Javax
The Shadow
In short, I'm taking a creative writing-based class, and this was my submission for the first assignment. I was required to write a 400-1,000 word "hook" to gather the interest of the reader enough to make them want to know more.
(Yes, I know that parts, especially the end, are super choppy and odd. I was trying to stay as close to the 1,000 word cap as possible without writing an entire 10 page paper lol)
The sky unleashed a torrent upon the forested cottage. The roaring wind slammed the door against the soaked walls in an unsteady rhythm that matched the relentless storm that raged outside, the ajar door welcoming in the violence. Rain battered the wooden walls, the door, the windows, until the water was seeping in through the cracks like an unstoppable disease. It dripped on the wooden floors, on the dying hearth, and on the lone inhabitant that lay sprawled upon the wooden planks soaked with his diluted blood.
White-knuckled fists clenched at his sides as he fought to calm the fear and anger bubbling inside him. His green eyes examined the body for what seemed like the thousandth time, marking each and every feature.
Wrinkled rippled through his paper-like skin as if the man had undergone hundreds of years of aging within minutes, leaving crevices where others could peer into the emptiness inside his body. The remainder of his body was so thin that it looked as if his very skin clung onto the remains of his bones.
But these were not the most peculiar characteristics of the corpse. The man lying before him held color whatsoever. No pigment of the skin or hair, no irises, nothing. His skin and hair looked to have been poorly bleached, resulting in a sickly gray. His wide eyes, gazing at nothing but the remnants of his last moments, were void of all life and color, grayed pupils settling in a sea of white.
A husk of the man he once was, soulless and devoid of life. Just like the previous body.
“What was his name?” The inquiry wasn’t as confident as he had hoped. His gaze remained on the corpse.
His commander straightened immediately, halting his search through the trunk on the far side of the room. “Raye Conan, Your Majesty.” He paused. “A werewolf.”
The king found it difficult to pry his eyes away from the man’s body. “Was he an Eternal?” The word felt foreign on his tongue, and he wondered if the dryness of his mouth was from the intense heat of the sun or the bad omens floating on the air.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The king didn’t remember his crown ever feeling so heavy upon his head.
He looked down at his now-opened palms, his gaze settling on the map in his left hand. Black lines traced the outskirts of his kingdom, white-capped triangles underneath his ring and pinky fingers denoted the Loville Mountains, and small, dark green triangles curved around the base of his thumb, forming the Carahell Woods. His eyes rested on the northern end of the green triangles where an amber light had once shone brightly. But now, it was an dull and boring as most of his hand. Except for the remaining five lights that twinkled on his map like stars in the night sky.
“We are in dire need of aid, Vargas,” the king admitted. He finally lifted his eyes to meet the hazelnut brown of his commander and good friend.
It didn’t take long for the subtle command to ring through Commander Vargas. “Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but we can’t trust her.”
“She’s all we have left,” the king retorted. “Prepare a letter and send it immediately.”
“But Y–”
“Now!” The king’s voice boomed, scattering the curious rodents and watchful birds from their hiding places.
Commander Vargas cowered at his king’s command, but immediately retreated to the Conan’s desk to begin scribing the letter. Within minutes, one of the king’s eagles was speeding away from the forest, a sealed letter in its claws.
She didn’t know why she agreed to come. Perhaps it was curiosity, wondering why such a high power would request her presence. Perhaps it was guilt, from her flying beast of shadow that had ripped his carrier eagle’s throat out. Perhaps it was amusement, since the entire situation seemed absolutely absurd. Perhaps she wanted to know why he sent a handwritten letter to a blind woman.
No matter the reason, she had decided to meet the king at his proposed destination: an underground bar that was more for illegal trade deals than drinking and being merry. It wasn’t difficult for her to silently scope out the place before the meeting. Her energy pulses revealed to her the entire floor plan of the building, including exits, secret passageways, and the like. They even showed her the inhabitants of the building; nothing but the workers and a bunch of shady drunkards looking to score their next rush.
When she had deduced that it was safe enough and not some terrible trap set up by the king or one of his bounty hunters, she easily snuck her way to the back room where they had agreed to meet. The torches weren’t lit, which didn’t matter to the blind woman, but if no one knew she was there then no one could bother her and give away her location.
The king arrived exactly on time, pushing open the door to the back room. If he was surprised to see the woman already sitting at the wooden table, her feet propped upon the surface, then he didn’t show it. But the spike in his heartbeat betrayed his fear of her. Two men were trailing behind him, both fully clad in golden armor and matching weapons. The king stopped them before they entered the room and whispered to them to stand guard outside. The blind woman could feel their hesitation, but they obeyed.
Once the door closed behind him, the tension between the king and the woman was suffocating.
“Roxii, the supposed greatest assassin in all of Thiyalia,” the king greeted coldly. His gaze settled upon the cloth band around her head, covering her eyes. “If I had been told you were blind, I would have made special accommodations.”
“If you had been told I were blind, then you wouldn’t have believed I was your ‘last hope’, Ridgewell.” The assassin’s voice was cold and his name was laced with venom.
The king was silent as he moved to take his seat on the other side of the table. The tension rose with each step he took towards the woman. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I don’t do deals,” Roxii spat.
Ridgewell’s face contorted into something between irritation and composure. “It is true,” he continued, “that I believe you are our last hope. There is something… odd happening in Thiyalia, and I feel that you are the only one who can figure it out.” Each word was forced and quiet, but the assassin could sense no untruth in his words.
She faked a yawn, hovering her hand over her mouth in exaggeration. “Either get to the point or I’m leaving.”
“Something is killing the Eternals.”
The assassin stopped in her tracks, her retorts and insults dying on her lips. She removed her feet from the table and placed her hands on her thighs as if bracing herself. “Impossible,” she finally spoke. “Eternals don’t just die. That’s why they’re Eternals.”
“That’s what we thought, too.” King Ridgewell furrowed his brow in confusion, his mind still mulling over their predicament. “Whatever is killing them, it’s leaving them as shells of their bodies and nothing more.”
The assassin mirrored the king’s confusion. “But why do you need me? What can I do against a soul-stealing monster?”
“We hoped you could answer that question, Shadow Walker.” The king gazed at Roxii for a few moments before speaking again. “If you take this job, then I will pardon you for a quarter of your bounties in Thiyalia.”
“This sounds like a big job. Why not all of my bounties?”
“Half of your bounties.”
“Three-quarters.”
“Two-thirds of your bounties, and I call off all of your current bounty hunters.”
“Deal.”
Roxii and King Ridgewell stood suddenly, their hands simultaneously reaching for the other’s as they sealed the deal that would hopefully save the world before it fell into ruin.
–TheJavax
1,332 words | 7,530 characters
(Yes, I know that parts, especially the end, are super choppy and odd. I was trying to stay as close to the 1,000 word cap as possible without writing an entire 10 page paper lol)
The sky unleashed a torrent upon the forested cottage. The roaring wind slammed the door against the soaked walls in an unsteady rhythm that matched the relentless storm that raged outside, the ajar door welcoming in the violence. Rain battered the wooden walls, the door, the windows, until the water was seeping in through the cracks like an unstoppable disease. It dripped on the wooden floors, on the dying hearth, and on the lone inhabitant that lay sprawled upon the wooden planks soaked with his diluted blood.
▵ ▿ ▵
White-knuckled fists clenched at his sides as he fought to calm the fear and anger bubbling inside him. His green eyes examined the body for what seemed like the thousandth time, marking each and every feature.
Wrinkled rippled through his paper-like skin as if the man had undergone hundreds of years of aging within minutes, leaving crevices where others could peer into the emptiness inside his body. The remainder of his body was so thin that it looked as if his very skin clung onto the remains of his bones.
But these were not the most peculiar characteristics of the corpse. The man lying before him held color whatsoever. No pigment of the skin or hair, no irises, nothing. His skin and hair looked to have been poorly bleached, resulting in a sickly gray. His wide eyes, gazing at nothing but the remnants of his last moments, were void of all life and color, grayed pupils settling in a sea of white.
A husk of the man he once was, soulless and devoid of life. Just like the previous body.
“What was his name?” The inquiry wasn’t as confident as he had hoped. His gaze remained on the corpse.
His commander straightened immediately, halting his search through the trunk on the far side of the room. “Raye Conan, Your Majesty.” He paused. “A werewolf.”
The king found it difficult to pry his eyes away from the man’s body. “Was he an Eternal?” The word felt foreign on his tongue, and he wondered if the dryness of his mouth was from the intense heat of the sun or the bad omens floating on the air.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The king didn’t remember his crown ever feeling so heavy upon his head.
He looked down at his now-opened palms, his gaze settling on the map in his left hand. Black lines traced the outskirts of his kingdom, white-capped triangles underneath his ring and pinky fingers denoted the Loville Mountains, and small, dark green triangles curved around the base of his thumb, forming the Carahell Woods. His eyes rested on the northern end of the green triangles where an amber light had once shone brightly. But now, it was an dull and boring as most of his hand. Except for the remaining five lights that twinkled on his map like stars in the night sky.
“We are in dire need of aid, Vargas,” the king admitted. He finally lifted his eyes to meet the hazelnut brown of his commander and good friend.
It didn’t take long for the subtle command to ring through Commander Vargas. “Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but we can’t trust her.”
“She’s all we have left,” the king retorted. “Prepare a letter and send it immediately.”
“But Y–”
“Now!” The king’s voice boomed, scattering the curious rodents and watchful birds from their hiding places.
Commander Vargas cowered at his king’s command, but immediately retreated to the Conan’s desk to begin scribing the letter. Within minutes, one of the king’s eagles was speeding away from the forest, a sealed letter in its claws.
▵ ▿ ▵
She didn’t know why she agreed to come. Perhaps it was curiosity, wondering why such a high power would request her presence. Perhaps it was guilt, from her flying beast of shadow that had ripped his carrier eagle’s throat out. Perhaps it was amusement, since the entire situation seemed absolutely absurd. Perhaps she wanted to know why he sent a handwritten letter to a blind woman.
No matter the reason, she had decided to meet the king at his proposed destination: an underground bar that was more for illegal trade deals than drinking and being merry. It wasn’t difficult for her to silently scope out the place before the meeting. Her energy pulses revealed to her the entire floor plan of the building, including exits, secret passageways, and the like. They even showed her the inhabitants of the building; nothing but the workers and a bunch of shady drunkards looking to score their next rush.
When she had deduced that it was safe enough and not some terrible trap set up by the king or one of his bounty hunters, she easily snuck her way to the back room where they had agreed to meet. The torches weren’t lit, which didn’t matter to the blind woman, but if no one knew she was there then no one could bother her and give away her location.
The king arrived exactly on time, pushing open the door to the back room. If he was surprised to see the woman already sitting at the wooden table, her feet propped upon the surface, then he didn’t show it. But the spike in his heartbeat betrayed his fear of her. Two men were trailing behind him, both fully clad in golden armor and matching weapons. The king stopped them before they entered the room and whispered to them to stand guard outside. The blind woman could feel their hesitation, but they obeyed.
Once the door closed behind him, the tension between the king and the woman was suffocating.
“Roxii, the supposed greatest assassin in all of Thiyalia,” the king greeted coldly. His gaze settled upon the cloth band around her head, covering her eyes. “If I had been told you were blind, I would have made special accommodations.”
“If you had been told I were blind, then you wouldn’t have believed I was your ‘last hope’, Ridgewell.” The assassin’s voice was cold and his name was laced with venom.
The king was silent as he moved to take his seat on the other side of the table. The tension rose with each step he took towards the woman. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I don’t do deals,” Roxii spat.
Ridgewell’s face contorted into something between irritation and composure. “It is true,” he continued, “that I believe you are our last hope. There is something… odd happening in Thiyalia, and I feel that you are the only one who can figure it out.” Each word was forced and quiet, but the assassin could sense no untruth in his words.
She faked a yawn, hovering her hand over her mouth in exaggeration. “Either get to the point or I’m leaving.”
“Something is killing the Eternals.”
The assassin stopped in her tracks, her retorts and insults dying on her lips. She removed her feet from the table and placed her hands on her thighs as if bracing herself. “Impossible,” she finally spoke. “Eternals don’t just die. That’s why they’re Eternals.”
“That’s what we thought, too.” King Ridgewell furrowed his brow in confusion, his mind still mulling over their predicament. “Whatever is killing them, it’s leaving them as shells of their bodies and nothing more.”
The assassin mirrored the king’s confusion. “But why do you need me? What can I do against a soul-stealing monster?”
“We hoped you could answer that question, Shadow Walker.” The king gazed at Roxii for a few moments before speaking again. “If you take this job, then I will pardon you for a quarter of your bounties in Thiyalia.”
“This sounds like a big job. Why not all of my bounties?”
“Half of your bounties.”
“Three-quarters.”
“Two-thirds of your bounties, and I call off all of your current bounty hunters.”
“Deal.”
Roxii and King Ridgewell stood suddenly, their hands simultaneously reaching for the other’s as they sealed the deal that would hopefully save the world before it fell into ruin.
–TheJavax
1,332 words | 7,530 characters
