XII. Darkness of the soul

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The mountain clans spread out before us, as the square jostles with the heaving clansmen, gathering around an earthen dais. Kovan roughly throwing me into their awaiting hands and brewing malice, giving the wrathful tempers another willing sacrifice. Pushing back, I rise as I see Lorne, chained to a stone cross, bloody but unruffled.

The same scarlet hawthorn, dripping from his chains, over his open wounds. His head turns, a look of knowing upon his face as we stand apart, an intimacy still filling the air between us. The clansmen, seeing me standing before them, shiver, as they take in my bloody appearance, but as they move to surround me, the sight of Violet’s lifeless body fills my gaze.

Seeing her burned and gruesome, only her face illuminated by the moonlight, now left cold and hollow, even though her glassy eyes are wide, sets my feelings aflame. From the darkness within, an echo of a fragment of my soul pleads for her, while my vision turns red. My talons lengthen as my fangs descend, urging me to ease the heat in my throat, rife and raw with anguish. Trembling in pure wrath, my voice is soft but ice-laden. “Since you've thrown kindness aside..., enjoy sharing a living death.”

Their swords thrust, as I sweep away those closest, brushing their blades aside, and pouncing upon another’s chest. Brimming with a thirst that feels endless, I sink my fangs into their neck, a scream piercing the air, as my venom burns through their veins. Others rush towards me, but my strength and swiftness leave their blades and weapons striking nothing but cold air.

Throwing aside all who dare to stand in my way, I reach for Lorne, grasping his chains where a heavy lock hangs, before tearing it away. The lock breaking, the weakened chain falling aside. “Lorne...?”

Striking another two clansmen, I knock them aside, sinking my fangs into their soft warmth, an intoxicating delight rising as they too, begin to turn. Looking up, I meet Lorne's mirthless gaze. “My charming brother, poisoned my wine with his own blood, leaving me weakened, as a thrall.” His words are no surprise, as I struggle through the haze of bloodlust still urging me to drink with a longing heat. Tearing myself away, I appear behind him, untying his silver threaded ropes.

Stepping back, Kovan appears beside me, reaching out, only for Lorne to send him sailing through the air. Taking my face between his hands, he lifts my chin, caressing my lips. “The rune you've been looking for is known as Callisto, it’s a sigil for our homelands, opening a path between the lands here, known as Beltane, and the lands of Callisto; but... only on a night of the crescent moon.”

Another clansmen swing’s his blade as Lorne, twisting away comes to stand behind him, tearing his head from his body, as the winds tear the loving leaves from their trees. “Is life always so thrilling with you, beautiful Wren?” He stands in the moonlight, still as idle and as beautiful.

“It seems only with you beside me; and what of the third desire? Are you truly risking divine punishment by breaking our bargain?” Laughter, enchanting and bold sounds from him. “It was for you to trust me.” Leaning in with that familiar irony veiling his haunting eyes, our lips brush briefly before we're torn from one another. Kovan's gaze radiating wrath as the heaviness of our bond sinks into my bones, urging me to bow to him as though a puppet on a string.

Yet, as despair comes to ensnare me once again, Sire’s little serpent awakens once more, glowing brightly as I turn, back to back with Lorne. The pains and heart-wrenching ache that Kovan twists, rise through me, but I no longer feel so bound by his will.

Clawing another rush of clansmen, brandishing their blades before us, I begin to flit from one to another, taking their mortal lives and returning them, for one's of blood and darkness. Dancing between them, I scatter carmine droplets, lovingly spun by the lust of my bitter revenge. Turning to one of the last clansmen, I find Kell before me, while I glimpse Kovan and Lorne entangled with one another, their elegance and swiftness belying their hope’s to kill.

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