Stolen Hearts and Broken Days

Whispered. There was something that took even the faintest breath of warmth from his cheeks as he sat up. Everything about him was hushed and silent. It was never anything but around home, but something seemed to freeze the chill even deeper. A strange dread was anchored in him as he looked about the room.1

Wardrobes, tables and chairs all set off their dulled hues with heavy shadows from the moon outside. He shifted off of the bed and heard the muted groan of the wooden frame. Even that was oddly empty in sound. He rolled his shoulders and neck as he stared out of the window for a moment, wondering why he'd awaken so early. It was not even close to dawn yet.2

The stiffness in his shoulders and the slight tinge of pain made him turn to look in the mirror hiding in the corner to his right. He noted the smears of blood that traced down his arms and across his chest in a somewhat erratic manner. The markings looked black in the pale blue of the moon and stars. Perhaps last night had caused a bit more than a little pain after all. He turned back to the bed, wondering if his fiance even knew how much damage her sharp little fingers had caused.3

A frown crossed his face as he stared at the empty bed. The sheets were torn and clotted in old blood and sweat, the blankets looking only a little better. The four poster bed held nothing save a few errant feathers from the pillows and that was it.4

"Kira?" his voice sounded odd to his own ears, still muted by half-sleep.5

Turning towards the door, his hand caught the cool brass and turned it gently, hearing the unmistakable groan of whispering metal. Everything in the inn was so silently clean; his mother would have it no other way. Leaning out of the doorway, he looked down the hall: empty.6

The wide wooden hall showed no signs of movement and the beckoning shadows from the candles on the walls only added to the shallow darkness that came over the hallway in the night. He turned down the hall and headed towards the stairs; knowing they would lead him down to the lobby where the constant bustle of guests had always been its main point.7

In the darkness of night, even this had become frozen in time. The countertop was swept clear of the baggage from the day before and the key hung in their cubbies like silver eyes, glittering in the golden glow of the only light left flickering in the large expanse.8

At the base of the stairs, he paused to look about. Directly to his left was the sitting room where his family often paused through out their day to enjoy each other's company. The merry laughter and even the rather vicious words spoken there were gone now, left in only the memory of those that still returned.9

To his right, the room opened up to a long open space where such things as traveling troops of entertainers would set up for a day or two. His mother normally covered such an empty spot with tables, but they were tucked neatly against the wall again...waiting for the next day when such traveling curiosities vanished.10

He trailed a finger down the softened mahogany wood that lined the wall in heavy, brown planks. At the corner, he paused again, looking about him in the open expanse. The room still panned out in front of him from the right, turning about until it came to rest directly to his left. It was a great open expanse, hiding a small nook to slightly behind him and to his left where his mother had tucked two old chairs and a small table. That was where the only light was flickering.11

The ambered light stood on the weathered table with a long forgotten book resting beside it. The pages were crisp and straight; only one edge turned over to mark the reader's place. Yet, the reader was gone. The light danced over the vacant cushions that adorned the chairs, spilling out over the dinning area like a golden pool;. Long plank-wood tables with benches stretched out before the small light and he could see nothing out of place. "Kira?" his voice was hushed as he looked about; he did not wish to disturb anyone so early in the day. His bare feet scrapped across the floor in a gentle hush, coming to pause at the doorway, long since fabled to be a dead man's passage. The other side would boast his mother's most treasured room: the kitchen.12

Marbled flooring with matching counters would race about at mid-height, covering every inch possible in it's faded grey splendor. A door just off to the right of the only entrance to the kitchen locked away the immense storehouse of riches his family had painstakingly gathered over a generation's time. Further to his right would be the cramp bar with two chairs. Only the youngest of family ever sat there, if only for the fact that his mother would most likely kill anyone else that tried.13

Peering in with some worry of discovery, he found everything as it always was. The large grey door that lead to his mother's cold box was shut and untouched in front of him. The four sinks were all spotless and sparkling, shining faintly in the soft blues of the coming dawn from the large window that overlooked the well-kept grounds in the back of the inn. The stool that sat underneath the counter, just off to the left of the sinks, had not moved an inch, telling him that no one had dared to venture into the kitchen tonight. The deep, red-traced woodwork that covered the rest of the wares in the kitchen were as unspeakably clean as the rest. He could not help the sigh that past his lips as he turned to look about once more. Somewhere... "Kira..."14

Taking only a moment's glance down the hallway just past the kitchen's walls, he turned to look down the opposite hallway for some time. The two halls were identical in looks, save for the sign from the one he was closest to which warned visitors that this hall was a restricted access. The bright golden letters marched across a black lacquered sign, over the entrance to the hall. The other hall boasted a sign of equal looks with the word, "Visitors" printed on it by the same hand. He knew that the large library that broke the endless line of doors through the guest hall would be the only other place to look, but something made him turn towards the main doors instead. There was a calling somewhere and it could not come from within the inn...nor, for that matter, from the grounds surrounding the inn.15

Before the great wooden doors that had become a sort of trademark for the inn, he stood for a moment in indecision. The white-iron workings of the door glittered in the pre-dawn paleness and the fine workings of intricate carvings that decorated the doors sat between sight and blindness. His hand reached out to trace the familiar work again before raising higher to pull the cord that had locked the giant timbers in place for the night. He looked back for just a moment before turning to the small gears, hidden behind a small counter space to his right. Such intricate gears and secrets were a mainstay for the inn, and he knew almost all of them.16

Growls from the wooden doors echoed through the empty hall as they broke apart like unwilling giants, brushing their great arms outwards to push what little dust might have collected before them. Pale hues showered down on the hall as he stood there looking out over the cobblestone driveway. His healthy stature, made puny in the gap of the large doors as he slowly took the grey-blue steps down to the courtyard. The carefully laid marble steps could have been too slippery in wet weather or even dew, but his bare feet clung to them with ease until he had reached the rough drive that led out of the enclosure.17

A fountain was the eye attraction for the courtyard, and his eyes landed on it as they always did. Spying the odd similarities to his mother in the statue and the likeness of her spear in the statue's weapon. The black metal was damp with the spray of water which came from the spear she held out before her, as if demanding anyone that entered the iron gates of the inn be friend instead of foe. The cobblestone drive was drawn up about the fountain, giving it a small pool to tumble into and a cool seat for the wayward traveler. And yet, his eyes didn't not remain there long enough to note the rust of time and the faint whispers of what had come to past merely hours before.18

The stables were warm pine timbers, hammered together and kept as clean as the inn he lived in. Even the toughened dirt floors were kept clear of debris. He had no doubt that even there, his mother's handiwork could be seen...if only in the way the coats of each stead glistened in the few lamplights left burning at this hour.19

He came to stand under the fountain, resting a hand on the edge of the statue: a sort of slight hook made from the statue's skirts. He stood there for a moment, surveying the land about. Something was amiss.20

His eyes landed on the large iron gates that shut the outside world out of his little paradise. The wild and unruly lands and weeds whispered on the other side as the right door swung back and forth with a slight groan. It sang of a passing ghost as it's base swept through the long weeds that sprouted just outside the walls. Yet, none of it seemed off to him at first. Until he studied the gate again. It was open.21

As the first few notes of the morning's time wove into the air, he felt his heart fall. It didn't even stop at the pavement, but rather, fell farther and farther as his eyes remained locked on the evidence he'd hoped to never uncover. She was gone.22

He felt his body move towards the gate, barreling past it with such haste that it crashed against the rock and motar wall like a set of loose iron rods. He nearly tumbled down the hill as his eyes locked on the slowly dimming lights of the town. He could still feel himself standing by the statue, leaning againt it as he stared at the iron gate, rocking back and forth like a whithered vine in the wind.23

The dusty road nearly rose to greet him as the sun sprang over the waters in an angry jab of red and orange hues, spilling it's bright colors over everything. And yet...all of it seemed colorless as he skid to a halt at the first door. His hand raised, hammering on the thing door, demanding someone come to see him. His voice was hoarse as if he'd drank the embers of a raging fire before speaking. Each house held the frightened occupants, but there was no Kira. No sign of his beloved fiance...his one and only life's mate.24

Terror rose in his ears, thundering so loud that even his breathing seemed to vanish. He turned about in the middle of the village, no where. There was not one place left to search...but wait...the town's only tavern. Sitting just off the sandy banks of Yucu Miki Bay, it was a hotspot for gamblers, drunks and...concubines. It was the only place that would sell liquor in the middle of the night.25

Before the old shambled house, he stood for a moment. Knowing he should look, but far too distraught to believe he'd find Kira there. It couldn't be possible. There was no way she would come to such a darkened place. The steps groaned under his weight, nearly breaking as he pushed his way through the drunken mass.26

The water-stained walls were yellow with age and the groaning of the floor only accentuated the wobbling of the boards with each step. How could anyone in their right minds venture into this place?27

The sound of a voice caught his ears as he fell to the counter, his elbows bracing himself as the floor moved like a seasick dragon in a typhoon. His eyes landed on a demon who was regaling his tale to a crowd of broagish men. His shockingly red hair flashed like fire as he nodded and his ebony skinned arms waved about as if they could draw the scene for him. His emerald gaze was yellowed and shot with red and his voice far louder than what needed to be.28

The bartender was taking his time in coming to him--his burly arms showing scars from barfights and scuffles, and his lopsided grin showing the large gape where a set of three teeth ought to have been. For a moment, his eyes traveled back to the demon, words that came to him unbidden were alarming to say the least. Like sounds almost incoherent amid the noise of the tavern, the words "the dragoness was in heat and certainly the easiest of targets" hit him harder than any iron-hooved mule.29

His elbows gave way and he sank to the floor, feeling the markings of several boots before he'd managed to regain himself and the countertop. The broken bottles on the floor cut through his skin easily...but he didn't even notice. Rivulets of blood trailed down his legs and arms with little to stall their decents.30

All that he could see was the demon that had said those words. There was only one dragoness that resided anywhere nearby...and he was quite certain he knew now what had happened. Kira, his beloved, had found someone else...31

Hands wrapped about the demon's neck, dragging him out of the tavern like a over-stuffed rag doll. It was but a moment's work as he slammed the half drunken dolt into the columns holding up the short roofing that ran down the boardwalk. A red haze shimmered over his sight and all reason seemed to focus on one thing.32

He'd taken Kira from him. This demon had stolen the only thing precious to him...the only thing worth living each meticulous day for. And he was going to pay for it; with every drop of blood and coherent thought in his body.33

He sat on the perpetrator's chest, baring down on his eyes with his hands. Gouging them out with such haste, the screams of his victims were left quivering in the air, moments before the demon even opened his mouth. His hands seemed to move on their own as they moved down to his nose, tearing it off and stuffing it in the open gape that was his mouth.34

The demon choked as he fought delirously for his life, but he was beyond reason...beyond even realizing the growing crowd behind him. Nothing but the image of Kira and this demon was even discernable to him. He raised the adultorator up and tore at his stomach, pulling out his entrails and tossing them about the trees nearby. Wrapping lengths about the nearly empty carcass, he strung him up, tieing his hands out straight with the same entrails stuck in the trees.35

As the offender shuddered his last labored breath, leaving the deformed body behind him, it was only then that his attacker pulled out the knife from the demon's belt, cutting the most offending part of the creature off, stuffing it into his rump and storming off, splattered in nothing but entrails and blood.36