This story is dated before the fall of the heroes. The guild has been attacked but Heroes are still revered and one woman aims to change that. This is Falling Grace.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

Chapter 1. How far we’ve come.

On the edge of safety and sanity. Over stilled waters that ran the length of time, it self. Swallowed by the falls and yet still pristine from the lingering touch of corruption that had befouled most of the land. She stood toe to heel, on the edge of the world and beginning of anew yet she was not overwhelm by the feeling of being insignificant rather the opposite she knew her place, her meaning and it filled her from tip to toe with awe.

Humbled and profound she had stood before the crash and burn of society and had not flinched. The burning of the guild, the crazy and insane time before the end of an era, before the end of the Heroes. The world had crumbled to its feet and cried out in fear, but she among those around her had stood tall and called out, that this was not the end but rather the beginning.

The beginning of a time, when people, ordinary folk would stand up for themselves and fight the bandits, the Balverines, the Hobbes and those that would disturb wellbeing and the force of justice. They would stand tall together and not waver or fall beneath the swaying influence of .

Unfortunately she thought shaking her head sadly, they did not think for the fate of the helpless that lived within the guild’s protection. Her mind threw her back to the night and she swallowed bitters tears as she plunged into the pool of the past.

They didn’t hear us coming till we had broken through the gates and by then it was too late. She had heard the screaming before the lingering smell of smoke touched her senses; soon she was reeling in the flickering flames of a towering inferno with no escape. She had cried out to her friends and family, who surrounded her but they would not reply. She had broken through the walls of smoke and collapsed in the library, heaving for breath and with smoke filled lungs.

Leaning against the wall of books, she had turned and seen the body long before the thought of what it was hit her mind and the scream reverberated, calling her people to her side. The ugly side of the war had been shown that day, the death of the guild master, an unnecessary risk none of them had seen coming.

They had only wanted escape. An end to the bigotry of the heroes, but the death of Weaver had left him a martyr, they would never say ill against the great man but this wasn’t the way their campaign was suppose to end. They had wanted the heroes’ outcast, not remembered in sorrow or honour.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

Abandoned because of their cause, many of their supporters had tossed them out on the floor, even publicly outcaste the people against them. Ruining their cause, calling them murderers and liars.

She stood to her feet and dusted off her pants with callous hands; she drew in a breath and turned at the tap of her shoulder. "John" she said greeting her second in command with a handshake and pat on the back. He turned and shoved a young strong looking man forward to stand in front of her.

"This is Charley, he’s hoping to recruit to the cause" John said with a smile, leaning forward to nudge the young man. She smiled and turned to greet the new recruit, stopping at his wide mouthed stare; she growled in the deep of her throat and turned away with a huff. "GET HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT!" She roared walking away as John stood silent next to the man before running after her.

"Oh Grace, please that’s the fifth one this week, you’ve turned away" whined John jogging along beside her tirade. She stopped suddenly and turned to face him, "If those weak fools you keep bringing round can’t stand the sight of my scars, how do you think their going to be in the battle? Screaming at the sight of blood & running at the bang of a gun. They’re like little boys to soon from their mothers skirts" she said with a sneer at the young man still staring at her face with shock.

"I thought I told you to get him out of my sight!" she screamed turning away from John and stalking off to her cabin. She trudged up the steps and slammed the door behind her, she stopped at the sight of a tall man spread suggestively on her bed, she growled again and ripped the door open.

"WHO LET HIM INTO MY CABIN!" she screamed pointing at the man, he smiled wickedly and stood from the bed, slinking over to her, he began to massage her shoulders. She shrugged him off and backed away to the far wall, he smiled and followed her, stopping as she raised the shotgun so it was level with his sparkling green eyes.

"Now, now Gracie but the gun down and lets settle this like men" he said with a smile, "With a cuddle" he finished winking at her as she began to step forward, slowly pushing him out the door. "One, men wrestle not cuddle, two, I would never touch you even if you were the last man in Albion!" she cried pushing him out of the cabin with a final shove and slamming the door in his face.

"So, is that a yes or no?" he asked behind the door, she sighed and threw her hands in the air. Flopping on the bed, she screamed into the pillow, punching it in frustration. Not only were none of the recruits enough but now Talon had returned and he seemed to still had that strange fascination for her. She raised her head and stared at the ceiling, "What have I done wrong?" she cried calling for some divine intervention.

"Well maybe you should have taken his offer; it would have helped relieve some of that stress" spoke a soft voice belonging to a dark skinned woman who had slipped in through the window. "Heather!" cried Grace jumping to her feet, to greet her old friend, she hugged the tall woman and laughed as they spun round the room. They flopped on the bed, laughing and gasping, with twinkling eyes.

"You really think I should have accepted Talon’s offer?" she said turning to face Heather. The woman laughed and drew back a long plait from in front of her face, "with a body like his, I would have said yes and where did he want me!" cried Heather causing Grace to burst into laughter.

"Oh Heather, you haven’t changed a bit since, school" she said hugging her friend again. Heather smiled and sighed deeply looking at the ceiling, "your not here for a social visit, are you?" asked Grace turning to look out the window. Heather shook her head and the plaits jingled bouncing as she did. "We’ve had reports that there is going to be an uprising nearby in Oakvale" Heather spoke with a sigh turning back to face Grace.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

"Oh" Grace said looking away again; she stared out the window at a bluebird that had flown onto the windowsill. "Grace" pleaded Heather turning Grace back to face her. Grace twisted out of her grip and stood walking to the door; she opened it and walked out. Passing Talon, she increased her pace and started to jog.

Leading a trail behind her that consisted of Talon, Heather and John, she began to run and directed towards the woods. Slipping between the trees, she ran to the edge of a small creek and jumped fully clothed in. Swimming steady strokes, she lapped towards the other side and ran up the bank. Not turning to wave to her bewildered friends on the opposite bank, she slipped back into the woods and headed towards town.

She snaked through the woods and ending at a fork road that lead off north, south, west and east. She stood at the pinnacle of the road and stared off either direction, trying to decide which road to follow. A noise erupted behind her and a dazed Talon stumbled out of the woods, she had just exited.

Angry at him for following after her, she strode off in a huff down the north bound road. Ignoring his cries of dismay and name calling, she continued to stomp off further in anger. BANG! BANG! Two bullets whizzed through the air pasted her head, she dropped to the ground and turned back to face Talon.

"I TRIED TO TELL YOU, THE UPRISING IS HEADING THIS WAY!" he yelled over the sound of incoming gunshots. BANG! BANG! Two more bullets whizzed past above her head, who ever was firing the rifle was a terrible marksman, the bullets were going off way too far from their target, she thought clamping her hands over her ears.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

Loving it, as usual, just keep an eye out for those spelling mistakes

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1 year on the forums and counting! Get it? Counting? Oh never mind...

"CALLOUS HEADED FOOL!" she screamed in Talon’s direction, whilst crawling slowly back the way she had come. Reaching him, he bent down and helped her to her feet; she dusted off her pants and snatched her hand from his grasp and its immediate approach to his mouth. She opened her mouth to scream some more profanity at him and decided against it at the sight of the quickly approaching uprising that was now only just at the peak of the hill.

Soon they would be over it and descending on the valley, like a swarm of locus onto crop, she thought shaking her head, furiously trying to thinking. Talon grabbed her arm and attempted to drag her away; she shook him off and went back to the situation at hand. The one of which was several feet away! Her mind screamed at her, directing her eyes to the mare in front being led by a fat man with a ridiculous hat.

The man and the horse approached quickly reaching her in a matter of moments; they greeted her with a loud sigh and a sneeze. The man leapt from the horse’s back and to Grace’s surprise landed gracefully for someone of his girth. He bowed low and rose quickly to take the hand she offered him. As he lifted it to his mouth, she snatched it away and gave him an angry glare.

Were all men fools? She wondered shaking her head at the obvious form of flattery, she snorted in agreement with the horse. She tossed her hand up in and air and gestured to the large gathering that now surrounded them. "Why have you come?" she growled watching them warily, hovering a hand over her gun strapped to her belt. The man turned to face the gathering and nodded his head in signal, Grace noted, signal for what? She wondered watching the people suddenly drop their weapons to the ground.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

Chapter 2. Black silk.

The moon hung heavily. White and glowing, the beautified orb it was. She stared up at the sky and then down at the man, lying beside her. She was not weak. How could one control the desire and want that bled between them? She tossed in her bed and wrapped the covers around her body. Skin tight clothing that clung to her form and accented her curves. This was not present. A memory of past times and shames.

Black silk. Seductive as sin. Darker than night. His lips grazed her neck and drifted down to where his hands and fingers trailed over her soft skin. Stretched and taunt, her soft mane of hair lay a cloud beneath her head and her eyes of startling blue met his dark obsidian soulful gaze. Slipping his hands to her waist, he drew her closer till their bodies met in the middle and her head flung back to reveal her creamy neck to him.

She blinked softly from beneath his possessive gaze and a sigh rose from her lips, raising her chest. Up and down. A motion. Action. Movement. He leant down and claimed her lips, pressing them to his. Deep. Heavy. Hungrily. Kissing her repeatedly till she was breathless. Wanting for more. Laying her down and leaning over her, he stared into her eyes, lost in their gaze.

Locked in a storm of moments. Lips touching. Bodies pressed together in a whirl of passion. Time slowed and froze, till all that remained was them and this night. This moment. This space in time. Heat rose off their bodies and their chest rose as one. Taking in a breath and stealing another.

A whisper. Breathless. Panting in her ear. Her hand strayed past the line. To the border of abandonment. His eyes watched her and she blinked. He asked and she replied. No words were spoken and they needed have been. They’re bodies and actions spoken more than words ever could. They spoke of love. Passion. Lust. Desire. Of all the things respectable people whisper behind closed doors and shaded windows.

 

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

interesting.... was it Talon, or the guy who'd come on the horse before?

and were the people in the chapter before allies or enemies?

So many questions

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1 year on the forums and counting! Get it? Counting? Oh never mind...

Sorry I only just noticed my mistake, it should be. The correction is in bold.

The moon hung heavily. White and glowing, the beautified orb it was. She stared up at the sky and then down at the man, lying beside her. She was not weak. How could one control the desire and want that bled between them? She tossed in her bed and wrapped the covers around her body. Skin tight clothing that clung to her form and accented her curves. This was not the present. It was a memory of past times and shames.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

Its neither Talon or the guy on the horse. This is someone new and very important. The people in the chapter were the uprising in Oakfield, they had moved away and were heading to Bowerstone. They are now apart of the Heroes resistance. Hopefully that answers some of your questions.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.

She tossed around in her bed. Memorising the moments that were lifetimes ago. Another time. Another place. Another her. She woke and straightened suddenly in the bed; rising from it she stood at the window and stared out at the moon. The tears still fresh on her face, what had happened to change the young fresh faced girl she had once been? The idealistic pink cheeked fool! She thought in disgust, tossing an arm out knocking a small table to the floor in anger.

She shook her head and swore, dropping to the floor crying into her hands. Weeping for her stolen future, cursed by her past, cursed to live out this half life fuelled by a never ending vendetta. When would it end? When the heroes were all dead and cold in the ground? Or when his ghost was gone from her memories?

She stood from the floor and stared again out the window. Up at the moon, it hung heavy up in the sky. Illuminating all the world around her and her surrounding.

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Flown down by ravens and stolen by the dawn's first rays, night mares stalk the night. Through dusty windows and cracked glass, they watch the weary rest till mornings rise.