Chapter 192: 192
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To that we all nod in joint agreement. It is true, after all, that while we are the most convenient souls for Azrael's picking (largely due to our handy proximity to him), we are not the only ones. If he fails to capture us here and take out souls, I have no doubt that Azrael- in the sneaky and devious way that is befit of any treacherous wretch, will merely move on to another victim, another soul, content on plucking theirs until he has all five... In some form or another. The thought it enough to send shivers shuddering down my spine, my mouth souring at the thought.
Before now I had often found myself wrapped up in my own affairs to really consider the matter properly, but now looking at it in retrospect, the reality of the situation hits me like a punch to the gut. An unspoken foreboding lingers in the air between us all.
Somewhere out there, lurking through Faey, there are two other souls of equal power, perhaps old, perhaps young, going about their business without a care in the world. Perhaps like me they have not even realised they have a soul of power inside them, and would likely- like me, not be warned of the matters at hand. I hardly doubt the news of Azrael's betrayal of the kingdom of Sezeria and the disappearance of an entire palace of vampires has spread that quickly. It would take at least another day for the news to reach the outer sections of Sezeria, and then the spread to the rest of Faey could take days, weeks even.
If everything here goes to shit, at the very least, they must be warned. Then at least there might be a hope for Faey if things end up going down the drain.
After a few minutes of deliberating silence, Soren rubs his hand across the back of his neck, his fingers clenching and unclenching in a visible aggravation. Luckily, Soren has enough confidence for all of us to whisper the words that none of us want to voice:
"We have to kill him," Soren whispers grittily, his eyes flashing a dangerous crimson, still trained on the floor, as though imagining all the ways he would carry out that very task. There is a ruffle of affirmation that simmers through us all, nodding quietly to ourselves as we distance ourselves subtly from the streams of blackened smoke that roll in reams from Soren's form. His fingers crack by his sides.
It is no secret that Soren holds a very big grudge against his brother- and even that would be an understatement. At this point it has turned into a lifelong loathing- and rightly so: aside from trying to bed me on my first day in the palace, Azrael has caused an innumerable amount of sufferings for Soren over the past few weeks, including letting me fall prey to a couple of jealous vampires, and now stealing the entire court in hopes of extracting a soul. The list of grievances are endless. And Soren never was one to deal with treason lightly.
The Scarlet Prince is not a name to be taken lightly to those who are wise in the ways of Soren's powers. It is a name that sparks fear, terror, anguish and death, a name that has caused blood to run red through the dirt at the mere mention of it, a name that has commanded respect and reverence for almost a thousand years.
Although I suppose now it will be a little different. For he is the Scarlet Prince no longer. Now, he is the Scarlet King.
And he will spare no mercy.
With this manner of thought flowing through my head, I raise my hand.
"I second that. Azrael is too dangerous to be left alive. Even if we do get out of this alive, there is no one to stop him going after the other souls and taking them instead. We have to kill him," I say firmly, slamming my fist down in my palm. Kal nods deeply.
"I vote to kill him. He has committed enough treason as it is. Delina?"
Next to us, Delina remains very quiet. With her hands clamped around her sides, hunched over and curled into a small ball, she looks like she would like nothing better than to disappear from the conversation entirely. Empathetically, I reach out to touch her shoulder, but she recoils quickly, shaking me off.
Between us, Kal and I share a look, a cold turmoil settling in my stomach as an unsettling aura slinks over us all.
A sorrowful expression crosses Soren's features as he delicately scoops up Delina's hands in his, squeezing them tight. Obviously, there is something that lies in her heart that she would rather not like us to know- all except Soren, who notices it regardless of her best attempts to hide it.
"Delina my dear, we cannot spare his life," Soren pleas despairingly, hoping to catch her eyes but finding himself coming up sadly empty of a response. She merely trains her eyes on the ground, her blue skin paling, her body spiked with rigidity: a cold and unfeeling wall of stone. She doesn't want to talk- even I can figure that out.
But Soren continues nonetheless, breathing a low sigh as he squeezes her hands one again, trying to get through to her with an empathetic smile.
"Do you know what he will do once he obtains all the souls?" Soren presses, tipping her head up to face him with a long, delicate finger. The fear in Delina's eyes is practically tangible as she looks up at him, her face quivering, eyes watery with a fresh bout of tears.
"I know, but…" she breaks away to sniff, wiping her eyes with the back of her bangled hand, each motion jarring, stilted. When at last she has regained some notion of composure, she straightens herself up, clinging onto Soren's hands as though they were a lifeline.
"Can't you try to reform him? He never used to be this bad, there is good in him somewhere, Soren," she begs desperately. But I have seen that look on Soren's face before, one of unrelenting hardiness, and the impossibility of ever changing his opinion. This is a matter Soren will not budge on, no matter who asks him.
Tentatively, Kal pipes in, hoping to dispel her grievances.
"The old Azrael is gone now, Delina. You have seen first hand what he is capable of. The Azrael that lies through those doors is a power hungry monster who wishes to reform all life in Faey to fit the image he has painted for himself. You cannot reform someone like that, there will be negotiating with him."
Gently, Kal runs a soothing hand over her back, and she drops her shoulders a fraction, some of the welling tension inside her dispelling for a moment. Kal seems to have a gift for that- making everything better, or at least less hopeless than it is. He even managed to elect a brief smile from Ithuriel after his confession to me, which is a rarity upon any occasion. Perhaps it has something to do with the softness of his voice, or simply the natural charm he carries with him that makes others so amiable to him, so willing to listen when he talks. Or perhaps it is merely the idea that he listens, lets people be heard. I, on the other hand, am quite the opposite in character.
"Alright," Delina sniffs at last, wiping away the residual tears from the swell of her cheeks. "Kill him if you must. But I would rather not be there when you do."
Soren bows his head in understanding.
"Of course," he says respectfully, pacing back a few steps to survey us all. Soren's golden eyes settle on me.
"Are we all ready to go, then?" he asks, to which the others nod their heads, raising their vials of potions in response. I sling my sachet over my shoulder further, taking in a few deep breaths. And then I remember something.
"Wait," I say, recalling the words that were spoken to me not an hour ago, the cold drawl of a Siren who has hopefully long since disappeared from the place.
"Areen," I say quickly, wringing out my hands. Time is running short, I must be quick. "She wanted me to tell you something."
Furrowing his brows, Soren beckons me over, eyes gleaming with curiosity. Reaching up with my tiptoes, I cup my hand around my mouth, lowering my voice so that the others might not hear the words that fall from my lips:
"She says she has found what you are looking for."
For a fleeting second, Soren's body freezes. Darkness swirls around my vision as the aura of shadows around him become more intense, then he leans back, his face falling once more as he places his hands in mine, a small smile on his face as he whispers in honeyed words:
"Excellent. Thank you, darling."
Then I nod, prancing back to my place beside Kal, who greets me with a series of dubious glances, but asks no questions, much to my relief.
Straightening the sachet on my shoulders, I attempt to calm my mind.
The fate of the world is resting on my shoulders, and here I am going in to greet Azrael alone. That two minutes of waiting is going to be the longest and most arduous wait in my whole life, I can already feel it.
I can only hope he is ready for what is going to greet him when I am done.. Because I doubt he is making it out there alive.
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To that we all nod in joint agreement. It is true, after all, that while we are the most convenient souls for Azrael's picking (largely due to our handy proximity to him), we are not the only ones. If he fails to capture us here and take out souls, I have no doubt that Azrael- in the sneaky and devious way that is befit of any treacherous wretch, will merely move on to another victim, another soul, content on plucking theirs until he has all five... In some form or another. The thought it enough to send shivers shuddering down my spine, my mouth souring at the thought.
Before now I had often found myself wrapped up in my own affairs to really consider the matter properly, but now looking at it in retrospect, the reality of the situation hits me like a punch to the gut. An unspoken foreboding lingers in the air between us all.
Somewhere out there, lurking through Faey, there are two other souls of equal power, perhaps old, perhaps young, going about their business without a care in the world. Perhaps like me they have not even realised they have a soul of power inside them, and would likely- like me, not be warned of the matters at hand. I hardly doubt the news of Azrael's betrayal of the kingdom of Sezeria and the disappearance of an entire palace of vampires has spread that quickly. It would take at least another day for the news to reach the outer sections of Sezeria, and then the spread to the rest of Faey could take days, weeks even.
If everything here goes to shit, at the very least, they must be warned. Then at least there might be a hope for Faey if things end up going down the drain.
After a few minutes of deliberating silence, Soren rubs his hand across the back of his neck, his fingers clenching and unclenching in a visible aggravation. Luckily, Soren has enough confidence for all of us to whisper the words that none of us want to voice:
"We have to kill him," Soren whispers grittily, his eyes flashing a dangerous crimson, still trained on the floor, as though imagining all the ways he would carry out that very task. There is a ruffle of affirmation that simmers through us all, nodding quietly to ourselves as we distance ourselves subtly from the streams of blackened smoke that roll in reams from Soren's form. His fingers crack by his sides.
It is no secret that Soren holds a very big grudge against his brother- and even that would be an understatement. At this point it has turned into a lifelong loathing- and rightly so: aside from trying to bed me on my first day in the palace, Azrael has caused an innumerable amount of sufferings for Soren over the past few weeks, including letting me fall prey to a couple of jealous vampires, and now stealing the entire court in hopes of extracting a soul. The list of grievances are endless. And Soren never was one to deal with treason lightly.
The Scarlet Prince is not a name to be taken lightly to those who are wise in the ways of Soren's powers. It is a name that sparks fear, terror, anguish and death, a name that has caused blood to run red through the dirt at the mere mention of it, a name that has commanded respect and reverence for almost a thousand years.
Although I suppose now it will be a little different. For he is the Scarlet Prince no longer. Now, he is the Scarlet King.
And he will spare no mercy.
With this manner of thought flowing through my head, I raise my hand.
"I second that. Azrael is too dangerous to be left alive. Even if we do get out of this alive, there is no one to stop him going after the other souls and taking them instead. We have to kill him," I say firmly, slamming my fist down in my palm. Kal nods deeply.
"I vote to kill him. He has committed enough treason as it is. Delina?"
Next to us, Delina remains very quiet. With her hands clamped around her sides, hunched over and curled into a small ball, she looks like she would like nothing better than to disappear from the conversation entirely. Empathetically, I reach out to touch her shoulder, but she recoils quickly, shaking me off.
Between us, Kal and I share a look, a cold turmoil settling in my stomach as an unsettling aura slinks over us all.
A sorrowful expression crosses Soren's features as he delicately scoops up Delina's hands in his, squeezing them tight. Obviously, there is something that lies in her heart that she would rather not like us to know- all except Soren, who notices it regardless of her best attempts to hide it.
"Delina my dear, we cannot spare his life," Soren pleas despairingly, hoping to catch her eyes but finding himself coming up sadly empty of a response. She merely trains her eyes on the ground, her blue skin paling, her body spiked with rigidity: a cold and unfeeling wall of stone. She doesn't want to talk- even I can figure that out.
But Soren continues nonetheless, breathing a low sigh as he squeezes her hands one again, trying to get through to her with an empathetic smile.
"Do you know what he will do once he obtains all the souls?" Soren presses, tipping her head up to face him with a long, delicate finger. The fear in Delina's eyes is practically tangible as she looks up at him, her face quivering, eyes watery with a fresh bout of tears.
"I know, but…" she breaks away to sniff, wiping her eyes with the back of her bangled hand, each motion jarring, stilted. When at last she has regained some notion of composure, she straightens herself up, clinging onto Soren's hands as though they were a lifeline.
"Can't you try to reform him? He never used to be this bad, there is good in him somewhere, Soren," she begs desperately. But I have seen that look on Soren's face before, one of unrelenting hardiness, and the impossibility of ever changing his opinion. This is a matter Soren will not budge on, no matter who asks him.
Tentatively, Kal pipes in, hoping to dispel her grievances.
"The old Azrael is gone now, Delina. You have seen first hand what he is capable of. The Azrael that lies through those doors is a power hungry monster who wishes to reform all life in Faey to fit the image he has painted for himself. You cannot reform someone like that, there will be negotiating with him."
Gently, Kal runs a soothing hand over her back, and she drops her shoulders a fraction, some of the welling tension inside her dispelling for a moment. Kal seems to have a gift for that- making everything better, or at least less hopeless than it is. He even managed to elect a brief smile from Ithuriel after his confession to me, which is a rarity upon any occasion. Perhaps it has something to do with the softness of his voice, or simply the natural charm he carries with him that makes others so amiable to him, so willing to listen when he talks. Or perhaps it is merely the idea that he listens, lets people be heard. I, on the other hand, am quite the opposite in character.
"Alright," Delina sniffs at last, wiping away the residual tears from the swell of her cheeks. "Kill him if you must. But I would rather not be there when you do."
Soren bows his head in understanding.
"Of course," he says respectfully, pacing back a few steps to survey us all. Soren's golden eyes settle on me.
"Are we all ready to go, then?" he asks, to which the others nod their heads, raising their vials of potions in response. I sling my sachet over my shoulder further, taking in a few deep breaths. And then I remember something.
"Wait," I say, recalling the words that were spoken to me not an hour ago, the cold drawl of a Siren who has hopefully long since disappeared from the place.
"Areen," I say quickly, wringing out my hands. Time is running short, I must be quick. "She wanted me to tell you something."
Furrowing his brows, Soren beckons me over, eyes gleaming with curiosity. Reaching up with my tiptoes, I cup my hand around my mouth, lowering my voice so that the others might not hear the words that fall from my lips:
"She says she has found what you are looking for."
For a fleeting second, Soren's body freezes. Darkness swirls around my vision as the aura of shadows around him become more intense, then he leans back, his face falling once more as he places his hands in mine, a small smile on his face as he whispers in honeyed words:
"Excellent. Thank you, darling."
Then I nod, prancing back to my place beside Kal, who greets me with a series of dubious glances, but asks no questions, much to my relief.
Straightening the sachet on my shoulders, I attempt to calm my mind.
The fate of the world is resting on my shoulders, and here I am going in to greet Azrael alone. That two minutes of waiting is going to be the longest and most arduous wait in my whole life, I can already feel it.
I can only hope he is ready for what is going to greet him when I am done.. Because I doubt he is making it out there alive.
To that we all nod in joint agreement. It is true, after all, that while we are the most convenient souls for Azrael's picking largely due to our handy proximity to him, we are not the only ones. If he fails to capture us here and take out souls, I have no doubt that Azrael- in the sneaky and devious way that is befit of any treacherous wretch, will merely move on to another victim, another soul, content on plucking theirs until he has all five... In some form or another. The thought it enough to send shivers shuddering down my spine, my mouth souring at the thought.Before now I had often found myself wrapped up in my own affairs to really consider the matter properly, but now looking at it in retrospect, the reality of the situation hits me like a punch to the gut. An unspoken foreboding lingers in the air between us all.Somewhere out there, lurking through Faey, there are two other souls of equal power, perhaps old, perhaps young, going about their business without a care in the world. Perhaps like me they have not even realised they have a soul of power inside them, and would likely- like me, not be warned of the matters at hand. I hardly doubt the news of Azrael's betrayal of the kingdom of Sezeria and the disappearance of an entire palace of vampires has spread that quickly. It would take at least another day for the news to reach the outer sections of Sezeria, and then the spread to the rest of Faey could take days, weeks even.If everything here goes to shit, at the very least, they must be warned. Then at least there might be a hope for Faey if things end up going down the drain.After a few minutes of deliberating silence, Soren rubs his hand across the back of his neck, his fingers clenching and unclenching in a visible aggravation. Luckily, Soren has enough confidence for all of us to whisper the words that none of us want to voice:"We have to kill him," Soren whispers grittily, his eyes flashing a dangerous crimson, still trained on the floor, as though imagining all the ways he would carry out that very task. There is a ruffle of affirmation that simmers through us all, nodding quietly to ourselves as we distance ourselves subtly from the streams of blackened smoke that roll in reams from Soren's form. His fingers crack by his sides.It is no secret that Soren holds a very big grudge against his brother- and even that would be an understatement. At this point it has turned into a lifelong loathing- and rightly so: aside from trying to bed me on my first day in the palace, Azrael has caused an innumerable amount of sufferings for Soren over the past few weeks, including letting me fall prey to a couple of jealous vampires, and now stealing the entire court in hopes of extracting a soul. The list of grievances are endless. And Soren never was one to deal with treason lightly.The Scarlet Prince is not a name to be taken lightly to those who are wise in the ways of Soren's powers. It is a name that sparks fear, terror, anguish and death, a name that has caused blood to run red through the dirt at the mere mention of it, a name that has commanded respect and reverence for almost a thousand years.Although I suppose now it will be a little different. For he is the Scarlet Prince no longer. Now, he is the Scarlet King.And he will spare no mercy.With this manner of thought flowing through my head, I raise my hand."I second that. Azrael is too dangerous to be left alive. Even if we do get out of this alive, there is no one to stop him going after the other souls and taking them instead. We have to kill him," I say firmly, slamming my fist down in my palm. Kal nods deeply. "I vote to kill him. He has committed enough treason as it is. Delina?"Next to us, Delina remains very quiet. With her hands clamped around her sides, hunched over and curled into a small ball, she looks like she would like nothing better than to disappear from the conversation entirely. Empathetically, I reach out to touch her shoulder, but she recoils quickly, shaking me off.Between us, Kal and I share a look, a cold turmoil settling in my stomach as an unsettling aura slinks over us all.A sorrowful expression crosses Soren's features as he delicately scoops up Delina's hands in his, squeezing them tight. Obviously, there is something that lies in her heart that she would rather not like us to know- all except Soren, who notices it regardless of her best attempts to hide it."Delina my dear, we cannot spare his life," Soren pleas despairingly, hoping to catch her eyes but finding himself coming up sadly empty of a response. She merely trains her eyes on the ground, her blue skin paling, her body spiked with rigidity: a cold and unfeeling wall of stone. She doesn't want to talk- even I can figure that out.But Soren continues nonetheless, breathing a low sigh as he squeezes her hands one again, trying to get through to her with an empathetic smile."Do you know what he will do once he obtains all the souls?" Soren presses, tipping her head up to face him with a long, delicate finger. The fear in Delina's eyes is practically tangible as she looks up at him, her face quivering, eyes watery with a fresh bout of tears."I know, but" she breaks away to sniff, wiping her eyes with the back of her bangled hand, each motion jarring, stilted. When at last she has regained some notion of composure, she straightens herself up, clinging onto Soren's hands as though they were a lifeline."Can't you try to reform him? He never used to be this bad, there is good in him somewhere, Soren," she begs desperately. But I have seen that look on Soren's face before, one of unrelenting hardiness, and the impossibility of ever changing his opinion. This is a matter Soren will not budge on, no matter who asks him.Tentatively, Kal pipes in, hoping to dispel her grievances."The old Azrael is gone now, Delina. You have seen first hand what he is capable of. The Azrael that lies through those doors is a power hungry monster who wishes to reform all life in Faey to fit the image he has painted for himself. You cannot reform someone like that, there will be negotiating with him."Gently, Kal runs a soothing hand over her back, and she drops her shoulders a fraction, some of the welling tension inside her dispelling for a moment. Kal seems to have a gift for that- making everything better, or at least less hopeless than it is. He even managed to elect a brief smile from Ithuriel after his confession to me, which is a rarity upon any occasion. Perhaps it has something to do with the softness of his voice, or simply the natural charm he carries with him that makes others so amiable to him, so willing to listen when he talks. Or perhaps it is merely the idea that he listens, lets people be heard. I, on the other hand, am quite the opposite in character."Alright," Delina sniffs at last, wiping away the residual tears from the swell of her cheeks. "Kill him if you must. But I would rather not be there when you do."Soren bows his head in understanding."Of course," he says respectfully, pacing back a few steps to survey us all. Soren's golden eyes settle on me."Are we all ready to go, then?" he asks, to which the others nod their heads, raising their vials of potions in response. I sling my sachet over my shoulder further, taking in a few deep breaths. And then I remember something."Wait," I say, recalling the words that were spoken to me not an hour ago, the cold drawl of a Siren who has hopefully long since disappeared from the place."Areen," I say quickly, wringing out my hands. Time is running short, I must be quick. "She wanted me to tell you something."Furrowing his brows, Soren beckons me over, eyes gleaming with curiosity. Reaching up with my tiptoes, I cup my hand around my mouth, lowering my voice so that the others might not hear the words that fall from my lips:"She says she has found what you are looking for."For a fleeting second, Soren's body freezes. Darkness swirls around my vision as the aura of shadows around him become more intense, then he leans back, his face falling once more as he places his hands in mine, a small smile on his face as he whispers in honeyed words:"Excellent. Thank you, darling."Then I nod, prancing back to my place beside Kal, who greets me with a series of dubious glances, but asks no questions, much to my relief.Straightening the sachet on my shoulders, I attempt to calm my mind.The fate of the world is resting on my shoulders, and here I am going in to greet Azrael alone. That two minutes of waiting is going to be the longest and most arduous wait in my whole life, I can already feel it.I can only hope he is ready for what is going to greet him when I am done.. Because I doubt he is making it out there alive.
