A/N: My first vampire fic so be gentle with your reviews. But you know the first few chapters are always so slow. I just need time to get where I want to be. I may not be that fast with the whole updating thing because of school but I'll do the best that I can. Please review. If there's anything wrong with the story, let me know and I'll change it. If you like the story, let me know what I'm actually doing right!

Warning: This fic is pretty dark, (well, it's about vampires isn't it?) so if you don't like that kind of stuff, than please do not read. There's going to be blood… oh yeah… lots of blood. I may change the rating after a few chapters because if I'm going to do what I think I'm going to do, then it will be necessary…hehe… I'm babbling aren't I? I guess I do that a lot.

On with the story…

She lay there, quiet and unmoving, the last rays of daylight streaming in through the open window and falling on the tanned skin of her face. Had her eyes been open, a green and violent stare would be upon everyone around. Her lips were soft and a deep shade of red. Red like blood. Black hair made a fan around her head and spread out on the marble floor beneath her. The girl was clothed in a forest green kirtle; the same color for her cloak. The only thing that stood out against her attire was the crimson sash around her waist with silver filigree along its length. A jeweled dagger was strapped to her thigh, ready to be unsheathed at a moment's notice. The blade was accustomed to the blood that would coat its shining steel face. It also knew that with every strike, it would bring death.

The clacking of boots shattered the silence that had been held for so long. A tall man made his way to the girl. His face was hidden under the hood of his cloak. Upon reaching her small form, he knelt down and brought his fingers to her face. Her skin was cold to the touch. He laid his fingers against her throat to check her pulse. It was beating, but faintly. The man gently brushed strands of hair away to reveal pointed ears.

'Elf,' he muttered to himself.

He looked at her arm. It was covered by a dark sleeve so he pulled the material away. Etched into the skin of her shoulder was the red mark of her clan: a vine, twisting itself over a sword. The man knew that the tattoo was usually black, but in the presence of a vampire it would turn scarlet and burn like hellfire, like it was at that very moment. She, being unconscious, was oblivious to the pain.

Even with only one glance at the strange symbol, he knew that this girl was one of them, one that was trained to hunt down and kill his kind.

He lifted her up, one arm supporting her knees and the other behind her neck. He would take her to his clan where he would have the other members deal with her. He knew that her fate would be immediate death, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. She was his enemy.

The man walked out of the marble hall and into a small chamber towards his right. When he stepped inside, he laid her carefully down. The walls were decorated with pictures of the disturbing sort. There was a detailed illustration of the decaying body of a vampire, its fangs ripped from its bloodied mouth while its eyes were glazed over in the sense of death. The man was startled when he looked up into the face of a werewolf, halfway through its transformation and howling in pain as a spear protruded from its chest. A manic grin was frozen on its changing and elongated face, caught in time by the artist's brush.

The man shook his shoulders to rid himself of the chill that lingered in the room and made the air heavy. The feeling of death was everywhere, he knew that it was no use to try and escape it, it was too powerful. His people had a name for it: the Dark. It was a name for the hovering gloom that settled over battlefields and graveyards. The Dark was a signal that let everyone know that the maiden of Death had lingered here.

He lifted the hood of his cloak away from his face, allowing him peripheral vision of his surroundings. His eyes were of obsidian black and sharp, giving a mysterious aura to his features.

His hair was long and tied back into a high ponytail with a frayed ribbon. The golden strands of hair that had fallen against the side of his face were brushed back behind his ears in an irritated manner. He needed to get home, and fast.

A sword had been strapped to his belt, but now the sound of its metal rang in the room as he quickly pulled it out of its sheath.

They were not alone.

The man stood completely still, waiting as the thud of feet on the marble grew steadily closer and louder. He first caught a glimpse of a flowing cloak, its hood down, to hide the face of whatever was coming towards him. Instinctively, the man stepped in front of the girl, if this was another of her kind, they would try to take her back from him. But he couldn't let that happen, not when he hadn't succeeded in catching any of his prey in weeks.

The approaching figure lifted the hood of his cloak and the man let out a heavy breath of relief.

'Hello, Torin,' the newcomer said.

'Good evening, Shahr,' Torin replied, seeing his friend's gaze rest on the form behind him.

'What have you got here?' Shahr asked kneeling down to examine the girl. Torin stepped aside.

'One of them,' Torin said with feigned causality, he didn't need to elaborate; he knew that Shahr understood exactly what he meant.

'Hmm, a pretty one at that,' murmured Shahr, trailing his finger along her neck, a small smile playing on his lips.

Shahr's expression quickly changed.

'You didn't take her yet?' he demanded, looking up at him in disbelief. 'Why?'

'I was, but I was waiting until I got to speak to the elders. You know how they react when we take them without permission.' Torin shrugged.

'Torin, Torin,' Shahr said, shaking his head. 'When will you understand? You cannot follow all the rules the old ones enforce. You need to be your own master, not have them tell you what to do all the time. Besides, what they don't know will never hurt them.'

Torin's eyes narrowed. 'I am not a puppet in their miserable game, but you know far better than I the consequences of disobeying them. You may be foolish enough to risk your life, but I for one, am not.'

'I know that you need her blood as much as I do. You are going to—'

But he interrupted himself.

'You know what?' Shahr said, 'Fine. You starve, I will take her.' and he started to lower his lips to her throat.

Before he could go any further, Torin had grabbed his friend's shoulder and flung him aside, across the room and away from the girl.

'What the―!' Shahr yelled, getting quickly to his feet.

Torin glared at him. 'They will find out, Shahr, can't you see that? Anyone could be here watching us. They could be watching right at this moment!'

His tone softened, 'I don't want you dead, Shahr.'

'Listen to me Torin, these are my choices.' Shahr explained, his voice suddenly weak, 'I take her and have the possibility of death, or, I let her live for now and die of . . . of . . . bloodlust,' he gasped.

As Shahr was speaking his gray eyes turned into slits of dark red and suddenly began to roll into the back of his head. A loud moan was torn from his lips as he sank to his knees clutching his chest. He keeled over in visible pain and was on the floor once again.

Torin rushed towards the vampire. He grabbed his shoulders and was about to shake him but Shahr's skin was burning like fire through his cloak. Torin brought his hands away quickly and looked at his fingers. He knew what was happening. He knew that there was nothing he could do so save his friend's life.

He watched in horror as Shahr cried out and suddenly lunged at the girl who still lay on marble. Torin tried to pull him back but the idea was immediately dismissed due to Shahr's burning state. Shahr's hands blindly groped at the elf's neck before bringing his mouth to her throat, still in his craze of agony. He was just about to sink his incisors into her flesh, when something neither of them had expected happened.

With a hoarse cry the elf brought her hands to her dagger and took a swipe at Shahr's face. The metal made contact and blood began to stream down the side of his cheek from a long and deep cut over his left eye. Torin resisted the urge to drink that free flowing blood. He was so hungry. The girl had apparently come to sometime in the last minute and had feigned unconsciousness up until now.

She lifted her foot and kicked Shahr's chest with enough force to send him reeling backwards and up against the far wall. She strode towards him and raised her hands towards his face. She muttered an incantation and a small red light flashed between her slender fingers.

'I live to rid this earth of scum like you.' She said her green eyes ablaze and the ferocity in her voice echoing against the walls of the chamber.

Torin rushed over, realizing what she was about to do. But he was too late. The elf plunged her fingers into Shahr's eye, the one already covered in blood. The glowing red light tore apart the flesh and a shattering scream shook the room.

Shahr was dead.

While she was doing this, Torin had come up from behind and had sunk his teeth into her throat, catching the girl by surprise. He fulfilled his bloodlust as the warm liquid passed over his tongue and he took her.

The elf gave a shuddering gasp and slumped into his arms. She was unconscious once again. He finished and licked his lips; satisfied. Torin put an arm under her legs and began to carry her away, her head lolling from side to side as he walked out of the room stopping once only to look at the dead vampire on the floor. Then he made his way back into the hall, out of the building and began down a beaten path.

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The moon shone its pale light on the beaten trail as Torin strode quickly with the girl in his arms. She was weak but he knew she would recover quickly. Elves were strong with an adamant will to fight, unlike those humans that Torin was used to hunting. Their blood was thin and did little to satisfy a vampire. Elves were considered a rare treat and the perfect slave, enduring the abuse their masters brought down on them and never giving in. Vampires loved a challenge. Of course there were the occasional trouble-makers, but they were easily dealt with.

Torin did not want to dwell on the death of his friend. He had seen many die in the constant war that raged between the elves and vampires. He had seen death plague the land around him with his every waking breath. He had seen the millions fall, his opponents as well as his allies. He should be accustomed to it.

But he was not.

Every time a life was snatched away by his hands, Torin would be filled with guilt until his mind had more important matters to dwell on. Matters such as the elders' harsh rule over the vampire species.

The vampires were separated much like the elves, which was according to their abilities and strengths. Torin was of a higher class who would spy on the elves and other creatures who might pose as a threat to the vampires. Creatures that might spread around information and strategies concerning the war that the vampires tried their best to keep confidential.

Elves and vampires once lived in harmony, even if it was in a secluded way. The different species kept to themselves. The vampires living their own way, doing whatever pleased them wherever they wanted. The elves hid themselves away, having wanted nothing to do with the outside world.

Until Sanguis.

Sanguis was a mighty vampire lord who ruled over the vampires and tried to gain control of all other magical creatures. It was expected of the elves to rebel, and Sanguis was ready for them. Upon discovering their hidden city, he slaughtered innocent children and old ones to atone for the crimes of the elven warriors― men and women alike― that had attacked Sanguis' palace. This killing was a great time for the vampires. They drank the intoxicating liquid that ran black along the ground and filled the once clear and fresh springs, turning the water crimson in death.

The war still raged on with the same force it had so many years ago. The air was always tainted with the Dark. Torin had felt it then and he felt it now, even as he held his enemy in his arms.

Because elves and vampires had extremely long lives, he could not tell her age. But he still figured her to be about as old as he was. Her elegant features marred only by the twin bite wounds on her neck.

Then reality hit him. His breath caught in his throat and his chest tightened painfully.

He had claimed an elf without permission. Taking any creature without the consent of the elders guaranteed a slow and painful death. Although vampires had long lives, death was not a far off concept upon disobeying their harsh laws.

Torin stopped abruptly. The girl he held stirred feebly, letting out a quiet moan as her eyelids fluttered.

When she saw who was holding her, she gasped and began to wrestle herself away from him. Torin let her fall to the ground and fell back a few paces in surprise as he saw that before him was not an elf, but a she-wolf. Her green eyes stared daggers of hatred at him as her upper lip curled back let out a long and low growl. White fur bristled on the wolf's back right before she pounced.

He stepped out of the way and into the trees, his back to a trunk and the rough bark digging into his skin through his cloak. The first attack had failed and wolf began to pace back and forth in front of him, not once taking her eyes off his face. White paws softly plodding on the forest floor until one of them buckled under the weight of her body. She crumpled to the ground with a soft thump, panting heavily, emerald eyes rolling. Her attempts to rise to her feet were futile and she suddenly morphed back into elf form. The girl was still conscious, but barely.

Torin approached the elf, her chest rising and falling as she tried to bring her breathing to normal.

'What is your name, elf?' he demanded, looking down at her, no concern showing in his expression.

She did not move.

'Answer me!'

The girl visibly fought to disobey the command, her face clenched in pain, but Torin knew she would have to do as he said. She was his, he had claimed her.

Her voice was ragged when she spoke. The single word was so soft; Torin had to strain his ears to hear it.

'Myja'

A/N: I think I'll end most of my chapters with about 2,000 words or somewhere around there. But don't expect me to stay committed to that number. This story may sound cliché, but trust me; it's not going to be.

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and have a plushie for your troubles.