Codex Mortem

Paths

Caleb

The dim light of the moon was casting its spells over the old, blackened bricks. It was nearly morning and his nightwalker powers were slightly affected.

His face was hidden in the shadows. Tracing a lazy finger on the surface, he didn't pressed anywhere. Nor he has the intention to. The book was there, safe, as it has been all these years.

All was unfolding according to his plan, and he will soon have everything he needs.

The only thing for now was going into the lowers' land and take her before the wagon would cross Nix boundaries. And choose another Second.  In a short time, Declan will be no longer of this world.

He has sent the fool on a fool's errand. More precisely, to monitor the journey of the slaves from the Dubh crossing onto Midland, to his kingdom. To make sure it's uneventful, but from afar, as he himself commanded, without intervention. Of course, the three vampires accompanying  the Prince, had other orders.

He couldn't care less of the slaves or of his vampires. The prisoner was important. The most important. He has tasted her blood, and felt the power. Declan's mistake was doing the same. All the way back from those mutts land, the prince couldn't stop thinking of the taste, even saying how her blood is worth more than a thousand lowers.

But she was His. And only His. He went out of his way and prepared a room for her, a fine one. With soft bed and stuffed pillows. With windows uncovered and candles, scented soap and a bathtub waiting. He even ordered logs to be ready for fire and a personal servant awaiting for her.

He looked at the moon, rubbing his fingers to disperse the blackness from the burnt bricks. He didn't like dirt. All was neat and spotless here, except for this chamber where no one had access but him.

It was time.

Time to make a move. He didn't trust anyone for this. He will follow his Second and, under the darkness' cover, when his warriors will attack, he will kill him with his own hands. The other three nixians were a necessary loss.

Taria

The bell rang loudly from the highest white tower.

Grey robes flustered chaotically, rushed by the noise. Feet rushed up the spiral stairs, heavy breaths in the air.

"What is happening?" An elder rasped through gasps of air.
Four members of the council took their seats, looking exhausted.
Only one chair was empty.

Elder Dina said nothing as she acknowledged it, but the mid-aged man at her left clarified that elder Crenn took his leave a couple of days ago.
The black robe, Lady Ewinn, was already seated, hands clasped in her lap. 
She waited till the fidgeting ceased then reached something underneath the round table.
"Bad things," she said, placing a short but thick piece of wood on the table.
"Our nets caught this"
The grey robes eyed the wood and one by one studied its marks carefully, wariness growing in their eyes.

"We must make haste!" They agreed in unison.

.....

Dawn

A peculiar sentiment began to take hold. Unsettling.
In the darkness of the cell, the air stilled. The darkness itself seemed to be holding its breath.
I was struck in a paralyzing sensation.
But the light grew slowly, and I found myself on a hedged narrow alley.

The sun caressed my cheeks, like a mothers loving hand.
"Dawn, behave yourself! You must make a good impression." I was nudged gently forward as I tried to turn my head, to see the owner of the warm, yet scolding voice.
I tripped and regained my balance; the person behind me aggravated her voice. "Dawn!" She shrieked, "You really want to embarrass us? What will your intended think if you behave like this in his presence? What-" her voice stopped as steps approached. "There he is..." She whispered.
I lift my gaze and looked at the silhouette approaching. He came closer and stopped.
"Your Highness" he bowed graciously as he looked past me. His gaze travelled, landing on me. Analyzing for a brief moment.
"You must be my betrothed" he acknowledged. "I am Prince Nuallan of Dirae"