CHAPTER 1

“You fight like a mortal…” Emmanuel spat, vanishing through the grass. “And you…” I stabbed my dagger in the dirt, “Fight like a coward.” I grinned as Emmanuel reappeared, my dagger so close yet so far. Drenched in his water form, racing for the river, I was paces behind him. I memorised every crook and cranny of this forest, the dirt, bark, rivers, and wind were a friend. There are four rivers that surround Sevia, Leeway, Lumine, Dashmeer, and Colo. And my good friend Emmanuel was heading towards Dashmeer, the river that belonged to vast amounts of quagmire mud, and sloppy water. A trap. He laughed as he bolted through with ease, having a body that consisted of liquid can be quite convenient. “You're a cheat, why do you always do this?” I uttered on the edge of the grass trail. “A cheat? Evelle these are lessons” he said. “Not every battle will have equal advantages, your rival won't constantly be against your advantages and I will prepare you for that.” His smirk irked me, standing in the middle of a quagmire pit, mud neck high, sloppy enough to fall through. “Now, let's begin.” He pulled his double edged sword, blade sharp, handle in the middle his grip firm, and I gulped.

“Second thoughts?” He asks slyly, his voice chirping with excitement. Smartass.

“To keep you alive? Debating” I smiled, I could barely hide the excitement in my own voice. He lunged first, but through the mud, disappearing in the vast liquid now beginning to swirl. I knew better than to step inside. The swirl began to evolve into a current, waves quaking, tornadoes forming. I stop, think, what can I use to my advantage. A blade interrupts my silent thoughts, mere inches from my face. Run. RUN. My conscience is screaming at me, there has to be something, anything. He stormed out from underneath the mud, now faced to me. A muddy, liquid version of him. He formed his fingers into a ball and punched. Dodge. He kicked. Swerved. I kicked this time, my leg merely sunk inside. Shit. My dagger found its way into my hand as I sliced his head clean off. The mud body fell flat, and the body travelled back into the quagmire pit. I paced around, the mud began to devour parts of the grass surrounding the river. The quagmire evolving and the one diluted mud man reforms from the centre of the river, striving towards me. “You can run, but you can't hide” his words haunted every step that sank more and more into mud. A muddy figure approaches, now with a dagger. He slash's twice toward my upper body, then lunges again, same pattern. I stagger back. He slash’s his blade again, I briefly veer myself away. But I wasn't so lucky again, a blade tore through my white hood, bleeding through my shoulder. I shrieked in pain and faltered away. Then that's when I noticed it, the pattern. He lunges for me again, this time my dagger is strangled tightly around my fingers as I dodge his first two slashes, I jump onto the muddy figure wrapping my thighs around its head, strangling till it disintegrates. “I got you” As it reforms and retreats to the mud, I tug off thick vines from the willow trees, wrapping it around my dagger and finally following the creature with my eyes. It dives to the centre and finally it stops. A puppeteer using puppets with strings around deadly beings without stamina, easily revived beings freely to control. There's only one solution to a problem like this. Target the hand with the strings. Three mud figures formed, charging me, I shot my vine tied dagger into the mud. “AHHHH” A vile angry scream. “Found you” I whispered cautiously, My dagger broke off as I tried to reel it, with the remaining figures I strangled the first two. As I reached for my sword, a silver line scraped a long cut past my stomach. I stumble, my dagger now bent engraved into a tree on the edge of the mud pool. The last mud figure is now holding me by the neck. crap. Emmanuel rises, with his agonising stare he slowly approaches. Mud towering his wound where my dagger must've burnt through, slowly healing himself, that's the first. “I think I've had enough of playing around.” His eyes are a shade of bloody red, and now I feel insulted for staying in the hands of a weak muddy figure for quite as long. “You're not ruining my fight.” I whisper to the figure, with all my strength I fixate my leg around its arm til the mud drops into a liquid and I force my sword out and cut through it. Emmanuel now steps away he cracks his neck twice. “To think my favourite battles are the one with a mere mortal child.” He grins. He glides towards, his strength bare like no other. I stumble holding my brown handle for dear life praying to the great Svalinn that my blade doesn't snap. He switches the sides of his double edged sword now aiming for my ribs. Dodge. Immediately he kicks me off my feet. I push myself in a hand handstand stance and steer away. Barely holding my own against his harsh double slashes. His blade gives no mercy targeting my face, I hold it upwards with my blade and kick his chest. He staggers a few steps back, satisfaction tugs his lips as he spits on the grass. “For an immortal your skin is quite in ruin, your complexion is as pale as a duck.” I taunt, distancing myself. He spins and throws his blade towards me, I barely, barely miss it. The Appearance of Emmanuel is like his unborn child, and he's spent eternity looking after it. Appearances though are one thing, but comparing him to a mortal? I think I've dug my grave. He strips his shirt off him bare, white long hair with a red tattoo travelling from his neck to his…inner corners. I spit, just a little more. I slowly steep back. His blade bounces back towards me, I jump—the blade slits my elbow, a cut that would've been worse if I reacted any second later. He holds his double edge sword below, in a stance low enough to crouch. Foot work isn't my strong suit, being against a water wielder makes my chances all the more slim. But I’m not giving up. In the corner of my eye faint silver light shines to my attention, and I pray to mother that I can make it in time. Finally I grin. “Has anyone ever told you, your white hair makes you look like an old white mortal? It's insulting you were born with it” I held strongly to my sword and especially my life the moment the words left my tongue.

He stiffened. “That's it” He finalises. He's gonna throw his blade, and mother knows he won't miss. He never misses. I charge toward my dagger, seconds before I hear the blade that cuts the wind. I immediately break off my dagger and collide into the swarm of mud and waves. I couldn't see anything. I swam to the bottom of the mud, where the green drenched water surfaced. I'm trusting my instincts now. Blind, dead, mute, and vulnerable without a steady stance. My guts telling me to swim back, use combat against him, but that's an obvious loss. And I refuse to give into him and his ego. I hold my dagger in my left, sword in my right, blind to the water, ears drained and blocked, floating vulnerably. I find the nearest dirt surface, and stab my sword into it, the mud right above, I push down onto the sword to make sure it flings, it does. I inhale my blood and choke and realise how much of it is in the water. Then I feel it. Wind may not pass down here, but the mud communicates. His blade. The sound of it approaching. I wait. A few more seconds. Eyes shut, I could hear him, feel him swimming towards me, racing against his own blade. Not now. I'm betting my life on this blade. “Evelle swim up. Now.” Emanuels voice renders. My lungs struggling to hold the suffocating water. “Evelle that's enough” A little longer. “Evelle stop!” I don't. “EVELLE” His words rumble the waves. Now. the blade mere milliseconds away, I fling myself up into the mud, the blade barely cutting my ankle, I drown out the pain as I shoot my dagger down. CLING. I know it's stuck, that cling confirms it, the blade knows my blood and it's after my scent, and I just coated the entire river with it. It struggles to set itself free, I take the chance to get ahold of it, and rip it out. Emmanuel I feel him striding toward me. I smile, and throw the blade blindly. My blood coating every form of liquid drenched in the green waters, as the blade travels to the nearest living thing. Then I hear a jab followed by a scream. His scream. and I swim out of the mud. If that blade didn't kill me this mud will, it's no longer watery. I can't swim out I can't. I curse myself for such a reckless choice. But then I feel the rock. I'm in the centre, I pull myself up over the rock, my eyes stinging and I finally climb out. I cough unhealthy amounts of mud, water, and my own blood. And then I hear another set of uneven breathing. Repulse and relief both hitting at the same time. “You're alive.” I chirp, “round two?” I joked. If there was a round two id more than likely die of exhaustion. But he didn't laugh. Lezion and Valha appeared from the tree, separated from me and Emmanuel. Valha grabbed my forearm and lifted me, my legs unable to walk. I tugged onto him. “Don't say a single word.” He warned. I was smart enough not to, my wounds suddenly began to choose now of all times to remind me of my mortal body. “EVELLE!” I hear Emmanuel call, Valha tucks his hands around my waist and carries me… I finally black out…

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