Chapter 62: 62
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Once upon a time, when the world of Faey was first realised, and the stars were mere twinkles among the vast expanse of the sky, there was a lone god who wandered the vast perimeters of the world, seeking his way through the lands to give purpose to life that flowed there. And every night he would leap from land to land, tree to tree, star to star, through river and sky, giving life to his creation with each touch of his immortal hand. To him, Faey was the picture of perfection: a land without discord, a slice of harmonious magnificence.
But at this time in the span of his immortal life, there were no other gods to bring solace to the ache inside him, for try and try as he might, no fairy, no elf nor nymph nor angel could alleviate the loneliness in his heart: the god was immortal, and in a world of death and decay, there was no place for a god.
So one night, when the moon was blazing bright red and singing with colour, and the Folk of Faey had gathered to sleep under the blanket of stars to sink into the quaint lull of sleep, the god ascended into the night and bestowed on the world his one final gift…
The god split his immortal soul into five equal pieces, scattering his power throughout the land so that they might find peace and happiness where he failed to do so. And as the god faded into the oblivion of shadows and darkness, he smiled contented, knowing that he finally could rest his wearied heart. The pieces of fragmented souls latched onto creatures of their choosing, dispersing far over Faey, from the depths of the icy oceans of Nithelir, to the heavenly skies of Illistrae, bringing with them a message that would lead Faey into a glorious future, or to its doom.
"By these souls ye Folk of Faey shall carry out my bidding, bound by the fate of the soul gifted upon you to create like, and to command it. Contained within you is a fragment of my power by which you shall maintain order and governance. You shall be the rulers of this new world, by shame, or by glory."
And indeed, the five souls ruled for generations to come, their powers brought light and guidance, protection and support. They formed clans and powerful alliances, organised the creature of Faey into the very system that is beloved to so many today. But as centuries passed, the knowledge of these souls began to be forgotten, and with the gradual, sullen passing of time, truth turned to legend. The duties they were left to the world crumpled under visions of war, and greed and the souls and the god soon became little more than a distant memory. Only the few souls who kept the will of the lonesome god close in their hearts sustained the power of his bidding. The rest of the souls faded from all cognition.
But these souls, although dormant, continued to pass through the world. By the death of its owner, it would pass to another host of its choosing- one deserving of its power. Many lived their whole lives without realisations of their power, others- the curious and the wanders, sought the calling they felt within their hearts and reignited their potential to govern Faey as the god once wished. To this day, the five souls continue to roam the earth, bound to a fate to which they will forever serve:
The soul of the mind
The soul of the body
The soul of heaven
The soul of hell
The soul of death
***
When I wake up it doesn't take me long to realise that I am not in the place I fell asleep- long gone are the grassy plains and the wintry chill of the outside world, and the subtle scent of roses that lingers on the breeze like a fine mist. In fact, it takes approximately 2 seconds for my eyes to reach Soren's rigid body pressed tightly into the corner of the darkened room, his eyes burning a lusty red, to realise precisely what has happened. Out of pure instinct, I reach for my sword, grasping thin air with the vain, futile effort of a weaver trying to grasp a lifeline of thread through an impossibly small needle. My fingers clutch empty air. It's not there. My heart plummets sickeningly it my chest.
It's not there.
Well of course it's not, you idiot, I think to myself angrily, grinding my teeth with a bitter resentful loathing. You took it off.
Instinctively, I reach my hand out to grip something, anything, to vent my frustration. That thing happens to be the side of the chair I am sitting on. Steadily, whilst attempting to keep my face a mask of calm over the bubbling dread that simmers under my skin, I draw my gaze back to Soren.
Soren looks mad, livid even, his entire body stiff, as though tensing every muscle in an effort not to move- or lunge, in my general direction. His jaw is set, mouth partially ajar, just enough that I can see he sharp canines flash behind his lips as he wets his lips with a slow trepidation. I gulp, and grip my chair tighter. Granted, if it came to fighting of Soren- not that I particularly want to, a chair wouldn't be very practical, but at least it isn't nothing.
Slowly, I breath a long, steady breath out. Serena, Serena, I think heavily to myself. You took your sword off in a palace full of vampires. Could you be any more stupid?
Soren's words echo in my head:
'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.'
I had tried to reach my sword. But not out of fear, out of instinct. But I suppose in Soren's eyes, as he watches, listening to my heart rise with a panicked confusion, that already was enough to sate his prediction.
Slowly, I turn on him.
"So," I say, as casually as I can, licking my lips to sate the new dryness that has taken hold of my mouth. "What happened to not doing anything scandalous?" Soren merely shrugs, his eyes glowering through his dark, sooty lashes.
"I suggest you tell that to your friend," he simply replies, removing himself from the corner to come and perch on the couch opposite me. It is apparent as he does so, that the darkness that haunts to room is not of a natural natural existence. It trails in the wake of his step- under his thick black boots, clawing, gnashing and feeding at the light of the floating lanterns above our head, dimming them to a sickly glimmer.
It takes me a full minute to realise through the blanket of impenetrable darkness that we are actually in his living room- the one behind the bookcase- yet somehow it looks entirely different, as though enveloped by a blanket of black silk of satin, transformed to a void of darkness. The familiar frustrated patter of clawed nails upon the silken couches eases me back into reality.
"My… friend?" I ask, picking my words carefully, partly fearful that if I move to quickly or perhaps speak too fast, it will set off the predator that was brewing behind his molten eyes. It would only take a second for his claws to reach my throat- if that is if he sees it fit. He inclines his head, ram horns lowering.
"Your friend, that little… fox," he starts, grinning slightly to himself at the memory of it, "he found you dreaming, lying on the ground, your sword by your side, and naturally, he thought I killed you. Of course," he continues, his eyes glittering hungrily as he watches me, "This all made me rather… irate." I clutch onto the side of my chair tighter, nails sinking into the pillowy fabric, tethering me into place. The room darkens further, plunging me into a shadowy turmoil. The lanterns sway, sinking further and further into the black abyss surrounding him, and a frigid cold begins to set into my skin, picking away at my flesh.
To think he was so gentle moments ago, so peaceful, so calm, and now… Now he is the epitome of darkness and despair, the disdainful reality of his being, a creature without heart or mercy, able to snap from one mood to another in an instant. He truly is a monster. A ruthless, unpredictable monster.
"And what did you do?" I ask, my voice barely more than I whisper now. Yet, there is no fear in it. Only a dangerous... curiosity. Soren leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to face me.
"I debated killing him," he says in a manner that one might debate buying ice cream from the nearby vendor-ponderous and almost light-hearted. Not particularly the manner in which someone should be debating killing someone at all. As though, by his standards, it is all some game.
Everything is a game for the Scarlet Prince.
"But of course," he continues, smirking at the brief look of panic that sets on my face. "You wouldn't be very pleased with that,"
I snort.
"Wow, I can't believe you actually took my feelings into account for once. What a gentleman." I snicker, and roll my eyes. I hope the heavens that he doesn't hear the quickened tempo of my heart thrumming in my chest, spurred by the reckless danger of the situation.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Not from fear.. But a wicked exhilaration.
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Once upon a time, when the world of Faey was first realised, and the stars were mere twinkles among the vast expanse of the sky, there was a lone god who wandered the vast perimeters of the world, seeking his way through the lands to give purpose to life that flowed there. And every night he would leap from land to land, tree to tree, star to star, through river and sky, giving life to his creation with each touch of his immortal hand. To him, Faey was the picture of perfection: a land without discord, a slice of harmonious magnificence.
But at this time in the span of his immortal life, there were no other gods to bring solace to the ache inside him, for try and try as he might, no fairy, no elf nor nymph nor angel could alleviate the loneliness in his heart: the god was immortal, and in a world of death and decay, there was no place for a god.
So one night, when the moon was blazing bright red and singing with colour, and the Folk of Faey had gathered to sleep under the blanket of stars to sink into the quaint lull of sleep, the god ascended into the night and bestowed on the world his one final gift…
The god split his immortal soul into five equal pieces, scattering his power throughout the land so that they might find peace and happiness where he failed to do so. And as the god faded into the oblivion of shadows and darkness, he smiled contented, knowing that he finally could rest his wearied heart. The pieces of fragmented souls latched onto creatures of their choosing, dispersing far over Faey, from the depths of the icy oceans of Nithelir, to the heavenly skies of Illistrae, bringing with them a message that would lead Faey into a glorious future, or to its doom.
"By these souls ye Folk of Faey shall carry out my bidding, bound by the fate of the soul gifted upon you to create like, and to command it. Contained within you is a fragment of my power by which you shall maintain order and governance. You shall be the rulers of this new world, by shame, or by glory."
And indeed, the five souls ruled for generations to come, their powers brought light and guidance, protection and support. They formed clans and powerful alliances, organised the creature of Faey into the very system that is beloved to so many today. But as centuries passed, the knowledge of these souls began to be forgotten, and with the gradual, sullen passing of time, truth turned to legend. The duties they were left to the world crumpled under visions of war, and greed and the souls and the god soon became little more than a distant memory. Only the few souls who kept the will of the lonesome god close in their hearts sustained the power of his bidding. The rest of the souls faded from all cognition.
But these souls, although dormant, continued to pass through the world. By the death of its owner, it would pass to another host of its choosing- one deserving of its power. Many lived their whole lives without realisations of their power, others- the curious and the wanders, sought the calling they felt within their hearts and reignited their potential to govern Faey as the god once wished. To this day, the five souls continue to roam the earth, bound to a fate to which they will forever serve:
The soul of the mind
The soul of the body
The soul of heaven
The soul of hell
The soul of death
***
When I wake up it doesn't take me long to realise that I am not in the place I fell asleep- long gone are the grassy plains and the wintry chill of the outside world, and the subtle scent of roses that lingers on the breeze like a fine mist. In fact, it takes approximately 2 seconds for my eyes to reach Soren's rigid body pressed tightly into the corner of the darkened room, his eyes burning a lusty red, to realise precisely what has happened. Out of pure instinct, I reach for my sword, grasping thin air with the vain, futile effort of a weaver trying to grasp a lifeline of thread through an impossibly small needle. My fingers clutch empty air. It's not there. My heart plummets sickeningly it my chest.
It's not there.
Well of course it's not, you idiot, I think to myself angrily, grinding my teeth with a bitter resentful loathing. You took it off.
Instinctively, I reach my hand out to grip something, anything, to vent my frustration. That thing happens to be the side of the chair I am sitting on. Steadily, whilst attempting to keep my face a mask of calm over the bubbling dread that simmers under my skin, I draw my gaze back to Soren.
Soren looks mad, livid even, his entire body stiff, as though tensing every muscle in an effort not to move- or lunge, in my general direction. His jaw is set, mouth partially ajar, just enough that I can see he sharp canines flash behind his lips as he wets his lips with a slow trepidation. I gulp, and grip my chair tighter. Granted, if it came to fighting of Soren- not that I particularly want to, a chair wouldn't be very practical, but at least it isn't nothing.
Slowly, I breath a long, steady breath out. Serena, Serena, I think heavily to myself. You took your sword off in a palace full of vampires. Could you be any more stupid?
Soren's words echo in my head:
'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.'
I had tried to reach my sword. But not out of fear, out of instinct. But I suppose in Soren's eyes, as he watches, listening to my heart rise with a panicked confusion, that already was enough to sate his prediction.
Slowly, I turn on him.
"So," I say, as casually as I can, licking my lips to sate the new dryness that has taken hold of my mouth. "What happened to not doing anything scandalous?" Soren merely shrugs, his eyes glowering through his dark, sooty lashes.
"I suggest you tell that to your friend," he simply replies, removing himself from the corner to come and perch on the couch opposite me. It is apparent as he does so, that the darkness that haunts to room is not of a natural natural existence. It trails in the wake of his step- under his thick black boots, clawing, gnashing and feeding at the light of the floating lanterns above our head, dimming them to a sickly glimmer.
It takes me a full minute to realise through the blanket of impenetrable darkness that we are actually in his living room- the one behind the bookcase- yet somehow it looks entirely different, as though enveloped by a blanket of black silk of satin, transformed to a void of darkness. The familiar frustrated patter of clawed nails upon the silken couches eases me back into reality.
"My… friend?" I ask, picking my words carefully, partly fearful that if I move to quickly or perhaps speak too fast, it will set off the predator that was brewing behind his molten eyes. It would only take a second for his claws to reach my throat- if that is if he sees it fit. He inclines his head, ram horns lowering.
"Your friend, that little… fox," he starts, grinning slightly to himself at the memory of it, "he found you dreaming, lying on the ground, your sword by your side, and naturally, he thought I killed you. Of course," he continues, his eyes glittering hungrily as he watches me, "This all made me rather… irate." I clutch onto the side of my chair tighter, nails sinking into the pillowy fabric, tethering me into place. The room darkens further, plunging me into a shadowy turmoil. The lanterns sway, sinking further and further into the black abyss surrounding him, and a frigid cold begins to set into my skin, picking away at my flesh.
To think he was so gentle moments ago, so peaceful, so calm, and now… Now he is the epitome of darkness and despair, the disdainful reality of his being, a creature without heart or mercy, able to snap from one mood to another in an instant. He truly is a monster. A ruthless, unpredictable monster.
"And what did you do?" I ask, my voice barely more than I whisper now. Yet, there is no fear in it. Only a dangerous... curiosity. Soren leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to face me.
"I debated killing him," he says in a manner that one might debate buying ice cream from the nearby vendor-ponderous and almost light-hearted. Not particularly the manner in which someone should be debating killing someone at all. As though, by his standards, it is all some game.
Everything is a game for the Scarlet Prince.
"But of course," he continues, smirking at the brief look of panic that sets on my face. "You wouldn't be very pleased with that,"
I snort.
"Wow, I can't believe you actually took my feelings into account for once. What a gentleman." I snicker, and roll my eyes. I hope the heavens that he doesn't hear the quickened tempo of my heart thrumming in my chest, spurred by the reckless danger of the situation.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Not from fear.. But a wicked exhilaration.
Once upon a time, when the world of Faey was first realised, and the stars were mere twinkles among the vast expanse of the sky, there was a lone god who wandered the vast perimeters of the world, seeking his way through the lands to give purpose to life that flowed there. And every night he would leap from land to land, tree to tree, star to star, through river and sky, giving life to his creation with each touch of his immortal hand. To him, Faey was the picture of perfection: a land without discord, a slice of harmonious magnificence.But at this time in the span of his immortal life, there were no other gods to bring solace to the ache inside him, for try and try as he might, no fairy, no elf nor nymph nor angel could alleviate the loneliness in his heart: the god was immortal, and in a world of death and decay, there was no place for a god.So one night, when the moon was blazing bright red and singing with colour, and the Folk of Faey had gathered to sleep under the blanket of stars to sink into the quaint lull of sleep, the god ascended into the night and bestowed on the world his one final giftThe god split his immortal soul into five equal pieces, scattering his power throughout the land so that they might find peace and happiness where he failed to do so. And as the god faded into the oblivion of shadows and darkness, he smiled contented, knowing that he finally could rest his wearied heart. The pieces of fragmented souls latched onto creatures of their choosing, dispersing far over Faey, from the depths of the icy oceans of Nithelir, to the heavenly skies of Illistrae, bringing with them a message that would lead Faey into a glorious future, or to its doom."By these souls ye Folk of Faey shall carry out my bidding, bound by the fate of the soul gifted upon you to create like, and to command it. Contained within you is a fragment of my power by which you shall maintain order and governance. You shall be the rulers of this new world, by shame, or by glory."And indeed, the five souls ruled for generations to come, their powers brought light and guidance, protection and support. They formed clans and powerful alliances, organised the creature of Faey into the very system that is beloved to so many today. But as centuries passed, the knowledge of these souls began to be forgotten, and with the gradual, sullen passing of time, truth turned to legend. The duties they were left to the world crumpled under visions of war, and greed and the souls and the god soon became little more than a distant memory. Only the few souls who kept the will of the lonesome god close in their hearts sustained the power of his bidding. The rest of the souls faded from all cognition. But these souls, although dormant, continued to pass through the world. By the death of its owner, it would pass to another host of its choosing- one deserving of its power. Many lived their whole lives without realisations of their power, others- the curious and the wanders, sought the calling they felt within their hearts and reignited their potential to govern Faey as the god once wished. To this day, the five souls continue to roam the earth, bound to a fate to which they will forever serve:The soul of the mindThe soul of the bodyThe soul of heavenThe soul of hellThe soul of death***When I wake up it doesn't take me long to realise that I am not in the place I fell asleep- long gone are the grassy plains and the wintry chill of the outside world, and the subtle scent of roses that lingers on the breeze like a fine mist. In fact, it takes approximately 2 seconds for my eyes to reach Soren's rigid body pressed tightly into the corner of the darkened room, his eyes burning a lusty red, to realise precisely what has happened. Out of pure instinct, I reach for my sword, grasping thin air with the vain, futile effort of a weaver trying to grasp a lifeline of thread through an impossibly small needle. My fingers clutch empty air. It's not there. My heart plummets sickeningly it my chest. It's not there. Well of course it's not, you idiot, I think to myself angrily, grinding my teeth with a bitter resentful loathing. You took it off. Instinctively, I reach my hand out to grip something, anything, to vent my frustration. That thing happens to be the side of the chair I am sitting on. Steadily, whilst attempting to keep my face a mask of calm over the bubbling dread that simmers under my skin, I draw my gaze back to Soren.Soren looks mad, livid even, his entire body stiff, as though tensing every muscle in an effort not to move- or lunge, in my general direction. His jaw is set, mouth partially ajar, just enough that I can see he sharp canines flash behind his lips as he wets his lips with a slow trepidation. I gulp, and grip my chair tighter. Granted, if it came to fighting of Soren- not that I particularly want to, a chair wouldn't be very practical, but at least it isn't nothing. Slowly, I breath a long, steady breath out. Serena, Serena, I think heavily to myself. You took your sword off in a palace full of vampires. Could you be any more stupid?Soren's words echo in my head:'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.'I had tried to reach my sword. But not out of fear, out of instinct. But I suppose in Soren's eyes, as he watches, listening to my heart rise with a panicked confusion, that already was enough to sate his prediction.Slowly, I turn on him."So," I say, as casually as I can, licking my lips to sate the new dryness that has taken hold of my mouth. "What happened to not doing anything scandalous?" Soren merely shrugs, his eyes glowering through his dark, sooty lashes."I suggest you tell that to your friend," he simply replies, removing himself from the corner to come and perch on the couch opposite me. It is apparent as he does so, that the darkness that haunts to room is not of a natural natural existence. It trails in the wake of his step- under his thick black boots, clawing, gnashing and feeding at the light of the floating lanterns above our head, dimming them to a sickly glimmer.It takes me a full minute to realise through the blanket of impenetrable darkness that we are actually in his living room- the one behind the bookcase- yet somehow it looks entirely different, as though enveloped by a blanket of black silk of satin, transformed to a void of darkness. The familiar frustrated patter of clawed nails upon the silken couches eases me back into reality."My friend?" I ask, picking my words carefully, partly fearful that if I move to quickly or perhaps speak too fast, it will set off the predator that was brewing behind his molten eyes. It would only take a second for his claws to reach my throat- if that is if he sees it fit. He inclines his head, ram horns lowering."Your friend, that little fox," he starts, grinning slightly to himself at the memory of it, "he found you dreaming, lying on the ground, your sword by your side, and naturally, he thought I killed you. Of course," he continues, his eyes glittering hungrily as he watches me, "This all made me rather irate." I clutch onto the side of my chair tighter, nails sinking into the pillowy fabric, tethering me into place. The room darkens further, plunging me into a shadowy turmoil. The lanterns sway, sinking further and further into the black abyss surrounding him, and a frigid cold begins to set into my skin, picking away at my flesh. To think he was so gentle moments ago, so peaceful, so calm, and now Now he is the epitome of darkness and despair, the disdainful reality of his being, a creature without heart or mercy, able to snap from one mood to another in an instant. He truly is a monster. A ruthless, unpredictable monster. "And what did you do?" I ask, my voice barely more than I whisper now. Yet, there is no fear in it. Only a dangerous... curiosity. Soren leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to face me."I debated killing him," he says in a manner that one might debate buying ice cream from the nearby vendor-ponderous and almost light-hearted. Not particularly the manner in which someone should be debating killing someone at all. As though, by his standards, it is all some game.Everything is a game for the Scarlet Prince. "But of course," he continues, smirking at the brief look of panic that sets on my face. "You wouldn't be very pleased with that,"I snort."Wow, I can't believe you actually took my feelings into account for once. What a gentleman." I snicker, and roll my eyes. I hope the heavens that he doesn't hear the quickened tempo of my heart thrumming in my chest, spurred by the reckless danger of the situation.Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.Not from fear.. But a wicked exhilaration.
