Chapter 61: 61
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Silence lingers between us once more as we recline by the roses, wavering in the air and lingering densely in my ears, too uncomfortable, too heavy. I shift awkwardly.
Soren, however, in his usual lax and nonchalant attitude, seems entirely unbothered by it, leaning back with his hands behind his head, hair blowing up around him in a way that, had I the talent, I might have considered painting him- but even that wouldn't do justice to such a mesmerising scene.
He broods for a moment, listening to the trees blow up around us, closing his eyes and murmuring something on the base of his lips that my eyes are too unfocused to make out. The fairy on the lake has stopped dancing, instead returning to glean over the lilies floating in the centre of the pond. She does not seem to notice the dark shadows that fall over the lake. Hesitantly, I close my hand over Soren's.
"Please don't be angry at my companion. He was just doing his best." I urge, running my thumb over the top of his hand soothingly the way Ithuriel always did when I was younger, whenever sadness consumed me after failing divinist practise, or after being shot down by the council at my pleadings to be let outside our borders.
Soren stares at my hand over his, lips parted, eyes trained over the motion off my thumb tracing over his skin absently, quelling the anger inside him. The shadows enveloping the land recede a few paces.
"Although he failed so terribly well, do you know why I told your friend not to let you out?" he asks at last, letting my hand cover his own now. I look up at him, biting my cheek in silent questioning as I ponder for a moment.
"Because you didn't want me to see you execute someone? Didn't want to expose me to your..." My mind flickers back to the blood magic, and the gruesome fluidity of its nature. My gorge rises. "Your blood magic?" I offer, tentatively. It is probably not the right answer, knowing him, but it is the best one I can offer. A vampires reasoning and riddles are factors I do not pretend I to, or intend to, understand- and these past few days I have certainly had my belly's full of them. He nods slowly, chewing on his lip.
"Perhaps that too. But I think I can tell by now that I least of all people scare you, even if I were carrying out an execution. There is little of me you have not seen," he laughs, and then taps a finger to my nose. I blink, then stick out my tongue in response.
Of course, perfect Mr hedonistic vampire is right again. He gives an airy laugh as if knowing the words that run through my head and I let my shoulders drop slightly, thankful to lower the tense mood.
"You are about as scary as a puppy," I confirm, jumping up from the bench now and shooting another grin at him, holding my hands to my head to mimic dog ears and wrinkle my nose at him in a teasing mockery. He rolls his eyes.
"Lets see if that is still the case next time I start to lose control around you. If you wont reach for your sword to defend yourself. That is, if you are even around long enough to see it." Yet through the harshness of his words, there is a playfulness about them, a carefree vigour that tells me he is all to happy to allow for my taunting, and an undertone of playfulness that makes me grin with a beaming delight.
There is something entirely... addictive, about messing around with the Scarlet Prince.
He gets up slowly from the bench, his hips swaying suggestively as he glides towards me, circling around my body as though the wind itself was a tune in which to dance, and I the centre of a ballroom. He stops his circling in front of me and lifts my chin, looking me up and down with glowing umber eyes, flecked with the dark reds of love and lust. He wets his lips.
"I did not want you to come out because I feared that if you did, you would not hesitate to unleash hell unto my people. Trap them as you had me yesterday. And-" he hesitates, his throat bobbing. He removes his hand from my chin, curling his fingers into a loose fist. "And I would have let you do it,"
I peer at him curiously. What a strange vampire indeed. Only moments ago he was a monster, an executioner, a tyrant. A bringer of death, spiller of blood, the soul reason why the angels are afraid of the vampires. But this, I decide, placing a hand on his shoulder, is not like the hedonistic vampire I have grown to know at all. In fact, though my knowledge on love is limited, one might even call it a confession. A twisted, out of sorts, confession.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say you are besotted, Scarlet Prince." I murmur, lowering my gaze. He brings a hand down to toy lazily with my waist.
"Perhaps I am, or perhaps that is what I want you to believe," he grins wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans into me: "I will let you decide on that one." His whisper forms a strange tugging in my heart, but before I can reply, or say anything at all, he guides me to the winding branches of the willow tree and sits down. He pats the ground next to him lightly.
"Sit," he commands. "I think we have one other thing to talk about." So I do. I remove my sword from my belt and lay it on the ground next to me, the hilt gleaming with the summery hues of green and yellow. Soren plays absently with his magic in his fingers: a revolving ball of black shadowy mass turning over in his hands. Like a void, I think, watching the magic spin and dance between the loops of his fingers. The coldness of the shadows seeps into my skin, sucking in the warmth around me. I draw up my own magic: the golden gleaming sparks of light that swirl on the tips of my fingers. Magic that I can trust, or used to. Soren nods his head in acknowledgement.
"That power of yours is an interesting one. It is like mine." he says softly, bringing his hand close to mine so that the light and dark wisps begin to swirl in tandem. A jolt runs through me.
"Like yours?" I ask, and he inclines his head.
"You see," he says, waving his other hand, and a book materialises in my lap. I peer at the title:
The five souls of power
My stomach drops. My eyes widen. Panic begins to flicker through my blood, scooping my up in its terrible embrace.
"Hush now," he soothes softly upon seeing my reaction, bringing a hand to rub my back in perfect mockery of how I had him, allowing the tension in my body to ease- if only slightly. "I am not here to accuse you."
I gulp. Facing down the book on his lap, that is quickly getting harder and harder to believe.
"I believe you came across this book in the library, did you not, Serena darling?" My mouth goes dry. This is bad. Very bad. I trace my fingers over the gold embroidered letters, and brace myself.
"Now, to be honest, I am a bit surprised you came across that book in the first place, since it is supposed to be in my personal collection. But since you did find it, it is fortunate that it will make things much easier to explain." With a motion of his finger, the book flicks open to the first chapter, one I hadn't bothered to read properly, aside from a quick glance over.
"Your friend, unfortunately, realised a little too late the exact significance of this book. And its relevance to you." he adds, lowering his voice menacingly, eyes flashing a dark red with anger. "I hoped for this reason he would refrain from letting you run free on the day of the execution, but apparently not. No matter, I shall deal with him later." he growls under his breath and the shadowy wisps in his hand plummet to the ground in dagger-like shots with a heavy thud. I make a mental note to remind Ithuriel not to cross paths with Soren again.
"So, uh, what are your powers, then? I thought you said you were a shadowspeaker?" I ask tentatively, desperate to draw the subject away from my best friend. A cold wind blows up, and the leaves of the willow spiral downwards in a flurry of spikes. Soren purses his lips.
"I am a shadowspeaker, that is an element of my power, but my powers are far greater than simply manipulating the shadows to my will."
"So you lied to me about your powers?"
A pause. Then:
"Yes." I cross my arms.
Of course, I should have known never to trust a vampire.
"So what are your powers then?" I ask now, leaning around to face him, encaptivated by the gentle molten glow of his eyes. He smirks wilfully and taps the book with his forefinger, drawing my attention back.
"I am one of the five souls of power. By my knowledge, you were already trying to learn about one of them." He gives me a knowing look. I gulp. True, I had read about the mind soul- but only with the intent of trying to stop Azrael from using his powers on me. I had never meant anything malicious by it, but from Soren's perspective, I can see why he might be suspicious. A tugging pulls at my heart, searching prodding for answers. It is Soren's magic, of course, but even if I wanted to, there is little I could do to stop him. His body stiffens suddenly.
"Fascinating. Of course, you don't know about the souls, do you?" he asks, with a disbelieving laugh, and I shake my head, embarrassed for some reason. He brings his hand up to my heart, hovering over me.
"Then before I tell you about your role in this, allow me to tell you a story." He grins devilishly as a shock wave causes through my body, and blackness creeps over the edges of my vision, hungry and consuming, worming its way into the light of my vision and infecting it with a devouring emptiness. I hear Soren's laugh as I begin to fall backwards.
"Don't worry little dove, I won't do anything scandalous until you wake up." I have just enough time to shoot him a vulgar gesture before the blackness consumes me.
Then, I begin to dream.
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Silence lingers between us once more as we recline by the roses, wavering in the air and lingering densely in my ears, too uncomfortable, too heavy. I shift awkwardly.
Soren, however, in his usual lax and nonchalant attitude, seems entirely unbothered by it, leaning back with his hands behind his head, hair blowing up around him in a way that, had I the talent, I might have considered painting him- but even that wouldn't do justice to such a mesmerising scene.
He broods for a moment, listening to the trees blow up around us, closing his eyes and murmuring something on the base of his lips that my eyes are too unfocused to make out. The fairy on the lake has stopped dancing, instead returning to glean over the lilies floating in the centre of the pond. She does not seem to notice the dark shadows that fall over the lake. Hesitantly, I close my hand over Soren's.
"Please don't be angry at my companion. He was just doing his best." I urge, running my thumb over the top of his hand soothingly the way Ithuriel always did when I was younger, whenever sadness consumed me after failing divinist practise, or after being shot down by the council at my pleadings to be let outside our borders.
Soren stares at my hand over his, lips parted, eyes trained over the motion off my thumb tracing over his skin absently, quelling the anger inside him. The shadows enveloping the land recede a few paces.
"Although he failed so terribly well, do you know why I told your friend not to let you out?" he asks at last, letting my hand cover his own now. I look up at him, biting my cheek in silent questioning as I ponder for a moment.
"Because you didn't want me to see you execute someone? Didn't want to expose me to your..." My mind flickers back to the blood magic, and the gruesome fluidity of its nature. My gorge rises. "Your blood magic?" I offer, tentatively. It is probably not the right answer, knowing him, but it is the best one I can offer. A vampires reasoning and riddles are factors I do not pretend I to, or intend to, understand- and these past few days I have certainly had my belly's full of them. He nods slowly, chewing on his lip.
"Perhaps that too. But I think I can tell by now that I least of all people scare you, even if I were carrying out an execution. There is little of me you have not seen," he laughs, and then taps a finger to my nose. I blink, then stick out my tongue in response.
Of course, perfect Mr hedonistic vampire is right again. He gives an airy laugh as if knowing the words that run through my head and I let my shoulders drop slightly, thankful to lower the tense mood.
"You are about as scary as a puppy," I confirm, jumping up from the bench now and shooting another grin at him, holding my hands to my head to mimic dog ears and wrinkle my nose at him in a teasing mockery. He rolls his eyes.
"Lets see if that is still the case next time I start to lose control around you. If you wont reach for your sword to defend yourself. That is, if you are even around long enough to see it." Yet through the harshness of his words, there is a playfulness about them, a carefree vigour that tells me he is all to happy to allow for my taunting, and an undertone of playfulness that makes me grin with a beaming delight.
There is something entirely... addictive, about messing around with the Scarlet Prince.
He gets up slowly from the bench, his hips swaying suggestively as he glides towards me, circling around my body as though the wind itself was a tune in which to dance, and I the centre of a ballroom. He stops his circling in front of me and lifts my chin, looking me up and down with glowing umber eyes, flecked with the dark reds of love and lust. He wets his lips.
"I did not want you to come out because I feared that if you did, you would not hesitate to unleash hell unto my people. Trap them as you had me yesterday. And-" he hesitates, his throat bobbing. He removes his hand from my chin, curling his fingers into a loose fist. "And I would have let you do it,"
I peer at him curiously. What a strange vampire indeed. Only moments ago he was a monster, an executioner, a tyrant. A bringer of death, spiller of blood, the soul reason why the angels are afraid of the vampires. But this, I decide, placing a hand on his shoulder, is not like the hedonistic vampire I have grown to know at all. In fact, though my knowledge on love is limited, one might even call it a confession. A twisted, out of sorts, confession.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say you are besotted, Scarlet Prince." I murmur, lowering my gaze. He brings a hand down to toy lazily with my waist.
"Perhaps I am, or perhaps that is what I want you to believe," he grins wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans into me: "I will let you decide on that one." His whisper forms a strange tugging in my heart, but before I can reply, or say anything at all, he guides me to the winding branches of the willow tree and sits down. He pats the ground next to him lightly.
"Sit," he commands. "I think we have one other thing to talk about." So I do. I remove my sword from my belt and lay it on the ground next to me, the hilt gleaming with the summery hues of green and yellow. Soren plays absently with his magic in his fingers: a revolving ball of black shadowy mass turning over in his hands. Like a void, I think, watching the magic spin and dance between the loops of his fingers. The coldness of the shadows seeps into my skin, sucking in the warmth around me. I draw up my own magic: the golden gleaming sparks of light that swirl on the tips of my fingers. Magic that I can trust, or used to. Soren nods his head in acknowledgement.
"That power of yours is an interesting one. It is like mine." he says softly, bringing his hand close to mine so that the light and dark wisps begin to swirl in tandem. A jolt runs through me.
"Like yours?" I ask, and he inclines his head.
"You see," he says, waving his other hand, and a book materialises in my lap. I peer at the title:
The five souls of power
My stomach drops. My eyes widen. Panic begins to flicker through my blood, scooping my up in its terrible embrace.
"Hush now," he soothes softly upon seeing my reaction, bringing a hand to rub my back in perfect mockery of how I had him, allowing the tension in my body to ease- if only slightly. "I am not here to accuse you."
I gulp. Facing down the book on his lap, that is quickly getting harder and harder to believe.
"I believe you came across this book in the library, did you not, Serena darling?" My mouth goes dry. This is bad. Very bad. I trace my fingers over the gold embroidered letters, and brace myself.
"Now, to be honest, I am a bit surprised you came across that book in the first place, since it is supposed to be in my personal collection. But since you did find it, it is fortunate that it will make things much easier to explain." With a motion of his finger, the book flicks open to the first chapter, one I hadn't bothered to read properly, aside from a quick glance over.
"Your friend, unfortunately, realised a little too late the exact significance of this book. And its relevance to you." he adds, lowering his voice menacingly, eyes flashing a dark red with anger. "I hoped for this reason he would refrain from letting you run free on the day of the execution, but apparently not. No matter, I shall deal with him later." he growls under his breath and the shadowy wisps in his hand plummet to the ground in dagger-like shots with a heavy thud. I make a mental note to remind Ithuriel not to cross paths with Soren again.
"So, uh, what are your powers, then? I thought you said you were a shadowspeaker?" I ask tentatively, desperate to draw the subject away from my best friend. A cold wind blows up, and the leaves of the willow spiral downwards in a flurry of spikes. Soren purses his lips.
"I am a shadowspeaker, that is an element of my power, but my powers are far greater than simply manipulating the shadows to my will."
"So you lied to me about your powers?"
A pause. Then:
"Yes." I cross my arms.
Of course, I should have known never to trust a vampire.
"So what are your powers then?" I ask now, leaning around to face him, encaptivated by the gentle molten glow of his eyes. He smirks wilfully and taps the book with his forefinger, drawing my attention back.
"I am one of the five souls of power. By my knowledge, you were already trying to learn about one of them." He gives me a knowing look. I gulp. True, I had read about the mind soul- but only with the intent of trying to stop Azrael from using his powers on me. I had never meant anything malicious by it, but from Soren's perspective, I can see why he might be suspicious. A tugging pulls at my heart, searching prodding for answers. It is Soren's magic, of course, but even if I wanted to, there is little I could do to stop him. His body stiffens suddenly.
"Fascinating. Of course, you don't know about the souls, do you?" he asks, with a disbelieving laugh, and I shake my head, embarrassed for some reason. He brings his hand up to my heart, hovering over me.
"Then before I tell you about your role in this, allow me to tell you a story." He grins devilishly as a shock wave causes through my body, and blackness creeps over the edges of my vision, hungry and consuming, worming its way into the light of my vision and infecting it with a devouring emptiness. I hear Soren's laugh as I begin to fall backwards.
"Don't worry little dove, I won't do anything scandalous until you wake up." I have just enough time to shoot him a vulgar gesture before the blackness consumes me.
Then, I begin to dream.
Silence lingers between us once more as we recline by the roses, wavering in the air and lingering densely in my ears, too uncomfortable, too heavy. I shift awkwardly.Soren, however, in his usual lax and nonchalant attitude, seems entirely unbothered by it, leaning back with his hands behind his head, hair blowing up around him in a way that, had I the talent, I might have considered painting him- but even that wouldn't do justice to such a mesmerising scene.He broods for a moment, listening to the trees blow up around us, closing his eyes and murmuring something on the base of his lips that my eyes are too unfocused to make out. The fairy on the lake has stopped dancing, instead returning to glean over the lilies floating in the centre of the pond. She does not seem to notice the dark shadows that fall over the lake. Hesitantly, I close my hand over Soren's."Please don't be angry at my companion. He was just doing his best." I urge, running my thumb over the top of his hand soothingly the way Ithuriel always did when I was younger, whenever sadness consumed me after failing divinist practise, or after being shot down by the council at my pleadings to be let outside our borders.Soren stares at my hand over his, lips parted, eyes trained over the motion off my thumb tracing over his skin absently, quelling the anger inside him. The shadows enveloping the land recede a few paces."Although he failed so terribly well, do you know why I told your friend not to let you out?" he asks at last, letting my hand cover his own now. I look up at him, biting my cheek in silent questioning as I ponder for a moment."Because you didn't want me to see you execute someone? Didn't want to expose me to your..." My mind flickers back to the blood magic, and the gruesome fluidity of its nature. My gorge rises. "Your blood magic?" I offer, tentatively. It is probably not the right answer, knowing him, but it is the best one I can offer. A vampires reasoning and riddles are factors I do not pretend I to, or intend to, understand- and these past few days I have certainly had my belly's full of them. He nods slowly, chewing on his lip."Perhaps that too. But I think I can tell by now that I least of all people scare you, even if I were carrying out an execution. There is little of me you have not seen," he laughs, and then taps a finger to my nose. I blink, then stick out my tongue in response.Of course, perfect Mr hedonistic vampire is right again. He gives an airy laugh as if knowing the words that run through my head and I let my shoulders drop slightly, thankful to lower the tense mood."You are about as scary as a puppy," I confirm, jumping up from the bench now and shooting another grin at him, holding my hands to my head to mimic dog ears and wrinkle my nose at him in a teasing mockery. He rolls his eyes."Lets see if that is still the case next time I start to lose control around you. If you wont reach for your sword to defend yourself. That is, if you are even around long enough to see it." Yet through the harshness of his words, there is a playfulness about them, a carefree vigour that tells me he is all to happy to allow for my taunting, and an undertone of playfulness that makes me grin with a beaming delight.There is something entirely...addictive, about messing around with the Scarlet Prince.He gets up slowly from the bench, his hips swaying suggestively as he glides towards me, circling around my body as though the wind itself was a tune in which to dance, and I the centre of a ballroom. He stops his circling in front of me and lifts my chin, looking me up and down with glowing umber eyes, flecked with the dark reds of love and lust. He wets his lips."I did not want you to come out because I feared that if you did, you would not hesitate to unleash hell unto my people. Trap them as you had me yesterday. And-" he hesitates, his throat bobbing. He removes his hand from my chin, curling his fingers into a loose fist. "And I would have let you do it,"I peer at him curiously. What a strange vampire indeed. Only moments ago he was a monster, an executioner, a tyrant. A bringer of death, spiller of blood, the soul reason why the angels are afraid of the vampires. But this, I decide, placing a hand on his shoulder, is not like the hedonistic vampire I have grown to know at all. In fact, though my knowledge on love is limited, one might even call it a confession. A twisted, out of sorts, confession."If I didn't know any better, I would say you are besotted, Scarlet Prince." I murmur, lowering my gaze. He brings a hand down to toy lazily with my waist."Perhaps I am, or perhaps that is what I want you to believe," he grins wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans into me: "I will let you decide on that one." His whisper forms a strange tugging in my heart, but before I can reply, or say anything at all, he guides me to the winding branches of the willow tree and sits down. He pats the ground next to him lightly."Sit," he commands. "I think we have one other thing to talk about." So I do. I remove my sword from my belt and lay it on the ground next to me, the hilt gleaming with the summery hues of green and yellow. Soren plays absently with his magic in his fingers: a revolving ball of black shadowy mass turning over in his hands. Like a void, I think, watching the magic spin and dance between the loops of his fingers. The coldness of the shadows seeps into my skin, sucking in the warmth around me. I draw up my own magic: the golden gleaming sparks of light that swirl on the tips of my fingers. Magic that I can trust, or used to. Soren nods his head in acknowledgement."That power of yours is an interesting one. It is like mine." he says softly, bringing his hand close to mine so that the light and dark wisps begin to swirl in tandem. A jolt runs through me."Like yours?" I ask, and he inclines his head."You see," he says, waving his other hand, and a book materialises in my lap. I peer at the title:The five souls of powerMy stomach drops. My eyes widen. Panic begins to flicker through my blood, scooping my up in its terrible embrace."Hush now," he soothes softly upon seeing my reaction, bringing a hand to rub my back in perfect mockery of how I had him, allowing the tension in my body to ease- if only slightly. "I am not here to accuse you."I gulp. Facing down the book on his lap, that is quickly getting harder and harder to believe."I believe you came across this book in the library, did you not, Serena darling?" My mouth goes dry. This is bad. Very bad. I trace my fingers over the gold embroidered letters, and brace myself."Now, to be honest, I am a bit surprised you came across that book in the first place, since it is supposed to be in my personal collection. But since you did find it, it is fortunate that it will make things much easier to explain." With a motion of his finger, the book flicks open to the first chapter, one I hadn't bothered to read properly, aside from a quick glance over."Your friend, unfortunately, realised a little too late the exact significance of this book. And its relevance to you." he adds, lowering his voice menacingly, eyes flashing a dark red with anger. "I hoped for this reason he would refrain from letting you run free on the day of the execution, but apparently not. No matter, I shall deal with him later." he growls under his breath and the shadowy wisps in his hand plummet to the ground in dagger-like shots with a heavy thud. I make a mental note to remind Ithuriel not to cross paths with Soren again."So, uh, what are your powers, then? I thought you said you were a shadowspeaker?" I ask tentatively, desperate to draw the subject away from my best friend. A cold wind blows up, and the leaves of the willow spiral downwards in a flurry of spikes. Soren purses his lips."I am a shadowspeaker, that is an element of my power, but my powers are far greater than simply manipulating the shadows to my will.""So you lied to me about your powers?"A pause. Then:"Yes." I cross my arms.Of course, I should have known never to trust a vampire."So what are your powers then?" I ask now, leaning around to face him, encaptivated by the gentle molten glow of his eyes. He smirks wilfully and taps the book with his forefinger, drawing my attention back."I am one of the five souls of power. By my knowledge, you were already trying to learn about one of them." He gives me a knowing look. I gulp. True, I had read about the mind soul- but only with the intent of trying to stop Azrael from using his powers on me. I had never meant anything malicious by it, but from Soren's perspective, I can see why he might be suspicious. A tugging pulls at my heart, searching prodding for answers. It is Soren's magic, of course, but even if I wanted to, there is little I could do to stop him. His body stiffens suddenly."Fascinating. Of course, you don't know about the souls, do you?" he asks, with a disbelieving laugh, and I shake my head, embarrassed for some reason. He brings his hand up to my heart, hovering over me."Then before I tell you about your role in this, allow me to tell you a story." He grins devilishly as a shock wave causes through my body, and blackness creeps over the edges of my vision, hungry and consuming, worming its way into the light of my vision and infecting it with a devouring emptiness. I hear Soren's laugh as I begin to fall backwards."Don't worry little dove, I won't do anything scandalous until you wake up." I have just enough time to shoot him a vulgar gesture before the blackness consumes me.Then, I begin to dream.
