Craved by the Shadow Demon

Chapter 1

Annette

“We’re glad to have you here, Annette.”

I stand before a small council, who all sit on a bench. The sheen of the late afternoon sunlight against the marble tile is almost blinding. The scene is beautiful, bathed in a golden glow of light.  

I don’t dare speak. They could easily erase my very existence.

I’ve already noticed that their tone is much more severe than I remember, and even the kindest among them looks disgusted by my presence.

The elderly woman, Jessaphine, serves as the head of the council, and she does most of the speaking. She is different from the other members of the council – she is at least somewhat compassionate and acts from a sense of duty.

But she is still a dark elf, and dark elves have offered me very few kindnesses. 

“For a time, we allowed you to remain in Mellara, separate from the camps and the clubs, because we recognized your unique contributions,” Jessaphine says. “And it’s with a heavy heart that I inform you…”

“Can you get to the point, Jessaphine?” the curmudgeonly elder Dritz asks.

He fidgets in his seat, and he’s been staring holes through me since I entered the large chamber. I’ve never gotten the impression that he particularly cared for me.

Jessaphine gives him a small sideways glance, barely acknowledging him before turning back toward me.

“We cannot excuse your actions, Annette,” Jessaphine says, her voice losing all compassion and sense of patience. “What you’ve done is inexcusable.”

My heart jumps. I feel chills run up and down my spine.

“I’m sorry,” I say reactively, my voice hoarse and dry. “What are you –”

I can see anger growing in Dritz.

“You’ve had plenty of time to defend yourself, girl,” Dritz says. “We’re not interested in hearing your testimony. We just want you out by sunset.”

I wait for Jessaphine to jump in, but she never does. The five elder dark elves have seemingly dismissed me without a trial.

“You may go,” Jessaphine says.

The other elves have pulled up other documents and are scrutinizing them carefully.

Though I’m not used to defending myself in front of the council, I realize that I have nothing to lose at this point. I address the council somewhat sheepishly.

“Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

“You know perfectly well what you did!” Dritz barks like a rabid worg, but Jessaphine holds up a hand, silencing him.

Dark elves hold little respect for human women, but for the females of their own kind, there is a noticeable reverence.

“We’ve found several dark elves killed in increasingly gruesome ways, and all of them have one thing in common,” Jessaphine says.

The air leaves my lungs, and I’m gasping, trying to make sense of the accusation.

They think I murdered somebody. Not just one person but multiple dark elves?

My sense of reason starts to leave me in spades, and a wave of irrationality sweeps over me.

I want to run out of the room and never return to this town. I know that I won’t get the same treatment that I have received in Mellara anywhere else, but the way the council gazes upon me now humiliates and terrifies me.

“They all had ties to you.”

My jaw drops. “What do you mean, they all had ties to me?”

“We’ve always recognized your unique disposition, Annette,” Jessaphine says. “You’re not exactly like the other humans, are you?”

I don’t know what to say. A flicker of light escapes my hand, unnoticed by everyone, as my brain unwittingly stumbles through incantations.

“We’ve been very kind to you because we recognize your unique gifts. But we know there are many who have spoken out against your kind, and they’re all –”

“Dead,” Dritz interjects. “Torn apart, flayed open, burned, the moisture sucked out of every orifice in their bodies.”

“Now, wait a minute,” I start to say.

“No. No more minutes.”

Jessaphine rests her head on her hand now, unable to contain her impatience. She can’t hide the fury from her voice.

“We’ve humored this farce long enough. If you’re not gone by sunset, we’ve hired somebody to remove you, and we’ve told them we’d take you warm or cold. We cannot allow this threat to our village to go unchecked.”

I pause to think, my skin clammy.

         The only bright spot is that they’re not executing me for these alleged crimes. They’re actually being merciful by just sending me out of town.

Every step out of the hall is devastating. I can hear the blood coursing through my body. My very heartbeat is deafening.

I reach the archway and step through it, feeling the sunset’s rays on my face only to feel something hard and sharp collide with the side of my face. The noise in my ear is deafening upon impact.

Moving my hand up suddenly, I wipe the tangy and ripe-smelling tizret, its juices and skin intermingled with a trickle of blood, from my cheek. Tears well up in my eyes as I trace the trajectory of the fruit to an elderly dark elf.

“Fucking whore of a witch!” the man screams. And he’s not alone.

A crowd of about fifteen furious elves stands to my left, staring at me callously. The entire time that I’ve lived here, I’ve had to avoid them, never looking at them the wrong way or saying the wrong thing in their presence. They clearly knew I was meeting with the council and waited outside for my exit.

My lip curls. I wish my spells were powerful enough to eliminate them from the face of reality. But then the magic of dark elves is leagues above my own anyway, so I’d probably just be stopped with countermagic.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, not saying anything as I step forward.

Their movements mirror my own, and I can feel the coolness of their shadows overwhelming me. Their enraged comments nearly break me.

“If we weren’t standing in broad daylight, I’d kill you myself!”

“You’d better watch your back at night, girlie!”

“We demand justice! Turn yourself in and face the consequences!”

I start to walk at a quickened pace through the town before breaking into a run, looking only at my shoes hitting the hard cobblestone tile. I heave and gasp, clutching my side, before realizing that I’ve shaken the mob.

Perhaps I shouldn’t blame them. Many of them have probably lost family members and feel like they have no sense of closure.

I expect to find more solidarity with other humans as I cross through lowtown, but I discover no such comfort. As I shuffle forward, covering my head with my hood, I can feel their eyes upon me, scrutinizing me. Their judgment is as clear as the council’s.

Staring down at my feet in the vain hope that I could shut out their demeaning stares, I bump into a hard, tall figure of a man.

“Excuse me,” he says, shuffling out of the way before noticing who I am.

I hope to clear the distance before he can say anything.

“You ruined everything, you know that?”

His tone is less caustic and more matter-of-fact.

I consider moving forward, but I realize that I can’t convince him. Instead, I find myself turning to face him. “Pardon?”

“Before you came along with your funny tricks, the elves left us all alone,” he replies. “Now they’re breathing down our necks, ruining lowtown. You couldn’t even stand with us when we needed you.”

I hear the deep whinnying and hard steps of an equu, seeing a mounted elven guard approaching the district. Immediately, the men and women around me avert their eyes, shifting their focus from me to anything else in the vicinity. They know that if a fight breaks out, the dark elves will only quell it, and that will lead to greater loss of life.

“You don’t need to worry,” I say, fighting to hold back more tears. “I’m leaving the town tonight.”

He scoffs. “Good riddance.”

I live on a steep hill next to lowtown, on the outskirts of town. During my spare time, I used to look out the window and ponder what was happening in the town below. The lives of humans and dark elves alike both fascinated me.

         Just when I think I might experience a moment of peace, I notice from a distance that streaks of red paint cover my beautiful, small brown house.

         “No,” I whisper.

         Trying to hurry up the hill, the words ‘Never Leave a Witch Alive’ become clearer in my sight, coating the house facade.

Who would do this? I think to myself. Until I realize that the better question is, who wouldn’t?

         When I finally reach my home, I rub my hands over the exterior walls, feeling that the paint has already set. Looking over my shoulder for possible stalkers, heat tingles in my hand, and I mutter an incantation to myself.

         Blue light appears on my fingertips, and I press my fingers against the walls, the painted letters vanishing before my eyes in a streak of blue. 

         I take a deep breath, my heart rate spiking as the anxiety sets in that somebody must have seen me. I double-checked multiple times, but I know better than to trust my judgment.

         It isn’t right that I must fear for my life like this.

         It isn’t right that I’m being cast out of my own home without a shred of evidence.

         I wipe my tears as I collect my belongings, using a couple of small compacting spells to ensure everything fits.

         They were willing to take everything away from me without asking even a single question. There must be more suspects in this town than just me, so why am I the only one under scrutiny? What stops a dark elf from framing me?

         My despair becomes righteous anger as I haul my luggage out the door.

         I know that people will challenge me on my way out of town. They may scowl, even insult me, but I know something they don’t.

I’m innocent. And from this moment on, as I leave the comforts of my own home and venture into a less civilized world, I’m going to spend every minute of my time proving it.