Chapter 149: 149
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Soren hovers over the bed, clutching me in his arms. There is a gentle sway in his motions, like a mother rocking a child to sleep, or a boat on the gentle waves of a calm sea. I could quite easily stay in his arms forever, and I am sure he would let me if I asked. But the bed besides me looks warm and inviting, so that with each passing second I find myself more and more drawn to sink into its pillow-y sheets.
"You just take a good rest, okay darling? You have had a busy day, and you will need to conserve your energy for when we see Azrael tomorrow. Don't worry, I will be here when you wake up," he assures me, sliding me down from his arms onto the thick velvety sheets of his bed- a bed that I can now confirm have both sexual and sleeping purposes. I barely even register getting myself under the covers, let alone the moment he turns away to leave the room. My head feels wozzy, spinning with the heat of the day and the mountain of exhaustion that comes with it.
But just as Soren is about to walk away, I reach out, bundling the cuff of his sleeve in my fingers and tugging him back. The Prince twists round to face me, puzzled.
"What is it, darling?"
In response I give him a menial pout, tugging his arm closer to me, enough so that I can wrap my body around him, holding him temporarily prisoner.
"Stay with me until I fall asleep?"
Almost as soon as the question is posed, Soren gives me an affectionate smile, his eyes glowing with a soft, loving light. Gently, he brings round a hand to smooth over the planes of my face.
"Of course darling, I will stay as long as you like."
With careful precision, he perches himself on the edge of the bed, his fingers trailing over the paleness of my skin. He breathes a light breathe, before sinking backwards, comfy.
I shift a little under the covers.
"You'll stay forever?"
Soren smiles blithely to himself.
"Forever."
***
As soon as I wake up, I realise something is wrong. There is a chilled silence in the air, a rigid emptiness that fills up the palace with its cavernous expanse of nothingness. There is no whisper of breath, no thrumming beat of a thousand hearts. No chatter nor birdsong, or the manic racing of butlers and chefs down the hallways, scavenging for food and paying out their service. Nor is there the tentative footsteps of those cold blooded creatures whose fiery eyes never ceased to scorn my every move, as though they would like nothing more than to erase me from reality. Everything, even with my new vampiric hearing, is silent, as though suddenly the whole of Faey was put on mute.
A shiver trembles down my spine.
This alone would be terrifying enough, but there is one prevalent factor that makes it even more so.
There is no Soren.
The reason for that becomes evidently clear all too quickly. A cold dread fills my heart as I look around the room, wondering to myself both how and why I didn't wake up, and what miracle- or curse, prevented me from doing so.
Hurriedly, I jump from the bed.
The signs of struggle are obvious. Scratch marks laden the walls, carving their ways downwards in a fashion I have seen all too often before. As I edge a little closer, peering at the mess of the crime scene, my suspicions quickly become confirmed, catching glimpses of the one thing I simultaneously hoped and feared to see. Black nail polish: Soren's claw marks.
My heart quickens.
Within the clawed marks scarring the walls are flecks of blood, fresh and wet, and dripping with a mixture of horrifying scents. The blood smells of fear, of anger, and the sweet, sickly overtone of withering flowers. Despite myself, I gag.
The blood is still glistening and, I find as I ghost my fingers across it, still liquid, not yet clotted or dried, like one might expect. Whatever happened must have happened mere minutes ago. So why on earth did I not wake up?
Frantically, I continue to scan the room for clues.
There are indents against the wall, the floor, even in the shattered gasoline lamps at the sides of the room: glass and gritty lumps of wall and floor scattered over the carpet like the trail of a biscuit that someone forgot to clear up after a midnight snack. Most of the indents in the wall appear small- smaller than Soren's form, but occasionally there is the odd larger form imprinted in a similar form, followed by an additional shredding tear of claw marks, and puncturing holes, as though something solid and fairly large had come crashing through the walls themselves. The air reeks of blood, combined with the fumigating scent of roses. The scent is enough to make my head spin, making every step, every thought, more difficult than the last.
But while the whole room is in disarray, and most of the objects smashed to smithereens (Kal's reconstruction spell would certainly come in handy here), the bed I was lying it has not been touched. In fact, it looks almost purposefully avoided, as though an invisible ring had been strung around it to prevent any further turmoil.
I grit my teeth. That would be Soren's idea of course, but that does not change the undeniable truth of the matter:
How on earth did I not wake up?
Drugs, potions, spells, all of which seem highly likely options. Perhaps there is even the potential that I might have re-established my position in stasis for a while- the notion certainly has crossed my mind. But stasis or not, that does not change one thing: Soren still is gone.
The culprit to his disappearance is getting more and more likely by the second. But Soren said he had it under control, that he knew what he was doing... right?
Dread gnaws at my stomach. I almost start pulling out my hair in utter despair, crawling, stumbling out of the bedroom, my heart throbbing with the growing realisation of what has gone on, until I catch sight of a letter, neatly folded in the middle of Soren's table. The table itself is half in ruin, but the letter remains, an ominous reminded or the power such creature of the night stake claim to. Tentatively, I pick my way over to it. I don't even need to read the name to realise who it is from.
Squinting, and eyes blurry with the beginnings of tears, I read:
"We have some catching up to do. Come and find me, little girl.
-Azrael"
Angrily, I screw up the ball of paper and lob it at the wall, angry red waves of red consuming my vision. Any thoughts of tears soon evaporate in the waves of head that rise off my body.
"Azrael you bastard!" I cry, causing the air to hum with a faint golden buzz. Viscously, I run my hand past my hair, over the newly formed horns on my head, and bring the other to clutch the pendant at my neck tightly.
So that's why I wasn't touched at all. Why my sound asleep form was not disturbed despite the chaos that had ensued. This pendant, this meagre accessory has over the weeks come to mean so much more than just a means of hiding my wings. No doubt if I didn't have it, I would be dead by now. And so would everyone else.
Under my grip the pendant pulses in warning, the blood spilling out against the glass, as though trying to escape. I know whose blood this belongs to, but I figured it out much too late. I close my fingers around it- around my lifeline.
Whatever Azrael has done to Soren, he is about to get his ass kicked- big time.
I storm out of the room like a bull from the stables, bursting open door after door until I am out in the stagnant air of the silent hallways. But they are empty, just as everything else is, a shell of what they once were, shimmering with the ghosts of butlers and cackling vampires who are no longer there. Unlike inside Soren's room, there appears to be no sign of violence or struggles, no vases out of place, no regal rugs scuffed in the wrong direction or bloodshed on the wall. The palace is as immaculate as ever, except now, it is a ghost town.
Ghostly laughs echo down the hallways, ringing in my ears and rebounding against the wall with a hollow, quite inhuman emptiness. Perhaps it is that these sounds are not real, figments of my imagination as Fangorn once depicted for me, but whether they are or not, I do not have the time or the care to spare the thought.
I have bigger problems on my hands.
As much as I desperately want to go after Azrael, find his sorry ass and beat it against the floor, I know in my heart there is one thing I need to check first. My heartbeat quickens as I round the corner to a corridor I have walked many times before, each step ingrained into my memory like ink on paper.
Please, I pray silently to myself, my heart sinking with every step.. Please let him be okay.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Soren hovers over the bed, clutching me in his arms. There is a gentle sway in his motions, like a mother rocking a child to sleep, or a boat on the gentle waves of a calm sea. I could quite easily stay in his arms forever, and I am sure he would let me if I asked. But the bed besides me looks warm and inviting, so that with each passing second I find myself more and more drawn to sink into its pillow-y sheets.
"You just take a good rest, okay darling? You have had a busy day, and you will need to conserve your energy for when we see Azrael tomorrow. Don't worry, I will be here when you wake up," he assures me, sliding me down from his arms onto the thick velvety sheets of his bed- a bed that I can now confirm have both sexual and sleeping purposes. I barely even register getting myself under the covers, let alone the moment he turns away to leave the room. My head feels wozzy, spinning with the heat of the day and the mountain of exhaustion that comes with it.
But just as Soren is about to walk away, I reach out, bundling the cuff of his sleeve in my fingers and tugging him back. The Prince twists round to face me, puzzled.
"What is it, darling?"
In response I give him a menial pout, tugging his arm closer to me, enough so that I can wrap my body around him, holding him temporarily prisoner.
"Stay with me until I fall asleep?"
Almost as soon as the question is posed, Soren gives me an affectionate smile, his eyes glowing with a soft, loving light. Gently, he brings round a hand to smooth over the planes of my face.
"Of course darling, I will stay as long as you like."
With careful precision, he perches himself on the edge of the bed, his fingers trailing over the paleness of my skin. He breathes a light breathe, before sinking backwards, comfy.
I shift a little under the covers.
"You'll stay forever?"
Soren smiles blithely to himself.
"Forever."
***
As soon as I wake up, I realise something is wrong. There is a chilled silence in the air, a rigid emptiness that fills up the palace with its cavernous expanse of nothingness. There is no whisper of breath, no thrumming beat of a thousand hearts. No chatter nor birdsong, or the manic racing of butlers and chefs down the hallways, scavenging for food and paying out their service. Nor is there the tentative footsteps of those cold blooded creatures whose fiery eyes never ceased to scorn my every move, as though they would like nothing more than to erase me from reality. Everything, even with my new vampiric hearing, is silent, as though suddenly the whole of Faey was put on mute.
A shiver trembles down my spine.
This alone would be terrifying enough, but there is one prevalent factor that makes it even more so.
There is no Soren.
The reason for that becomes evidently clear all too quickly. A cold dread fills my heart as I look around the room, wondering to myself both how and why I didn't wake up, and what miracle- or curse, prevented me from doing so.
Hurriedly, I jump from the bed.
The signs of struggle are obvious. Scratch marks laden the walls, carving their ways downwards in a fashion I have seen all too often before. As I edge a little closer, peering at the mess of the crime scene, my suspicions quickly become confirmed, catching glimpses of the one thing I simultaneously hoped and feared to see. Black nail polish: Soren's claw marks.
My heart quickens.
Within the clawed marks scarring the walls are flecks of blood, fresh and wet, and dripping with a mixture of horrifying scents. The blood smells of fear, of anger, and the sweet, sickly overtone of withering flowers. Despite myself, I gag.
The blood is still glistening and, I find as I ghost my fingers across it, still liquid, not yet clotted or dried, like one might expect. Whatever happened must have happened mere minutes ago. So why on earth did I not wake up?
Frantically, I continue to scan the room for clues.
There are indents against the wall, the floor, even in the shattered gasoline lamps at the sides of the room: glass and gritty lumps of wall and floor scattered over the carpet like the trail of a biscuit that someone forgot to clear up after a midnight snack. Most of the indents in the wall appear small- smaller than Soren's form, but occasionally there is the odd larger form imprinted in a similar form, followed by an additional shredding tear of claw marks, and puncturing holes, as though something solid and fairly large had come crashing through the walls themselves. The air reeks of blood, combined with the fumigating scent of roses. The scent is enough to make my head spin, making every step, every thought, more difficult than the last.
But while the whole room is in disarray, and most of the objects smashed to smithereens (Kal's reconstruction spell would certainly come in handy here), the bed I was lying it has not been touched. In fact, it looks almost purposefully avoided, as though an invisible ring had been strung around it to prevent any further turmoil.
I grit my teeth. That would be Soren's idea of course, but that does not change the undeniable truth of the matter:
How on earth did I not wake up?
Drugs, potions, spells, all of which seem highly likely options. Perhaps there is even the potential that I might have re-established my position in stasis for a while- the notion certainly has crossed my mind. But stasis or not, that does not change one thing: Soren still is gone.
The culprit to his disappearance is getting more and more likely by the second. But Soren said he had it under control, that he knew what he was doing... right?
Dread gnaws at my stomach. I almost start pulling out my hair in utter despair, crawling, stumbling out of the bedroom, my heart throbbing with the growing realisation of what has gone on, until I catch sight of a letter, neatly folded in the middle of Soren's table. The table itself is half in ruin, but the letter remains, an ominous reminded or the power such creature of the night stake claim to. Tentatively, I pick my way over to it. I don't even need to read the name to realise who it is from.
Squinting, and eyes blurry with the beginnings of tears, I read:
"We have some catching up to do. Come and find me, little girl.
-Azrael"
Angrily, I screw up the ball of paper and lob it at the wall, angry red waves of red consuming my vision. Any thoughts of tears soon evaporate in the waves of head that rise off my body.
"Azrael you bastard!" I cry, causing the air to hum with a faint golden buzz. Viscously, I run my hand past my hair, over the newly formed horns on my head, and bring the other to clutch the pendant at my neck tightly.
So that's why I wasn't touched at all. Why my sound asleep form was not disturbed despite the chaos that had ensued. This pendant, this meagre accessory has over the weeks come to mean so much more than just a means of hiding my wings. No doubt if I didn't have it, I would be dead by now. And so would everyone else.
Under my grip the pendant pulses in warning, the blood spilling out against the glass, as though trying to escape. I know whose blood this belongs to, but I figured it out much too late. I close my fingers around it- around my lifeline.
Whatever Azrael has done to Soren, he is about to get his ass kicked- big time.
I storm out of the room like a bull from the stables, bursting open door after door until I am out in the stagnant air of the silent hallways. But they are empty, just as everything else is, a shell of what they once were, shimmering with the ghosts of butlers and cackling vampires who are no longer there. Unlike inside Soren's room, there appears to be no sign of violence or struggles, no vases out of place, no regal rugs scuffed in the wrong direction or bloodshed on the wall. The palace is as immaculate as ever, except now, it is a ghost town.
Ghostly laughs echo down the hallways, ringing in my ears and rebounding against the wall with a hollow, quite inhuman emptiness. Perhaps it is that these sounds are not real, figments of my imagination as Fangorn once depicted for me, but whether they are or not, I do not have the time or the care to spare the thought.
I have bigger problems on my hands.
As much as I desperately want to go after Azrael, find his sorry ass and beat it against the floor, I know in my heart there is one thing I need to check first. My heartbeat quickens as I round the corner to a corridor I have walked many times before, each step ingrained into my memory like ink on paper.
Please, I pray silently to myself, my heart sinking with every step.. Please let him be okay.
Soren hovers over the bed, clutching me in his arms. There is a gentle sway in his motions, like a mother rocking a child to sleep, or a boat on the gentle waves of a calm sea. I could quite easily stay in his arms forever, and I am sure he would let me if I asked. But the bed besides me looks warm and inviting, so that with each passing second I find myself more and more drawn to sink into its pillow-y sheets."You just take a good rest, okay darling? You have had a busy day, and you will need to conserve your energy for when we see Azrael tomorrow. Don't worry, I will be here when you wake up," he assures me, sliding me down from his arms onto the thick velvety sheets of his bed- a bed that I can now confirm have both sexual and sleeping purposes. I barely even register getting myself under the covers, let alone the moment he turns away to leave the room. My head feels wozzy, spinning with the heat of the day and the mountain of exhaustion that comes with it.But just as Soren is about to walk away, I reach out, bundling the cuff of his sleeve in my fingers and tugging him back. The Prince twists round to face me, puzzled."What is it, darling?"In response I give him a menial pout, tugging his arm closer to me, enough so that I can wrap my body around him, holding him temporarily prisoner."Stay with me until I fall asleep?"Almost as soon as the question is posed, Soren gives me an affectionate smile, his eyes glowing with a soft, loving light. Gently, he brings round a hand to smooth over the planes of my face."Of course darling, I will stay as long as you like."With careful precision, he perches himself on the edge of the bed, his fingers trailing over the paleness of my skin. He breathes a light breathe, before sinking backwards, comfy.I shift a little under the covers."You'll stay forever?"Soren smiles blithely to himself."Forever."***As soon as I wake up, I realise something is wrong. There is a chilled silence in the air, a rigid emptiness that fills up the palace with its cavernous expanse of nothingness. There is no whisper of breath, no thrumming beat of a thousand hearts. No chatter nor birdsong, or the manic racing of butlers and chefs down the hallways, scavenging for food and paying out their service. Nor is there the tentative footsteps of those cold blooded creatures whose fiery eyes never ceased to scorn my every move, as though they would like nothing more than to erase me from reality. Everything, even with my new vampiric hearing, is silent, as though suddenly the whole of Faey was put on mute. A shiver trembles down my spine.This alone would be terrifying enough, but there is one prevalent factor that makes it even more so.There is no Soren. The reason for that becomes evidently clear all too quickly. A cold dread fills my heart as I look around the room, wondering to myself both how and why I didn't wake up, and what miracle- or curse, prevented me from doing so.Hurriedly, I jump from the bed.The signs of struggle are obvious. Scratch marks laden the walls, carving their ways downwards in a fashion I have seen all too often before. As I edge a little closer, peering at the mess of the crime scene, my suspicions quickly become confirmed, catching glimpses of the one thing I simultaneously hoped and feared to see. Black nail polish: Soren's claw marks.My heart quickens.Within the clawed marks scarring the walls are flecks of blood, fresh and wet, and dripping with a mixture of horrifying scents. The blood smells of fear, of anger, and the sweet, sickly overtone of withering flowers. Despite myself, I gag. The blood is still glistening and, I find as I ghost my fingers across it, still liquid, not yet clotted or dried, like one might expect. Whatever happened must have happened mere minutes ago. So why on earth did I not wake up?Frantically, I continue to scan the room for clues.There are indents against the wall, the floor, even in the shattered gasoline lamps at the sides of the room: glass and gritty lumps of wall and floor scattered over the carpet like the trail of a biscuit that someone forgot to clear up after a midnight snack. Most of the indents in the wall appear small- smaller than Soren's form, but occasionally there is the odd larger form imprinted in a similar form, followed by an additional shredding tear of claw marks, and puncturing holes, as though something solid and fairly large had come crashing through the walls themselves. The air reeks of blood, combined with the fumigating scent of roses. The scent is enough to make my head spin, making every step, every thought, more difficult than the last.But while the whole room is in disarray, and most of the objects smashed to smithereens Kal's reconstruction spell would certainly come in handy here, the bed I was lying it has not been touched. In fact, it looks almost purposefully avoided, as though an invisible ring had been strung around it to prevent any further turmoil.I grit my teeth. That would be Soren's idea of course, but that does not change the undeniable truth of the matter:How on earth did I not wake up?Drugs, potions, spells, all of which seem highly likely options. Perhaps there is even the potential that I might have re-established my position in stasis for a while- the notion certainly has crossed my mind. But stasis or not, that does not change one thing: Soren still is gone.The culprit to his disappearance is getting more and more likely by the second. But Soren said he had it under control, that he knew what he was doing... right?Dread gnaws at my stomach. I almost start pulling out my hair in utter despair, crawling, stumbling out of the bedroom, my heart throbbing with the growing realisation of what has gone on, until I catch sight of a letter, neatly folded in the middle of Soren's table. The table itself is half in ruin, but the letter remains, an ominous reminded or the power such creature of the night stake claim to. Tentatively, I pick my way over to it. I don't even need to read the name to realise who it is from.Squinting, and eyes blurry with the beginnings of tears, I read:"We have some catching up to do. Come and find me, little girl.-Azrael"Angrily, I screw up the ball of paper and lob it at the wall, angry red waves of red consuming my vision. Any thoughts of tears soon evaporate in the waves of head that rise off my body. "Azrael you bastard!" I cry, causing the air to hum with a faint golden buzz. Viscously, I run my hand past my hair, over the newly formed horns on my head, and bring the other to clutch the pendant at my neck tightly. So that's why I wasn't touched at all. Why my sound asleep form was not disturbed despite the chaos that had ensued. This pendant, this meagre accessory has over the weeks come to mean so much more than just a means of hiding my wings. No doubt if I didn't have it, I would be dead by now. And so would everyone else.Under my grip the pendant pulses in warning, the blood spilling out against the glass, as though trying to escape. I know whose blood this belongs to, but I figured it out much too late. I close my fingers around it- around my lifeline.Whatever Azrael has done to Soren, he is about to get his ass kicked- big time.I storm out of the room like a bull from the stables, bursting open door after door until I am out in the stagnant air of the silent hallways. But they are empty, just as everything else is, a shell of what they once were, shimmering with the ghosts of butlers and cackling vampires who are no longer there. Unlike inside Soren's room, there appears to be no sign of violence or struggles, no vases out of place, no regal rugs scuffed in the wrong direction or bloodshed on the wall. The palace is as immaculate as ever, except now, it is a ghost town.Ghostly laughs echo down the hallways, ringing in my ears and rebounding against the wall with a hollow, quite inhuman emptiness. Perhaps it is that these sounds are not real, figments of my imagination as Fangorn once depicted for me, but whether they are or not, I do not have the time or the care to spare the thought.I have bigger problems on my hands.As much as I desperately want to go after Azrael, find his sorry ass and beat it against the floor, I know in my heart there is one thing I need to check first. My heartbeat quickens as I round the corner to a corridor I have walked many times before, each step ingrained into my memory like ink on paper. Please, I pray silently to myself, my heart sinking with every step.. Please let him be okay.
