Chapter 92: 92
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"So," I start, grinding my teeth nervously as I flick a finger over to the candle whose flame has since burnt low, causing a spark to flare back into life on top of the tall pillar of wax, shimmering in the stagnant, breathless air of the wintry room, devoid of heat and beating life.
"Considering I have a heart that is still very much beating, this might be a problem. There is no way in hell I will be able to get into that maze and not be detected," I admit, clacking my nails against the wood with languid frustration. Fangorn nods in agreement, looking again over the circle his fingers trace in idle spirals as though the revelation in itself was not new to him.
"I may have something to help you there, but I shall inform you briefly of the other tiers before I get into anything technical," he promises, raising his ruby red eyes that glimmer in the faint half light of the room, watching for signs of my affirmation with a look of critical judgement that seems so befitting for a general. Offering him a slight nod, I fidget in the seat of my chair, suddenly feeling restless in the entombment of my seat, anxious to be moving- the hopeless restlessness of an angel who was trained for fighting, not for sitting around. Flexing my fingers out in a vain effort to bring circulation to my body, I tap on the second circle in the series that have been etched onto the paper. The sharp noise against the silence of the room is deafening.
"And the second tier? I assume this would have been formed by one of the princes? Azrael, perhaps?" I say, hedging my bets on the most likely alternative. Fangorn murmurs in response, dipping his quill back into an inkpot before signing off the second circle with a comically large 'A'.
"You would be correct, your initiative is strong, my Queen. Azrael did indeed have a hand in designing this section of the labyrinth, though it was only much later in his life. There was never anything truly remarkable about that boy as a child. His powers seemingly flourished one day and then overnight he became one of the most powerful vampires in Faey- one of the most sybaritic too," he says, lowering his eyes to me to stare down his long, straight nose, offering me a knowing look. A faint shudder runs through me at the thought.
Of course I know why.
Azrael's powers- those of the mind soul, are unpredictable and wild. What's more, while Soren's power's are more volatile, focusing on the physical side of magic (aside from his ability to see into the desires of peoples hearts), Azrael's talent lies purely in the mind, and his capability to mess with it. Somehow, the thought of that alone makes him far more terrifying.
Of course, I myself have never fully been victim of such a terrifying ordeal, and have never in my time in the palace suffered in the way many of his prey most likely have done- having their mind torn apart inch by inch, striped bare of its secrets and willpower until all that's left is a throthing pile of submissive slaves. No, I have never found myself at that point. Perhaps out of pure luck, or maybe it has something to do with the blood necklace that lies between the swell of my breasts, pulsing and throbbing in the dim gloom of the shadows, swirling with an ominous glow that I never really understood the source of.
And then something else occurs to me, something that I had pushed from the depths of my mind for a little too long.
"Fangorn, Azrael has a soul. Soren he... he didn't know, so I thought perhaps you wouldn't either...?"
Fangorn stiffens a little, as though his whole body has suddenly been hit by a jolt of electricity, the shock of which has frozen him in place like a pillar of hard, unmoving stone. The whole room falls into a deathly silence. Not so much as a whisper can be heard flitting around the darkened confines of the study; there is no noise, no sound, just the sudden emptiness of the air between us, and a wavering cry of unspoken thoughts. I fight off the urge to shudder. There is no judgement when he narrows his eyes at me, but a certain questioning look that presses upon me as he lowers his voice against the silence of the room to say:
"You are certain it is a soul?"
I nod my head with absoluteness.
"One hundred percent."
A troubled look darkens in his features. Fangorn brings up a hand to stroke the light stubble on his chin, a practised look, one in which he has likely performed out of habit several times over. His eyes train on the candle light, as if the flickering flame might offer him the answers he needs. But no such answers seem to come.
"What else do you know of him?"
"I-" I stop myself short, pursing my lips at the remembrance of my dream like vision, suddenly feeling very cold, and very sick. Screams arises in the blackened depths of my mind. I let lose an involuntary wince.
"I had a vision, of a corridor, deep underground. There was a door, screaming, and Azrael- he was with the eternal flame-"
Fangorn motions me to pause with a raise of his hand, and I slip into an obedient silence. No noise can be heard outside the room, and I wonder with a strange but fleeting though whether the other two may be listening outside the door. In all honesty, it is probably better if they did- it would save an awful lot of explaining later down the line. But whether the other two happen to be listening or not, he doesn't seem to care, his leg shaking a little up and down, the motion of which can surely not be from the cold.
"Soren must be informed of this," he says, although to himself or to me I cannot tell. A nervous pit begins to form, toiling in the bottoms of my stomach.
"Perhaps Azrael could be a late comer to the soul business? Soren could be wrong-"
Once again Fangorn cuts me off sharply.
"No, Serena. Soren is not wrong- he rarely is. Azrael never had a soul. Although it is ancient magic, it is always very clear who has the magic of the soul dormant within their veins. It's hugely powerful. I am sure Soren sensed it from you the very minute he met you. However Azrael acquired a soul, it was not done by the usual means. He is not the mind soul's true reincarnate."
For a moment, I sit in silence, letting the information sink in. Outside the room, a faint little gasp can be heard, followed by the clapping of hand against a mouth, the rustlings of which Fangorn blatantly ignores. And so, in true vampire like fashion, I do too.
"I guess that's another problem I have to deal with. Rest assured, I shall inform Soren- although I get the feeling he might already be dealing with it himself," I add, recalling with a slight wince the look of realisation that had blanketed Soren's face not an hour before. The words he had uttered me were not ones I could put away to forget so easily, no matter how much I might like to. Taking a steady breath, allowing my eyes to flutter shut for a moment, I lean back into my seat, letting the coolness of the frame ground me to reality.
One thing at a time, Serena.
"For now, however, I would like to focus on finding the flame. I can deal with Azrael's soul, I have potions against him, and my necklace seems to have some magical workings too. So, I assume his part of the maze is going to be based around mental types of magic?" I inquire, finally rising from my seat to allow myself to pace from end to end of the room, the unrelenting feeling of claustrophobia setting in from the cosy confines of Fangorn's study- a little too cosy if you ask me. Besides that, all this talk about Azrael is making me queasy, not to mention my recent encounters with him haven't exactly been reassuring. I need to work of some steam, and if that came in the form of pacing, so be it.
It is strange, I think, running my index finger over the rows of books adorning the bookshelf on the wall opposite the door while Fangorn observes me with a keen and unbridled interest, sometimes I cannot tell whether Azrael is trying to make himself a threat or a friend. His actions are muddled, confusing at best, the pure epitome of a vampire's treacherous games. Yet whatever business he holds with the flame cannot be a reasonable one, the screams I heard down there alone are enough to set my mind reeling into chaos. Something is wrong here. Something big.
Perhaps, I add, biting my lip with a nervy disposition, this is even bigger than the flame.
A large sigh escapes my lips as I turn from the books, wiping the excessive grains of dust off my finger onto the side of my trousers- not very Queenly, but I am probably going to look a hell lot worse by the time I make it back out of the end. After being fully satisfied that I am settled and no longer deep in thought, Fangorn continues on gracefully, scanning his good eye over the paper.
"Yes, I would assume so. Although I was not around long enough to experience the full extent of his powers and also never presumed the boy contained a soul, from what I do know, I can promise you that taking him lightly would be an awfully grave mistake," he warns, voice sinking into a low, rough tenor as he arises from his seat, placing a hand either side of the table to balance himself, the muscles in his body rippling with an unforeseen tension. His jaw works.
"So you are telling me there is more to him than getting in my mind?"
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"So," I start, grinding my teeth nervously as I flick a finger over to the candle whose flame has since burnt low, causing a spark to flare back into life on top of the tall pillar of wax, shimmering in the stagnant, breathless air of the wintry room, devoid of heat and beating life.
"Considering I have a heart that is still very much beating, this might be a problem. There is no way in hell I will be able to get into that maze and not be detected," I admit, clacking my nails against the wood with languid frustration. Fangorn nods in agreement, looking again over the circle his fingers trace in idle spirals as though the revelation in itself was not new to him.
"I may have something to help you there, but I shall inform you briefly of the other tiers before I get into anything technical," he promises, raising his ruby red eyes that glimmer in the faint half light of the room, watching for signs of my affirmation with a look of critical judgement that seems so befitting for a general. Offering him a slight nod, I fidget in the seat of my chair, suddenly feeling restless in the entombment of my seat, anxious to be moving- the hopeless restlessness of an angel who was trained for fighting, not for sitting around. Flexing my fingers out in a vain effort to bring circulation to my body, I tap on the second circle in the series that have been etched onto the paper. The sharp noise against the silence of the room is deafening.
"And the second tier? I assume this would have been formed by one of the princes? Azrael, perhaps?" I say, hedging my bets on the most likely alternative. Fangorn murmurs in response, dipping his quill back into an inkpot before signing off the second circle with a comically large 'A'.
"You would be correct, your initiative is strong, my Queen. Azrael did indeed have a hand in designing this section of the labyrinth, though it was only much later in his life. There was never anything truly remarkable about that boy as a child. His powers seemingly flourished one day and then overnight he became one of the most powerful vampires in Faey- one of the most sybaritic too," he says, lowering his eyes to me to stare down his long, straight nose, offering me a knowing look. A faint shudder runs through me at the thought.
Of course I know why.
Azrael's powers- those of the mind soul, are unpredictable and wild. What's more, while Soren's power's are more volatile, focusing on the physical side of magic (aside from his ability to see into the desires of peoples hearts), Azrael's talent lies purely in the mind, and his capability to mess with it. Somehow, the thought of that alone makes him far more terrifying.
Of course, I myself have never fully been victim of such a terrifying ordeal, and have never in my time in the palace suffered in the way many of his prey most likely have done- having their mind torn apart inch by inch, striped bare of its secrets and willpower until all that's left is a throthing pile of submissive slaves. No, I have never found myself at that point. Perhaps out of pure luck, or maybe it has something to do with the blood necklace that lies between the swell of my breasts, pulsing and throbbing in the dim gloom of the shadows, swirling with an ominous glow that I never really understood the source of.
And then something else occurs to me, something that I had pushed from the depths of my mind for a little too long.
"Fangorn, Azrael has a soul. Soren he... he didn't know, so I thought perhaps you wouldn't either...?"
Fangorn stiffens a little, as though his whole body has suddenly been hit by a jolt of electricity, the shock of which has frozen him in place like a pillar of hard, unmoving stone. The whole room falls into a deathly silence. Not so much as a whisper can be heard flitting around the darkened confines of the study; there is no noise, no sound, just the sudden emptiness of the air between us, and a wavering cry of unspoken thoughts. I fight off the urge to shudder. There is no judgement when he narrows his eyes at me, but a certain questioning look that presses upon me as he lowers his voice against the silence of the room to say:
"You are certain it is a soul?"
I nod my head with absoluteness.
"One hundred percent."
A troubled look darkens in his features. Fangorn brings up a hand to stroke the light stubble on his chin, a practised look, one in which he has likely performed out of habit several times over. His eyes train on the candle light, as if the flickering flame might offer him the answers he needs. But no such answers seem to come.
"What else do you know of him?"
"I-" I stop myself short, pursing my lips at the remembrance of my dream like vision, suddenly feeling very cold, and very sick. Screams arises in the blackened depths of my mind. I let lose an involuntary wince.
"I had a vision, of a corridor, deep underground. There was a door, screaming, and Azrael- he was with the eternal flame-"
Fangorn motions me to pause with a raise of his hand, and I slip into an obedient silence. No noise can be heard outside the room, and I wonder with a strange but fleeting though whether the other two may be listening outside the door. In all honesty, it is probably better if they did- it would save an awful lot of explaining later down the line. But whether the other two happen to be listening or not, he doesn't seem to care, his leg shaking a little up and down, the motion of which can surely not be from the cold.
"Soren must be informed of this," he says, although to himself or to me I cannot tell. A nervous pit begins to form, toiling in the bottoms of my stomach.
"Perhaps Azrael could be a late comer to the soul business? Soren could be wrong-"
Once again Fangorn cuts me off sharply.
"No, Serena. Soren is not wrong- he rarely is. Azrael never had a soul. Although it is ancient magic, it is always very clear who has the magic of the soul dormant within their veins. It's hugely powerful. I am sure Soren sensed it from you the very minute he met you. However Azrael acquired a soul, it was not done by the usual means. He is not the mind soul's true reincarnate."
For a moment, I sit in silence, letting the information sink in. Outside the room, a faint little gasp can be heard, followed by the clapping of hand against a mouth, the rustlings of which Fangorn blatantly ignores. And so, in true vampire like fashion, I do too.
"I guess that's another problem I have to deal with. Rest assured, I shall inform Soren- although I get the feeling he might already be dealing with it himself," I add, recalling with a slight wince the look of realisation that had blanketed Soren's face not an hour before. The words he had uttered me were not ones I could put away to forget so easily, no matter how much I might like to. Taking a steady breath, allowing my eyes to flutter shut for a moment, I lean back into my seat, letting the coolness of the frame ground me to reality.
One thing at a time, Serena.
"For now, however, I would like to focus on finding the flame. I can deal with Azrael's soul, I have potions against him, and my necklace seems to have some magical workings too. So, I assume his part of the maze is going to be based around mental types of magic?" I inquire, finally rising from my seat to allow myself to pace from end to end of the room, the unrelenting feeling of claustrophobia setting in from the cosy confines of Fangorn's study- a little too cosy if you ask me. Besides that, all this talk about Azrael is making me queasy, not to mention my recent encounters with him haven't exactly been reassuring. I need to work of some steam, and if that came in the form of pacing, so be it.
It is strange, I think, running my index finger over the rows of books adorning the bookshelf on the wall opposite the door while Fangorn observes me with a keen and unbridled interest, sometimes I cannot tell whether Azrael is trying to make himself a threat or a friend. His actions are muddled, confusing at best, the pure epitome of a vampire's treacherous games. Yet whatever business he holds with the flame cannot be a reasonable one, the screams I heard down there alone are enough to set my mind reeling into chaos. Something is wrong here. Something big.
Perhaps, I add, biting my lip with a nervy disposition, this is even bigger than the flame.
A large sigh escapes my lips as I turn from the books, wiping the excessive grains of dust off my finger onto the side of my trousers- not very Queenly, but I am probably going to look a hell lot worse by the time I make it back out of the end. After being fully satisfied that I am settled and no longer deep in thought, Fangorn continues on gracefully, scanning his good eye over the paper.
"Yes, I would assume so. Although I was not around long enough to experience the full extent of his powers and also never presumed the boy contained a soul, from what I do know, I can promise you that taking him lightly would be an awfully grave mistake," he warns, voice sinking into a low, rough tenor as he arises from his seat, placing a hand either side of the table to balance himself, the muscles in his body rippling with an unforeseen tension. His jaw works.
"So you are telling me there is more to him than getting in my mind?"
"So," I start, grinding my teeth nervously as I flick a finger over to the candle whose flame has since burnt low, causing a spark to flare back into life on top of the tall pillar of wax, shimmering in the stagnant, breathless air of the wintry room, devoid of heat and beating life. "Considering I have a heart that is still very much beating, this might be a problem. There is no way in hell I will be able to get into that maze and not be detected," I admit, clacking my nails against the wood with languid frustration. Fangorn nods in agreement, looking again over the circle his fingers trace in idle spirals as though the revelation in itself was not new to him."I may have something to help you there, but I shall inform you briefly of the other tiers before I get into anything technical," he promises, raising his ruby red eyes that glimmer in the faint half light of the room, watching for signs of my affirmation with a look of critical judgement that seems so befitting for a general. Offering him a slight nod, I fidget in the seat of my chair, suddenly feeling restless in the entombment of my seat, anxious to be moving- the hopeless restlessness of an angel who was trained for fighting, not for sitting around. Flexing my fingers out in a vain effort to bring circulation to my body, I tap on the second circle in the series that have been etched onto the paper. The sharp noise against the silence of the room is deafening."And the second tier? I assume this would have been formed by one of the princes? Azrael, perhaps?" I say, hedging my bets on the most likely alternative. Fangorn murmurs in response, dipping his quill back into an inkpot before signing off the second circle with a comically large 'A'."You would be correct, your initiative is strong, my Queen. Azrael did indeed have a hand in designing this section of the labyrinth, though it was only much later in his life. There was never anything truly remarkable about that boy as a child. His powers seemingly flourished one day and then overnight he became one of the most powerful vampires in Faey- one of the most sybaritic too," he says, lowering his eyes to me to stare down his long, straight nose, offering me a knowing look. A faint shudder runs through me at the thought.Of course I know why. Azrael's powers- those of the mind soul, are unpredictable and wild. What's more, while Soren's power's are more volatile, focusing on the physical side of magic aside from his ability to see into the desires of peoples hearts, Azrael's talent lies purely in the mind, and his capability to mess with it. Somehow, the thought of that alone makes him far more terrifying.Of course, I myself have never fully been victim of such a terrifying ordeal, and have never in my time in the palace suffered in the way many of his prey most likely have done- having their mind torn apart inch by inch, striped bare of its secrets and willpower until all that's left is a throthing pile of submissive slaves. No, I have never found myself at that point. Perhaps out of pure luck, or maybe it has something to do with the blood necklace that lies between the swell of my breasts, pulsing and throbbing in the dim gloom of the shadows, swirling with an ominous glow that I never really understood the source of.And then something else occurs to me, something that I had pushed from the depths of my mind for a little too long."Fangorn, Azrael has a soul. Soren he... he didn't know, so I thought perhaps you wouldn't either...?"Fangorn stiffens a little, as though his whole body has suddenly been hit by a jolt of electricity, the shock of which has frozen him in place like a pillar of hard, unmoving stone. The whole room falls into a deathly silence. Not so much as a whisper can be heard flitting around the darkened confines of the study; there is no noise, no sound, just the sudden emptiness of the air between us, and a wavering cry of unspoken thoughts. I fight off the urge to shudder. There is no judgement when he narrows his eyes at me, but a certain questioning look that presses upon me as he lowers his voice against the silence of the room to say:"You are certain it is a soul?"I nod my head with absoluteness."One hundred percent."A troubled look darkens in his features. Fangorn brings up a hand to stroke the light stubble on his chin, a practised look, one in which he has likely performed out of habit several times over. His eyes train on the candle light, as if the flickering flame might offer him the answers he needs. But no such answers seem to come."What else do you know of him?""I-" I stop myself short, pursing my lips at the remembrance of my dream like vision, suddenly feeling very cold, and very sick. Screams arises in the blackened depths of my mind. I let lose an involuntary wince."I had a vision, of a corridor, deep underground. There was a door, screaming, and Azrael- he was with the eternal flame-"Fangorn motions me to pause with a raise of his hand, and I slip into an obedient silence. No noise can be heard outside the room, and I wonder with a strange but fleeting though whether the other two may be listening outside the door. In all honesty, it is probably better if they did- it would save an awful lot of explaining later down the line. But whether the other two happen to be listening or not, he doesn't seem to care, his leg shaking a little up and down, the motion of which can surely not be from the cold."Soren must be informed of this," he says, although to himself or to me I cannot tell. A nervous pit begins to form, toiling in the bottoms of my stomach."Perhaps Azrael could be a late comer to the soul business? Soren could be wrong-"Once again Fangorn cuts me off sharply."No, Serena. Soren is not wrong- he rarely is. Azrael never had a soul. Although it is ancient magic, it is always very clear who has the magic of the soul dormant within their veins. It's hugely powerful. I am sure Soren sensed it from you the very minute he met you. However Azrael acquired a soul, it was not done by the usual means. He is not the mind soul's true reincarnate."For a moment, I sit in silence, letting the information sink in. Outside the room, a faint little gasp can be heard, followed by the clapping of hand against a mouth, the rustlings of which Fangorn blatantly ignores. And so, in true vampire like fashion, I do too."I guess that's another problem I have to deal with. Rest assured, I shall inform Soren- although I get the feeling he might already be dealing with it himself," I add, recalling with a slight wince the look of realisation that had blanketed Soren's face not an hour before. The words he had uttered me were not ones I could put away to forget so easily, no matter how much I might like to. Taking a steady breath, allowing my eyes to flutter shut for a moment, I lean back into my seat, letting the coolness of the frame ground me to reality. One thing at a time, Serena."For now, however, I would like to focus on finding the flame. I can deal with Azrael's soul, I have potions against him, and my necklace seems to have some magical workings too. So, I assume his part of the maze is going to be based around mental types of magic?" I inquire, finally rising from my seat to allow myself to pace from end to end of the room, the unrelenting feeling of claustrophobia setting in from the cosy confines of Fangorn's study- a little too cosy if you ask me. Besides that, all this talk about Azrael is making me queasy, not to mention my recent encounters with him haven't exactly been reassuring. I need to work of some steam, and if that came in the form of pacing, so be it.It is strange, I think, running my index finger over the rows of books adorning the bookshelf on the wall opposite the door while Fangorn observes me with a keen and unbridled interest, sometimes I cannot tell whether Azrael is trying to make himself a threat or a friend. His actions are muddled, confusing at best, the pure epitome of a vampire's treacherous games. Yet whatever business he holds with the flame cannot be a reasonable one, the screams I heard down there alone are enough to set my mind reeling into chaos. Something is wrong here. Something big.Perhaps, I add, biting my lip with a nervy disposition, this is even bigger than the flame.A large sigh escapes my lips as I turn from the books, wiping the excessive grains of dust off my finger onto the side of my trousers- not very Queenly, but I am probably going to look a hell lot worse by the time I make it back out of the end. After being fully satisfied that I am settled and no longer deep in thought, Fangorn continues on gracefully, scanning his good eye over the paper."Yes, I would assume so. Although I was not around long enough to experience the full extent of his powers and also never presumed the boy contained a soul, from what I do know, I can promise you that taking him lightly would be an awfully grave mistake," he warns, voice sinking into a low, rough tenor as he arises from his seat, placing a hand either side of the table to balance himself, the muscles in his body rippling with an unforeseen tension. His jaw works."So you are telling me there is more to him than getting in my mind?"
