The Nuclear Reign of Strottimar [Part 1]

Chapter 1; The Crimson Hour

The sky turned a shade of pink fading into red as I drew a breath, as if any sudden movement would shatter the atmosphere, sending ripples into the glass reflective pond. Everything was quiet, pardon the wind, who wandered around this place freely. A bird fluttered off in the distance, as I breathed in the lush smells of the late season. I finally closed my eyes, just to let it all sink in, I knew the autumn was creeping in too soon.

"Solstice!" a voice called from a distance away as I flinched out of my drunken summer's daze. Twisting myself to see, I met Xander's eyes. "What are you doing so far off territory?" he scoffed as I felt my face flush. "It's crimson hour, dear Xander, everywhere is free."

"Until you're hunted down by wild treddors," he began, stepping from the underbrush to stand beside me as I gazed down at my pretty reflection in the pond. "Not now, not at this hour." I sighed as he met my eyes. The crimson hour was an hour of peace out in these unforgiving wild woods. Xander was shockingly handsome in the red light, his pale white skin and dry lips, dark hair. I knew him, I knew he felt more secure during the moon hours, where his enemies were ones he could easily take down, not unlike now where he seemed to merely sizzle in the broad evening light.

"You're uneasy in this part of the woods..." I began but he stepped on my words. "No, not uneasy, just- cautious, that's all," he breathed, looking up at the canopy of the short trees in the little pond's clearing before drawing a breath. "My folks used to tell me dark stories of shape changers near this wood. That- they'd skin you alive and strip you of your powers to have as their own." he teased as he brushed my shoulder. "What, eglipties?" I scoffed. "I thought those things were harmless, they look just like humans."

"They do, I think, that's the scariest part." he laughed, as if we didn't resemble humans enough ourselves. Everything except for my wings, and our ears, a few other of his features, I'd heard of some other species around call my race "fallen angels", and I suppose at the end of the day that's what we really were, yet we were sent from no heaven. "I suppose we'd best be heading back now," I finally exclaimed as Xander agreed. He was right, the nocturnal species out here where no laughing matter, for a mere lander like myself, I could be eaten alive. I was a prey bird, after all.

Our territory was more vastly spread, open fields, far from the bog and moist dense forest where we hunted in the east. These fields provided more departure space to take to the skies in danger. Sometimes, even the low canopies of these smelly woods felt claustrophobic. Though Xander felt more at home here, aside from the crimson hour, even though he was born and raised inside of our safe walls of the great maple tree, he was a hybrid. Xander was no lander, his ancestors never lived in mere trees. They lived in the caves of swamps with the mosquitoes and the bats, fellow blood-suckers like himself.

Yet, he was no different from I, especially now, when we'd grown to be the very best of friends. It didn't matter our species, it mattered that we survived through each other's help. "Where did we leave the Stevens's?" I let out a sigh as we trekked from the pond's open area and back into the dense covered forest. Xander shook his head and proceeded to untie his mid length hair before pulling it back again, this time in a neater fashion, out of his face, yet there were always going to be those few strands that tickled his right brow and over his dark blue eyes. "Hansen went upstream. Aster was behind me- but I guess not anymore." he scoffed as I rolled my eyes. "Aster! Aster Stevens!" he began to call out as I brushed a burr from my leg and followed the sounds of the river.

Hansen hadn't wandered off too far, unlike his brother who Xander began to annoyingly fret over. Hansen, who was usually extroverted, kept to himself when we were out like this. He was the first son of Ida and Alfanza, the decision makers I suppose, "elders" of our kind. Chozen through fertility, popularity, and the most respected of Maplewood, his parents were naturally born into power, this burden that he himself had to carry on. A tradition that had been spoiled over many generations. Of course, though, landers like Hansen and Aster were merely unaware of their luxuries.