(The events of this chapter co-incide with the Faerie Bound chapter "Filling in the Gaps")
I screamed as the Drael's claws raked into my ribs, tearing deep lines across my flesh. I staggered back, the blood from a previous wound to my forehead blurring my vision. I must have been fighting for hours, I was exhausted. Both the Drael and I were wounded, but it was me that was losing the fight. I tried desperately to back off, to get some space between me and the Drael, but it was no use. Despite the damage I had done, and there was plenty, the creature just kept on coming.
I couldn't keep this up for much longer.
I knew I was badly hurt; I couldn't think of a single part of me that hadn't been scratched or beaten by the Drael's constant attacks. I was almost sure my left wrist was broken too, from the time I'd had to fend the creature off before I could get my sword at it. But no matter how much damage I did, the monster just kept coming.
I had to finish this quickly, or I was doomed.
"What's the matter, Ash?" the Drael taunted, "had enough? Want to give up?"
"Never!" I growled, and lunged at the creature again. It seized me by the wrist and flung me to the ground. It stood over me, leering horribly,
"I'll admit, you've given me quite a hard time, young man. Took me longer than I expected to find you. But," it laughed, "you can never hide from the Drael."
I tried to bring my sword around to chop the monster in half, but it just laughed and pushed my arm away as if it were an irritating gnat.
"You really don't give up easily do you? Well, perhaps you require a little persuasion."
With that, it brought it's foot down on my ankle. I felt something break and screamed in agony. The Drael laughed and kicked me again, this time aiming for my ribs,
"Go on, give in. Give in weakling, you know you can't defeat me."
It's true, I can't. I am a weakling, I can't fight any more. I could never stand against this creature, or against the will of my family. They were always stronger. My attempts to escape them have all been in vain. What was the point of trying? What's the point of fighting such strength? It was useless.
No. It was not.
I fought my family because they were wrong. Everything about them is wrong, and I knew it. Just because they think they can govern the world and control dark creatures does not mean they are stronger. I ran away because I knew that and would not become what I hate. I glare up at the Drael, fury and agony blazing in my eyes. No, I'm not giving up. You can kick me, stab me and break every bone in my body but I will not give in. I'll never surrender to you.
If I'm going to die, I'll kill you first.
With a desperate cry I drive the blade forward, towards the Drael's unprotected chest. It's caught off balance and the blade penetrates it's flesh. It lets out a horrible ear-splitting, gut-wrenching wail as black blood pours from the wound in its chest. It sagged to its knees, still wailing as it died. I drag myself backwards with my good arm, pulling my broken body with me. The Drael glares at me, its eyes full of hatred and fury:
"YOU WRETCH! HOW DARE YOU! YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS!"
As it fell in it's death throes, the creature lurched forwards and drove it's claws into my chest.