Demonchild: Chapter 1

Malissa hurried through the dark forest, moving as swiftly as the shadows would allow. Her hands clutched the front of her gown, lifting the long skirts to keep herself from tripping over the expensive black velvet. Beneath, her legs and feet were bare. She’d left her shoes behind at the castle, deciding that a stubbed toe was preferable to twisted an ankle. So far, Malissa had managed to avoid both. But then, she’d always had a preternatural ability for moving around in the dark.

Even her night eyes had their limits, however, and though she very badly wanted to break into a run, she held back. It was summer, and the branches above her were dense with leaves. The moon pierced through the foliage where it could, but the shafts of light were few and far between, and the shadows were heavy and deep. If she tried to run, there was a good chance she would end up crashing headlong into a patch of briars, and that could be her undoing.

Scratches and tattered clothing would raise suspicions about her nocturnal activities.

Sneaking out had been simple enough. Old castles like Drachenval always had secret passages snaking through their walls, and Malissa, being an inquisitive sort, had discovered many of them since her arrival last year. Her black gown and hooded cloak had ensured that no guards had seen her slipping away.

As long as she was back before dawn, no one would know she was missing. Her husband, Lord Wulfgang, had gone west to do battle with the forces of Galadon, who were steadily marching eastward. He would not be returning for several months, so Malissa didn’t have to worry about him visiting her bed in the middle of the night. As for the servants, they would not enter her chambers unless called upon.

As she walked, Malissa tried not to think of all the dangers that might be lurking in the forest around her. She doubted bandits would dare to venture this close to the castle, but there were wild creatures to worry about--bears, wolves, wild pigs.

And worse creatures too?

Possibly. But then, wasn’t that why she had come out tonight?

Malissa paused and listened to the darkness. She heard the rustle of leaves stirred by the midnight breeze. The distant cry of a night bird. Her own racing blood.

These woods were pleasant during the daylight hours. Though she was not supposed to, Malissa often went riding here, especially when the weather was nice. The cool shade and the rich odors of soil and moss offered a welcome respite from the stale confines of the castle.

At night, however, the forest was a different beast. Eerie. Terrifying. Malissa almost thought she could feel presences watching her from the depths of shadows, and she half feared the trees themselves might reach out and grab her with woody fingers.

It’s late, she thought, and getting later, by the moment. I must hurry if I wish to make it back to the castle before morning.

She pressed on.

There was a sense of wrongness about the part of the forest. Malissa had felt it even during the daylight hours, and now, in the dark, she felt it even more strongly. The air tasted of burnt offerings. The trees--what she could see of them--looked twisted and uncanny. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck prickled.

Then, at last, she saw a light up ahead. It was not the yellow beacon of a night-fire, nor the orange gleam of a lantern, but merely the cold, silvery glow of the moonlight breaking through a clearing in the trees.

Malissa paused at the edge of the forest, and stared.

Before her, lay an open glade, about an acre in size, and roughly circular in shape. Thick, wild grass covered the ground, exhaling a pale, ghostly mist. In the center of the glade there lay, like the pupil of an enormous eye, a round slab of smooth, dark stone ten paces across, and around this slab, a ring of five stone columns, crudely fashioned and weathered with time, their rough edges limned by the pale moonlight.

It was a darkstone ring.

Once, such structures had been a common sight, or so the scholars said. Now, very few of them remained. They had been constructed by the Druids, in an age all but lost to the mists of time. The original purpose of the rings was uncertain, but it was said the stones were imbued with a powerful magic derived from spirits trapped within.

Malissa had discovered this particular ring by accident, during one of her frequent rides through the forest, and as far as she could tell, nobody else had been here in a long, long time. She had found no discernable tracks in the surrounding grass, no signs that anyone had been using the site to perform arcane rituals.

That had been several months ago, shortly after her arrival at Drachenval, and her marriage to Lord Wulfgang. She had returned to the darkstone ring many times since then, but always during the daylight hours, and always for no other reason than mere curiosity.

It was only after she had discovered the book her father had placed among her belongings that she had conceived of other, darker plans.

Malissa hesitated at the edge of the clearing, her heart pounding wildly in her breast.

It was a bad idea to come to this place at night. She must have been insane ever to conceive of such a plan. She should turn back now, while she still had the chance. Hurry back to the castle, go to sleep, forget that she had ever discovered the darkstone ring.

But she had come here tonight for a reason. Her very survival depended on it. If she didn’t go through with her plan, she would lose her life. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not even next month... but soon. Her husband would be returning by year’s end, before the Feast of St. Eustis, and he had made it quite clear what would happen if her “situation” had not improved by then.

On the other hand, if she actually went through with her plan, there was a chance she would be damned for all eternity.

So, she had a choice to make: her soul or her life.

Malissa stepped into the clearing.