.”
I stand from my crouched position, give them one more look, and leave my heart with them as I turn toward the door. Grasping the knob, my wrist trembles with pumping adrenaline. The transformation is beginning and I’m fighting to contain it. I twist the brass circle and swing the door open. The knob hits the wall with a resounding boom, and I step through, pulling it shut behind me.
Chaos greets me. The breeze, filled with an iron scent, rolls my stomach. Blood splatters the ground next to me. Screams pummel my senses. The village is taken over, vampires feasting on the buffet of vulnerable humans – innocent living creatures. These humans have no idea they harbor the first born witch – the dragon – the daughter of Mother Nature and Father Death . . . the wife to the King of Terror.
A vampire approaches me, a blur of speed in the dark of a cricket-less night. I raise my hand, prepared, fingers curled like cuffs. On my command, and by my will, the vampire lifts into the air. His shoe-less feet dangle as he kicks to be free, and he hisses, freshly-consumed blood squirting from his rotting mouth. He was sent here for a reason. They all were. He’ll do anything to complete his mission, even if that means his own death and ever-lasting torment in the void.
I curl my top lip, anger firming the muscles along my face. Like hell he will take me hostage, and that’s exactly what Kheelan wants. My father wants me for himself – the dragon an ultimate weapon to use at his disposal. That’s all any Fee wants: power over the other.
Lifting my other hand, I hover it level with the vampire’s chest, and make a grabbing motion before yanking my arm back. The vampire shrieks in pain. Even over the sounds of death and chaos, I can hear his sternum pop and rib cage crack, accommodating for the evacuation of the useless, black organ. His heart breaks free, ripping through skin like a bullet, and drops to the brittle grass with a thud.
I accept the thrilling, victorious comfort as I lock eyes with the vampire. Fear is evident in them, terrified of me, and scared of where he’s headed. The twice dead never escape the void. Like a flaking biscuit, the vampire’s body shrivels to nothing but ash, carried away in the crisp, Fall breeze.
I turn my head, taking note of the army of the dead – their fangs sunk into the soft neck of their victims as they drain them dry. An internal war begins within. A part of me knows I should try and save the village, while the other keeps my feet cemented to their spot. My own flesh and blood is behind the door I guard. Fee Erma, my mother, will come for them, but when? I can’t take the chance in assuming she’ll arrive soon.
My internal war is futile – it matters not where I stand. The army of vampires know who I am, and as they whip their heads in my direction – the new threat within the village – they stalk me with purposeful, yet cautions steps, their bare soles crunching against the crispy, dead leaves. Blood-red eyes set on my figure, my fingers curling into my palms while their shoulders crouch and their fangs drip. I’m the threat to their feast. They’re right to believe so.
Unleash me, it commands, a whisper in my thoughts.
I want to laugh, to rejoice, if but for a moment, in the freedom I’m about to grant my indestructible, vengeful half. The vampires have no idea what they’re about to endure.
The internal wall I keep in place to restrain the beast, lowers at my mental command. It stretches within, my flesh quivering and rippling beneath the surface, like waves of a tormenting ocean. A cloud of smoke fogs my vision, puffing from my flared nostrils. Black, glimmering scales slice through my skin from the inside out, and I relish the feeling – it’s a scratch a thousand itches. My shoulders hunch, my spine popping to accommodate growth as my body stretches to a new height, my dress ripping at the seams. A growl begins in my expanding chest, swirling and furious – thick with rage. My neck elongates, razor-sharp teeth replace my human ones, and the growl rumbles up my esophagus, a forceful roar painfully ripping from my dragon’s muzzle.
I stomp my front foot and crush the first vampire, the ground vibrating beneath the claws, and my black, leathery wings rustle against my scales, agitated. Each muscles ripples, each minor movement filled with strength beyond the enemies before me. The vampire’s crumbled body turns to ash below my foot, gritty and cold.
I whip my tail to the side, and allow the fire to grow within. It sways and curls inside my chest, and when I can no longer tolerate the heat, I release it. A streaming fire licks past my tongue, and flames sprout from my mouth, encasing the next wave of vampires. Their shrieks fill the night while the village humans run for cover.
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