This is a continuation of Shadow Lover I worked briefly on, it is subject to much editing, and I won't continue it unless I get sufficient response to motivate me

This is a continuation of Shadow Lover I worked briefly on, it is subject to much editing, and I won't continue it unless I get sufficient response to motivate me. *so R&R, people!*


She stood, solitary on top of the hill, the setting sun framing her in its dying light. She was young, but the hard set of her features revealed that she was no longer a child. Long black, ebony hair was bound, but still reached her waist. Cold, bluish black eyes stared out from beneath lustrous lashes. A short tunic covered her full figure; indeed, she was a sight to look upon, poised on the hill, sword out and flashing in the last rays of the setting sun. This ritual of sorts was performed every evening as Dagmar renewed her oath of vengeance.

When the sun had set, and twilight stretched into darkness, she headed down the hill and into the forest, Nothing would bother her there; she ruled supreme, so even the trees seemed to bend and beckon her onwards. Stopping in front of a particularly large oak, she put her hand to the bark and instantly faded away into the thickness of the oncoming night,

To the viewer, she would have completely disappeared, but, as a glow spread throughout the tree, you could trace her passage upwards. Only now she was inside it. Dagmar was home.

She finally completed her passage, resting at the hollow where the trunk yielded and split into dozens of leafy passages, which formed both her walls and roof. A small desk sat in one corner, and a section of furs and blankets formed her bed. In the middle of the room there was nothing but a ring, some targets, and pieces of assorted weaponry. This was Dagmar's practice ring. About ten feet above the ring hung a sign "Eila Druina" meaning "through knowledge, power."

Dagmar's eyes traced the curved words of the sign, pondering its meaning. Then her eyes fell to the chain around her neck. Strung on it was a blue gem, unlike any ever see, cut into a multi-faceted diamond. It was the only jewelry she wore, but it was more than just decorative-it was Dagmar's most powerful weapon. The power it contained was unlike anything she had ever seen…She let her mind wander back to the night it had been given to her…

All she had wanted to do was help. She would do anything. A poor street orphan, she had made her living by telling old legends to passerby's. She was very good-her whole soul went into the descriptions of heroes and their adventures as she tried desperately to instill in the heart of the listener the beauty she felt inside. In fact, so wrapped up in her dreams, she had paid little attention to the horror and violence outside of her, until the day she met heroes at the stake of execution in Justice Square. She had been one of the crowd, watching as six people fought desperately for their lives-and for hers, and failed. In trying to convince the others of the city of Jagu of the evil around them, they were captured and mercilessly condemned to die-and with them, their legacy. Only that remained, now on her shoulders. She still remembered how they looked-looked on that fateful night…

Rhian, blonde hair cut and hacked, face a mask of agony, still laying on the concrete platform soaked in her own blood, left to rot. Miguel, his pale face and glazed eyes, stiff limbs held out to embrace thin air, black hair curling under in the humidity. Avner, his perfectly formed face torn and bloody, bent almost double, a pool of blood around his head as his breathing grew slower and slower, hissing harshly in the stillness of the night. Tulio, humming tunelessly, his light blue eyes glinting with madness as he rocked back and forth, waiting for the .death that would claim him. Jaime, Lean, cold, with a knife in his stomach, his face a mask of agony, but still bearing the last semblance of a smile. Then there was Cassandra. She remembered her the most clearly, as she was the only conscious person at the time. Her olive skin was perfectly framed with black hair, and her brown eyes had sunk into Dagmar's heart and memory.


She shut her eyes tight, hearing her own clear voice trembling over the words, cutting into her memory as she recalled her offer to help them escape. And yet it was refused…Cassandra's voice, harsh and melancholy, once more echoed through her mind…

"My friends are dead, little one. Do you really want to die like this, all alone?"

But she had not died alone- Dagmar was there. With that harsh voice had come the bitter reality of her life-and it suddenly clicked. Her whole life finally had a purpose, and so she had pledged her life to helping those like she had previously been-lost in the crowd. She remembered, at Cassandra's request, taking a necklace, one that she said had great power. Little did Dagmar know then. She had turned to leave, but not before once more offering escape, if only for Cassandra. However, Cassandra saw escape in only one thing-death.

"NO. I will die. I want to die…Girl. Have you steel?"

She had, and then her request had been to kill this person who would give her so much in so little. She remembered how desperate Cassandra was, and how hopeless her plight had seemed. Then, in a conflict of emotions she barely understood, she knelt to embrace her, and, slipping her small hunting knife into the heart of her would-be mentor, she took the necklace she had been given and ran back through the streets of Jagu. At, first, heading for her normal street corner, she had run quickly and with complete sense

of direction, but, gradually halted by indecision she had slowed and stopped. Nothing was the same. Nothing. She could never go back to her old life after this - it just wouldn't be the same.

Thinking quickly, she decided on a new direction. Rather than hide in the city , she would leave it. The would learn how to use the necklace, as well as other weapons. She could travel fare and wide and wait for the opportunity to present itself, that she might come down upon the City of Jagu like a wedge, saving those that so desperately needed to be saved and throwing the deceivers into the abyss.

Walking slowly, secretively, she made her passage to the gate. The guards would be attentive tonight with the prisoners in the courtyard. She realized with a start that she could be mistaken for one of them - Cassandra. With her long black hair she would be easily identified as escaping and be shot down without remorse and no one would feel loss at the death of a street orphan. Summoning her courage, she had approached the gate stealthily. It was fight or flee, and she had chosen the latter. She was about to leap forward into the open and towards the gate when she felt a small pocket of heat where the necklace was. Startled, she pulled it out and started again as the blue gem shone with an icy light. It would give her away if she held it much longer. She deposited in a drawstring which hung around her neck. Then she leapt forward, galvanizing into action throwing open the gates with a surge of adrenaline and running past the surprised guards, who hesitated than gave chase. Even with her head start they were catching up with her, but still she ran on the with the ferocity of despair. But finally her strength gave out and she was surrounded. Tears blurring her sight, she had held her ground praying desperately for someone to help her. And then it had come. A searing burning in her chest caused her to gasp and grab the gem which seemed to emanate a fury. Holding it forth (she didn't even remember taking it out) power, raw and potent, rushed through her veins as the screamed and everything around her exploded in a burning light. She alone stood in the eye of the storm, sending the power flowing forth, controlling it by instinct.

Eillah she notarah coae

Sera, Sera, Eilt Druina!...

And then it stopped. She felt a falling sensation and everything went black.

The Dagmar that rose form the dust of the plains of Jagu that night was not Dagmar, the street orphan. It was as if the gem that she so fervently clutched in her hand had taken her soul and switched it with another's. This Dagmar had no illusions. And this Dagmar wanted revenge. She stared at the carnage around her, those guards turned to ash, others still burning. Some were still alive and lay where they were, not daring to move. She surveyed them with a coolness not unlike indifference and then realized, despite her outward calm, the edges of the gem clasped tight in her clenched hands were cutting her. Quickly she put it back in its pouch, almost afraid of it. Then she turned and began to head towards the woods trying to get away from the city. She remembered thinking about Cassandra once more, and the burden she had borne, now hers. Then falling in the soft grass of the outskirts of the forest, the fever overtook her.

She saw nothing for a long time. Shapes blurred but never focused and strange sounds echoed in her mind. After a while she heard a voice and a cool had against her brow. A bitter liquid was forced down her throat and then everything went black again.

Alright, Part 1 completed- you play my editor and tell me whether I should continue- note, this is an original- do not steal my characters or my work!

Ja Mata Ne!


Sorry my Author's Notes are short, I don't have much to say.