edited: 23/06/2017

Maksim felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he was sure it wasn't from eating something his mother had cooked earlier on. He felt compelled to follow the girl, as though if he didn't, something bad would happen. So that's what he did, and he wasn't happy about it either; his shirt was soaked through and sticking uncomfortably to his skin underneath it. Maksim wasn't much of a fan of rain, and he was glad that he didn't have to endure it in Refilyn, the Warlock Realm.

It was not difficult for Maksim to catch up to the girl; mortals tended to walk ungracefully loud, and he had always been able to hear well. Once he was close enough to see her hunched silhouette, he slowed down, effortlessly gliding through the streets. He could think of a million other things that would have been better than chasing a mortal girl through the roads of the Mortal World, but the unsettling feeling in his stomach would not subside, so he continued to follow her, a curious expression on his face.

It didn't take long for the girl to reach what he presumed to be her home, a run-down small block of buildings with too much dirt and not enough crystal for Maksim's liking, but then, he expected as much. There weren't many mortals who took pride in where they lived, and he supposed houses like his own were much harder to come by without magic. Something in the back of his mind, though, was expecting more from her; the same irritating little voice that had been telling him that this mortal was different to the others, that she was not so tedious. There was a flame in those grey eyes of hers that he had not seen in many others, not even Warlocks', telling him that she was alive and important. Like most things, he had tried his best to ignore it, but clearly that method was not working in his favour.

There was, of course, also the matter of her dreams, and the fact they seemed to feature someone who looked an awful lot like his brother.

He pushed the thought aside, feeling silly for following her home as though she wasn't capable enough to do it herself. He crouched behind a row of shrubbery as she glanced out with a sigh before disappearing into the bright artificial glare behind the door. Even after he was sure she was gone, he stayed there, watching as more lights flashed on within the building. He supposed he wouldn't see her again. He didn't know why that bothered him.

He stood up, his skin prickling with the sudden feeling of being watched. Whipping around swiftly, he found Elthar, one of his brother's associates, in front of him, his hands sparking precariously with black flickers of magic. This wouldn't be the first run-in Maksim had had with one of his brother's associates, but he thought it may have been the first where they had found him rather than the other way around. It put Maksim at a disadvantage; he had not been prepared, and now Elthar would probably blacken him until he was nothing but a charred carcass. He certainly hoped that wouldn't be the case. He quite enjoyed being alive and unsinged.

"What a lovely surprise," Maksim said, though his voice did not match his pleasant words. Instead, they were dripping with sarcasm. "If I would have known that you were stopping by, I might have prepared a poisonous spirit, or perhaps brushed up on one of my torture spells."

"Your hostility breaks my heart," Elthar responded, his voice deep and raspy. Maksim often thought he resembled a caveman in that respect. His looks didn't help much either, with his rather large forehead and gormless expression. Still, Maksim had to remind himself not to underestimate his ability. Dark magic was stronger than light, and Elthar didn't look like he would hesitate to use the black sparks flaring from the palms of his hands.

Maksim looked at him in mock sympathy. "It must be hard loving somebody who does not love you back. I would not know, of course, what with my breathtaking charm."

"Your sarcasm grows tiresome," Elthar responded. "Why are you watching a mortal? I don't suppose you've fallen in love with one, have you?"

Maksim scoffed at the very idea. "Why, jealous?" He shuffled away from him slightly, but Elthar followed, maintaining the proximity between them. He did not know why heat rose to his face, as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"Your brother would be disappointed, Maksim. You know how he feels about mortals."

"Is there a reason you are questioning me about my love life, besides your obvious feelings for me?" The only thing driving his confidence now was knowing that if Elthar intended to hurt him, he would have done so already.

The theory was proven wrong as though Elthar had read his thoughts. A jolt ran through his body suddenly, causing him to fall to his knees in pain. He did not cry out, though; if the girl was to hear him, he had no doubt that she would run out and get herself killed, not to mention that it would draw unwanted attention from the mortals.

"Let's get to the point, shall we?" he questioned, his tone laced with venom. "Ackmard asked me to deliver a message. He wants you to stop chasing after him. He will not change. He is dark now, and if you stay out of his way, he will not have reason to harm you."

"He was good once, and he can be good again." Maksim was not mocking now. He was being honest, perhaps too honest, and he had let his slight vulnerability overwhelm his usual front. After everything, Ackmard was still his brother, and they had spent decades together the way families should. He could not let that go simply because he wanted to rebel. He would save his brother, even if it meant getting himself killed.

"It is easy to darken light, but not so easy to lighten the dark." Elthar crouched down in front of him, his leather pants creaking slightly as he did so.

"You obviously have never owned a lamp," Maksim taunted despite himself.

"Your determination is admirable, but your recklessness and wit is not. This is not a suggestion, this is a warning. If you try to chase us down again, you will be in a lot worse condition than this."

As if proving his point, another spark of magic flashed through his fingers and onto Maksim's chest, where blood immediately began to spill onto his shirt, seeping into the material and staining his fingers. He clutched the wound in pain, gritting his teeth as he spoke again. "What exactly are you doing here, in the Mortal World, anyway? What are you looking for?"

"A key," he replied simply.

Maksim frowned, ignoring the dark liquid that seeped between his fingers. "A key to what?"

Elthar laughed, his black eyes glittering in amusement. He was surprised that they held any emotion at all. They looked blank and lifeless most of the time, matching their dead irises. "It is better that you don't know." He straightened up and stood back, looking smugly down at Maksim as though admiring his own handiwork. "I'll be sure to tell your brother you say hello."

Maksim opened his mouth, but before he could even form a witty response, Elthar was gone, leaving only a cloud of black smoke behind. Maksim wondered if he had been watching one too many pantomimes recently. Perhaps he should have booed at the sight of him.

A sharp jolt of pain broke him from his thoughts, and he groaned quietly. He had to find the portal before he bled to death. He snapped his fingers, grateful when silver sparks flew from his hand to his wound, temporarily stopping the bleeding. He was not strong enough to heal it all together. He suspected that Elthar had drained some of his power when he had knocked Maksim to the floor.

Pulling himself up, he walked as quickly as he could back to where he had been before he had ran into the mortal girl. He was sure he hadn't been far off finding the portal, and his suspicions were confirmed a moment later when he turned the corner and found the alleyway in which it resided. As though congratulating him, the thunder rumbled above him, and he smiled up at the sky, uncaring that he was still getting drenched by the rain.

He fell into the comfort of the intermittent portal without another second of hesitation, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that this would be the last time he found himself in this dreary mortal town.

He knew, of course, that he was not that lucky.

* * *

Remy stands on the beach, her hands folded around the black key strung on a single silver chain. She is not alone; her skin prickles with the sensation of being watched. She walks slowly down to the ocean, wincing as her key begins to burn a hole in the palm of her hand. She is almost used to it now.

Suddenly, the boy with black hair and blue eyes is stood in front of her, a look of trepidation in his eyes. She should not be here. This isn't how the dream usually begins. The fear of the unknown makes her heart race.

He gulps and looks at something beyond her, and Remy is not surprised when she turns to find the stranger stood behind her. As if she isn't there, the boy walks through her, pushing the stranger back. His muscles strain through his green jacket, and his jaw tenses.

"Where is it?" the stranger asks through a groan, his upper lip curling against his teeth as though he is a wild animal in need of taming.

Remy wants to shout at him to be careful, or push herself in between the two men so that he will not hurt him, but she cannot move nor speak. She is trapped as though in a glass box, distant and far away from the boy and the stranger. She clutches her necklace so hard she can feel her fingernails dig into the bottom of her palm.

The tide is coming in. Water pools around her feet, the splash of the waves hitting just below her knee. She cannot move. She cannot talk. She can only watch as he thrusts the man backwards again, only this time, his outstretched palms do not touch him. As if by magic, he is able to push him with a power of his own, a power that does not require physical contact. She frowns.

"Where is it?" The man asks again, and this time, he pulls his sword out, the sword that has been thrust through Remy's stomach every night for the past two weeks, with its black blade. Now that she is a spectator, she can see that the hilt of the sword is filled with markings that are much like the ones on her key. Dread builds in the pit of her stomach.

The water is above her knees. She is slowly growing further away from the two men through no control of her own. The stranger is pulling his sword back, ready to stab him. Remy squeezes her eyes shut, and when they open involuntarily again, the water is at her neck. She can barely make out the familiar boy's features now, but the deep red liquid seeping into his shirt is clear enough even at such a distance.

She screams. Cold trickles into every bone in her body as he falls to the floor. The water is covering her mouth. The stranger is smiling at her cruelly. She is drowning. She cannot breathe. This is not how her dream usually goes. She is drowning.

She wakes up.

* * *

"Maksim!" Annika gasped as Maksim stumbled into his home. He grimaced, not in pain, but at the sight of the girl, who he had never particularly liked. Annika was kind and caring, and of course she was beautiful, but she was also intense, having had a crush on Maksim since she had arrived in Astracia a few months ago. What's more, his mother had been pleading with Maksim to marry her since her father had gotten a place on the Warlock Council, and had not particularly listened when Maksim told her that it absolutely would not happen. Needless to say, Annika was not the first person that Maksim wished to see when he was bleeding to death.

"Is my mother home?" He questioned through gritted teeth, collapsing into his armchair and trying his best not to get blood on the green plush material beneath him. His mother would kill him if he stained the sofa—if he was not about to die already, that was.

"She just left," Annika responded, her golden eyes round with concern. "I'll heal you myself."

Maksim gulped, but nodded resignedly. He was growing weaker each minute, and though he disliked the idea of owing Annika his life, he disliked the idea of dying more.

She placed her hand gently over Maksim's wound, narrowing her eyes in concentration. Maksim did not have the energy to come up with a witty comment. A moment later, a flash of gold blazed beneath her palms, and the pain subsided. He sighed in relief, unbuttoning his shirt to make sure the wound had disappeared. It had, leaving behind a smooth but slightly tender patch of skin.

"Thank you," he said, realising now that Annika had not moved, her hand still hovering above his chest and their foreheads almost touching. He pulled his head back, restraining himself from saying something rude. She had, after all, just saved his life. He should at least be kind to her for a day or two before acting like his normal self again. "I, er, would like to move...please," he said slowly.

"Right," she breathed slightly, but instead of moving, her hand snaked behind his neck, and Maksim shuddered as her fingers began to trace lines below his hairline. Her long, dark eyelashes fluttered exaggeratedly, her scarlet lips puckered. She leaned forward, causing Maksim to throw her onto the arm of the chair and stand up.

"I should probably change my shirt." He began to his room, unimpressed when he heard Annika's high-heeled boots following after him.

"Maksim, wait," she said.

He paused, rolling his eyes before turning around. "Look, despite what my mother has said, I am not looking for a relationship."

She looked at him the way a child might look at his parents after they had taken its favourite toy away. Her petite frame didn't help much. Maksim thought perhaps it was the first time Annika had been rejected. Her innocent and dainty appearance seemed to attract many, but Maksim was not one of those people. She was pretty, but in a conventional way. She followed Warlock trends, changed her hair when brunette was not the most desirable colour, wore the same type of clothes as everyone else. She was boring. Maksim thought the only interesting thing about her was her eyes, constantly glittering like gemstones in the same way her magic did.

"You can't be alone forever, you know," she whispered, taking another step towards him.

"Perhaps I want to be," he responded, though even he heard the tremor of uncertainty in his voice. The problem with living for eternity was never being able to imagine a future; what could he possibly wish or strive for when his life was one constant, infinite journey to nowhere in particular? He had no destination, no end, just a beginning and middle. Maksim often thought the end was the whole point of a story, so what was his point? It certainly wasn't to settle for a weak, insubstantial witch who based her own eternity on infatuations and the latest hairstyles. He wanted so much more than that. Besides, he preferred to be alone; less hassle, and less heartache. He had lived long enough to be sure of that, to have witnessed what loving somebody and losing them could do to a person. He did not want that for himself.

"Nobody wants to be alone," she said softly.

"Unfortunately, I do, and if you cannot respect that, you should leave." Maksim was too tired and too irritated to be nice, even if she had just saved his life. He did not appreciate little witch girls telling him how to live his life.

"You know, eventually, people are going to get tired of your mood swings and cruelty." The words held anger, but her expression did not. "If I was you, I would learn how to be nice before you truly do end up alone. Eternity is not much fun when you have nobody to spend it with."

"Well, it is a good job you are not me then, isn't it?" Maksim's mouth curled into a scowl as though he had tasted something bitter. Annika had made him angry, and he was not very kind when he was angry. He was not very kind anyway, but anger made him much worse. "Besides, if I was to spend eternity with anybody, it certainly would not be with you."

Annika's usually pale cheeks flushed scarlet, and she bit her lip as though she was going to cry. Maksim was suddenly reminded of the mortal girl, and how she had given him the same expression just a few hours ago, though she did not have tears in her eyes the way that Annika did. He sensed she was stronger. Still, he felt guilt weigh down his stomach, but not for what he had said to Annika. "You don't mean that," she murmured.

"Don't I?" He raised an eyebrow, his jaw tensed. "You should leave."

"Fine. I can see that you don't want company at the moment." She forced a small smile, wiping down her white silk dress as though she had dirtied herself somehow by arguing with Maksim. "If you change your mind, you know where I am."

Maksim scoffed, but the sound was strangled in his throat, though he didn't know why. He walked into his room and slammed the door behind him, not entirely happy to find that awful black cat curled up on his pillow. He sat down beside it, casting it a half-hearted glare.

"What is wrong with me?" He muttered to himself, the image of the mortal girl returning to him involuntarily as he twirled his emerald jewelled ring around his thumb. The cat meowed knowingly in response, a soft paw falling onto the ring as though reminding him that she had returned it for him, that without her, his favourite ring would be lost. It had been his grandmother's ring first. It meant a great deal to Maksim.

"We are not friends, you and I. Do not think you can touch me like that," he said, eyeing the cat warily, but he did not remove its paw from his hand.

He sighed. He could not fathom why the sudden thought of his eternal life terrified him so much. He could not fathom why the mortal girl would not leave his mind, either.

AN: hellooo just to let anybody reading know, I will be constantly editing chapters, even after I've published them, and I note down everything I need to improve so if you have any suggestions I would be very grateful to hear them. This is my first real non-fan fiction book so I am trying my best to make it as good as possible. I hope anybody reading is enjoying it! I probably won't be able to update regularly until summer because exams are coming up and I have only written 4 chapters so far. I think that's it so yay bye!