Chapter 157: 157
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Time is running out.
With each heave and grunt I make as we push the throne inch by inch across the dais, another second passes, and then another minute. How many lives have been extinguished by Azrael already? How many times has he got bored of waiting for us and decided to end the confused suffering of another victim he unjustly plucked from existence?
Yes, time is running out. And so are the lives of my friends.
Who knows how long Azrael will take to complete his ritual? Or how long Ithuriel will last, weak and shaking, barely nourished and scared out of his wits, unable to fight or even scream for help. Who knows how long Soren will last with silver coursing through his veins, burning through his body like a wildfire in the summer?
In the middle of pushing the throne, I choke up a little. I had hoped that a being as powerful as Soren would not be disposed to die with a concoction of silver in his body, that in his nearly one thousand years of life he had acquired some resilience to the metal. But lesser vampires have been known to die by the mere impression of it against their skin, running the blood in their veins red to black, spiked with infection. True Azrael had admitted that the solution was dilute, but that proves of no reassurance to me. There is no telling whether Azrael will give Soren more injections, allow the silver to accumulate in his blood before it can be washed away. Diluted or not, the accumulation of silver would surely kill him.
I only pray that Soren will withstand it until we find him.
Hopelessly, I call out to him, offering up a plea of fortitude.
But his voice in my head is silent, an empty, thoughtless wasteland with no indication of ever having a reply. My hopes begin to dwindle.
"So, why are we moving the throne?" Kal asks at last in a strained voice as we heave the throne forward to one side. One inch, then another, the throne slides onwards, the seconds ticking by, counting our doom.
I have to admit, for a lanky looking boy, he is awfully strong.
"Because," I say, wiping the sweat from my brow as we go in for another round. "If I am right, which I really hope I am, this should be where the entrance to the labyrinth is. Soren told me something before Azrael injected him, he said to look for the heart, remember?"
Kal nods slowly.
"But that could mean anything. Plus, vampires don't have hearts. Or at least, they don't beat. I still don't understand why we are pushing this throne," he says without looking at me. I roll my eyes.
"Look, just keep pushing. If I am wrong we will soon find out."
I pull back for a second, rolling the joint of my arm in an effort to loosen up the stiffness. Frowning, I flex out my fingers angrily. Staying within the vampire kingdom for several weeks has certainly built up a good set of slender muscles beneath my skin, especially now with vampire blood running through my system. But somehow I seem to not quite be harnessing it, even if it is made out of vampire resistant weights, the throne seems to barely be moving an inch. Unless… unless I am not channelling my powers properly.
Going quite for a second, I focus on drawing strength from my arms, readying myself to heave once more. Sucking in a breath, I push… and the throne slides forward, causing Kal to stumble back in alarm. One push, and then another, the throne continues to edge forward. Then, channelling one final burst of power, I give the throne a final push, sending it flying, as though suddenly having collided with an unstoppable force, sending it straying halfway across the dais. I brush off my hands, smiling to myself.
Another power mastered. Perhaps being a vampire isn't so hard after all.
It takes me a second to realise Kal is staring at me.
"What?" I say, narrowing my eyes at him, dousing the sweat from my palms on the side of my trousers. Frantically, he shakes his head.
"Nothing," he says, hiding his smile with a gloved hand. "It's just odd to see that, is all. You and your superhuman strength and all. I never thought I would see that from you. Soren did a good job."
I scoff.
"Well get used to it, this is who I am now. Believe me, I have had a few grievances about it as well. Now," I say, rubbing my hands together eagerly. "Let's have a look, shall we?"
The heart of the palace. That is what Fangorn had said. And Soren too, had begged me to find the heart. Of course, with Azrael close by, and his life severely on the line, his clues to me had been limited, but they had not been in vain.
Initially when Fangorn first told me the clues to finding the flame, I had been rather perplexed to say the least. In a city full of heartless monsters, it made no logical sense that such an odious and unfeeling place should have a heart at all- a logic that Kal seems to share with me now.
But here is the thing, it does.
The heart of the palace, the ruling seat, the dictator of all life- standing here, the throne room opening up around me, it now seems so obvious.
The monarch, and their throne.
They are the heart of this place.
They command the rise and fall of the palace, the flow of the people within it, the ruling body, the giver of life. Without the monarch, the palace would surely crumble, defeated and lifeless, a mere shadow of the glory it once was.
And what exactly is the symbol of their power?
Kal comes to settle by my shoulder, watching me with a look of intense curiosity as I tap the floor that had previously been under the throne. The sound comes up and rings hollowly in our ears. I shiver slightly.
Carefully, I run my fingers along the marble tiles, searching for a ledge, a plate, that I can lift from the ground. My nails catch on something, instinct kicking in, I tug on it, lifting it up between my hands.
A huge slab of tiles lifts up as I heave it to one side, discarding it with a heavy sling across the room, causing the marble to crack upon impact. I won't be needing that any more. Beside me, Kal has gone silent. I flicker my eyes back to the marble flooring, to where I removed the slab of tiles. A smile of relief crosses my face.
This is it.
No longer is there flat ground, but instead, a huge, gaping hole. But perhaps that is not so much of a relief after all.
"You are sure this is it?" Kal says, after a moment's gestation, his voice wobbling slightly, the muscles on his forearm tense against his sides. "I mean, I don't want to imply that I don't trust your judgement, my Queen. After all, this is a rather suspicious looking hole. It's more to the fact of if we are to go down there, how are we going to get back up?"
My eyes flicker back to the hole, that void of gaping blackness, the maw of some fantastic monster waiting to swallow up into the abyss. There is a draft of cool air that wafts up from the open expanse, prickling the hairs on my skin, the indication of life. But deep from within, I feel a calling, an ache in my chest, a tug of my soul, that draws me down, down, down, not just to the flame, but to him. A mate's bond is never meant to break, nor will it ever.
Soren is down there. I know he is.
"We will figure out how we get back up later," I reply stonily, testing the borders of the hole with the tips of my boots, and upon finding them sturdy enough, work my way over. "But this is the place. I can feel it."
Kal slaps a hand to his head in exasperation, his large membranous wings tucking tightly behind him. There is no doubt that he looks absolutely terrified, but for all his credit, he does a rather good job of hiding it. But I suppose now lacking an audible heartbeat, that has become a much easier task for him.
"Now I don't mean to doubt you, but are we really doing this based on a feeling? What if it's a trap?"
I look down into the hole, my eyes meeting nothing but impenetrable darkness- even with my rather enhanced vision (courtesy of Soren's blood) it is impossible to tell what lies within that never ending pit. The only notion I have to go off of are the tales Fangorn has told me, and if they are any indication, then it can't be any good. I test the hole once more, waiting and listening. A faint groaning shriek rises from the pit.
"Oh it's definitely a trap," I whisper, grinning slightly. "But only if we get ourselves caught."
Kal gives me a long, pointed look, as if to tell me: you are insane.
Perhaps I am.
"Well," I say, steeling my nerves, the fire inside me bubbling and boiling away in my veins. "There's only one way to figure out what's down here."
And without a second's hesitation, I jump right in.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Time is running out.
With each heave and grunt I make as we push the throne inch by inch across the dais, another second passes, and then another minute. How many lives have been extinguished by Azrael already? How many times has he got bored of waiting for us and decided to end the confused suffering of another victim he unjustly plucked from existence?
Yes, time is running out. And so are the lives of my friends.
Who knows how long Azrael will take to complete his ritual? Or how long Ithuriel will last, weak and shaking, barely nourished and scared out of his wits, unable to fight or even scream for help. Who knows how long Soren will last with silver coursing through his veins, burning through his body like a wildfire in the summer?
In the middle of pushing the throne, I choke up a little. I had hoped that a being as powerful as Soren would not be disposed to die with a concoction of silver in his body, that in his nearly one thousand years of life he had acquired some resilience to the metal. But lesser vampires have been known to die by the mere impression of it against their skin, running the blood in their veins red to black, spiked with infection. True Azrael had admitted that the solution was dilute, but that proves of no reassurance to me. There is no telling whether Azrael will give Soren more injections, allow the silver to accumulate in his blood before it can be washed away. Diluted or not, the accumulation of silver would surely kill him.
I only pray that Soren will withstand it until we find him.
Hopelessly, I call out to him, offering up a plea of fortitude.
But his voice in my head is silent, an empty, thoughtless wasteland with no indication of ever having a reply. My hopes begin to dwindle.
"So, why are we moving the throne?" Kal asks at last in a strained voice as we heave the throne forward to one side. One inch, then another, the throne slides onwards, the seconds ticking by, counting our doom.
I have to admit, for a lanky looking boy, he is awfully strong.
"Because," I say, wiping the sweat from my brow as we go in for another round. "If I am right, which I really hope I am, this should be where the entrance to the labyrinth is. Soren told me something before Azrael injected him, he said to look for the heart, remember?"
Kal nods slowly.
"But that could mean anything. Plus, vampires don't have hearts. Or at least, they don't beat. I still don't understand why we are pushing this throne," he says without looking at me. I roll my eyes.
"Look, just keep pushing. If I am wrong we will soon find out."
I pull back for a second, rolling the joint of my arm in an effort to loosen up the stiffness. Frowning, I flex out my fingers angrily. Staying within the vampire kingdom for several weeks has certainly built up a good set of slender muscles beneath my skin, especially now with vampire blood running through my system. But somehow I seem to not quite be harnessing it, even if it is made out of vampire resistant weights, the throne seems to barely be moving an inch. Unless… unless I am not channelling my powers properly.
Going quite for a second, I focus on drawing strength from my arms, readying myself to heave once more. Sucking in a breath, I push… and the throne slides forward, causing Kal to stumble back in alarm. One push, and then another, the throne continues to edge forward. Then, channelling one final burst of power, I give the throne a final push, sending it flying, as though suddenly having collided with an unstoppable force, sending it straying halfway across the dais. I brush off my hands, smiling to myself.
Another power mastered. Perhaps being a vampire isn't so hard after all.
It takes me a second to realise Kal is staring at me.
"What?" I say, narrowing my eyes at him, dousing the sweat from my palms on the side of my trousers. Frantically, he shakes his head.
"Nothing," he says, hiding his smile with a gloved hand. "It's just odd to see that, is all. You and your superhuman strength and all. I never thought I would see that from you. Soren did a good job."
I scoff.
"Well get used to it, this is who I am now. Believe me, I have had a few grievances about it as well. Now," I say, rubbing my hands together eagerly. "Let's have a look, shall we?"
The heart of the palace. That is what Fangorn had said. And Soren too, had begged me to find the heart. Of course, with Azrael close by, and his life severely on the line, his clues to me had been limited, but they had not been in vain.
Initially when Fangorn first told me the clues to finding the flame, I had been rather perplexed to say the least. In a city full of heartless monsters, it made no logical sense that such an odious and unfeeling place should have a heart at all- a logic that Kal seems to share with me now.
But here is the thing, it does.
The heart of the palace, the ruling seat, the dictator of all life- standing here, the throne room opening up around me, it now seems so obvious.
The monarch, and their throne.
They are the heart of this place.
They command the rise and fall of the palace, the flow of the people within it, the ruling body, the giver of life. Without the monarch, the palace would surely crumble, defeated and lifeless, a mere shadow of the glory it once was.
And what exactly is the symbol of their power?
Kal comes to settle by my shoulder, watching me with a look of intense curiosity as I tap the floor that had previously been under the throne. The sound comes up and rings hollowly in our ears. I shiver slightly.
Carefully, I run my fingers along the marble tiles, searching for a ledge, a plate, that I can lift from the ground. My nails catch on something, instinct kicking in, I tug on it, lifting it up between my hands.
A huge slab of tiles lifts up as I heave it to one side, discarding it with a heavy sling across the room, causing the marble to crack upon impact. I won't be needing that any more. Beside me, Kal has gone silent. I flicker my eyes back to the marble flooring, to where I removed the slab of tiles. A smile of relief crosses my face.
This is it.
No longer is there flat ground, but instead, a huge, gaping hole. But perhaps that is not so much of a relief after all.
"You are sure this is it?" Kal says, after a moment's gestation, his voice wobbling slightly, the muscles on his forearm tense against his sides. "I mean, I don't want to imply that I don't trust your judgement, my Queen. After all, this is a rather suspicious looking hole. It's more to the fact of if we are to go down there, how are we going to get back up?"
My eyes flicker back to the hole, that void of gaping blackness, the maw of some fantastic monster waiting to swallow up into the abyss. There is a draft of cool air that wafts up from the open expanse, prickling the hairs on my skin, the indication of life. But deep from within, I feel a calling, an ache in my chest, a tug of my soul, that draws me down, down, down, not just to the flame, but to him. A mate's bond is never meant to break, nor will it ever.
Soren is down there. I know he is.
"We will figure out how we get back up later," I reply stonily, testing the borders of the hole with the tips of my boots, and upon finding them sturdy enough, work my way over. "But this is the place. I can feel it."
Kal slaps a hand to his head in exasperation, his large membranous wings tucking tightly behind him. There is no doubt that he looks absolutely terrified, but for all his credit, he does a rather good job of hiding it. But I suppose now lacking an audible heartbeat, that has become a much easier task for him.
"Now I don't mean to doubt you, but are we really doing this based on a feeling? What if it's a trap?"
I look down into the hole, my eyes meeting nothing but impenetrable darkness- even with my rather enhanced vision (courtesy of Soren's blood) it is impossible to tell what lies within that never ending pit. The only notion I have to go off of are the tales Fangorn has told me, and if they are any indication, then it can't be any good. I test the hole once more, waiting and listening. A faint groaning shriek rises from the pit.
"Oh it's definitely a trap," I whisper, grinning slightly. "But only if we get ourselves caught."
Kal gives me a long, pointed look, as if to tell me: you are insane.
Perhaps I am.
"Well," I say, steeling my nerves, the fire inside me bubbling and boiling away in my veins. "There's only one way to figure out what's down here."
And without a second's hesitation, I jump right in.
Time is running out.With each heave and grunt I make as we push the throne inch by inch across the dais, another second passes, and then another minute. How many lives have been extinguished by Azrael already? How many times has he got bored of waiting for us and decided to end the confused suffering of another victim he unjustly plucked from existence?Yes, time is running out. And so are the lives of my friends.Who knows how long Azrael will take to complete his ritual? Or how long Ithuriel will last, weak and shaking, barely nourished and scared out of his wits, unable to fight or even scream for help. Who knows how long Soren will last with silver coursing through his veins, burning through his body like a wildfire in the summer?In the middle of pushing the throne, I choke up a little. I had hoped that a being as powerful as Soren would not be disposed to die with a concoction of silver in his body, that in his nearly one thousand years of life he had acquired some resilience to the metal. But lesser vampires have been known to die by the mere impression of it against their skin, running the blood in their veins red to black, spiked with infection. True Azrael had admitted that the solution was dilute, but that proves of no reassurance to me. There is no telling whether Azrael will give Soren more injections, allow the silver to accumulate in his blood before it can be washed away. Diluted or not, the accumulation of silver would surely kill him.I only pray that Soren will withstand it until we find him.Hopelessly, I call out to him, offering up a plea of fortitude.But his voice in my head is silent, an empty, thoughtless wasteland with no indication of ever having a reply. My hopes begin to dwindle."So, why are we moving the throne?" Kal asks at last in a strained voice as we heave the throne forward to one side. One inch, then another, the throne slides onwards, the seconds ticking by, counting our doom.I have to admit, for a lanky looking boy, he is awfully strong."Because," I say, wiping the sweat from my brow as we go in for another round. "If I am right, which I really hope I am, this should be where the entrance to the labyrinth is. Soren told me something before Azrael injected him, he said to look for the heart, remember?"Kal nods slowly."But that could mean anything. Plus, vampires don't have hearts. Or at least, they don't beat. I still don't understand why we are pushing this throne," he says without looking at me. I roll my eyes."Look, just keep pushing. If I am wrong we will soon find out."I pull back for a second, rolling the joint of my arm in an effort to loosen up the stiffness. Frowning, I flex out my fingers angrily. Staying within the vampire kingdom for several weeks has certainly built up a good set of slender muscles beneath my skin, especially now with vampire blood running through my system. But somehow I seem to not quite be harnessing it, even if it is made out of vampire resistant weights, the throne seems to barely be moving an inch. Unless unless I am not channelling my powers properly.Going quite for a second, I focus on drawing strength from my arms, readying myself to heave once more. Sucking in a breath, I push and the throne slides forward, causing Kal to stumble back in alarm. One push, and then another, the throne continues to edge forward. Then, channelling one final burst of power, I give the throne a final push, sending it flying, as though suddenly having collided with an unstoppable force, sending it straying halfway across the dais. I brush off my hands, smiling to myself.Another power mastered. Perhaps being a vampire isn't so hard after all.It takes me a second to realise Kal is staring at me."What?" I say, narrowing my eyes at him, dousing the sweat from my palms on the side of my trousers. Frantically, he shakes his head."Nothing," he says, hiding his smile with a gloved hand. "It's just odd to see that, is all. You and your superhuman strength and all. I never thought I would see that from you. Soren did a good job."I scoff."Well get used to it, this is who I am now. Believe me, I have had a few grievances about it as well. Now," I say, rubbing my hands together eagerly. "Let's have a look, shall we?"The heart of the palace. That is what Fangorn had said. And Soren too, had begged me to find the heart. Of course, with Azrael close by, and his life severely on the line, his clues to me had been limited, but they had not been in vain.Initially when Fangorn first told me the clues to finding the flame, I had been rather perplexed to say the least. In a city full of heartless monsters, it made no logical sense that such an odious and unfeeling place should have a heart at all- a logic that Kal seems to share with me now. But here is the thing, it does.The heart of the palace, the ruling seat, the dictator of all life- standing here, the throne room opening up around me, it now seems so obvious.The monarch, and their throne.They are the heart of this place.They command the rise and fall of the palace, the flow of the people within it, the ruling body, the giver of life. Without the monarch, the palace would surely crumble, defeated and lifeless, a mere shadow of the glory it once was.And what exactly is the symbol of their power?Kal comes to settle by my shoulder, watching me with a look of intense curiosity as I tap the floor that had previously been under the throne. The sound comes up and rings hollowly in our ears. I shiver slightly.Carefully, I run my fingers along the marble tiles, searching for a ledge, a plate, that I can lift from the ground. My nails catch on something, instinct kicking in, I tug on it, lifting it up between my hands.A huge slab of tiles lifts up as I heave it to one side, discarding it with a heavy sling across the room, causing the marble to crack upon impact. I won't be needing that any more. Beside me, Kal has gone silent. I flicker my eyes back to the marble flooring, to where I removed the slab of tiles. A smile of relief crosses my face.This is it.No longer is there flat ground, but instead, a huge, gaping hole. But perhaps that is not so much of a relief after all."You are sure this is it?" Kal says, after a moment's gestation, his voice wobbling slightly, the muscles on his forearm tense against his sides. "I mean, I don't want to imply that I don't trust your judgement, my Queen. After all, this is a rather suspicious looking hole. It's more to the fact of if we are to go down there, how are we going to get back up?"My eyes flicker back to the hole, that void of gaping blackness, the maw of some fantastic monster waiting to swallow up into the abyss. There is a draft of cool air that wafts up from the open expanse, prickling the hairs on my skin, the indication of life. But deep from within, I feel a calling, an ache in my chest, a tug of my soul, that draws me down, down, down, not just to the flame, but to him. A mate's bond is never meant to break, nor will it ever.Soren is down there. I know he is."We will figure out how we get back up later," I reply stonily, testing the borders of the hole with the tips of my boots, and upon finding them sturdy enough, work my way over. "But this is the place. I can feel it."Kal slaps a hand to his head in exasperation, his large membranous wings tucking tightly behind him. There is no doubt that he looks absolutely terrified, but for all his credit, he does a rather good job of hiding it. But I suppose now lacking an audible heartbeat, that has become a much easier task for him."Now I don't mean to doubt you, but are we really doing this based on a feeling? What if it's a trap?"I look down into the hole, my eyes meeting nothing but impenetrable darkness- even with my rather enhanced vision courtesy of Soren's blood it is impossible to tell what lies within that never ending pit. The only notion I have to go off of are the tales Fangorn has told me, and if they are any indication, then it can't be any good. I test the hole once more, waiting and listening. A faint groaning shriek rises from the pit."Oh it's definitely a trap," I whisper, grinning slightly. "But only if we get ourselves caught."Kal gives me a long, pointed look, as if to tell me: you are insane.Perhaps I am."Well," I say, steeling my nerves, the fire inside me bubbling and boiling away in my veins. "There's only one way to figure out what's down here."And without a second's hesitation, I jump right in.
