SHADOW AND IRON
The shadows were cool against his skin as Manav moved through them, the tendrils reaching after him like a lover's embrace, enticing him to stay. He knew better, though, for he had a purpose here in the Mortal Realm. He stepped out and left the shadows behind, the Mortal city stretched out before him like some sort of grid. The iron all around him made his senses stand on high alert, the cities that the mortals built being laced with the deadly metal in an attempt to keep out the Faerie people. It worked, to an extent, the iron keeping the changelings and other such creatures at bay for so long that the humans eventually forgot that there even existed such a danger, but the Fae never forget.
The residual feel of iron echoed through his bones, a faint throbbing that made him uncomfortable, but it wasn't enough to keep one as powerful as he away. He allowed a small smile to cross his lips as he surveyed the city, the pupils of his dark, tilted eyes widening to take in as much of the sleeping realm as possible; his Fae blood gave him superior senses, and he had to fight down the urge to laugh when he thought of how easy this was going to be. After all, he'd been the one to place the hidden Prince in the Mortal Realm, and only he could trace him.
The tall, thin man closed his eyes and drew the shadows around himself once more, feeling them wrap over him in a possessive hold as he moved through them; in the blink of an eye, he stood in the center of the city, stepping out of the shadows and onto the sidewalk. An old man startled at his appearance, his half-eaten sandwich dropping from his dirty hand as he stared up at the tall Fae man, but Manav ignored the old human and strode past him, eyes intent on the ramshackle apartment building in front of him. There. That was where his quarry lie, sleeping and defenseless, with no idea that someone had come for him after all these years.
The iron could be felt more strongly here in the inner city, the pain tingling in his hands, and he rubbed them on his thighs in a futile attempt to relieve it. He eyed the door to the building warily, knowing that inside of that metal casing he would feel trapped, as if the iron were trying to crush him, and so after a moment's thought he simply circled the building, his gaze upward to find the one he sought.
Ah, yes, that one. His small lips widened into a smile tilted to one side as he reached for the fire escape ladder, having to jump to reach it despite his impressive height; sharp pricks of pain ran through his fingers at the contact, though, and he let out a hiss as he realized that it, too, was made partly of iron as well as steel. Steel didn't bother him in the slightest, being just another metal, but iron... it was deadly. Even to one such as he. He considered the best approach and finally heaved a sigh, realizing that the only way to reach his quarry in the sleeping hours was to use his Gift.
Twisting the shadows around him once more, reluctant to do so in case the Enemies were trying to track him, he stepped through them and into the dark room four stories above the ground. The streetlamps shone through the window, the flapping white curtain doing little to keep the light out, and he couldn't help but to wonder how it was that mortals could trap themselves into such places as these iron prisons. Where was nature? How was the moon to reach them here, in this iron jungle, the life giving moon? It was baffling, but maybe it was the reason for the human race's weakness. They were nothing but flies in the grand scale of things.
The room was hot with the mid-summer heat, the open window doing no good, but the sound of deep, even breathing reached his ears and he allowed his smile to return; his quarry was still sleeping. Good...
Stepping through the small apartment, his hands once again rubbing unconsciously on his thighs, he passed the meager belongings that humans seemed to hold more dear than life: a computer on the small table there, a television against the wall, a cell phone charging from its spot on the counter. He shook his head as he thought of how much value these mortals placed on those inanimate objects, and after a moment he felt the curiosity get the better of him and he reached for the cell phone. What was it that made these so irreplaceable to humans? It was locked, unfortunately, and something that he wasn't willing to waste his magic on, so he dropped it back to the counter and moved on.
He entered the bedroom as silently as a shadow itself, and his eyes fell on the sleeping boy on the bed. His breathing even, he lay on his stomach with his legs tangled in the light sheet, one arm hanging off of the bed with his fingertips on the floor. Manav let out a quiet laugh as he thought of how brownies used to hide under children's beds, pulling their arms or legs when they would let them slip off, all in good fun of course. After the humans had banished the Fae, though, all of that had ended. What fools they were.
The boy's face scrunched up in his sleep, and he let out a mumble as he shifted and clutched his arms around him. Manav felt a moment of pity, knowing that the boy was only reacting to the pain that the city's abundance of iron must cause him, but it had been the only place to hide him from the Enemy. Speaking of which... he needed to get a move on.
With a sigh of discontent, he stepped close to the bed and after a moment of hesitation, clamped a hand down over the boy's mouth. His dark, chocolate brown eyes that were so like his mother's shot open in a panic, his hands grabbing Manav's wrist in an attempt to dislodge him, but the Fae was too strong. He flailed and fought for a moment, and then watched as Manav slowly brought his other hand up to his own lips, a gesture for the boy to stay silent. He stopped his fight and nodded carefully, his eyes shining with fear, and the Fae gently removed his hand from the other's mouth.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said softly, spreading both hands out to his sides in an attempt to look less threatening. The look in the boy's eyes spoke volumes of how he didn't trust that, but there was nothing Manav could do about that. "You're Sharad," he said, and the boy's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.
"How did you know my name?" he demanded, his voice trying to sound tough and angry but coming out simply weak and afraid. Manav forced his condescending smile away and stepped back, away from the bed so that he no longer loomed over the other, and then to Sharad's surprise, the tall Fae dropped a low bow to him.
"You're my Prince. And it's time for you to come home with me."
So did you like the first part? Who is the Enemy? Why is Sharad living in the mortal world?
Cricket
