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This is a companion piece for The tent, called similarly The Cliff. This is around the same time of The Tent and Luke reflects on his feelings for Lyra and this mysterious huntress.

Luke Makube looked over the cliff to the small empty field below. Morning rays slowly invaded the night sky, giving everything a light orange look. The cool morning air was filled with anticipation for the bloodshed to be. He gave the scene a once over to check if everything was ready and set. The enemy had yet to realize they knew of their pathetic attempt of taking this valley and its mountains. From what he understood they planned to snipe from the mountains as a set of his men went though the valley to deliver message to the neighboring country about how he was looking forward to trading with them now that he proved he could in fact run a country.

It was pathetic really but also off somehow. It seemed too easy to find out about. So he placed his own snipers around the mountain and had his army place on hold beyond the mountain’s valley. If She showed up he’d be there leading his army against her pathetic rag tag team of rebels. He’d end her so quickly her soldiers wouldn’t know what happened.
And with that his thoughts turned to the mysterious girl who had declared war on him, His huntress. She seemed to hate him for a very personal reason he wished he knew but honestly didn’t care. He didn’t hate her in all actuality but she wanted him dead and that was enough for him these days.

He hadn’t even known she existed till she showed up in his throne room three months ago! She stood by the seat he designed for his fiancé, Lyra, for when they find her. He refused to believe his love was dead, if she was dead he knew he’d feel emptier like something was missing so he ignored his council’s recommendation he get another wife. He had only one and he knew she was out there. She had to be.

His huntress, as he started called her when she introduced herself as a hunter, stood by it as if she belonged by it and he never felt a rage so terrible as he did then. He barked at her to get away from that chair. She had just smirked at him before moving slightly away from it before sitting in his.

It was shocking he hadn’t killed her but at least she wasn’t on Lyra’s. The ignored each other for a while as Luke talked to his closest council member as they in turn tried their best not to stare at the not dead girl in the King’s chair.

Eventually their shared ignoring came to an end as Luke realized the women was still there and had yet to vacate his spot. When he finally asked who she was and why the hell she was there, she told him she was there to see if the rumors were true that the new King was a half-dragon. He of course flaunted his new additions to his body while she scoffed and threw him a look of disgust but at the same time caring and amused. He was so confused by that look he didn’t even notice when she got close. She had just stared at him before turning around and walking towards one of the many large windows that lined the throne room.

“Who are you?” He had asked realizing she still hadn’t answered that question. She turned her head to look at him before opening the window and perching on the ledge with her legs hanging on the outside.

“I’m the girl who’s going to hunt you down.” With that she fell from the window disappearing in a flash of fire and burst of cold air. He had rushed to the window thinking she had just killed herself but was met with empty skies and no dead body lying hundreds of feet to the ground.

At the time all he thought of her was a nuisance that he could easily get rid of without much thought. She was just a simple girl who knew a few parlor tricks. If he knew what he knew now, he kept telling himself, he would have killed her on the spot, maybe save himself some trouble.
But if he was honest with himself he would never had dreamt of killing her early on. She filled a hole in his life he didn’t even know existed in the first place. It was a hole left by Lyra when he realized she truly never was coming back. He never should have let that backstabbing b*****d Gregor ever near her. How could he have been so trusting of that jealous son of a…. Luke took a deep breath, looking back down at the valley from his seat on the cliff.

He didn’t want to kill her; she made his life exciting and have some meaning besides ruling over an ungrateful country. His huntress reminded him of how Lyra made him feel; something more than a ruler and like an actual person. His huntress talked to him plainly while others ran around their words afraid they’ll evoke his wrath, and they would have if they ever talked to him like she did. She was his one exception.

Sometimes, though very rarely, he got this urge to just hold her close and wish he could apology for everything. Like holding her close would keep her safe from everything in the world. It was a very strange urge being he only ever held Lyra like that with such a string feeling.

Maybe it was because she looked so similar to Lyra, if Lyra’s brilliant eyes filled with life had been robbed of everything and magically changed color as well as her hair. Yea, that had to be the reason because she looked like a Lyra who lived a terrible life and was born with plain features.

Luke gave out a deep sigh which ruffled his black hair and stood up from the spot on the cliff, his sore muscles giving out a protest at the sudden movement after not moving for hours. As he stood, he smoothed out his once crisp black suit, annoyed at the wrinkles still there. Next time he needed to come out in something more comfortable. He stretched lightly when he got to full height, his large black wings stretching far past his hands before returning to normal position of lying folded against his back. He would need to fly back home but he didn’t feel like he had done all he had to yet.

And that’s how he ended up on the edge of the cliff the tip of his shoes hanging over with nothing but air between them and the very far bottom below. Would it all end if he ended? Would the pain he feels every time he thinks of his love just stop or would it follow him when he meet the gods?

He stood that way for a while, just staring over the cliff, not thinking at all till another thought struck him. He could just fall and not move his wings an inch and it’d be over. At least he’d be able to see Lyra again. It’d be so easy too, just one step and done. Wouldn’t she be so glad to see him after all this time.

Luke had never been one to be suicidal, he had always thought himself strong enough not to turn down that road, but the step was taken and he plummeted. His wings moved on instinct and self preservation as they worked ferociously so their host would land safely on the ground without injury.

That’s how he fell to the ground, lightly on his feet with a quiet thump with no injury expected a battered mind set as he wondered if he really just did that. He threw himself to the ground, the dewy grass tickling his overheated skin with relief. Luke stared up at the morning rays that still worked through the overwhelming night that lingered at the edges of the sky.

He had really just done that. He was prepared to give Lyra everything and he almost gave her his life. He was only breathing because his body cared more about him then he did. His clawed hands found their way to his startling blue eyes as he felt the start of tears beginning to prickle at the edge of them.

For the first time since he realized his love was truly dead, he didn’t stop them.

Going to put some more of my short stories in here.
So this one is The tent and it's from Lyra's point of view. It's right before the big battle that is set for the next day. Here she wonders if she's really doing the right thing or not

Lyra Cale looked into the small mirror provided to her by her masters. It was a luxury, one her soldiers couldn’t have nor wish they could have knowing the hard times. She almost didn’t use it, not wanting a thing her people couldn’t have. It made her feel like a traitor more so when her own country labeled her that same name. Lyra told her masters she didn’t want it but they chuckled in that deep throaty way that dragons do, it almost sounds like fire got caught in their throats, and told her it didn’t matter what her pawns got she was much more special.

She ignored it for as long as possible, even draping a cloth over it to block it from view, but the cloth fell and a corner was visible. And from that corner, she caught sight of herself.

Lyra hated her reflection, it wasn’t her. And because it wasn’t her it caused her to stare, wondering how magic could have done this. Her dark brown hair was cut shorter than ever, an advantage for the upcoming battle in the morning but it wasn’t the length that disturbed her – she always wanted her hair short anyway- it was the color. That damn brown color so different from her once bright blonde hair. It served to remind her all she lost and all she could have had if her once lover hadn’t… She took a deep breath, closing her deep wood colored eyes, reminding herself that he wasn’t her lover. He never was it was all a ruse, he never loved her. He just wanted a queen he could make a whore of. She opened her eyes again; she was okay with that change. Her violet eyes were the reason Luke had been attracted to her in the first place. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with him and when she killed him tomorrow, she’d finally be free to reclaim her life, or at least the tattered remains of it.

She knew that was a lie though. The Dragons would never let her go, she was too powerful of a weapon for them to use. They’d keep her long after her task was finished and use her till the day she died. She knew this full well, though they thought she was unaware. Their weapon was supposed to be clueless and follow orders blindly and that’s how she acted for them except for the few times she tried to run away.

She had those moments when she thought that killing someone wasn’t the way to go. She just wanted to escape and hide in the forest that surrounds the main city of Jeina. She’d curl up in a ball and no one would miss her and she’d just disappear and the world would move on. It would keep spinning and no one would mourn for her.

She almost went through with her plan several times but every single damn time a dragon in the guise coming to tell her that she was needed by the Masters or some problem with the soldiers had arisen. She could always tell they were dragons, since her near death Dragons always seemed larger than the surrounding humans even though she knew that they were the same size when in the disguise. She of course didn’t tell her wonderful Masters she could tell. Why would you tell things you could barely trust every little thing you do?

The huntress, as she preferred to be called, looked back up to the mirror her brown eyes staring back. She glared at the reflection a sudden anger flowing through her. How dare they use her like a puppet? How dare she still love her killer? How dare her own god damn reflection mock her! Before she knew what she was doing, she summoned forth the burning passion into something tangible before wrapping the flames in the cold hatred she felt for everything that went wrong in her life. She threw the ice fire to the offending item, breaking it and causing the glass to fly everywhere. She barely winced as bits flew past her cutting her up lightly.

Her anger disappeared just as quickly as it showed up, leaving the owner feeling incredibly empty and more alone then she had felt in a long time. Lyra let out a sigh running her right hand, the one that was burned beyond repair, through her hair.

Today she was going to kill the man she one loved and still might.

No! Not loved. Not anymore, not after he did this to her. Not after he tried to kill her and succeeded in some ways. He killed Lyra Cale that day he sent his friend Gregor to kill her versus facing her himself. He killed the innocent young girl she was; thinking the worst in life was an arranged marriage.

When she saw him on the battlefield in the few hours they were leaving, she would return the favor tenfold, making sure that there was no chance of survival for the Demon King of Jeina.
She fell to her small bed in the corner of the tent, placing her head in her shaking hands as the first morning rays broke through the night sky. Some days she wished he had succeeded in killing her versus leaving her with the tortures and pain of this life. This wasn’t a life this was her own personal hell created to kill her in every way imaginable and possible. Other days she wished he would hold her close again and whisper to her that he was sorry and he’d make everything better. She wished again that those warm arms would envelope her again and shield her from the wrong of the world. She had felt so safe when those arms wrapped around her all those months ago. Of course it was all a lie, but that didn’t mean she didn’t prefer it to the truth most days.

Eventually she got up from the edge of the bed, pushing open the flaps that served as an entrance to her makeshift prison. The air was cool and was welcomed against her skin. The sun peeked from behind the mountains that made up a large valley they were heading for in the later part if the morning. She looked away from the waking sun towards her warriors’ camp. She has tried her hardest to avoid it at all costs. She had trouble facing the very people she was leading to death. She knew they were leaving friends and families behind that would miss them because they thought they could make a difference. The only thing they were there for, her masters told her, was as cannon fodder so she could make it easily to her intended target. It pained her to have to treat these people like that, but she had to do what she must to rid the world of Luke.
She steeled herself before walking through the scattered tents set up as a camp. It was early in the morning so she saw no one but the few soldiers on night shift to protect them just in case something happened. Lyra nodded vaguely in their direction when they looked towards her and scrambled to stand up and bow. She tried to ignore their stares at her outfit. For the first time in their knowledge she was just in a pair of pants and a t-shirt with no shoes on. Whenever they did she her she was usally in some form of protective armor but always with gloves on. They tried not to stare at her arms but she felt them and subconsciously rubbed them hoping they’d just go away. Ever since the country’s once lord Dragon tried to kill her, her right arm looked as if it was stuck in a fire while her left one looked like it was frostbitten beyond repair. She had full control of both arms and they didn’t hurt but people tended to stare at them. Eventually she passed by the small group of guards and she let out a sigh of relief. She made it to the edge of the area designated temporary home without incident or running into some one other then the few nervous guards.

Lyra looked up at her goal, the forest they were residing in. She sometimes when she felt like running away but at the same time not, she’d go as far as she wanted in the area surrounding where they set up base. Every time a Dragon would find her and collect her but the moments alone were what she was after.

It took her several minutes to find a clearing in the trees, where the grass wasn’t too high nor itchy on her bare feet. The morning sun lazily poked through the leafy ceiling making light warm splotches on the dewy ground.

The leader of a soon to be battle, found a particularly large sun spot and plopped herself right in the middle of it. Her right arm was used as a pillow, her head resting in the crook of her elbow while her left arm was laid across her eyes in a vain attempt to shield her eyes from the bright light. It was the absolutely perfect setting to do the one thing she couldn’t when surrounded by her untrusting masters and death sentenced soldiers, Not think.

So that’s how she sat for several minutes, enjoying the time of no responsibilities if only for a few minutes. But unfortunately nothing can last forever and she found her mind turning to Luke as it had been more and more as they got closer to the battle. She sat there now staring at the rays of sunshine poking through and wondered if he felt terrible for what he did or did he ever think about her like she did him? She sighed knowing the answer to those questions before she even asked them.

He didn’t give a s**t about her so no, he didn’t think about her nor feel guilty. It wasn’t in his nature, honestly she wondered if he could care for a single human being. In all actuality he was probably thinking about killing her right now, though he didn’t know it was her. He thought he killed her the first time; she was just a new enemy who looked nothing like Lyra.

She wasn’t even herself anymore.

And for the first time since her near death she felt tears prickling on the side of her eyes. And for the first time, not giving a damn what state she was found in, she let the tears flow curling up into a ball wishing for all the world her life hadn’t become what it did.