First Impressions

I wasn't drunk when I arrived at Lumirith with the five light mages escorting me to the ruined city. So why the hell was the dark mage standing in front of me Kael Veyrath. 

And why is he kind of handsome.

I push the repulsive thought out of my mind. This was not just any dark mage. It was Kael. Fucking. Veyrath. Suddenly, the time I'd been spending practicing self control seems to slip from my mind. I feel like I'm about to unleash a Solar Flare. The energy is at the tip of my fingers, ready to kill the murderer before me. The murderer who's eyes were stormy clouds that seemed to swirl and move. It looked as if lightening would shoot out of them and burn me to ashes.

Maybe if those gray eyes were someone else's I'd call them beautiful. 

His hair seems a million different colours. Each strand reflected the light differently, producing a variety of dark browns and blacks and even something close to blue. It was messy and curly and fell all over his forehead, as untamed and unhinged as the bastard who wore it. He is completely shaven, showing a sharp square jawline with slightly tanned skin, rough and marked with scars of battle. A long scar travels across his neck. His thin lips have an edge to them, as if he's holding back some emotion.

If the animal even has emotions.

His body is muscular, broad and strong and looking like a predator stalking its prey. His movements are sharp and controlled and wary as he walks towards me, making me wonder if I'm the prey. If I'll be the next body mom has to bury, the next one killed by Kael.

There's a ruggedness in his appearance that seemed like a perfect kind of coordinated chaos. It was... handsome? No. Dangerous. It was dangerous and deadly just like he was.

His gaze is cold, the storm looking murderous and he's clearly refraining from killing me as I am him. I see the shadows stir very subtly around him. The ruins of the large city, the city that was burnt by the Umbra thirty years ago, cast shadows which supplied him with power. Their stones are old and worn down from years without care, vines growing on them. The silence is broken by one of my escorts.

"Alara Solwyn, Kael Veyrath. You have been selected by the Lumina and the Umbra for this mission to close the Rift threatening the destruction of both our nations," he says in a professional tone, eyeing one of Kael's escorts.

"You are to fight through the Riftlands," the Umbra says, eyeing my escort. "Once you close the Rift using a combination of light and shadow magic together, as stated by the prophecies, you will split up. The war is still going on outside the Riftlands, but you two must work together. Do you understand?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes," I manage through gritted teeth, my eyes not leaving the storms in Kael's eyes. He matches my gaze. Oh how I'll resist ripping him apart?

Ruining his perfect handsome little face.

"Yes," Kael says. His voice is sharp and low. Each letter seems precise and calculated, his lips moving deliberately. A short word, yet so meticulously said.

Why am I looking at his lips?

The girl before me looks like her mother. Alara Solwyn. I made sure to keep my shadows in check. I couldn't have her knowing that I was planning on killing her very soon. But, judging by her stare, she didn't have a problem showing that she wanted to kill me. Who knows, maybe she also had orders to kill me after the Rift is closed. I'd have to kill her first. 

Her eyes are cold and don't blink. They're a brilliant gold, piercing and radiant. They had an unnatural brightness, intense and fierce. I couldn't wait to see the light fade from them, the captivating glow disappear as she dies.

Her hair is a blinding white, cascading in waves and resting gently on the shoulders of her small figure. It almost looks like fresh snow. It reminded me of the first mornings of winter, waking my father up to run out and play in the snow. 

Her face is sharp and striking, her lips soft and parted as if she's about to speak. Her skin is fair, though there's an almost golden colour giving warmth to her pale skin. But what really catches my eye is the faint scar on her lips. I see a story in it, one that I'd never know since I'm going to kill her.

I've imagined the moment a million times, but with an image of her build I now have it perfected. She seems quick and agile, with long limbs that sway with a grace I'd never seen in anyone else. She's slightly shorter than her guards, and a lot shorter than me. I imagine slicing her small build open, burning it with dark energy. 

Don't let the shadows move. Don't let the shadows move. Don't let the shadows move.

I shake myself out of my little world, the one I'd built to imagine things. To escape from the torment that is living in this world. 

Our escorts seem to be having their own silent standoff, but nothing comes of it. They nod to us and each other, and begin walking in the directions they came from. Now me and her are alone. For a few seconds we hold our stare. Then, she breaks it.

I blink to reset my thoughts, drifting them away from those bright glowing eyes that had been piercing through my very soul a second ago. 

"I will make one thing clear: we are not partners. We are not teammates. I don't want to hear your voice unless it's absolutely necessary," she says coldly. 

"Glad to know you hate me as much as I hate you. Do try and resist blasting me with light," I say, choosing a cool and collected facade.

"It will be a struggle, especially if my shadow tries to kill me."

"Don't worry. Umbra prefer killing with our own hands than letting our shadows do the dirty work."

"Comforting," she says, sarcasm dripping from her sharp knifelike voice.

"Will you keep staring at me, or would you like to get this mission over with," I verbalize. I see her instant annoyance at the observation, which was most definitely correct.

She was likely imagining killing me. Why else would she be staring at me?

She gives a reluctant nod, and starts walking without waiting for me. We each have backpacks with a week's worth of food each. If I run out, then I could just steal from her pack and let her go hungry for a few days.

We walk silently, keeping distance between us. As we walk I feel my magic change. I can't explain it, but something is different. I've lived my whole life with this magic. Every Umbra in history has had shadow magic and lived using the magic just as all the Lumina had control over light magic. What that means is when I feel something different, there's something different.

The look in Alara's eyes shows she feels the same thing. I contemplate asking her about it, but she beats me to it.

"Something is different," she says as if I'm the cause of it.

"It isn't just light magic. I feel it too" I reply.

"I guess this is the start of the Riftlands," she narrows her eyes as she looks around. Start of the Riftlands means start of where the Rift monsters are.

Five minutes later, I finally see what the scouts saw. The ground is cracked in the distance, as if an earthquake had ran through it. I see a small village burnt to the ground and another flooded. And then I hear a loud screech.