Chapter 14: 14
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I sense the Palace of Sezeria before I can even see it. Although the trees are thinning, and the light trickling in through the dense leafage, there is a darkness that hangs in the air like an ever present mist, too thick to break. The creatures in the wood step with caution, fearful, jolting at each crack of a twig, shying away from the angry howls of dire wolves. Crows flit like shadows from branch to branch, trailing the sweet smell of flowers, and of decay. Their screeches pierce my ears deafeningly, and I wrinkle my nose, the smell of reeking carrion catching awfully in the back of my throat. Numbly, I try to block it all out. The small white fox presses against my skin, shivering a little. Out of fear, or out of cold, I cannot tell. As the edge of the wood approaches with startling quickness, a pale white light streams into the forest, the sounds of the horses hooves heavy as the path turns from dirt to stone. I flex my back warily, stiff from sitting upright for hours. It feels empty without my wings, defenceless; the prospect of not being able to fly haunting the back of my mind.
Suddenly we break into the open air.
We enter the city almost immediately through a wide arching gate just outside the forest, attached to a hefty stone wall that spans all around the city. Roses and vines climb high utop the wall, completing for domination on its mossy cobbled brick, a mess of greys and reds and ivy flashing past in a brilliant blur. The horses have slowed to a comfortable trot, and I veer them to one side of the widening stone path, allowing for other carriages to pass easily on the other side. I force myself to stare ahead, avoiding eye contact with the ghostly white figures I see passing across my vision, as if I didn't acknowledge them, they wouldn't be there at all. Sezeria is the largest residence of vampires, and from the city alone, this much is obvious. Houses span for miles inside the walls of the city, some big and sleek, some small, accompanied by orange trees, or beds of thorny roses. The streets are lined with towering lamp posts that almost always are surrounded by flitting moths, less for the benefit of the vampires, and more for the people who dare come to visit them. They cast a dim haze which barely penetrates the thick atmosphere of dread that runs through me.
Shops after shops trail through each street, some selling beautiful clothes, others rare jewels that glimmer like eyes in the shop windows. Very few sell food. I peer discretely inside from atop my carriage, slowing the horses a little with a tug on their reins, my fingers growing stiff from the cold. They grunt in discontent. Elves mill around inside the shops, busying themselves with embellished fabrics, holding them out to marble skinned creatures, whose red eyes skim over the fantastic array of clothes, their sharp fangs flashing as they speak, horns jutting out from their heads like pillars, each one different to the next. Some other creatures wander too, delicate shimmering sprites and nymphs who pick their way through the streets, hesitant, careful, and seems obvious to me in that moment that they feel just as out of place as I do. Quickly, I look away, continuing moving before anyone could even tell I had stopped at all.
***
'Vampires are the closest thing Faey has to the devil, but elves are one of the few creatures that vampires choose often not to prey on.' I recall Ithuriel telling me once, as we snuck away to my room from the council late one night. I distinctly remember pondering about the way he had said 'often', uncertainly, as though you really couldn't trust a vampire to do anything 'often' at all. 'Vampires are vain creatures, especially the ones in Sezeria, but the beauty and craftsmanship of an elf is too good to pass up," he had gestured to my embroidered dress, spun with green silk and little gold leaves, the fabric so smooth that it flowed off my body like water. It was indeed beautiful. "So in exchange for their wares, the vampires guaranteed their safety. The elves often stuck around, hoping to be bitten and turned like all other creatures do, but a vampire rarely gives such a gift of exquisite beauty so easily," At that, I had furrowed my brow, confused.
"But surely the vampires want to make more vampires?" I had asked, puzzled. Ithuriel shook his head sadly, his white hair gently swinging around his face, a smile on his face, as if I had told him the most amusing thing in the world. Putting his hands behind his head, he laid down nonchalantly on the bed, closing his eyes.
"A few hundred years ago, the vampires did try this," he explained to me slowly. "To turn a person, a vampire must give part of his power through his blood. But being the vain, tightfisted creatures they are, many were unwilling to do so, and as a result created weak, half vampires who could not control their bloodlust. They were dangerous. Far different to the Sezerian vampires, who toy with their prey. " He opened his eyes to look at me, watching silently as my face went blank with horror.
"What happened?" I whispered fearfully, covering my mouth with my hand. Ithuriel smiled knowingly.
"There was a massacre. Much of the great forest was drained of life. Eventually, the eldest prince had laughed, mad, and commanded his soldiers out to track them down, along with their creators, as if it was all just some game. But they never found them all." I stayed silent for a moment. My hands had run over the little dagger I kept by my bedside table, the weapon I used to carry before I trained with a sword.
"Vampires are stupid," I muttered finally. "I wish they were dead." At that, Ithuriel had given a short burst of laughter and sat up, pushing back his hair from his eyes. He turned to me, a smile playing on his lips.
"Serena, they already are."
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I sense the Palace of Sezeria before I can even see it. Although the trees are thinning, and the light trickling in through the dense leafage, there is a darkness that hangs in the air like an ever present mist, too thick to break. The creatures in the wood step with caution, fearful, jolting at each crack of a twig, shying away from the angry howls of dire wolves. Crows flit like shadows from branch to branch, trailing the sweet smell of flowers, and of decay. Their screeches pierce my ears deafeningly, and I wrinkle my nose, the smell of reeking carrion catching awfully in the back of my throat. Numbly, I try to block it all out. The small white fox presses against my skin, shivering a little. Out of fear, or out of cold, I cannot tell. As the edge of the wood approaches with startling quickness, a pale white light streams into the forest, the sounds of the horses hooves heavy as the path turns from dirt to stone. I flex my back warily, stiff from sitting upright for hours. It feels empty without my wings, defenceless; the prospect of not being able to fly haunting the back of my mind.
Suddenly we break into the open air.
We enter the city almost immediately through a wide arching gate just outside the forest, attached to a hefty stone wall that spans all around the city. Roses and vines climb high utop the wall, completing for domination on its mossy cobbled brick, a mess of greys and reds and ivy flashing past in a brilliant blur. The horses have slowed to a comfortable trot, and I veer them to one side of the widening stone path, allowing for other carriages to pass easily on the other side. I force myself to stare ahead, avoiding eye contact with the ghostly white figures I see passing across my vision, as if I didn't acknowledge them, they wouldn't be there at all. Sezeria is the largest residence of vampires, and from the city alone, this much is obvious. Houses span for miles inside the walls of the city, some big and sleek, some small, accompanied by orange trees, or beds of thorny roses. The streets are lined with towering lamp posts that almost always are surrounded by flitting moths, less for the benefit of the vampires, and more for the people who dare come to visit them. They cast a dim haze which barely penetrates the thick atmosphere of dread that runs through me.
Shops after shops trail through each street, some selling beautiful clothes, others rare jewels that glimmer like eyes in the shop windows. Very few sell food. I peer discretely inside from atop my carriage, slowing the horses a little with a tug on their reins, my fingers growing stiff from the cold. They grunt in discontent. Elves mill around inside the shops, busying themselves with embellished fabrics, holding them out to marble skinned creatures, whose red eyes skim over the fantastic array of clothes, their sharp fangs flashing as they speak, horns jutting out from their heads like pillars, each one different to the next. Some other creatures wander too, delicate shimmering sprites and nymphs who pick their way through the streets, hesitant, careful, and seems obvious to me in that moment that they feel just as out of place as I do. Quickly, I look away, continuing moving before anyone could even tell I had stopped at all.
***
'Vampires are the closest thing Faey has to the devil, but elves are one of the few creatures that vampires choose often not to prey on.' I recall Ithuriel telling me once, as we snuck away to my room from the council late one night. I distinctly remember pondering about the way he had said 'often', uncertainly, as though you really couldn't trust a vampire to do anything 'often' at all. 'Vampires are vain creatures, especially the ones in Sezeria, but the beauty and craftsmanship of an elf is too good to pass up," he had gestured to my embroidered dress, spun with green silk and little gold leaves, the fabric so smooth that it flowed off my body like water. It was indeed beautiful. "So in exchange for their wares, the vampires guaranteed their safety. The elves often stuck around, hoping to be bitten and turned like all other creatures do, but a vampire rarely gives such a gift of exquisite beauty so easily," At that, I had furrowed my brow, confused.
"But surely the vampires want to make more vampires?" I had asked, puzzled. Ithuriel shook his head sadly, his white hair gently swinging around his face, a smile on his face, as if I had told him the most amusing thing in the world. Putting his hands behind his head, he laid down nonchalantly on the bed, closing his eyes.
"A few hundred years ago, the vampires did try this," he explained to me slowly. "To turn a person, a vampire must give part of his power through his blood. But being the vain, tightfisted creatures they are, many were unwilling to do so, and as a result created weak, half vampires who could not control their bloodlust. They were dangerous. Far different to the Sezerian vampires, who toy with their prey. " He opened his eyes to look at me, watching silently as my face went blank with horror.
"What happened?" I whispered fearfully, covering my mouth with my hand. Ithuriel smiled knowingly.
"There was a massacre. Much of the great forest was drained of life. Eventually, the eldest prince had laughed, mad, and commanded his soldiers out to track them down, along with their creators, as if it was all just some game. But they never found them all." I stayed silent for a moment. My hands had run over the little dagger I kept by my bedside table, the weapon I used to carry before I trained with a sword.
"Vampires are stupid," I muttered finally. "I wish they were dead." At that, Ithuriel had given a short burst of laughter and sat up, pushing back his hair from his eyes. He turned to me, a smile playing on his lips.
"Serena, they already are."
I sense the Palace of Sezeria before I can even see it. Although the trees are thinning, and the light trickling in through the dense leafage, there is a darkness that hangs in the air like an ever present mist, too thick to break. The creatures in the wood step with caution, fearful, jolting at each crack of a twig, shying away from the angry howls of dire wolves. Crows flit like shadows from branch to branch, trailing the sweet smell of flowers, and of decay. Their screeches pierce my ears deafeningly, and I wrinkle my nose, the smell of reeking carrion catching awfully in the back of my throat. Numbly, I try to block it all out. The small white fox presses against my skin, shivering a little. Out of fear, or out of cold, I cannot tell. As the edge of the wood approaches with startling quickness, a pale white light streams into the forest, the sounds of the horses hooves heavy as the path turns from dirt to stone. I flex my back warily, stiff from sitting upright for hours. It feels empty without my wings, defenceless; the prospect of not being able to fly haunting the back of my mind.Suddenly we break into the open air.We enter the city almost immediately through a wide arching gate just outside the forest, attached to a hefty stone wall that spans all around the city. Roses and vines climb high utop the wall, completing for domination on its mossy cobbled brick, a mess of greys and reds and ivy flashing past in a brilliant blur. The horses have slowed to a comfortable trot, and I veer them to one side of the widening stone path, allowing for other carriages to pass easily on the other side. I force myself to stare ahead, avoiding eye contact with the ghostly white figures I see passing across my vision, as if I didn't acknowledge them, they wouldn't be there at all. Sezeria is the largest residence of vampires, and from the city alone, this much is obvious. Houses span for miles inside the walls of the city, some big and sleek, some small, accompanied by orange trees, or beds of thorny roses. The streets are lined with towering lamp posts that almost always are surrounded by flitting moths, less for the benefit of the vampires, and more for the people who dare come to visit them. They cast a dim haze which barely penetrates the thick atmosphere of dread that runs through me.Shops after shops trail through each street, some selling beautiful clothes, others rare jewels that glimmer like eyes in the shop windows. Very few sell food. I peer discretely inside from atop my carriage, slowing the horses a little with a tug on their reins, my fingers growing stiff from the cold. They grunt in discontent. Elves mill around inside the shops, busying themselves with embellished fabrics, holding them out to marble skinned creatures, whose red eyes skim over the fantastic array of clothes, their sharp fangs flashing as they speak, horns jutting out from their heads like pillars, each one different to the next. Some other creatures wander too, delicate shimmering sprites and nymphs who pick their way through the streets, hesitant, careful, and seems obvious to me in that moment that they feel just as out of place as I do. Quickly, I look away, continuing moving before anyone could even tell I had stopped at all.***'Vampires are the closest thing Faey has to the devil, but elves are one of the few creatures that vampires choose often not to prey on.' I recall Ithuriel telling me once, as we snuck away to my room from the council late one night. I distinctly remember pondering about the way he had said 'often', uncertainly, as though you really couldn't trust a vampire to do anything 'often' at all. 'Vampires are vain creatures, especially the ones in Sezeria, but the beauty and craftsmanship of an elf is too good to pass up," he had gestured to my embroidered dress, spun with green silk and little gold leaves, the fabric so smooth that it flowed off my body like water. It was indeed beautiful. "So in exchange for their wares, the vampires guaranteed their safety. The elves often stuck around, hoping to be bitten and turned like all other creatures do, but a vampire rarely gives such a gift of exquisite beauty so easily," At that, I had furrowed my brow, confused."But surely the vampires want to make more vampires?" I had asked, puzzled. Ithuriel shook his head sadly, his white hair gently swinging around his face, a smile on his face, as if I had told him the most amusing thing in the world. Putting his hands behind his head, he laid down nonchalantly on the bed, closing his eyes."A few hundred years ago, the vampires did try this," he explained to me slowly. "To turn a person, a vampire must give part of his power through his blood. But being the vain, tightfisted creatures they are, many were unwilling to do so, and as a result created weak, half vampires who could not control their bloodlust. They were dangerous. Far different to the Sezerian vampires, who toy with their prey. " He opened his eyes to look at me, watching silently as my face went blank with horror."What happened?" I whispered fearfully, covering my mouth with my hand. Ithuriel smiled knowingly."There was a massacre. Much of the great forest was drained of life. Eventually, the eldest prince had laughed, mad, and commanded his soldiers out to track them down, along with their creators, as if it was all just some game. But they never found them all." I stayed silent for a moment. My hands had run over the little dagger I kept by my bedside table, the weapon I used to carry before I trained with a sword."Vampires are stupid," I muttered finally. "I wish they were dead." At that, Ithuriel had given a short burst of laughter and sat up, pushing back his hair from his eyes. He turned to me, a smile playing on his lips."Serena, they already are."
