The Chronicles of Onyx: Book 1

Chapter One - One Year Later

Golden eyes looked down the straight blade of a beautifully crafted sword. Carved with the name of Rivana, the sword was without imperfections. Its blade, as captivating as its wielder—a figure of grace and skill. That is, if the wielder wasn't currently threatening to start a fight over a trivial matter. With the blade pointed at the neck of an angry Elf, one who had no clue what he had started.

Onyx and Rok found themselves surrounded by a large group of drunken Elves, Men, and one particularly burly Dwarf that just sat on his stool, drinking his Ale, as if the tension didn't bother him. They were inside a dimly lit tavern, the original agenda forgotten as the atmosphere grew tense and hostile.

"Onyx—" Rok whispered sternly, trying to reason with her, "Sheath the sword." Rok asked as he attempted to stop a future fight from breaking out, but so far, he wasn't succeeding. Onyx had grown closer to him over the past year, trusting him more than before. And she seemed to care about him deeply, which made her more protective. This protective instinct, while endearing, also meant she was more prone to getting out of hand when she sensed danger, especially if she perceived anyone as a 'threat' to Rok.

"Onyx, please," Rok warned again, hoping she would listen this time. He knew her skills were formidable, but he also understood the consequences of drawing their weapons in a place filled with hostile individuals.

Onyx's eyes flickered between Rok and the angry Elf, her grip on the sword still firm. Rok could see the torn look, fighting between her instincts to protect him and the rational part of her mind where he had hoped she knew violence was not the answer. But sometimes he was always not so sure.

"Listen, there's no need for violence," Rok tried to reason with the crowd, hoping to defuse the situation. "Me and my friend can leave and we can all forget that this ever happened"

The angry Elf sneered, minding little attention to Rok's words. "Listen to this simpleton of a Half-breed! Trying to run away from a fight his friend started?" he taunted, trying to provoke them further.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the tavern—a deep, commanding voice that demanded attention. It was the unbothered Dwarf. "Alright that's enough!" he boomed, silencing the rowdy crowd. "I can't even finish me Ale in peace without all of ye bickering like lill babies!" he yelled, his gruff, deep voice carried through the tavern like a clap of thunder.

The tavern fell silent under the authority of the burly Dwarf's voice. Even the angry Elf who had been taunting Onyx and Rok looked taken aback by the sudden interruption. The Dwarf slammed his tankard on the table for emphasis, causing Ale to splash over the sides.

"Now, if ye lot can't sort out yer differences like proper folk, then I suggest ye take yer quarrels elsewhere," the Dwarf continued, his eyes narrowing at the crowd. "I've had enough of this nonsense, and I'll not stand for any more trouble in me tavern!"

His words had an immediate effect. The tension in the room eased, and some of the drunken patrons looked sheepish as they lowered their eyes, shamed by the Dwarf's reprimand.

Onyx slowly lowered her sword, her eyes still filled with a mix of frustration and determination. Rok let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the Dwarf's intervention.

"Thank you," Rok said to the Dwarf, his tone respectful. "We don't want any trouble. We'll leave peacefully."

The Dwarf grunted in acknowledgement and gestured towards the door. "Good riddance then. Be on yer way before more trouble brews."

Without a moment's hesitation, Onyx and Rok made their way to the exit, leaving the tense atmosphere of the tavern behind them. Once outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief, calming their frayed nerves.

"Saved by a grumpy Dwarf, how original?" Rok said as he mocked onyx's usual since of humor, giving her a gentle smile with a reassuring nudge on her shoulder.

Onyx nodded, her grip on the sword finally loosening. "Yeah, I guess he did. I just... I couldn't stand by while they insulted you like that."

"I appreciate your protectiveness, Onyx, but sometimes we need to choose our battles wisely," Rok replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Violence isn't always the answer."

Onyx looked at him, her golden eyes nearing, "But sometimes it is, sweet Rok," she argued, making a fair point with little words spoken.

Rok sighed, defeated, knowing that she would question the validity of his point and ignore it. "We need to stop making enemies, and start making allies," he stated, changing the current convention. "But we also need to be careful who we choose to trust. We don't want unnecessary trouble."

Onyx nodded, considering Rok's words carefully. "You're right, Rok," she admitted, her tone softening. "I know I can be impulsive and hot-headed sometimes, but I do it because you're a softy" she finished with a wide grin.

Rok smiled, relieved that she was some-what willing to listen. "Thank you, Onyx," he said sincerely. "But I am not that much of a—softy—as you like to call me."

Onyx chuckled, her golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, really? I beg to differ," she teased playfully. "You may act all tough and composed, but I know deep down, you have a soft heart."

Rok rolled his eyes, trying to hide the slight blush that crept onto his cheeks. "Well, maybe just a little," he admitted, playfully nudging her shoulder.

The tension from the tavern had dissipated, and now they found themselves walking through the quiet streets under the moonlit sky. Onyx's sword was sheathed once more, and the beauty of the night seemed to cast a calming spell on both of them.