Ghalia is a world filled with mysteries shrouded in darkness and magic hidden in the forests. Man divided the world up between three great nations: Marin, Lafelion, Rourik. Although they are in peace now, evil stirs within the dark corners of the world again. Now the race to stay alive is upon them; their only hope left lies in the hands of the Arklings.


7. Chapter 6

           “I am no Arkling,” I spat the words from my mouth as my face crumpled with disgust. In an attempt to get up, I lurched forward from my sitting position, hoping to swing my feet over the bed. Sharp bolts of pain that shot up my back, reprimanding my mistake. I cried out and leaned back against the wall.

            “You’re too injured to get up.” Irritation and fury filled my core at his calm voice. I finally brought my eyes to his face, trying to figure out where to aim. Somewhere within me, beneath the anger I felt subtle surprise at the image of his visage. Beneath his golden beard, hid a young face. He could not have been much beyond twenty. While I stared stunned, he seized this moment to study me directly. I noticed that his eyes were drawn to mine. Belligerently, they refused to look away. The intensity of his amber gaze burrowed into mine. Time stretched between us. Perhaps I was the only one who felt the tension; he looked to calm to be affected by it. Higher it rose until I couldn’t withstand the look anymore. I turned my eyes away from him, desperate to look elsewhere. As my gaze stared at the small couch that was lined against the wall, I could feel the intensity of his gaze still directed at me, now on the side of my head.

            “Stop staring at me,” I snapped at him. Something in his gaze shifted, and I could see immediately that my tone was a mistake. He was not a person I should challenge, not while my life was in his hands. “Forgive me,” I muttered as I bowed my head in subjugation. To my surprise he did not give my apology any recognition. Instead he continued to speak, as if nothing had happened.

            “It is an honor to be an Arkling. Consider your birth fortunate, not so many are as lucky.” The stiffness of his formal tone didn’t seem to suit the lilting quality of his voice much. Reluctantly, I nodded understanding the true meaning of his words. This job was an honor; it was not a choice. 

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