The Twilight Elf

Chapter 1: Weddings and Kidnappings

Enya stood in an elegant cream satin dress, amidst that golden light of sunset when day and night argue over ownership of the sky. Washed in the glow of twilight, she observed a bizarre and unknown version of herself in the mirror.

“I don't even recognize myself," she said to the glass.

Any other day she might have downplayed her looks or laughed it off when someone else called her pretty, but not today.

Today she felt beautiful.

Her honey colored hair had done her an unordinary kindness and stayed perfectly positioned in a stylish bun with strands falling to frame her face. Her light bronze skin held no blemish of any kind and all the necessities of the wedding had gone off without a hitch.

But that was exactly how it had begun in the dream as well.

“Enya?" she heard her father's voice call from the stairwell that led to this room.

The castle was a high class wedding venue, stuck smack dab in the middle of New York city. In order to get to the bride's room, you had to climb spiraling flights of stairs.

“Sweetheart?"

Her father gave his signature knock, three short raps, and entered without waiting for a reply.

“There you are, and how is the bride doing?" he said, coming in with a skip in his step and closing the door behind him.

“I'm doing okay."

It was the most she could muster, but however unconvincing Enya may have thought it sounded, her father bought it completely.

“As you should be. It's your wedding day!"

He joined her at the mirror and the two stared at Enya's reflection together.

“A vision. They might have to prop poor Jeremy up with a stick."

Enya tried to think of an answer but couldn't. Her mind was still on the dream she'd had last night. A man with pointy ears coming at her, arms outstretched, with the most wicked smile on his face.

She nodded instead.

“I'm proud of you, kid. Incredibly proud," he said.

“Do you think mother would have been proud too?"

Enya felt her chest tighten. She'd never known her mother and knew that it plagued her father to speak of her but she felt she needed that reassurance. To feel like she was with her and maybe that would allow her to stop thinking of the dream.

Her father stiffened.

“Maybe. Maybe not, but either way I don't think she should get a say or much of a second thought. She could have been here,"

He started pacing the room, keeping his back turned to Enya. She kicked herself for bringing her up on a day like this.

“I'm sorry," Enya said quietly.

“I've apologized for that about as much as a man can."

He didn't turn to face her, merely c****d his head back in her direction as he spoke.

“No, Dad, I'm sorry. You don't have anything to apologize for. I just didn't sleep well last night."

Enya's father turned back to her at this, his eyebrow raised.

“Another nightmare?"

Enya nodded.

“Did you take the medication the doctor prescribed?"

He turned his chin down in an accusatory look.

Enya breathed in deep and prepared to disappoint her father yet again.

“No. I don't like the way they make me feel, and I know we've already been over this, but I didn't want to feel in a fog on my wedding day. I wanted to really experience it. Be present."

Her father paused for quite some time and walked slowly over to her and took her by the hands.

“Well, I suppose that's only natural. Natural too, for a girl to think of her mother on her wedding day. To want both her parents there. I wish she was here to answer all the questions I couldn't."

He smiled but regret darkened his eyes.

“Hey, you did a bang up job as both Mom and Dad. I'll always be grateful for that."

She brought him in for a long hug. Her father may have been a burdened man, single father and CEO of a large pharmaceutical company, but he was still there for her, whenever he could be, and she would always remember that.

“You ready, kid? It's about that time.," her father said as they pulled apart.

Enya put on a gentle smile, this one less of a fabrication, and locked arms with man who would walk her down the aisle. The pair descended the spiraling wooden staircase toward the sanctuary.

They arrived at a set of large double doors. Her few bridesmaids and Gabby, Jeremy's sister acting as maid of honor, lined up in front of her.

Another memory of the dream, of the pointy eared man, came crashing inside her mind.

His long fingers outstretched toward her, while the room descended into darkness.

The music began to play and for a moment she forced her worries to fade away and focused only on the handsome man she'd see at the end of the aisle. The man who made her laugh, respected her, and never found her nightmares silly.

The double doors swung open and when it was Enya's turn she did her best to float down the aisle. At the end of a long red carpet stood Jeremy. His dorky half smile was so big it threatened to run off his face while his large brown eyes warmed at the sight of her. That smile made her feel safe. Always had. Yet now, it couldn't stop the overwhelming feeling of dread that grew inside of her.

My heart wants to stay but my feet want to run.

The room seemed to slow. She could hear every drawn breath and see the movement of friends and family around her as if in slow motion as they stood on either side of her.

She felt a pat on her hand and realized it was her father trying to calm her. Enya's eyes flicked about for any little sign that something was wrong. Anything to prove the alarm bells in her head were right and she wasn't crazy.

“Dad?"

“Hmm?" Her father answered, confused no doubt and trying not to make a scene.

“I…I don't know If I can do this."

She tried to stop but her father pulled her forward.

“You're nervous, that's all. It's okay to be nervous."

His grip tightened on her arm and he pulled her even faster down the aisle, now offbeat with the wedding march.

No. No, something is wrong I know it is.

Then she saw it, the priest standing beside Jeremy. He was an old man, Jeremy's priest from his days as a catholic youth, but his smile seemed off. As she stared at him, another rather peculiar fact came to her.

His ears were pointed. Severely pointed.

That was when the chaos came. The priest threw off his robe and what should have been a frail elderly man's body underneath revealed itself to be a strong and muscular one. He wore form-fitted midnight blue leather clothes that resembled a spandex suit. Though his hair was silver, there were no lines on his face, no wrinkles. He looked like what you'd imagine an over sixtie's sexiest man alive cover to look like. Except everything about his objective beauty seemed more uncanny than inviting.

Jeremy turned to the priest, equally stunned.

“Father Theron?"

Without giving him a second glance, the false priest backhanded Jeremy across the face and that simple action sent him hurling ten feet off the altar.

The thud Jeremy made when he hit the ground caused Enya to scream.

At that moment, similar men and women, all with pointed ears and strange clothes rushed into the room. They burst through the windows and the double doors behind her. She didn't see where her father went; If he was taken or if she was pulled out of his arms.The assailants were moving so fast, her eyes couldn't track them.

“It's her, the bride. Apprehend her at once," said Father Theron.

He pointed his long curled fingers at her, just as he'd done in the dream.

“Tuva Dorimir," the man chanted.

Exhaustion fell onto Enya like a wave from the ocean. In seconds, she felt more tired than she'd ever been in her whole life, and even though her mind screamed at her to not fall asleep, to do something and help Jeremy, she couldn't help but succumb as darkness drifted in from the corners of her eyes.

She crumbled to the floor.

“What of the witnesses?" said one of the pointy eared people to Theron.

She was pretty. The kind of attractive you'd see from CGI in a movie. Too pretty to be real.

“There's too many for a memory spell and we don't have the time. Save the necessary and then set fire to the church. We'll stage it as a tragic accident."

With her last ounce of strength, Enya took hold of the long fingered man by the ankle and mumbled, “No."

The man looked down to her in shock along with his assistant.

“She's still awake after taking a direct spell from you?" the woman said.

Enya's mind, falling deeper and deeper into subconscious, held onto that word.

Spell?

“It is not completely surprising. There is some Elven blood in her veins after all," said Theron.

He bent down to her and grimaced as if he were looking at some gruesome creature.

Elven blood? What the hell is happening?

These were Enya's last thoughts before the drowsiness overtook her and the nightmare she'd feared became true.