𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟕

Pandora

♡

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I jump my way through the vast forest drawing the line between the Dynastra Capital and the Land of Desertus. Territory left unsupervised for those who've been evicted by their Clans to live in isolation. The closer I get to the source, the tenser my body becomes, as if transparent waves of eeriness travel through the bushes. It's seems that the name 'Devil's Den' isn't just a mere exaggeration from maids who nourish from the rumours about this place. Yet, unbeknownst to me, I don't feel any fear taking over my senses and pushing me to turn back obediently. Rather than that, the quietness makes me antsy to explore its origin. Call it foolish curiosity, but I want to experience it. The thrill of pure fear circling her boney fingers around my heart, squeezing it to its limits as my chest rises up and down rapidly to catch a breath.

People crave for what they cannot obtain.

House Eos craved for the strength us, shifters, were born with. So they created Silver Root weapons to fight against our species. House of Asra was envious of humans for being able to stand in the light of our God Sol instead of being confined to eternal dankness, so they feed off of them for the sole fun of feeling empowered. Like a 'Screw You' to the Gods who made them this way. The Masters of Flesh and Shadows from House Aeldfene felt envious for the long lifespan of Night Children, so they developed the Grimoire of the Dead, in which dark magic tells you how to suck the life out of somebody - literally. And shifters...our sin came with wanting even more.

 We were created to be superior to humans, yet with their same sense of humanity. We bathe in the same sunlight night creatures avoid like the pest, yet cannot live half as long as them. We have the ability to out our mana during our shifts, yet we still were unable to control and manipulate it like mages do when practicing magic. The hole in the web of potential our species created wasn't a liability on its own. The massive sense of inferiority that awoke towards other mortals was. My ancestors were even willing to breed with sorcerers belonging to the bloodline of the mythical Bone Witches - members of the Masters of Flesh and Shadows - would it able them to assert dominance within the boundaries of the Mortal Realm. Cretins, they were, for letting their inferiority complex plant the seed of what would grow into our karma centuries later. Dare I say, they deserved exactly what future bit them in the arse.

The sound of a breaking twig makes me halt, and I press myself against the trunk to avoid being seen, the shadows my camouflage. The brightness of amber stares at the ground beneath when I let my shifter senses take over. I wait for a couple of minutes, barely breathing.

Nothing.

I linger for a bit longer, apprehensively waiting for another indication of someone's presence.

No one.

I'm about to give up, and continue my promenade through the most uncanny woods I've ever step foot on, when I hear it.

An inhale.

As if the one I was pursuing sensed me, and tries to find my location using his sense of smell. A smell I forgot to conceal because I'm an air head. I try to depict any sounds of breathing that would indicate where the being stands, but all I get in return is the howling of owls, who also seem conscious about the one emitting a spine-chilling presence. I give up after another five minutes of expectantly waiting. The full moon is high in the sky and I probably missed dinner already. I should be hurrying to the kitchen, not waiting aimlessly in a spooky forest for whatever it is I'm waiting for. My mind made up, I stand up from my crouching position, and prepare to jump when my cape, once again, falls and takes down with it my veil. Don't curse, I sing breathing in deeply before looking up at the sky, don't curse.