Silverthorne: Book 1

Chapter 1

11 years ago upon the black continent:

I was caught in the dream again. The closest I've ever gotten to releasing that form again, the hideous nightmare beast form that lay dormant inside me. The thing about that day was it was also the day he found me. The man who would later adopt me as his child. He found me being torn to pieces by a pack of Beowulves that manage to catch me off guard, a very rare and odd occurrence mind you. I didn't have time to fight back I was merely clawed and bitten at. Surrounded on all sides. The Grimm were each a black so dark even on a moonless night they were shadows in the night. Like all other Grimm they had bone white plate on their heads forming a skull like shape and plates situated seemingly at random all over their bodies. The oddest most shocking feature was the district bright red lines etched into the bone plates itself and their eyes were the same bright red but as the Grimm moved their eyes gave off a faint flowing red ribbon of what looked like coloured smoke.

I thanked the idiot regenerator that I once killed by leading him into an evolved Grimm's lair, arrogant bastard thought he could survive the encounter. He gave me the regenerative powers they were keeping me from dying or worse form changing. I tried to use my telepathy to attempt to call them off but their primitive minds were so thick with bloodlust I couldn't get through to them to stop them. I tried to call forth my friend The Beast but he couldn't do anything to help either. That's when I found his mind and sent out a distressed call for help, a last dying attempt to escape my fate.

He arrived swiftly within mere seconds of me issuing my distress call. He came as my regenerative powers gave out and the life started to fade from me. He fought with swift and brutal strikes, moving with the deadly grace of a coiled viper. When he finished turned to look at me and the sea of corpses now surrounding me. The Grimm began to fade into dust and shadows, leaving behind they're bony plates and weird metallic looking cores. I didn't have the energy or strength to stand, my legs were completely shattered. I never saw his face until he reached down and gently picked me up, the sun was in my face and his wings blocked his green and brown scaled face when he fought. He spoke to me in a language I had yet to grasp, he saw the clear confusion on my face he realised his mistake and took off, his powerful wings expanding from his back and beating furiously to hurry me back to his camp to get looked at by his campaign doctor. I passed out near the end by the point we arrive. My dream tends to end here if not sooner.

Now:

I stirred from deep slumber. I was laying resting against The Beast's soft snow-white fur, he –at least I think it's a he- is currently curled around me in his preferred Beowulf form. I stare up into the starry night and watch them twinkle. I was thinking on how long it had been since I saw my father or sister. After stirring from my trance lead my gaze upon my prize at the end of this long journey. The famous and simultaneously infamous Silverthorne Academy. Nestled upon a cliff edge with dense forest to the east, a large rushing river that drained in the ocean and a large open training area to the north. I lay atop a hill in the thick of the forest gazing at Silverthorne in its ethereal and sinister beauty with its angelic white buildings and its midnight black tower as a stark contrast to the rest of the academy. You could barely see it if not for the single light room at it's very peak with someone staring out of the window.