Untamed - Prologue

Death borders upon our birth,

And our cradle stands in the grave.

-Joseph Hall

Prologue

Middle Europe-1843

Dark, heavy clouds covered the cold winter sky, daring to surrender their bounty of rain, daring to start the storm. Wild winds played with the crown of the forest, bending trees in their hapless conquest. No other sound permeated the forest walls. No birds, no animals. Lifeless; had it not been for the horse drawn carriage that came crashing through its misty grounds.

The horses whinnied in fear, crashed into each other and reared up on their hind legs neighing uncontrollably. The carriage shook and rattled as it came to an abrupt halt. Inside it, chaos over-ruled the intense contrast of the silent surroundings. The passengers, who were unaware of what was happening outside, would have a hard time to adjust. Anxiety and shock dissipated, leaving behind only fear.

The crown of the forest gazed down at them through the torn canvas of the roof. Its once majestic white velvet now glistened with the rich dark of blood. Even the cherry oak that made up the carriage itself was stained dark red. It was the driver’s blood that stained the innocence of the white velvet. Of course, by now the he would be dead. The marks of his desperate attempts to get away from whatever had attacked them; the deep, feeble scratches were clawed into the oak. He had been struggling for his life against a monster stronger than anything they had ever seen....

An ear piercing howl could be heard from outside, in the distance not too far. A sound so eerie and distressing, a sound colder than the winds that danced around the forest. Four frightened, pale faces, from within the carriage looked around them fearfully.

"Papa, qu'est-ce que c'ètait?" the young girl asked her father, her tears glistened in her eyes. Blood ran down her cheek as it dripped from the roof. Muffled sobs escaped her aching chest, her tattered dress saturated, red with blood... like the rest of her family.

"Rester á l'écart de la fenêtere!" the old man pulled her away from the carriage window. "Non Papa. Nous devons sortir d'ici," said the old man’s son, getting ready to jump for it. Again they heard the eerie, ghostly howl. This time it was even closer. "Sean, l'amour, notre fils a raison," the blond woman’s voice broke with hysteria. Suddenly the horses reared back and screamed. Screams- so fear-filled, that it burnt into the minds of the family in the carriage. Then silence reigned, and in that split second, the carriage was hurtled, end-over-end, into a tree. It was as if time itself had stood still. The young girl watched as the ground flew past the gap in the roof, immediately losing track of gravity. And then chaos broke her bubble of stunned serenity.

The carriage first wrapped itself around the trunk of the tree, and then went flying away from it. And each torn piece was scattered about, like sand in the wind. Sean, felt his daughter's hand slip from his own and frantically reached for her again. But it was too late, as the young auburn girl was catapulted from the open half of the carriage. She screamed as she flew through the air. Then as suddenly as she had flown out of the car of the carriage, she hit the ground hard. A ragged rock winded her and she collapsed. Her scream stuck in her throat.

Sean climbed from beneath the wreck of the carriage. A deep cut ran down the length of his arm, and every step he took was agony. He already knew his leg was fractured, but he had to carry on. He had to get to them, his family. He called for his wife and children as he walked on. He retraced the path of the splintered carriage. Step by agonizing step, all the while calling for his family. A few meters away from the bloody wreck he found his daughter. She wasn't mortally wounded, yet she had hit her head pretty hard. Sean picked his daughter up gently, her unconscious body draped limply across his arms.

"Lyra, mon Dieu, j’espère que vous serez bien," Sean kept on walking, searching. The forest had gone exceptionally quiet. No horses whinnied in fear, no human voice called out for help. And not even the wind was cheeky enough to play around. He kept his eyes and ears open, silently praying, for the nightmare to end. But little did he know...it was only getting started.Sean found the oak that had split the carriage and shuddered. It was a massive tree. It was a wonder the carriage even survived as two. Deep indentations showed where the carriage had been martyred.

Sean carried on around the oak, desperate to find his wife and son. He had only gone a few steps into the dense vegetation of the forest, when the howl of the monster burnt itself into his brain. He was a hunter, born and bred and the howl told him everything. That the creature was territorial, lonely and extremely pissed off. But that wasn’t what had stopped Sean in his tracks. Fine golden hair hung from a nearby tree, it was his wife’s hair. Someone or something had dragged her in this direction. Immediately he knew something was wrong. And he was determined to find out what it was. Still carrying Lyra, he walked on, even though her body had a long time ago become a dead weight. And now it burdened him.

Another ear splitting howl shattered the total silence of the forest. With it, was the gut wrenching screams of pain, and it dawned on him that he was already too late. With Lyra's weight on his shoulders he scrambled through the thick foliage, drawing ever closer to the sounds of a feeble struggle. Sean stopped just behind the line of trees that surrounded the open field ahead. A scene so shocking, found its way into his eyes, leaving him numb with pain, anger, fear and hatred.

By now the screams had stopped; the pained screams of his wife and son. The field ahead looked as though it had been flooded with blood. Grass, trees and even plants were drenched in coagulating blood. Bits and pieces of deformed chunks of human flesh littered the red field. Fingers, bone, muscle, toes, lay all around, drying blood still seeping from them. And straight ahead, carelessly shoved upon two, low, and diagonal growing branches, sat the almost expressionless heads of both his wife and son. Only death still lingered upon their gaping mouths and glazed eyes. It was blackened, soulless canvas, against their opaque features. Sean stepped back in shock, and debris crackled beneath his feet. All alertness and stealth of the hunter was forgotten in a single moment of emotion.

And from the trees above dropped the creature....

He stared at it in disbelief. It was a creature of satanic lore. Half beast, half human... and it towered over him. Its grey and light brown fur stood on end, claws escaped its enormous humanoid hands, and all the while it stood on its hind legs. Dark, coal black, malevolent eyes searched the red clearing frantically, finally coming to rest in Sean's direction. Its animalistic snout, gingerly sniffed the air in front of it, and its bloodstained nostrils flared in timid sequence. It based its bloody predatory canines, accompanying it with a low rumbling growl, and lowered itself into a panther like crouch. Its lean muscles tightened in its deathlike perfection.

Sean knew what was coming, as his hunter instincts kicked back into gear. He gently lowered Lyra to the floor, and swiftly backed away from her, drawing the beast away from his daughter. If he could not survive then at least she will, he thought. He stood up to his full height, called out to the beast and hurled himself away from Lyra, like the arrow of an untrained archer. The half animal, half human creature took the bait and followed.

He had barely gone twenty strides, before he was pinned by the unholy beast. He knew what was to follow suit, and so with his prayers for Lyra in his heart, Sean closed his eyes and allowed himself to be taken by the suffocating blackness for the final time, as the un-holiest of creatures broke his neck in a swift twist of unnatural strength. And with that same demonic strength it ripped at the now lifeless body, massacring it till it was nothing more than part of the decaying chunks of flesh that scattered the bloodstained clearing. Yet the beast did not stop there, and turning on its heels, it made its way to Lyra's unconscious form....

Life slowly seeped back into Lyra's head, setting off a multitude of painful sparks back to her body. Little flashes of nauseating light flitted in front of her eyes as she came to. Her brain kicked into overdrive before she was even fully awake, and she noted two things only. First, that she was bound to some altar, and that it was better to stay quiet, and second, that even though her body ached with pain, it was the forearm of her right -arm that seared with white hot fire. Slowly she tilted her head till she could glance down at her arm and her mouth shot open in a silent scream. A long, thin cut graced her pale skin, slowly bleeding out in intricate, bright red rivulets. But before she could worry about it any further, a commotion behind her brought her attention back to earth. Someone or something was arguing with what must have been an angel by the sound of his voice. The sounds of the argument grew, as the opponents became hostile with each other, luring Lyra into tilting her head towards them.

Monster and angel clashed in a violent hurricane of power, a tempest storm that drowned out the sound of the giant forest. First the creature seemed to be winning, and in no time at all he had the angel at its throat. For a fleeting second the angel’s steel grey eyes widened in terror or shock, Lyra couldn't decide which, and suddenly the monstrous beast went flying through the air and into a tree. The angel stood there watching the beast, as it picked itself up from the dirt. He was a sculptor’s dream work of art. His long, silver white hair hung unceremoniously on his shoulders, and his face, which looked as though it had been cut from stone, showed no fear or tension; only a nerve wrecking calm look of concentration. The beast howled menacingly at the angel, then almost as though it realized its defeat, it turned towards the forest and disappeared within its cold black shadows.

Cool hands were already untying Lyra's bonds; their skin barely touched her as they easily pulled the knots out of each other. Lyra turned her head back, and found that she was staring into the angel’s now amazingly cool grey eyes.

“Be not afraid child, I do not wish to hurt you as your capturer did,” the angel’s voice ensnared her in its dreamy tones, and immediately she felt her fears ebb away gracefully. “My name is Dominicq, I have come to help-“

Lyra moaned loudly, anxiety breaking through the effect of the angel’s voice. She glanced around, looking for her loved ones. Nothing made sense to her. The floor seemed to be flooded in a thick red liquid, with small chunks of something floating on the surface.

“Easy does it, just lean against me. I need to get you away from here. But first child, can you tell me your name?” Dominicq held her gently against him, supporting her wait as though she were as light as a feather. Even the rest of his skin held that unnatural coolness that his hands had, mere moments ago. Lyra softly spoke her own name. Her voice strained and broke. Too much was happening too her, but something inside her told her that she was safe here in his arms, the arms of this angel.

The angel spoke again, his dreamy voice gently lulling her to sleep. ”Ok Lyra, just relax, you’re safe now.... Just relax.” The angel tilted her head slightly back and she felt herself enter the soft dark of dreams. Suddenly white-hot fire erupted through her body, from her neck. It was worse than even the long scratch that graced her forearm. Funnily enough, even as the muscles of her whole body contracted with pain, the molten fire that had earlier on been seeping through her veins seemed to be fading at the touch of the new pain. And when Lyra’s muscles could contract no further than they already were, an uncomfortable darkness swept across her vision and sensing relief, she clung to it for dear life.