THE LOST

"Hello?"

Alannah stepped closer to the bundle of rags. Wrapped in blankets and dirt, she wasn't even sure if it was a person at all, or even why she was here. Darke Alley was known for beggars, thieves and worse. It was unsafe after dusk for a group of seasoned adventurers, let alone a solitary cleric armed only with good intentions. Strange creatures preyed on the weak and many who ventured down the sinister alley never returned.

But Alannah had been drawn to Darke Alley as though a force greater than her own will compelled her. Despite the rising gloom, there was something there that she had to see.

"Hello?" she said again, more cautiously this time. The vaguely man-shaped bundle of rags did not move. She looked up and down the ever darkening alley then back again to the rags. She took two cautious steps closer. "Hello. Is anyone there?"

The rags were still and silent.

The last embers of sunlight hung frozen in the timeless moment before dusk.

Then night fell…

Quite suddenly, the rags shuddered and from within, a blonde haired youth pulled back the thick covers and looked up at her. His face was glorious, smeared with ash and dirt, yet his eyes were large and amber coloured. Surprised at her own fear, Alannah exhaled a sigh of relief, and moved a little closer. What had she expected: a monster, here, in the City?

The youth looked back at her, his features questioning. Had it have been a touch lighter, Alannah would have seen the black tipped feathery wings wrapped around his body. But she did not; she only saw a tired and frightened youth, the pain of a harsh existence marked upon his features.

"Hello there," she said softly. "I am Alannah, hospitaler of the church of Auraran."

For a moment, the youth blinked as if woken from a strange and unsettling dream. Then his eyes focussed upon the sunrise holy symbol that hung down around her neck. It gleamed with a gentle incandescence, casting a golden aura across the alley.

"The light," the youth muttered suddenly, his eyes widening with recognition. He shielded his face with his hand and snarled. "Bright."

"Sorry my child," Alannah whispered, instinctively covering her holy symbol with her cloak. Shadow rushed in to swirl around them. Satisfied, the youth lowered his arm, his amber eyes gleaming in the near darkness.

"Can I help you?" Alannah asked gently, moving closer to the rags where the youth lay, "Are you lost?"

The youth thought about the words for a moment, "Yes," he said slowly, the words sounding strange and unfamiliar. "I am… lost. I seek redemption."

There was such sorrow in his voice, such longing that Alannah quickly came toward him and reached out her hand. "Of course," she said warmly as the youth rose lithely from his rags and stepped toward her.

She only looked away for a moment; glanced back at the warmth and light of the City. She should never have lowered her guard. All her training, all the words of the wise elders had fallen on deaf ears. Alannah was prepared to risk everything for what she believed to be a soul in need.

And he was in need. Yet it was not for redemption.

But for blood…

That one single moment was all the youth needed. He had broken her neck and sunk his teeth into her throat even before she had fallen to the ground. She was still smiling beatifically, even in death.

When he had drunk his fill, the youth tenderly laid her arms across her chest. He kneeled beside her, resting a slender hand upon her chest, his black tipped wings wrapped around them both.

Suddenly dislodged, Alannah's holy symbol fell to the ground from underneath her cloak. Its radiance gleamed brightly in the darkness.

The youth snarled as the light flickered around him, and he fell back against the alley wall. He lay there for a long while, staring at the holy symbol as its light faded and Alannah's body cooled.

Then unable to bear any more, he staggered away, bloody tears of anguish rolling down his cheeks.