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They each filed in grimly, eyes on me. A few gave me nods of acknowledgement, but most only stared. I didn't know what had brought me to this spotlight or what this meeting was even about, but it had to be something grave. I took the seat they offered me: our awkward semicircle. Somehow, I found myself on the outside of it, all of them facing me. This was the least of what I wanted. The last one came through the door and took a seat at the left end of their crescent. He was heavyset and hairy, with a ruddy complexion and hard eyes, burly arms and calloused hands. Blacksmith. I had seen him at work sometimes as I wandered around town, ever focused on the job at hand. I admired his concentration and even more his handiwork. I liked watching him work. Mother said admiration wasn't the word for it, but I begged to differ. One of his steel creations was even hidden amongst my belongings, too (which, thankfully, Mother had only the slightest idea about). However, something was off about him today. There was a glimmer in his eyes I couldn't place. I didn't know if this was a good or bad thing.
As for the rest of them, they were elders. A scribe from the village temple. A peddler I often saw in the streets. Several high-standing figures that constituted as our rulers, too. All people from all walks of life. But they had gathered for…me? I spared a glance around our meeting place. It was a dingy barn, long abandoned by its owner. Sometimes as a child I would run away to here and explore its depths. Did they know that? Is that why they had chosen this place? Surely this couldn't be about my childhood. I was a grown woman now. Could they not see that?
Laughter filters in from outside. A few squatters have gathered, perhaps hearing about our meeting. Perhaps eavesdropping, too. Itholiel is out there, too. I can hear his deep rumble of laughter. Leave it to him to associate with squatters playing foolery and smoking those nonsensical weed pipes they so obsessed over.
Erithen soon brought me back from my thoughts. His condescending sniff signalled he was about to speak. "A distinct…obstacle has come to our attention." His head was raised in its typical holy angle and his eyes bore down as if he were towering over me. "An obstacle that must be cleansed." His sneer dug the word deep into my heart. What could he be getting at?
Ractovi jumped in before he could say more, straightening up a bit in his seat. "I believe what Erithen is trying to say," he began as they shared loathing glares, "is that we need your help with a recent problem." Erithen shifted in his seat, his pride apparently injured.
"Not so recent, actually," the blacksmith grumbled. I had never known his name. I couldn't tear my eyes away for a few seconds. What was different?
"Right ye are," the peddler bellowed to no one in particular. "Right ye are."
That got the gears in my head spinning. What was so meaningful and problematic to drive all the classes into a fit? I turned to the other two rulers in the room. They evaded my eyes, apparently avoiding the conversation. I could tell they wanted no part in this. They were only doing their duty by showing up.
My eyes narrowed. I targeted Ractovi. He had a level head, and he would hold nothing back. One word slipped from his lips: "Cassius."
A jolt shot through me. That name. I hadn't heard that name in years. I hadn't seen that creature in six years, in fact. Not one thought of him had crossed my mind since then. Gullible child I was to believe a monster could be my friend.
"What about him?" I asked, my voice solid. I was trembling inside, but I wouldn't let it show.
The scribe began to answer, but my eyes were fixed on the blacksmith. Was it only a trick of the eye, or had I seen something change? His face seemed…different. It was as if the glimmer of change in his eyes had spread, now seeping over his face. Then, all at once, the change turned dramatic. His eyes began to bulge, his curly dark hair receding and shooting back out in a blonde sheen. I knew even before his skin began to turn icy pale.
"Run!" came the exclamations from the group, many of them tripping over their chairs and already racing for the door. "Elina, run!" I recognized the voice as Ractovi's, picked out his horrified face from the dozen others, but I seemed to move in slow motion. I could see the blur of motion around me, but I moved painfully slow, rising from my chair and backing away, locking eyes with the monster I thought I had buried deep in my past.
The world seems to speed up around me. I sprint toward the first handhold that comes into view, which happens to be a chain hanging down from the loft, perhaps the rafters. I hurriedly climb hand over hand as he stands from his chair, cocking his head and grinning devilishly. The thought drives me further. Hand over hand, leg over leg. Almost as soon as I turn my head, a shape shoots across to the other wall. A shriek escapes my mouth as I avoid the strike. As fast as I climb up the chain, even faster, his sickening shape bounds from wall to wall, swatting at me. Why was he after me? What had we done? An even more frightening question seeps into my mind. What if we had done nothing? What if he was only targeting us for the sheer pleasure of it? He had sneaked into our group unnoticed, taken on a form that held no threat to us, hadn't he? He was playing us. He knew he had the upper hand. As I reach the top, an inevitable dread fills me. But I must show no fear. Through the adrenaline, I speed my way to the top of the chain and climb onto the loft. The hideous creature flies over me, letting out a vicious snarl. Yells come from down below. I can hear Ractovi calling my name, but I pay no mind. In one monstrous leap, the creature lands just feet in front of me. Its dark eyes regard me inimically. The way he moves toward me is almost spider-like on all four legs. Though, just as I back into the wall, a sound distracts him. He leaps from the loft down into the group of elders and rulers. "Go, Elina!" I hear screeched before Ractovi is thrown across the barn. I dive from the loft down to the solid ground, breaking into a roll at the last second. I care not whether I've broken or injured anything: adrenaline is driving me toward the door. I sprint as fast as I can, knowing, although, he is faster than me. If he can stay distracted for a few more seconds, I can seize the opportunity to crash through the barn doors and help some of the others out. Erithen keeps pace with me, somehow still keeping his superior countenance. We slam into the doors at the same time, splintering them and cracking them open just enough for us to pry them the rest of the way. Some of the other elders push through as soon as there is an escape. I glance back at the others. I can't leave. I have to protect them. Ractovi is just waking up from his just-about-fatal blow. I have no idea how many have escaped already. I suddenly sense Erithen still beside me. I'm about to ask him why he hasn't run out, when I'm pushed through the doors. Just before it shuts behind me, I can see the ghost of an approving smile on the scribe's face. I am frozen in shock. Screams echo from the barn, causing me to back away slowly, finally letting sobs and yells escape my mouth. Someone grabs me from behind and I almost rip their arm off before realizing it is Itholiel. His dark eyes regard me warily as he pulls me into his embrace and whispers simply, "Go, I've got this."
I pull away and shake my head frantically. "No, no. You don't know him." My grip tightens on his arms. Not another death. Please, not another death because of me.
He gives me a stern look and shakes me off his arms. "Into the woods. Go as fast as you can. I'll cover your tracks." I try to open my mouth again. "Now!"
My legs and pure horror take over, leading me into the forest. Branches slap at my face, turning from their natural ivory to a conspicuous blood red. It is hopeless. Any tree I brush against changes instantly. Itholiel will never change them all back, even though he is desperately trying to. The forest is thick, all the trees not even two feet apart. I slam into almost every one in my desperate sprint for my life. I can hear him behind me. The trees whisper of his presence, giving me away, as if their obvious appearance isn't enough. I trip over one of the roots, sending me sliding into a whole slew of brush. I pay no mind to the pain, but scramble to my feet, pushing myself even faster. He screeches behind me and I hear another shrill scream escape my lips. Almost as if grace itself had shined down on me, a clearing rises up in vision up ahead. I spot a cottage near the edge of it and speed toward it. Within seconds, I find myself behind the barred door, trembling. My fear of Cassius had turned deathly. I can hear his breathing near the door and know that my life is over. He has every reason to kill me, to kill all of us. A pathetic whimper slips between my teeth even though I try to stay quiet. Suddenly, the roof caves in and there is Cassius, just feet in front of me. I press back against the door, shying from his crouched form. Slowly, he rises and advances on me.
His hand is on my cheek. "Elina…" he growls softly.

Description
They each filed in grimly, eyes on me. A few gave me nods of acknowledgement, but most only stared. I didn't know what had brought me to this spotlight or what this meeting was even about, but it had to be something grave. I took the seat they offered me: our awkward semicircle. Somehow, I found myself on the outside of it, all of them facing me. This was the least of what I wanted. The last one came through the door and took a seat at the left end of their crescent. He was heavyset and hairy, with a ruddy complexion and hard eyes, burly arms and calloused hands. Blacksmith. I had seen him at work sometimes as I wandered around town, ever focused on the job at hand. I admired his concentration and even more his handiwork. I liked watching him work. Mother said admiration wasn't the word for it, but I begged to differ. One of his steel creations was even hidden amongst my belongings, too (which, thankfully, Mother had only the slightest idea about). However, something was off about him today. There was a glimmer in his eyes I couldn't place. I didn't know if this was a good or bad thing.
As for the rest of them, they were elders. A scribe from the village temple. A peddler I often saw in the streets. Several high-standing figures that constituted as our rulers, too. All people from all walks of life. But they had gathered for…me? I spared a glance around our meeting place. It was a dingy barn, long abandoned by its owner. Sometimes as a child I would run away to here and explore its depths. Did they know that? Is that why they had chosen this place? Surely this couldn't be about my childhood. I was a grown woman now. Could they not see that?
Laughter filters in from outside. A few squatters have gathered, perhaps hearing about our meeting. Perhaps eavesdropping, too. Itholiel is out there, too. I can hear his deep rumble of laughter. Leave it to him to associate with squatters playing foolery and smoking those nonsensical weed pipes they so obsessed over.
Erithen soon brought me back from my thoughts. His condescending sniff signalled he was about to speak. "A distinct…obstacle has come to our attention." His head was raised in its typical holy angle and his eyes bore down as if he were towering over me. "An obstacle that must be cleansed." His sneer dug the word deep into my heart. What could he be getting at?
Ractovi jumped in before he could say more, straightening up a bit in his seat. "I believe what Erithen is trying to say," he began as they shared loathing glares, "is that we need your help with a recent problem." Erithen shifted in his seat, his pride apparently injured.
"Not so recent, actually," the blacksmith grumbled. I had never known his name. I couldn't tear my eyes away for a few seconds. What was different?
"Right ye are," the peddler bellowed to no one in particular. "Right ye are."
That got the gears in my head spinning. What was so meaningful and problematic to drive all the classes into a fit? I turned to the other two rulers in the room. They evaded my eyes, apparently avoiding the conversation. I could tell they wanted no part in this. They were only doing their duty by showing up.
My eyes narrowed. I targeted Ractovi. He had a level head, and he would hold nothing back. One word slipped from his lips: "Cassius."
A jolt shot through me. That name. I hadn't heard that name in years. I hadn't seen that creature in six years, in fact. Not one thought of him had crossed my mind since then. Gullible child I was to believe a monster could be my friend.
"What about him?" I asked, my voice solid. I was trembling inside, but I wouldn't let it show.
The scribe began to answer, but my eyes were fixed on the blacksmith. Was it only a trick of the eye, or had I seen something change? His face seemed…different. It was as if the glimmer of change in his eyes had spread, now seeping over his face. Then, all at once, the change turned dramatic. His eyes began to bulge, his curly dark hair receding and shooting back out in a blonde sheen. I knew even before his skin began to turn icy pale.
"Run!" came the exclamations from the group, many of them tripping over their chairs and already racing for the door. "Elina, run!" I recognized the voice as Ractovi's, picked out his horrified face from the dozen others, but I seemed to move in slow motion. I could see the blur of motion around me, but I moved painfully slow, rising from my chair and backing away, locking eyes with the monster I thought I had buried deep in my past.
The world seems to speed up around me. I sprint toward the first handhold that comes into view, which happens to be a chain hanging down from the loft, perhaps the rafters. I hurriedly climb hand over hand as he stands from his chair, cocking his head and grinning devilishly. The thought drives me further. Hand over hand, leg over leg. Almost as soon as I turn my head, a shape shoots across to the other wall. A shriek escapes my mouth as I avoid the strike. As fast as I climb up the chain, even faster, his sickening shape bounds from wall to wall, swatting at me. Why was he after me? What had we done? An even more frightening question seeps into my mind. What if we had done nothing? What if he was only targeting us for the sheer pleasure of it? He had sneaked into our group unnoticed, taken on a form that held no threat to us, hadn't he? He was playing us. He knew he had the upper hand. As I reach the top, an inevitable dread fills me. But I must show no fear. Through the adrenaline, I speed my way to the top of the chain and climb onto the loft. The hideous creature flies over me, letting out a vicious snarl. Yells come from down below. I can hear Ractovi calling my name, but I pay no mind. In one monstrous leap, the creature lands just feet in front of me. Its dark eyes regard me inimically. The way he moves toward me is almost spider-like on all four legs. Though, just as I back into the wall, a sound distracts him. He leaps from the loft down into the group of elders and rulers. "Go, Elina!" I hear screeched before Ractovi is thrown across the barn. I dive from the loft down to the solid ground, breaking into a roll at the last second. I care not whether I've broken or injured anything: adrenaline is driving me toward the door. I sprint as fast as I can, knowing, although, he is faster than me. If he can stay distracted for a few more seconds, I can seize the opportunity to crash through the barn doors and help some of the others out. Erithen keeps pace with me, somehow still keeping his superior countenance. We slam into the doors at the same time, splintering them and cracking them open just enough for us to pry them the rest of the way. Some of the other elders push through as soon as there is an escape. I glance back at the others. I can't leave. I have to protect them. Ractovi is just waking up from his just-about-fatal blow. I have no idea how many have escaped already. I suddenly sense Erithen still beside me. I'm about to ask him why he hasn't run out, when I'm pushed through the doors. Just before it shuts behind me, I can see the ghost of an approving smile on the scribe's face. I am frozen in shock. Screams echo from the barn, causing me to back away slowly, finally letting sobs and yells escape my mouth. Someone grabs me from behind and I almost rip their arm off before realizing it is Itholiel. His dark eyes regard me warily as he pulls me into his embrace and whispers simply, "Go, I've got this."
I pull away and shake my head frantically. "No, no. You don't know him." My grip tightens on his arms. Not another death. Please, not another death because of me.
He gives me a stern look and shakes me off his arms. "Into the woods. Go as fast as you can. I'll cover your tracks." I try to open my mouth again. "Now!"
My legs and pure horror take over, leading me into the forest. Branches slap at my face, turning from their natural ivory to a conspicuous blood red. It is hopeless. Any tree I brush against changes instantly. Itholiel will never change them all back, even though he is desperately trying to. The forest is thick, all the trees not even two feet apart. I slam into almost every one in my desperate sprint for my life. I can hear him behind me. The trees whisper of his presence, giving me away, as if their obvious appearance isn't enough. I trip over one of the roots, sending me sliding into a whole slew of brush. I pay no mind to the pain, but scramble to my feet, pushing myself even faster. He screeches behind me and I hear another shrill scream escape my lips. Almost as if grace itself had shined down on me, a clearing rises up in vision up ahead. I spot a cottage near the edge of it and speed toward it. Within seconds, I find myself behind the barred door, trembling. My fear of Cassius had turned deathly. I can hear his breathing near the door and know that my life is over. He has every reason to kill me, to kill all of us. A pathetic whimper slips between my teeth even though I try to stay quiet. Suddenly, the roof caves in and there is Cassius, just feet in front of me. I press back against the door, shying from his crouched form. Slowly, he rises and advances on me.
His hand is on my cheek. "Elina…" he growls softly.