The Blackest Heart - ExcerptMature

This is a fight scene taken from a story I am currently engaged in writing. The main character here is very evil and one of the first characters I ever created. She is very near and dear to my heart, and as such I often reincarnate her in other stories. Let me know what you think.

(bear in mind, this is based in the world of the elder scrolls, specifically skyrim. The world is not of my creation and belongs entirely to Bethesda softworks. I do not claim to own the world in any way, shape, or form) 


Alexandria’s eyes shot wide open, their blue glow the only light in the darkness. She could hear it, taste it, scent it on the wind. Danger, she knew something was amiss. She jumped up, the cold barely phasing her already ice cold skin. Her blood always ran cold, for she was, after all, half dead.

 With a feeling of anger, she glared at the steel door before her, a heartbeat  thumping beyond. But it did not smell like her thrall, it tasted of human… of nord. She jumped out of bed, slinking into the shadow of a nearby corner and concentrating on the door. With a terrible slam, the door shuttered, no doubt a hit from outside. Then again, and again until it gave way.

 A man marched in, his sword drawn and a steel helm shielding his features. An orb of light magic floated over his shoulder, illuminating all but the corner. She smiled, not even light magic could penetrate her darkness. The man didn’t seem to notice the odd shadow, investigating in every nook and crany. He was followed by three men and one badly injured one. The injured one could be her first kill, like a predator picking off the weak from a herd. But she was no mere predator, she was a lion among sheep. She was unstoppable, why should she slink in shadow and pick off the weak?  

“Where is she?? Where the fuck is she??” the man wearing the helm yelled, turning over a table and knocking over a bookshelf.

“I don’t know!” said one man, his voice cracking.

 She knew he was young, she could practically taste his pure blood from where she hid.

“Look under everything, behind everything. Look everywhere!” said the man with the helm.

 She assumed he was the leader. She’d have to kill him fast in order to break morale. But did she want to? It would be far more enjoyable to kill him slow, make him beg. Perhaps she would knock him out, then kill him slow.

“Wait…” said one man. “What if she’s not here?”

“Of course she’s here, you saw the signs! These bandits are thralls!” said the leader.

 They were smart, they had to be hunters.

“Yeah, but what if it’s a different vampire?” said another man, the wounded one.

 All the men were silent for a moment, now was her chance.

“I don’t much appreciate strangers in my home.” she called, throwing her voice behind one man.

 Much to her amusement, they all looked around wildly.

“Where are you!?” called the man with the helm.

“It isn’t wise to anger me, mortal.” she whispered, throwing her voice behind him.

 She could smell their fear, their anxiety, their morale was low. It all screamed ‘food’ to her.

“Didn’t your mothers ever warn you about vampires?” she asked.

“I’m not afraid of you, Alexandria!” cried the man with the helm.

 They knew her name? How did they know her name? They would pay dearly for this. She would make them tell her where they heard her name. They should know better than to speak it aloud as if it were a curse spat by a less-than-pleased drunk, didn’t Stendarr teach them anything? Her name was important, not to be tossed around like slang!

“Speak of a devil,” she started, vanishing and reappearing behind the weakest man. “And she shall appear.”

 In an instant he was gone, his scream and gush of blood the only herald of his doom. The men spun to find their friend had vanished, followed by another man. Then the leader’s light went out and the door slammed shut.

“Stendarr protect us!” cried the leader before his neck was bitten, and he fell unconscious.

“Stendarr can’t help you here!” she hissed as her hand ripped a man’s heart from his chest followed by his scream of terror. Then there was one man left, his hands shaking and eyes alight with fear.

“You humans are all the same. Foolish, fragile. You are nothing, not to your god or anyone. To me, you are at least food.”

 He spoke not a word, crying in fear and desperation.

“I’m going to kill you,” she said, dragging a clawed finger across his neck gently as she positioned herself behind him. “Unless you beg for your life.”

 It took him a moment before he muttered a phrase, “Please… please don’t kill me.”

 She laughed, quietly and softly. She she was being kind, a kind killer, kinder than some would be and she knew she could do worse. She would do worse, but not for him. She was behind him with her arms wrapped around his body and her face next to his, like the fondness shown between two lovers. Her intent, however, was quite the contrary.

“Please… I’ll submit! Please!”

 She drew her hand across his chest in an X shape. “Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“No-” she cut him off with a slice of a bone blade to his throat, his words turning into a gurgle.

 He dropped to the floor, scarlet blood coating the blade end of a devil’s tail, her tail. It was a boon, a hidden weapon she could use at any time. It was long, thin, dexterous and tipped with a serrated blade that resembled bone yet was sharper than steel. It was her favorite of weapons.


The End

0 comments about this story Feed