Chapter 201: 201
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"So," he laughs. "You really do hope to kill me then?" he asks, a waver to his voice as he scrapes his fingers along his sides, as though they are itching to tear through flesh and blood. "I suppose you have waited to do that for a very long time haven't you?" he chuckles darkly, just as Soren's fingers endeavour to tighten further around his throat, cutting off their air supply with a choking gasp from Azrael.
"I warned you about belittling my wife, Azrael. But if you so desire to talk to her like that I might just have to kill you myself."
Azrael doesn't say anything to that. He merely clenches his jaw just as the eternal flame spurts and grumbles behind him, shooting sparking red flames into the air, dusting the ground with a crimson glow. I lower my eyes.
"Like you would have done differently, Azrael. You have been wanting to kill Soren and I for months, you weaselling little rat," I spit, no empathy to spare in my voice.
Azrael merely shrugs, wincing a little as he tries to move forwards before realising he is completely and unequivocally stuck. I cannot tell what he hates more: having Soren's fingers grasped over his throat, or the string of words I just shot at him.
"You never were one to mince your words," he sighs, but the sarcasm is short lived. "Besides, I planned to keep you alive, remember?" he reminds me, jabbing a finger in my direction, before indicating back at Delina, who stumbles backwards a little at the sudden involvement in our conversation. For a moment she splutters in an abysmal attempt to speak, before slinking back against the shadows where Kal embraces her next to Ithuriel.
"I even tried to save Delina- I gave her grandmother my word. But apparently you dragged her into this too, a shame."
Scoffing, I rear my fireball higher, my patience draining quicker than water down a stream.
"You would have wiped her out with the rest of the world when you decided to reform the whole of Faey," I retort, then add quickly. "Soren, dear, step out of the way for a moment. This fucker is pissing me off."
Obliging with the nod of his head, Soren steps aside.
"Anything for you darling," he chuckles, sparing me a wink across the room, keeping his hand raised just behind Azrael, in case things go downhill.
Azrael lets loose a small gasp that I doubt was meant to be audible as Soren lets go of his neck, rubbing it up and down soothingly as he coaxes it back into life. His form flickers. The flame rises with crimson shadows behind him, licking the air between us with coils of blazing sunset hues.
"Thank you, Serena. I thought you might be more-"
"Heavens hold," I say sharply, cutting off Azrael before he has the chance to spout any more bullshit remarks about his so-called generosity.
Instantly, a golden light is conjured from my palm, washing over Azrael until his entire body is engulfed in a raging maw of light. A faint, inaudible string of words utters from Azrael's mouth in a stutter of syllables, his eyes bulging as he quickly realises he is rooted to the spot.
Hissing like a cat and struggling with all his might, Azrael strains to break free, the veins prominent on his neck, blood red eyes flaring with a sizzling anger that resounds with the crimson aura that swims in the air. But his body does not move, stuck in mid air. The only signs of movement are the muscles rippling under the skin, and his eyes darting around the room.
With a satisfied smirk, I lower myself to his twisted form, whispering:
"Good, I was worried Soren's hand might get sore from holding trash for so long."
Then his eyes turn to me.
"Bitch," he whispers, baring his teeth at me as he strains once again at the bonds of light that engulf him. There is some sort of hurt, perhaps even betrayal shimmering in his eyes, a watery light that seem more close to tears than to anger. Though for what reason, I can hardly say. I never trusted him to begin with.
Deciding at last it is safe to move, Soren works his way around Azrael, inspecting him once over, then twice, smiling cruelly at the bonds that engulf him. I can tell there is a sinking urge in his heart to do more, to prod, to poke, to cut, to crush, but with a room full of people, his vengeful fantasies quickly have to be put to rest. In all honesty, I too would take the greatest pleasure in tearing Azrael limb from limb.
"Your magic is growing well, darling," Soren announces with a low, proud whisper, taking a moment to brush his lips against my cheek with a delicate kiss.
"Keep him held," Soren instructs, backing away slightly, his eyes still trained on the wreathing figure before us both. "My brother is a slippery one, but I have no doubt you can hold him. Delina, you keep an eye on him too. Make sure that no funny business goes on. And Kal, if you please, look after Dawn and the fox."
Delina nods half heartedly, a growing grim look implanted on her features, a mixture of horror and fear as her eyes trail over Azrael, her lower lip trembling. Meanwhile Kal's nod is much more enthusiastic, his fingers running through the little foxes fur as he begins setting about dabbing the wounds clean with a cloth Dawn hands him.
Vaguely aware of Soren beginning to dance his way around the room, edging his way over blood markings and towards the flame, I do my best to keep a hold of Azrael, jaw clenched against the strain I am beginning to feel at my insides. Azrael's will- expectedly, of course, is far stronger than that of the halflings, whose consciousness have been worn down by years of rot and decay in the same corridors of maze for nearly half a dozen centuries. I can feel his will tugging at my mind, his desperation to be free, along with his anger- a fiery rage that consumes his insides with a devastating wave of aggression.
But then, after about a minute of struggling, Azrael goes silent, his eyes dulling as he retreats into his mind, a plan brewing inside. It is at this point I wish that I was the one who could get inside people's heads, not Azrael.
Despite Soren's words for us to watch Azrael, every now and then the Vampire King's eyes dart over, watching closely. I have no doubt it is just to ensure the safety of our lives, and to be certain that the white haired Prince has not made any unwanted moves on us, for as soon as he catches me watching, his gaze flits away. Then he continues his work in prizing the flame off its pedestal, anxious to be finished and back by my side.
I have got this, I assure him in my mind, hoping he will hear my words through the thoughts that are undoubtedly crowding his own. You just do what you need to, Soren.
Across the room, Kal spares me a worried glance. The fox beside him raises his head a little, tail wagging with a faint and dim realisation. I can tell by the offset look behind his eyes that he is not quite there, that hours on end without water, food, or any basic necessities, not to mention a sadistic vampire holding you captive, has warn away at his spirit to the point of near breaking. Surprisingly, he looks relieved to find himself with Kal, and in my head he is beckoning me to come over, hardly aware of my duties in restraining to white haired prince. With my eyes still trained on Azrael, I fish around in my bag for a flask of water, chucking it over to Kal, who catches it with ease. Gently, the dragon boy pours some water into his palm, allowing Ithuriel to lap it up.
Serena, he calls over hazily, raising his nose to sniff the air. Your aura has changed. You have horns now. Does this mean you are one of them?
Beside me, Azrael's eyes flicker over something I cannot see, a whisper of a murmur grumbling from his throat. On instinct, I unsheathe my sword, holding it up to his heart- an action which he seemingly barely registers. Then, hesitantly, I glance back towards Ithuriel, who is waiting expectantly for my answer, ears switching with the motions of noise rebounding around the room.
Reluctantly, I sigh. I could tell him (and probably should) all the things that have happened in the past forty eight hours. But right now I need my full attention on Azrael- there is no telling what a slimy snake like him might scheme if given half the chance. So instead I shoot him an apologetic smile, dipping my head slightly.
We will catch up later, Ithuriel. I affirm, pressing the sword tip further against Azrael's chest, earning me a light groan that is more out of habit than necessity. When all this is over, and when you are feeling better.
But I can't help but think if its less of a case of when, and more a case of if.
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"So," he laughs. "You really do hope to kill me then?" he asks, a waver to his voice as he scrapes his fingers along his sides, as though they are itching to tear through flesh and blood. "I suppose you have waited to do that for a very long time haven't you?" he chuckles darkly, just as Soren's fingers endeavour to tighten further around his throat, cutting off their air supply with a choking gasp from Azrael.
"I warned you about belittling my wife, Azrael. But if you so desire to talk to her like that I might just have to kill you myself."
Azrael doesn't say anything to that. He merely clenches his jaw just as the eternal flame spurts and grumbles behind him, shooting sparking red flames into the air, dusting the ground with a crimson glow. I lower my eyes.
"Like you would have done differently, Azrael. You have been wanting to kill Soren and I for months, you weaselling little rat," I spit, no empathy to spare in my voice.
Azrael merely shrugs, wincing a little as he tries to move forwards before realising he is completely and unequivocally stuck. I cannot tell what he hates more: having Soren's fingers grasped over his throat, or the string of words I just shot at him.
"You never were one to mince your words," he sighs, but the sarcasm is short lived. "Besides, I planned to keep you alive, remember?" he reminds me, jabbing a finger in my direction, before indicating back at Delina, who stumbles backwards a little at the sudden involvement in our conversation. For a moment she splutters in an abysmal attempt to speak, before slinking back against the shadows where Kal embraces her next to Ithuriel.
"I even tried to save Delina- I gave her grandmother my word. But apparently you dragged her into this too, a shame."
Scoffing, I rear my fireball higher, my patience draining quicker than water down a stream.
"You would have wiped her out with the rest of the world when you decided to reform the whole of Faey," I retort, then add quickly. "Soren, dear, step out of the way for a moment. This fucker is pissing me off."
Obliging with the nod of his head, Soren steps aside.
"Anything for you darling," he chuckles, sparing me a wink across the room, keeping his hand raised just behind Azrael, in case things go downhill.
Azrael lets loose a small gasp that I doubt was meant to be audible as Soren lets go of his neck, rubbing it up and down soothingly as he coaxes it back into life. His form flickers. The flame rises with crimson shadows behind him, licking the air between us with coils of blazing sunset hues.
"Thank you, Serena. I thought you might be more-"
"Heavens hold," I say sharply, cutting off Azrael before he has the chance to spout any more bullshit remarks about his so-called generosity.
Instantly, a golden light is conjured from my palm, washing over Azrael until his entire body is engulfed in a raging maw of light. A faint, inaudible string of words utters from Azrael's mouth in a stutter of syllables, his eyes bulging as he quickly realises he is rooted to the spot.
Hissing like a cat and struggling with all his might, Azrael strains to break free, the veins prominent on his neck, blood red eyes flaring with a sizzling anger that resounds with the crimson aura that swims in the air. But his body does not move, stuck in mid air. The only signs of movement are the muscles rippling under the skin, and his eyes darting around the room.
With a satisfied smirk, I lower myself to his twisted form, whispering:
"Good, I was worried Soren's hand might get sore from holding trash for so long."
Then his eyes turn to me.
"Bitch," he whispers, baring his teeth at me as he strains once again at the bonds of light that engulf him. There is some sort of hurt, perhaps even betrayal shimmering in his eyes, a watery light that seem more close to tears than to anger. Though for what reason, I can hardly say. I never trusted him to begin with.
Deciding at last it is safe to move, Soren works his way around Azrael, inspecting him once over, then twice, smiling cruelly at the bonds that engulf him. I can tell there is a sinking urge in his heart to do more, to prod, to poke, to cut, to crush, but with a room full of people, his vengeful fantasies quickly have to be put to rest. In all honesty, I too would take the greatest pleasure in tearing Azrael limb from limb.
"Your magic is growing well, darling," Soren announces with a low, proud whisper, taking a moment to brush his lips against my cheek with a delicate kiss.
"Keep him held," Soren instructs, backing away slightly, his eyes still trained on the wreathing figure before us both. "My brother is a slippery one, but I have no doubt you can hold him. Delina, you keep an eye on him too. Make sure that no funny business goes on. And Kal, if you please, look after Dawn and the fox."
Delina nods half heartedly, a growing grim look implanted on her features, a mixture of horror and fear as her eyes trail over Azrael, her lower lip trembling. Meanwhile Kal's nod is much more enthusiastic, his fingers running through the little foxes fur as he begins setting about dabbing the wounds clean with a cloth Dawn hands him.
Vaguely aware of Soren beginning to dance his way around the room, edging his way over blood markings and towards the flame, I do my best to keep a hold of Azrael, jaw clenched against the strain I am beginning to feel at my insides. Azrael's will- expectedly, of course, is far stronger than that of the halflings, whose consciousness have been worn down by years of rot and decay in the same corridors of maze for nearly half a dozen centuries. I can feel his will tugging at my mind, his desperation to be free, along with his anger- a fiery rage that consumes his insides with a devastating wave of aggression.
But then, after about a minute of struggling, Azrael goes silent, his eyes dulling as he retreats into his mind, a plan brewing inside. It is at this point I wish that I was the one who could get inside people's heads, not Azrael.
Despite Soren's words for us to watch Azrael, every now and then the Vampire King's eyes dart over, watching closely. I have no doubt it is just to ensure the safety of our lives, and to be certain that the white haired Prince has not made any unwanted moves on us, for as soon as he catches me watching, his gaze flits away. Then he continues his work in prizing the flame off its pedestal, anxious to be finished and back by my side.
I have got this, I assure him in my mind, hoping he will hear my words through the thoughts that are undoubtedly crowding his own. You just do what you need to, Soren.
Across the room, Kal spares me a worried glance. The fox beside him raises his head a little, tail wagging with a faint and dim realisation. I can tell by the offset look behind his eyes that he is not quite there, that hours on end without water, food, or any basic necessities, not to mention a sadistic vampire holding you captive, has warn away at his spirit to the point of near breaking. Surprisingly, he looks relieved to find himself with Kal, and in my head he is beckoning me to come over, hardly aware of my duties in restraining to white haired prince. With my eyes still trained on Azrael, I fish around in my bag for a flask of water, chucking it over to Kal, who catches it with ease. Gently, the dragon boy pours some water into his palm, allowing Ithuriel to lap it up.
Serena, he calls over hazily, raising his nose to sniff the air. Your aura has changed. You have horns now. Does this mean you are one of them?
Beside me, Azrael's eyes flicker over something I cannot see, a whisper of a murmur grumbling from his throat. On instinct, I unsheathe my sword, holding it up to his heart- an action which he seemingly barely registers. Then, hesitantly, I glance back towards Ithuriel, who is waiting expectantly for my answer, ears switching with the motions of noise rebounding around the room.
Reluctantly, I sigh. I could tell him (and probably should) all the things that have happened in the past forty eight hours. But right now I need my full attention on Azrael- there is no telling what a slimy snake like him might scheme if given half the chance. So instead I shoot him an apologetic smile, dipping my head slightly.
We will catch up later, Ithuriel. I affirm, pressing the sword tip further against Azrael's chest, earning me a light groan that is more out of habit than necessity. When all this is over, and when you are feeling better.
But I can't help but think if its less of a case of when, and more a case of if.
"So," he laughs. "You really do hope to kill me then?" he asks, a waver to his voice as he scrapes his fingers along his sides, as though they are itching to tear through flesh and blood. "I suppose you have waited to do that for a very long time haven't you?" he chuckles darkly, just as Soren's fingers endeavour to tighten further around his throat, cutting off their air supply with a choking gasp from Azrael."I warned you about belittling my wife, Azrael. But if you so desire to talk to her like that I might just have to kill you myself."Azrael doesn't say anything to that. He merely clenches his jaw just as the eternal flame spurts and grumbles behind him, shooting sparking red flames into the air, dusting the ground with a crimson glow. I lower my eyes."Like you would have done differently, Azrael. You have been wanting to kill Soren and I for months, you weaselling little rat," I spit, no empathy to spare in my voice.Azrael merely shrugs, wincing a little as he tries to move forwards before realising he is completely and unequivocally stuck. I cannot tell what he hates more: having Soren's fingers grasped over his throat, or the string of words I just shot at him."You never were one to mince your words," he sighs, but the sarcasm is short lived. "Besides, I planned to keep you alive, remember?" he reminds me, jabbing a finger in my direction, before indicating back at Delina, who stumbles backwards a little at the sudden involvement in our conversation. For a moment she splutters in an abysmal attempt to speak, before slinking back against the shadows where Kal embraces her next to Ithuriel."I even tried to save Delina- I gave her grandmother my word. But apparently you dragged her into this too, a shame."Scoffing, I rear my fireball higher, my patience draining quicker than water down a stream."You would have wiped her out with the rest of the world when you decided to reform the whole of Faey," I retort, then add quickly. "Soren, dear, step out of the way for a moment. This fucker is pissing me off."Obliging with the nod of his head, Soren steps aside."Anything for you darling," he chuckles, sparing me a wink across the room, keeping his hand raised just behind Azrael, in case things go downhill.Azrael lets loose a small gasp that I doubt was meant to be audible as Soren lets go of his neck, rubbing it up and down soothingly as he coaxes it back into life. His form flickers. The flame rises with crimson shadows behind him, licking the air between us with coils of blazing sunset hues."Thank you, Serena. I thought you might be more-""Heavens hold," I say sharply, cutting off Azrael before he has the chance to spout any more bullshit remarks about his so-called generosity. Instantly, a golden light is conjured from my palm, washing over Azrael until his entire body is engulfed in a raging maw of light. A faint, inaudible string of words utters from Azrael's mouth in a stutter of syllables, his eyes bulging as he quickly realises he is rooted to the spot.Hissing like a cat and struggling with all his might, Azrael strains to break free, the veins prominent on his neck, blood red eyes flaring with a sizzling anger that resounds with the crimson aura that swims in the air. But his body does not move, stuck in mid air. The only signs of movement are the muscles rippling under the skin, and his eyes darting around the room. With a satisfied smirk, I lower myself to his twisted form, whispering:"Good, I was worried Soren's hand might get sore from holding trash for so long."Then his eyes turn to me."Bitch," he whispers, baring his teeth at me as he strains once again at the bonds of light that engulf him. There is some sort of hurt, perhaps even betrayal shimmering in his eyes, a watery light that seem more close to tears than to anger. Though for what reason, I can hardly say. I never trusted him to begin with.Deciding at last it is safe to move, Soren works his way around Azrael, inspecting him once over, then twice, smiling cruelly at the bonds that engulf him. I can tell there is a sinking urge in his heart to do more, to prod, to poke, to cut, to crush, but with a room full of people, his vengeful fantasies quickly have to be put to rest. In all honesty, I too would take the greatest pleasure in tearing Azrael limb from limb."Your magic is growing well, darling," Soren announces with a low, proud whisper, taking a moment to brush his lips against my cheek with a delicate kiss."Keep him held," Soren instructs, backing away slightly, his eyes still trained on the wreathing figure before us both. "My brother is a slippery one, but I have no doubt you can hold him. Delina, you keep an eye on him too. Make sure that no funny business goes on. And Kal, if you please, look after Dawn and the fox."Delina nods half heartedly, a growing grim look implanted on her features, a mixture of horror and fear as her eyes trail over Azrael, her lower lip trembling. Meanwhile Kal's nod is much more enthusiastic, his fingers running through the little foxes fur as he begins setting about dabbing the wounds clean with a cloth Dawn hands him.Vaguely aware of Soren beginning to dance his way around the room, edging his way over blood markings and towards the flame, I do my best to keep a hold of Azrael, jaw clenched against the strain I am beginning to feel at my insides. Azrael's will- expectedly, of course, is far stronger than that of the halflings, whose consciousness have been worn down by years of rot and decay in the same corridors of maze for nearly half a dozen centuries. I can feel his will tugging at my mind, his desperation to be free, along with his anger- a fiery rage that consumes his insides with a devastating wave of aggression.But then, after about a minute of struggling, Azrael goes silent, his eyes dulling as he retreats into his mind, a plan brewing inside. It is at this point I wish that I was the one who could get inside people's heads, not Azrael.Despite Soren's words for us to watch Azrael, every now and then the Vampire King's eyes dart over, watching closely. I have no doubt it is just to ensure the safety of our lives, and to be certain that the white haired Prince has not made any unwanted moves on us, for as soon as he catches me watching, his gaze flits away. Then he continues his work in prizing the flame off its pedestal, anxious to be finished and back by my side.I have got this, I assure him in my mind, hoping he will hear my words through the thoughts that are undoubtedly crowding his own. You just do what you need to, Soren.Across the room, Kal spares me a worried glance. The fox beside him raises his head a little, tail wagging with a faint and dim realisation. I can tell by the offset look behind his eyes that he is not quite there, that hours on end without water, food, or any basic necessities, not to mention a sadistic vampire holding you captive, has warn away at his spirit to the point of near breaking. Surprisingly, he looks relieved to find himself with Kal, and in my head he is beckoning me to come over, hardly aware of my duties in restraining to white haired prince. With my eyes still trained on Azrael, I fish around in my bag for a flask of water, chucking it over to Kal, who catches it with ease. Gently, the dragon boy pours some water into his palm, allowing Ithuriel to lap it up.Serena, he calls over hazily, raising his nose to sniff the air. Your aura has changed. You have horns now. Does this mean you are one of them?Beside me, Azrael's eyes flicker over something I cannot see, a whisper of a murmur grumbling from his throat. On instinct, I unsheathe my sword, holding it up to his heart- an action which he seemingly barely registers. Then, hesitantly, I glance back towards Ithuriel, who is waiting expectantly for my answer, ears switching with the motions of noise rebounding around the room.Reluctantly, I sigh. I could tell him and probably should all the things that have happened in the past forty eight hours. But right now I need my full attention on Azrael- there is no telling what a slimy snake like him might scheme if given half the chance. So instead I shoot him an apologetic smile, dipping my head slightly.We will catch up later, Ithuriel. I affirm, pressing the sword tip further against Azrael's chest, earning me a light groan that is more out of habit than necessity. When all this is over, and when you are feeling better.But I can't help but think if its less of a case of when, and more a case of if.
