Chapter 95: 95
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I expect to hear Fangorn's voice in answer, but to my surprise, I instead hear the higher, solemn tones of Kal who leans in the laxly doorway, fingers toying at the door I hadn't even realised swung open. There is a pallid look on his face, sombre almost, as if the answer he is about to give is one he knows all to well, yet will break him all the same.
"Because he knew that your people would do so much worse."
Slowly, I turn my head to face him. Ithuriel lingers behind Kal's thin frame, swaying lightly, his long glossy hair flooded with a dark pink the hue of a foxglove, yet despite the vibrancy of the colour, his eyes are dark, devoid of something that I can't quite place.
Perhaps the realisation of that very statement had finally hit him.
Noticing my shifting glances, Kal continues on, drawing my attention back to his as he shifts on to one shoulder, picking at the buttons of his imperial overcoat for the sole need of wanting something else to do.
Behind him, Ithuriel brings a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder- the way he often did to me when I was upset or grieving over the hopelessness on my magic as a child. Kal offers him a grateful look.
"Your kind have never taken too lightly to the vampires- the council's rules are outdated, stale, both Lilyana and Soren knew that. After all, the only rule they have is based solely around them. So how fitting would it be to dump Lilyana on the doorstep of her people, a bite mark on her neck, and hickeys on her skin and let her own people strip her of what little dignity she has left instead? The council wouldn't care whether it was actually true or not, all they ever wanted is an excuse to get back at the vampires. Sick bastards."
I clap a hand over my mouth to cover my gasp.
Soren did that to her?
I note with a stark flinch that Fangorn looks equally as uncomfortable. His sculpted body is rigid, mouth set in a hard line, as though he wants to say something, but can't quite bring himself to do it. But the look that abides on his face is the same as mine, one of shared desperation, and harrowing disbelief.
I suppose even after several hundred years of isolation, the memory still remains a bitter one.
"That's horrible of him..." I whisper to myself, suddenly enormously thankful that the Soren I know has not pulled such a dastardly trick- at least, I hope he won't. There is no telling what lengths he will go to once he finds out who I really am.
Timidly I chew on my lip.
Kal moves from his post in the doorway, skirting his way around the room lightly to bring his hand to rest on Fangorn's shoulder causing the vampire to tense uncomfortably, bitter from the recollection of an event he has spent his whole life regretting.
"Lilyana fought him the whole time," he whispers, a faint watery glimmer catching in the shallows of his eyes, sparkling against the dull light of the candle which has since spindled down to a pitiful flicker. Perhaps hoping nobody will notice, he wipes his eyes dry with the pad of his thumb.
"He had a crowd when he found me- I doubt even if he wanted to, there was little he could have reasonably done to spare me, or her. That would risk defying our ancient rules, and back then, Soren had no right to do so, keeper of the soul or not. It would invoke outrage. So the crowd watched as he bound me, forced me to bite her, forced me to…" his throat works and for a moment, Fangorn turns away, grimacing into the dark shadows of the room with such pain that for a moment I wonder if he would like nothing better than to sink into them himself. Melt away into nothing, into the void, where memories are best left forgotten, and thoughts fade into little more than a whisper on the cool air of the night.
Kal draws his arms round Fangorn, his figure small against the burly shape of the vampire, but the comforting gesture remains the same, and Fangorn lets him sink into it anyway.
"It wasn't your fault, father," he assures with a low whisper, so quiet I can barely hear it. "None of this was your fault."
I am vaguely aware of Ithuriel coming to rest beside me, his body falling so naturally into place next to mine that I barely even register it happening at all.
"Don't you hate him for what he did? Soren that is," Ithuriel asks, nervously voicing his concerns to the room, wary of disturbing the tender moment between Fangorn and Kal. But fortunately, Fangorn straightens up, prizing Kal off him carefully, and perches himself on the table, the effort of which causes the ebony wood to groan under his weight. He cracks his knuckles.
"I used to," he admits, gripping the side of the table to steady himself as he reclines back against empty air. "I used to hate him with every fibre of my being for what he did. But after a few hundred years, hate becomes boring, and lonely, turns us into more of a monster than the ones that stalk these woods. Soren had as much of a choice as I did- there were too many witnesses to let the event slide, even if he wanted to," he half laughs, offering up a pained smile. Beside me, Ithuriel shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Fangorn and then Kal- who has since leant himself casually against a bookcase to stare intently at the vampire, soaking in the words as though they are some long awaited victory speech. Something about the air in the room, or perhaps the multitude of aura's that my own senses are dull too, sets Ithuriel on edge, evident through the continuous flexing and unflexing of his fingers in his palms. I give him a ginger smile, and loop my arm across his, like we used to when we were kids. Gratefully, he smiles back, latching onto that small source of solace.
"But you see," Fangorn says at last, eyeing us from his spot on the table. "I owe Soren far more debts than I can count. For one, he let us live- he did not kill us like he should have done, and for countless years, he has ensured my safety in the end. As easy as it would be to say he abandoned me, and that I hate him, I simply cannot. I owe many things to that boy, my allegiance being one of them," he finishes, and pushes himself off the table, signalling the end of the conversation with a firm clap of his hands. The sound is like a wake up call, and I quickly find myself jolting out of visions of vampires and angels and a red eyed Soren whose lips are stained permanently red with blood and whose wandering wake brings nothing but screams and the chaos of death. That unrestrained, vile monster is one that has long since passed.
At least, I dearly hope so.
"I know you have it in you to survive whatever he put in that labyrinth, in Soren's tier too. But I also promised you my help, and so that is what I will give you," Fangorn says, dipping his head as he strides out of the room, indicating for us all to follow with an urgent flick of his fingers. He bends his head to avoid hitting his horns on the top of the doorframe as he exits, entering into the warmer abode of the other room, a stark relief against the depressing coldness of his study.
No matter how many books are in there, not a single one could have relieved the stagnant atmosphere of misery and decay in that study. Inwardly I wonder to myself whether that was the room Fangorn spent all his years exerting his hatred into, long enough that the walls themselves seem to leech the very soul out of you, draining you of all positive energy and in its place creating an overwhelming negativity that presses down on you with the weight of a thousand silver bricks. I shudder at the thought.
We all take a seat back down at the table while Fangorn forages in the cupboards for some unknown object. Kal begins routinely pouring out some surprisingly still warm tea into cups, offering one to each of us which this time we both take with a grateful nod.
That little dragon never seems to stop drinking. Though, I muse to myself with a half smile, at least its not alcohol.
"Better drink it quick," he suggests under his breath, tapping a finger on the side of his own cup enclosed between his long fingers to indicate. "Fangorn will probably be wanting the house vacant by sundown, he is going hunting."
The word 'sundown' chimes a bell in my head, an alarming ringing against the strange sense of careless cosiness I had slipped into while being here. For a moment, I am almost certain I had forgotten I was in the end to begin with.
Hurriedly, I gulp down my tea, finishing it off in one swift motion.
Yes, I have to be back at the palace by sundown.
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I expect to hear Fangorn's voice in answer, but to my surprise, I instead hear the higher, solemn tones of Kal who leans in the laxly doorway, fingers toying at the door I hadn't even realised swung open. There is a pallid look on his face, sombre almost, as if the answer he is about to give is one he knows all to well, yet will break him all the same.
"Because he knew that your people would do so much worse."
Slowly, I turn my head to face him. Ithuriel lingers behind Kal's thin frame, swaying lightly, his long glossy hair flooded with a dark pink the hue of a foxglove, yet despite the vibrancy of the colour, his eyes are dark, devoid of something that I can't quite place.
Perhaps the realisation of that very statement had finally hit him.
Noticing my shifting glances, Kal continues on, drawing my attention back to his as he shifts on to one shoulder, picking at the buttons of his imperial overcoat for the sole need of wanting something else to do.
Behind him, Ithuriel brings a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder- the way he often did to me when I was upset or grieving over the hopelessness on my magic as a child. Kal offers him a grateful look.
"Your kind have never taken too lightly to the vampires- the council's rules are outdated, stale, both Lilyana and Soren knew that. After all, the only rule they have is based solely around them. So how fitting would it be to dump Lilyana on the doorstep of her people, a bite mark on her neck, and hickeys on her skin and let her own people strip her of what little dignity she has left instead? The council wouldn't care whether it was actually true or not, all they ever wanted is an excuse to get back at the vampires. Sick bastards."
I clap a hand over my mouth to cover my gasp.
Soren did that to her?
I note with a stark flinch that Fangorn looks equally as uncomfortable. His sculpted body is rigid, mouth set in a hard line, as though he wants to say something, but can't quite bring himself to do it. But the look that abides on his face is the same as mine, one of shared desperation, and harrowing disbelief.
I suppose even after several hundred years of isolation, the memory still remains a bitter one.
"That's horrible of him..." I whisper to myself, suddenly enormously thankful that the Soren I know has not pulled such a dastardly trick- at least, I hope he won't. There is no telling what lengths he will go to once he finds out who I really am.
Timidly I chew on my lip.
Kal moves from his post in the doorway, skirting his way around the room lightly to bring his hand to rest on Fangorn's shoulder causing the vampire to tense uncomfortably, bitter from the recollection of an event he has spent his whole life regretting.
"Lilyana fought him the whole time," he whispers, a faint watery glimmer catching in the shallows of his eyes, sparkling against the dull light of the candle which has since spindled down to a pitiful flicker. Perhaps hoping nobody will notice, he wipes his eyes dry with the pad of his thumb.
"He had a crowd when he found me- I doubt even if he wanted to, there was little he could have reasonably done to spare me, or her. That would risk defying our ancient rules, and back then, Soren had no right to do so, keeper of the soul or not. It would invoke outrage. So the crowd watched as he bound me, forced me to bite her, forced me to…" his throat works and for a moment, Fangorn turns away, grimacing into the dark shadows of the room with such pain that for a moment I wonder if he would like nothing better than to sink into them himself. Melt away into nothing, into the void, where memories are best left forgotten, and thoughts fade into little more than a whisper on the cool air of the night.
Kal draws his arms round Fangorn, his figure small against the burly shape of the vampire, but the comforting gesture remains the same, and Fangorn lets him sink into it anyway.
"It wasn't your fault, father," he assures with a low whisper, so quiet I can barely hear it. "None of this was your fault."
I am vaguely aware of Ithuriel coming to rest beside me, his body falling so naturally into place next to mine that I barely even register it happening at all.
"Don't you hate him for what he did? Soren that is," Ithuriel asks, nervously voicing his concerns to the room, wary of disturbing the tender moment between Fangorn and Kal. But fortunately, Fangorn straightens up, prizing Kal off him carefully, and perches himself on the table, the effort of which causes the ebony wood to groan under his weight. He cracks his knuckles.
"I used to," he admits, gripping the side of the table to steady himself as he reclines back against empty air. "I used to hate him with every fibre of my being for what he did. But after a few hundred years, hate becomes boring, and lonely, turns us into more of a monster than the ones that stalk these woods. Soren had as much of a choice as I did- there were too many witnesses to let the event slide, even if he wanted to," he half laughs, offering up a pained smile. Beside me, Ithuriel shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Fangorn and then Kal- who has since leant himself casually against a bookcase to stare intently at the vampire, soaking in the words as though they are some long awaited victory speech. Something about the air in the room, or perhaps the multitude of aura's that my own senses are dull too, sets Ithuriel on edge, evident through the continuous flexing and unflexing of his fingers in his palms. I give him a ginger smile, and loop my arm across his, like we used to when we were kids. Gratefully, he smiles back, latching onto that small source of solace.
"But you see," Fangorn says at last, eyeing us from his spot on the table. "I owe Soren far more debts than I can count. For one, he let us live- he did not kill us like he should have done, and for countless years, he has ensured my safety in the end. As easy as it would be to say he abandoned me, and that I hate him, I simply cannot. I owe many things to that boy, my allegiance being one of them," he finishes, and pushes himself off the table, signalling the end of the conversation with a firm clap of his hands. The sound is like a wake up call, and I quickly find myself jolting out of visions of vampires and angels and a red eyed Soren whose lips are stained permanently red with blood and whose wandering wake brings nothing but screams and the chaos of death. That unrestrained, vile monster is one that has long since passed.
At least, I dearly hope so.
"I know you have it in you to survive whatever he put in that labyrinth, in Soren's tier too. But I also promised you my help, and so that is what I will give you," Fangorn says, dipping his head as he strides out of the room, indicating for us all to follow with an urgent flick of his fingers. He bends his head to avoid hitting his horns on the top of the doorframe as he exits, entering into the warmer abode of the other room, a stark relief against the depressing coldness of his study.
No matter how many books are in there, not a single one could have relieved the stagnant atmosphere of misery and decay in that study. Inwardly I wonder to myself whether that was the room Fangorn spent all his years exerting his hatred into, long enough that the walls themselves seem to leech the very soul out of you, draining you of all positive energy and in its place creating an overwhelming negativity that presses down on you with the weight of a thousand silver bricks. I shudder at the thought.
We all take a seat back down at the table while Fangorn forages in the cupboards for some unknown object. Kal begins routinely pouring out some surprisingly still warm tea into cups, offering one to each of us which this time we both take with a grateful nod.
That little dragon never seems to stop drinking. Though, I muse to myself with a half smile, at least its not alcohol.
"Better drink it quick," he suggests under his breath, tapping a finger on the side of his own cup enclosed between his long fingers to indicate. "Fangorn will probably be wanting the house vacant by sundown, he is going hunting."
The word 'sundown' chimes a bell in my head, an alarming ringing against the strange sense of careless cosiness I had slipped into while being here. For a moment, I am almost certain I had forgotten I was in the end to begin with.
Hurriedly, I gulp down my tea, finishing it off in one swift motion.
Yes, I have to be back at the palace by sundown.
I expect to hear Fangorn's voice in answer, but to my surprise, I instead hear the higher, solemn tones of Kal who leans in the laxly doorway, fingers toying at the door I hadn't even realised swung open. There is a pallid look on his face, sombre almost, as if the answer he is about to give is one he knows all to well, yet will break him all the same."Because he knew that your people would do so much worse."Slowly, I turn my head to face him. Ithuriel lingers behind Kal's thin frame, swaying lightly, his long glossy hair flooded with a dark pink the hue of a foxglove, yet despite the vibrancy of the colour, his eyes are dark, devoid of something that I can't quite place. Perhaps the realisation of that very statement had finally hit him.Noticing my shifting glances, Kal continues on, drawing my attention back to his as he shifts on to one shoulder, picking at the buttons of his imperial overcoat for the sole need of wanting something else to do. Behind him, Ithuriel brings a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder- the way he often did to me when I was upset or grieving over the hopelessness on my magic as a child. Kal offers him a grateful look."Your kind have never taken too lightly to the vampires- the council's rules are outdated, stale, both Lilyana and Soren knew that. After all, the only rule they have is based solely around them. So how fitting would it be to dump Lilyana on the doorstep of her people, a bite mark on her neck, and hickeys on her skin and let her own people strip her of what little dignity she has left instead? The council wouldn't care whether it was actually true or not, all they ever wanted is an excuse to get back at the vampires. Sick bastards."I clap a hand over my mouth to cover my gasp.Soren did that to her?I note with a stark flinch that Fangorn looks equally as uncomfortable. His sculpted body is rigid, mouth set in a hard line, as though he wants to say something, but can't quite bring himself to do it. But the look that abides on his face is the same as mine, one of shared desperation, and harrowing disbelief.I suppose even after several hundred years of isolation, the memory still remains a bitter one."That's horrible of him..." I whisper to myself, suddenly enormously thankful that the Soren I know has not pulled such a dastardly trick- at least, I hope he won't. There is no telling what lengths he will go to once he finds out who I really am.Timidly I chew on my lip.Kal moves from his post in the doorway, skirting his way around the room lightly to bring his hand to rest on Fangorn's shoulder causing the vampire to tense uncomfortably, bitter from the recollection of an event he has spent his whole life regretting."Lilyana fought him the whole time," he whispers, a faint watery glimmer catching in the shallows of his eyes, sparkling against the dull light of the candle which has since spindled down to a pitiful flicker. Perhaps hoping nobody will notice, he wipes his eyes dry with the pad of his thumb."He had a crowd when he found me- I doubt even if he wanted to, there was little he could have reasonably done to spare me, or her. That would risk defying our ancient rules, and back then, Soren had no right to do so, keeper of the soul or not. It would invoke outrage. So the crowd watched as he bound me, forced me to bite her, forced me to" his throat works and for a moment, Fangorn turns away, grimacing into the dark shadows of the room with such pain that for a moment I wonder if he would like nothing better than to sink into them himself. Melt away into nothing, into the void, where memories are best left forgotten, and thoughts fade into little more than a whisper on the cool air of the night. Kal draws his arms round Fangorn, his figure small against the burly shape of the vampire, but the comforting gesture remains the same, and Fangorn lets him sink into it anyway."It wasn't your fault, father," he assures with a low whisper, so quiet I can barely hear it. "None of this was your fault."I am vaguely aware of Ithuriel coming to rest beside me, his body falling so naturally into place next to mine that I barely even register it happening at all."Don't you hate him for what he did? Soren that is," Ithuriel asks, nervously voicing his concerns to the room, wary of disturbing the tender moment between Fangorn and Kal. But fortunately, Fangorn straightens up, prizing Kal off him carefully, and perches himself on the table, the effort of which causes the ebony wood to groan under his weight. He cracks his knuckles."I used to," he admits, gripping the side of the table to steady himself as he reclines back against empty air. "I used to hate him with every fibre of my being for what he did. But after a few hundred years, hate becomes boring, and lonely, turns us into more of a monster than the ones that stalk these woods. Soren had as much of a choice as I did- there were too many witnesses to let the event slide, even if he wanted to," he half laughs, offering up a pained smile. Beside me, Ithuriel shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Fangorn and then Kal- who has since leant himself casually against a bookcase to stare intently at the vampire, soaking in the words as though they are some long awaited victory speech. Something about the air in the room, or perhaps the multitude of aura's that my own senses are dull too, sets Ithuriel on edge, evident through the continuous flexing and unflexing of his fingers in his palms. I give him a ginger smile, and loop my arm across his, like we used to when we were kids. Gratefully, he smiles back, latching onto that small source of solace."But you see," Fangorn says at last, eyeing us from his spot on the table. "I owe Soren far more debts than I can count. For one, he let us live- he did not kill us like he should have done, and for countless years, he has ensured my safety in the end. As easy as it would be to say he abandoned me, and that I hate him, I simply cannot. I owe many things to that boy, my allegiance being one of them," he finishes, and pushes himself off the table, signalling the end of the conversation with a firm clap of his hands. The sound is like a wake up call, and I quickly find myself jolting out of visions of vampires and angels and a red eyed Soren whose lips are stained permanently red with blood and whose wandering wake brings nothing but screams and the chaos of death. That unrestrained, vile monster is one that has long since passed.At least, I dearly hope so."I know you have it in you to survive whatever he put in that labyrinth, in Soren's tier too. But I also promised you my help, and so that is what I will give you," Fangorn says, dipping his head as he strides out of the room, indicating for us all to follow with an urgent flick of his fingers. He bends his head to avoid hitting his horns on the top of the doorframe as he exits, entering into the warmer abode of the other room, a stark relief against the depressing coldness of his study. No matter how many books are in there, not a single one could have relieved the stagnant atmosphere of misery and decay in that study. Inwardly I wonder to myself whether that was the room Fangorn spent all his years exerting his hatred into, long enough that the walls themselves seem to leech the very soul out of you, draining you of all positive energy and in its place creating an overwhelming negativity that presses down on you with the weight of a thousand silver bricks. I shudder at the thought. We all take a seat back down at the table while Fangorn forages in the cupboards for some unknown object. Kal begins routinely pouring out some surprisingly still warm tea into cups, offering one to each of us which this time we both take with a grateful nod. That little dragon never seems to stop drinking. Though, I muse to myself with a half smile, at least its not alcohol."Better drink it quick," he suggests under his breath, tapping a finger on the side of his own cup enclosed between his long fingers to indicate. "Fangorn will probably be wanting the house vacant by sundown, he is going hunting."The word 'sundown' chimes a bell in my head, an alarming ringing against the strange sense of careless cosiness I had slipped into while being here. For a moment, I am almost certain I had forgotten I was in the end to begin with. Hurriedly, I gulp down my tea, finishing it off in one swift motion.Yes, I have to be back at the palace by sundown.
