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Survival of the Fittest Pt. 1

It's hard waking up every morning, not knowing whether or not you'll survive the next day. Not knowing if today is your last day in this godforsaken plane of meaningless existence. It's hard because once things seem safe you begin to lower your guard, becoming accustomed to the constant threat of imminent demise.

There is no safe haven for a person like me. Everyone wants me dead because of who my parents are. I'm too powerful, a threat to everyone.

How much longer will I survive?

I opened my eyes when I felt the warmth of sunlight gently caressing my face. I had to close them for a few seconds to readjust to the sudden brightness. I hated the daytime. I was more of a night person. It's easier to hide, to slip away from my enemies.

And gods, I had so many fucking enemies.

I stood up from the patch of grass that I was sleeping on and stretched out, working out the little kinks by cracking my knuckles, neck, and back. After feeling fully awake, I picked up my backpack, which I had used as a pillow, and my leather jacket which substituted a blanket. I checked the inside pockets to make sure all of my knives were in their places, and that none were missing. I then slipped the jacket over my black, sleeveless T-shirt and shouldered the bag. I wiped my ripped, black jeans, so that it wasn't too obvious that I had slept in them. I then put my raven-black hair into a ponytail, with my hair reaching my waist.

I began trekking in the woods, my worn out, black combat boots not making a single sound as I weaved through the trees. I found a small creek, where I washed my face and brushed my teeth. After I freshened up by the creek, I found an apple hanging off a branch of a nearby tree, and threw one of my knives to knock it down.

I continued walking, eating the apple as I went until I heard a branch snap. My eyes, as dark as onyx, narrowed in preparation for a fight, as I flicked my wrists, unsheathing two slender Stygian iron knives. I slowly turned around, trying to spot any threats. When I was positive that there wasn't one, I sheathed my knives once again.

Must've been my imagination. I thought to myself. Or maybe a wild animal.

Still feeling suspicious, I continued to venture north until I finally spotted the camp's boundary line. Guarding the front entrance was a giant dragon the color of lavender, its body snaking around Thalia's pine tree, which bore the Golden Fleece that sustained the camp's magical borders. Peleus raised his head sleepily, only slightly interested at my arrival. He already knew my scent. After looking me over, he rested his head on his forelegs once more.

I considered entering the camp through the front entrance, but I quickly dismissed the thought. I wasn't welcome there. At least, that's what the campers would say to me. Chiron was kind, he knew what I was and didn't judge me. However, even he knew that I couldn't stay at camp. Not after what happened with Clarisse.

I wonder if she had gotten better. Or at least woken from her coma.

Instead, I started walking around the perimeter for an inconspicuous spot to slip in. I just needed to make a quick trip. I could easily shadow travel through the camp's magical boundaries, but I didn't want to raise the alarm.

There was no need to make my presence known to the entire camp. I was only there to visit one person. Then I would be gone once more.

Finally, I saw that the strawberry fields were practically empty and was just about to walk through the boundary line, when I heard another twig snap. I turned around quickly, unsheathing my knives. My eyes darted around, looking through the trees before I decided to just run through the barrier. As soon as I turned halfway around, another twig snapped, this time it was much closer. That was before I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder.

"Well, look at what we have here?" breathed a cold, menacing voice. She cackled before she continued to speak. "Looks like someone doesn't know when they're not wanted."

Her evil cackling rung in my ears. Her words hurt, and I knew that she was just luring me, taunting me to fight her.

Unfortunately for her, I was ready.

I jabbed my elbow into my assailants stomach, causing her to relinquish her hold. Before she could stop gagging, I sliced my knife, aiming at her throat. However, the monster managed to duck just in time, punching me in the chest in retaliation. I flew backwards and landed hard on my back, rolling away just as she tried to pounce on me. She snarled in rage, as I got up.

Now that I had a good look at her, I kind of regretted it.

She had skin as pale as milk, with a slight blue tint to it. Her eyes were a bloodthirsty red, filled with hunger and malice. Her hair was a mass of flames, marking her as an old empousa. However, even though her face was very intimidating, I had to try hard not to laugh when I took notice of her legs. Like all empousai, she had one leg made entirely of bronze, while the other was a donkey's, right down to the hoof and fur. She growled when she noticed that I was snickering at the sight of her legs, and took that opportunity to attack me.

She leapt in the air, shrieking, "Don't make fun of my legs!" before she ended up as a pile of sulfuric monster dust. While she was in the air, I managed to throw three knives, no bigger than my palm, piercing her donkey leg, chest, and forehead. I carefully picked up the blades, and wiped away the dust.

You should always clean your weapons.

I heard another crackling noise, and was surprised to see Andrew, a son of Ares with a few of his siblings. Andrew was a big guy, probably 6 ft tall and as muscular as a linebacker. He had a big, round head covered in shaggy, dirty blonde hair with a gigantic pig nose and small, piercing brown eyes. They were all laughing until they saw me cleaning my knives. Andrew's eyes narrowed, his face contorted with rage.

"This bitch dares to come back!" He screamed, drawing his sword that was easily three times the size of even my hunting knives, each nearly the size of my forearm. His siblings each gripped their weapons, ready to attack me.

"You monster!"

"Let's send this bitch back to Tarturus!"

"Demon!"

All of them shouted out insults, each worst then the last. And every time they shouted a curse, it made my blood boil even more.

"ENOUGH!" I screamed, my eyes suddenly darkening in rage. The temperature suddenly dropped as the clearing darkened. Shadows appeared to leap from the trees, surrounding us in a dome of darkness, blocking out the sun like an eclipse.

The children of Ares shuffled their feet uncomfortably. They wanted to maim me in revenge for what I had done to Clarisse, but they feared me because no one truly knew the full extent of my power.

Not even me.

I took a deep breath, and turned away, not wanting my anger to get the best of me once again. The darkness dissipated and I took off, leaving the children of Ares to stare after me. I would wait to enter the camp at nightfall, where no one else would see me.

It would be safer for everyone.

[the-queen-of-ghosts-blog]

Guardian Angel Pt. 1

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12624104/1/Guardian-Angel

Sunlight gently caressed Eran's face. His long, curly eyelashes fluttered lightly, like the wings of a butterfly, before revealing the enchanting blue-green eyes they safely guarded, brighter than the Caribbean Sea.

Ugh, Eran groggily thought, forcing himself to sit up and place a hand on his forehead. What's going on? Where am I?

He immediately got to his feet, drinking in his surroundings. The landscape was serenely picturesque, looking as though it had come straight out of a travel magazine. The sky was clear and an innocent shade of blue. The ground was covered in gentle, green grass that gently swayed against a cool breeze. The air hummed from the continuous, cascading shower of a nearby waterfall that led straight to a pristine pool of water, the color of glass.

It truly would've been the perfect background for a postcard, if it weren't for the dismembered bodies strewn haphazardly around the field.

Limbs were littered across the field, painting the green grass dark with the blood of fallen angels. Chunks of flesh floated around the pool among shards of bone and shreds of tendons, tainting its clear color with an accent of red. Bloodied feathers danced in the cruel breeze, that now made Eran shiver with horror deep within his bones.

What happened?! Eran's eyes widened as he caught sight of his eternal love, Maggie. Her thick, chocolate waves of waist-length hair were matted with her own crimson clots of blood. Her beautifully round brown eyes, that always managed to sparkle with life, were now cold orbs devoid of any spirit. Her throat had been torn out, only sinewy threads of flesh and muscle kept her head attached to the rest of her beaten body.

"NOOO!" He bellowed in agony, while his white appendages burst out of his back, sliding into the slits of the leather armor he was wearing. With a powerful thrust of his wings, Eran became airborne, charging above the massacre that was laid out before him. Rage temporarily blinded Eran, his only thought being revenge to whoever killed his love.

Suddenly, Eran heard a cruel laugh above him.

A woman had suddenly appeared before his eyes. He felt his jaw drop in awe at her majestic, yet fierce demeanor, similar to a wolves'. She was cruelly beautiful, bearing a disturbing expression: a hunger for revenge to someone who had done her wrong.

She was on the short end of the spectrum, maybe 5'3", with thick, muscular legs as defined as a track runner's, strong yet agile. Her caramel-colored skin seemed to glow as rays of sunlight hit her at just the right angle, making her seem ethereal. Her hair was auburn, flowing down to her shoulders in gentle waves, looking softer than the finest silk. Her eyes were peculiarly enticing, a wise gold that betrayed a soul older than she appeared.

Matching the color of her eyes was a golden helmet decorated with wings on each side that framed her high cheekbones, making her look sharper and deadlier. She bore a golden breastplate, riddled with intricate designs, more beautiful than any painter could ever imagine. Realistic depictions of battle and death were engraved into her armor, from a distance appearing to be a mere labyrinth of swirls, no thicker than a piece of thread.

She was a warrior born in gold, right down to her weaponry. She held a spear in her right hand, and a shield, decorated with similar etchings as her armor, on her left arm. The way she held them, in her iron grip, showed that she knew how to use them and that she wasn't afraid to if necessary.

However, the most intimidating, and strangest, part of her total appearance, were the two, black appendages protruding from her back. The feathers on her wings reflected the sunlight, making them glisten like onyx. Eran had never seen an angel with any colored wings except for white.

Her entire appearance was so unreal that she looked ancient and otherworldly. The ferocity that burned deep within her soul, showed in the hatred that shone through her eyes. What had he done to cause this rage? This rage that transformed this beautiful girl into a beast that craved his very demise. While he was still in shock, she raced towards him, wings spread out like a predator bird snatching up its prey.

Eran felt the color drain from his face as his eyes filled with pure terror when the mysterious girl, a warrior, locked her own golden eyes with his. He could see the internal battle that she fought, underneath the cold expression that she used as a mask to hide all of her torment. Rage and pain were tearing up her very being, yet to him, he could see the slightest bit of remorse in her harsh actions. It was as though she didn't believe entirely in what she was doing, but something had struck her to the core and was poisoning her rationality.

Is she the one who killed Maggie?

Eran had barely finished thinking that bone-chilling thought when she threw her head back and screeched out all of her misery, her soul not being able to bottle up anymore hurt. Then she pointed herself downwards, and with a couple of flaps from powerful wings as big as her person, she hurtled towards him as fast as a missile, the tip of her spear flashing like a shooting star. The last thing he would most likely ever see, was the lone tear that escaped her tormented orbs.

The spear's tip, as sharp as an eagle's beak, was milliseconds away from impaling him in the chest as she bellowed one last time, victoriously:

Beep! Beep! Beep! screeched his alarm clock. His adrenaline still pumping, an after effect of seeing himself almost being mauled to death, Eran smashed his alarm clock into a disfigured mass of metal. His breathing was ragged, as if he had run a fifty mile marathon, his heart beating out of his chest.

After a couple of seconds, Eran managed to calm down, but he couldn't shake the eerie feeling of foreboding, growing as each second passed. He felt disturbed and rather offended by his vision. Could it even be called that?

It couldn't have been just a dream, Eran shook his head. It was too vivid, it felt too real. Is this what's in store for my future?

Eran was the colonel of an army of Alterums, a race of angels that came to earth willingly. A single angel shouldn't have been able to kill an angel of his status so easily, let alone the mass of angels he had seen scattered in pieces across the field. Including Maggie.

How come I didn't die by Maggie's side? And why didn't I try to avenge her death?

It was almost as if he had let it happen. That worried him.

Finally, after a long debate with himself, he decided to shake the thought for now and instead, start his day. After taking a relaxing shower and getting dressed, Eran sat on a chair on the balcony, overlooking the bustling city of New Orleans. The thought was still probing the back of his mind, slowly filling him with renewed rage and fear. His blood ran cold, so cold that it seemed to burn his very essence.

He needed to know. Why did he get this vision? Who was this angel? Why did she attack her own kind?

Finally, he couldn't take the anxiety of those questions running through his head. His appendages shot out from his back, ultimately ripping off his shirt, and with two mighty flaps of his wings, powerful enough to snap a tree in half, he searched the city for a place to die.

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