• Gideon’s Betrayal
    Part One

    Wings of fire, wings of ice, wings of earth . . . wings of Heros. How ironic that everything the creature stood for was becoming of the world. Not only the angelic statute the creature so frequently sported, but also the less noticeable forms: the demonic forms and the innocent ones. The creature itself was not impressed by these miraculous things which he could do. In fact, it was rather disgusted with itself.

    The “creature” was currently in the form of a young Human boy with dusty red curls for hair and emerald eyes. It was his true form, the one in which he had been born with. Lately, though, he had also been carrying a new form, that of an angel, although he felt he was anything but. The events that had occurred throughout his life made him aware that life, in itself and not, was imperfect.

    The angel shivered as a hard, biting wind cut into him, rustling his mottled blue wings and blowing his wild curls into his flawless face. He paid no heed to it; acknowledging that it was cold would only distract him from his duties. He had a task to carry out, and no matter how small it was, he would try his hardest to complete it . . . for his master. The Apprentice would take him back no matter what happened, but he felt it was necessary to please him. His master, one of greater power than he, had saved his life too many times to merely push it aside.

    “Gideon!”

    The angel turned to the sound of his name being called out, although he knew at once who was beckoning to him. The voice, his master’s voice, was unlike any others, a voice with and without power, a light, feathery tone that whispered and boomed at the same time. The Apprentice, among other things, was an Enchanter.

    “You mustn’t forget your blade; the Woods become barbaric at night.” The raven-haired Apprentice extended his hand, which clutched a leather scabbard that encased a blade forged of magic. A great fighter wielded the sword; the angel was a mercenary against those who cared not for the protection of others. Gideon accepted the weapon solemnly and waited to be sent upon his way. “I expect you back by the morn. Northwind is but a few leagues away, and you can make it with time to spare, so long as you fly.”

    The angel nodded. He wouldn’t be flying; it was much too cold for that. However, seeing as he was one of the Other Beings, running was another option. He would still make it in time.

    “Be safe,” the Apprentice continued, in a much kinder tone. “If I hear of your passing, I’ll be devastated. You must protect yourself at all costs. Good luck.”

    The angel nodded and turned away from his master without a word. Speaking aloud had become an impossible task long ago. He was a victim to the mark of cruelty, which had caused his pitiful downfall. Everything had become restricted for him.

    This rusty-haired, green eyed boy was a Unique, one whose form could never be taken by another’s. Not only that, he was a Shapeshifter, a creature whose presence was only known in fairy tales. Thousands of things could he become, all of them spectacular to see. Even his master, whom he revered partly because of his unusual and breathtakingly strong powers, was normally amazed at the sight of the boy’s shifting technique. Gideon himself, however, was not so impressed.