Snowfall [2]

"Up, everyone. Hurry!" 

Marquess Lyndal was first to scrambled back to his feet at the bottom of the hill and he rushed to collect his fallen knights. When they stood they were more than ankle-deep in snow, and flakes began to fall from the cloudy night sky. He could barely hear the whoosh of the wind over his blood pumping rapidly through his head and body.

He was running against, and he shouted for his men to run towards the patch of trees in the near distance to not be vulnerable in the open. And so they ran and ran and ran and-

Where was Ten?

'Oh no...'

He counted five knights running ahead of him. Five knights. But no captain. 

He came to an abrupt stop and turned around, scanning for his missing person. "TEN!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, chest heaving with every breath. "TEN, WHERE ARE YOU?"

"My Lord!"

It was a faint echo but he heard it and he looked in the direction it came to see a tiny figure afar waving his hand at him. It was Ten. Only he wasn't moving fast and was limping.

"I SEE YOU, I'M COMIN-"

Relief was short lived when beastly roar shook the earth beneath them, knocking them both to the ground. At the top of the hill from which they fell, Marquess Lyndal saw the giant figures lunge out from the tree and plunged themselves down the hill after them. Only there weren't only two anymore.

There were four.

And they've increased in size.

Marquess Lyndal forced his legs to move, kicking through the thick snow. He moved at a considerably amazing speed despite setback. Unfortunately, they were faster. The gap between the creatures and Ten was ten times the distance he was from him, but he'd barely made it a fourth of the way there and could only watch when the four towering creatures came to a stop in a semi-circle behind Ten. They stood menacingly, showing their true height against the injured man, who looked like a twig in comparison to their daunting and unnatural forms. 

His heart pounded, chest tight. "Oh... my god..." 

Ten's screams pierced the silence and the marquess couldn't help but scream in response, eyes wide with sheer horror as blood rained on the white fields. The creatures rumbled amongst each other, like they were laughing, as they tossed both halves of Ten's body at each other, organs spilling from the open parts of the disconnected torso. 

'Run. Run away...'

Marquess Lyndal scrambled to his feet, panicking. His body trembled so violently, he believed he wouldn't be able to defend himself properly with his sword if he needed. His five remaining knights were nowhere in sight, and he prayed hard that they'd made it to safety. If he remembered correctly, if they kept running, they would make it to at least the outskirts of the dukedom in less than an hour. 

Himself on the other hand...

It was already too late. He didn't have to turn around to know that they had already caught up to him. 

Marquess Taylor Lyndal. A young man of twenty-eight years who had received one of the highest honors in the empire and bestowed the title of Marquess after proving himself to be an extraordinary leader and one of the great symbols of overwhelming power during the empire's conquest. He was a fearsome and respectable man and others would tremble just hearing his name. 

Yet, here he was in the face of something unknown, prepared to die a ghastly death. He wasn't injured, but was already shaken to the bone. He was all alone with no one to help him, no one to even witness this tragedy. 

He took in a shaky breath in an attempt to calm his nerves and drew his sword. It was his trusted weapon, forged in one of the capitol's great smithies and helped him paved his way into battle, slicing down enemy after enemy. With a mighty shout, he turned around to attack, sword raised over his head and-

It shattered in one swing of the creature's arm. It was gone.

He had no time to react before he was sent flying. The sickening crunch of his bones sounded when he hit a tree, hard on his back. He fell to the ground in excruciating pain and tasted blood in his mouth. He tried to get up, but could barely move. He could only watch as the creatures approached him. 

What a pathetic end this was. His life at home had just barely started. His estate had just started expanding. He had yet a girl to fancy, let alone marry. Yet it's already over. 

It's all ov-

"Above you." 

The trees rustled above him and a flash of black darted from the corner of his sight. He could only see through one eye as the other was blocked by the snow while he was incapacitated and laying on his side, but that was enough. 

'A person?'

One of the creatures roared as the black figure launched at its neck, causing it to stagger and lose balance. It raised its arm to swat at its neck. The Marquess saw something gleam, nearly blinding him, and the next thing he knew, the stony beast had just lost an arm. It fell to the ground with a thud. He was shocked to see it disintegrate into thin air, as if it had never existed. 

As if on cue, the three other creatures decided to pounce, but they were too slow for their opponent, who drove his weapon through the head of the first, unleashing a blast of strange light. But the Marquess couldn't tell what it was. The creature's body slackened and its gray body turned black before it crumbled like ash and disappeared. 

The person dropped from the sky where they once sat on the neck of a beast and onto the ground. That's when the marquess saw their weapon that stuck into the snow. 

A glowing black blade that seemed to sizzle with a mysterious, dark, energy. He could feel the pressure radiate from it, something strange and forbidden, even from his distance. Bolts of silver-white light crackled in and around it as if the sword itself contained lightning and when they swung it, it seemed to leave behind a visible stroke of black aura in the air. 

'Wait. Aura? ...Sword aura?'

He was left in shock, barely processing the massacre that was happening before his eyes. Whoever they were, they were fast. They twisted in the air with great fluidity and wielded their sword with great accuracy and strength. There wasn't a sound of effort to be heard when they lodged the sword into the creature's chest and then jumped to the next. The roars were deafening but short-lived and the ground shook each time they fell, and the terrifying, stony beasts he'd almost lost his life to became piles of ash. 

And they floated away into thin air. 

Like they never existed. 

"Hey. Can you hear me?" 

This time, Marquess Lyndal heard clearly. It was a man's voice, deep but not at all aged, yet lacked emotion. There was no fear, no tiredness, no pain, not even unsteadiness from the cold. It was as if he was used to this, unfazed by creatures that he, the Marquess, had never even heard of. He must admit that he feared the man who came to a squat beside him. He couldn't see his face, only the tattered ends of his cloak.

"Blink once if you saw some bony, faceless, psycho holding a stick."

'A bony, faceless, psycho holding a stick?' Marquess Lyndal blinked once. 

Without another word the man disappeared. Moments later he heard a high-pitched screech echoing from the hilltops. Not long after, the man returned without a scratch, leaving the marquess absolutely bewildered. 

"Here, I have you." 

Marquess Lyndal grunted and grimaced in agony as he was helped up to his feet by the arm, and a sharp, stabbing pain in his side told him at least one rib was broken. He gasped for air, though it hurt, with his face finally out of the snow, and he didn't think he would've ever felt this sort of relief in his life. Just moments ago, he thought he was done for. 

"Thank you... so much," he rasped in between ragged breaths. There was something warm dripping from his mouth and he wiped at his chin to see that it was indeed blood. 'How pathetic', he thought. 

He turned his head to look up at the man that was kind enough to keep supporting him by the arm and was surprised to see a young face staring back at him. His expression was not fierce but still shook him due to how calm and steady he was. He didn't smile or look at him weirdly, he just stared. Aside from his expression, Marquess took note of something else. 

His hair was pitch black, eyes a golden color. For some reason, he looked strangely familiar... 

At the same time, the young man examined him. There was no change in expression or tone even as he blurted, "Marquess Lyndal?" He addressed him casually and without care. 

"You... you know me?" he asked, confused. "Do I know you?" 

"...no." 

"Then how-"

"No one else has white hair." 

"...oh. That's true, I guess," the marquess responded through gritted teeth, reluctant to show pain when he had been recognized. But of course, that was useless. He had been saved by this man after all.

Ah, and that reminded him. 

"And... who are you?" he asked. 

Finally, the young man showed some sort of reaction, even if it was the tiniest flinch. His eyes were uncertain for a moment but quickly returned back to its emotionless state. "Aera," he answered stiffly. 

'That's it?' "And is that... your name or your family's name?" 

"Aera is my name," he said. 

"...ah, I see. Thank you for saving my life, Aera," Marquess Lyndal said. "I, Taylor Lyndal, owe you everything. Truly." He winced when a new wave of pain surged from his side and he fought to keep it under. Aera was an uncommon name and he'd heard nothing like it anywhere, but something kept nagging at him. Why? 

Maybe that wasn't his real name, seeing how he reacted to the question earlier. Or maybe it wasn't that. Maybe he's an orphan? Perhaps that's why he refused to say. He wanted to ask when suddenly, Aera spoke up again. 

He looked at him dead in the eyes. Again, the marquess couldn't help but notice his golden eyes and his pitch black hair. Who was it? Who did he keep reminding him of? 

"Well, if you are Taylor Lyndal," he said, "I suppose it's only appropriate if I am Aera DesVires." 

Ah, there it was. Aera DesVi- 

"Wait, what?"