Yisha held onto Draxxus tightly as June disappeared from above them. A thunderous clap reverberated through her bones as a powerful gust of wind nearly knocked her and Draxxus off their feet. Her dress fluttered in the wind along with her hair.
Only after the gale passed did she dare to open her eyes. The remaining members of the Shining Arrow Guild gawked at the sky where June had just been mere seconds ago. Several of them were in hushed conversations, probably discussing which Realm he was in.
Her eyes drifted over to Urzenkeil. Only he would have that answer. Him and. Her eyes locked onto Quin. Her.
“Zenki!” Merriam shouted, whirling to face him. “What Realm is he in!?”
Urzenkeil only shook his head. “Can’t say. Part of the Pact I made.”
Merriam growled before turning to Quin. “Quin, how powerful is your father?”
Quin also shook her head with a wisp of a smile. “You’ll have to ask him yourself when he returns.”
Yisha watched as Merriam pouted, which elicited a chuckle from Quin as she turned and headed in her direction.
“Mamma, where did the nice, strange man go?” Draxxus asked, his eyes still glued to the sky.
Yisha knelt and ruffled his hair, brushing out a small twig and some dirt. “He said that he was going to Castle Dumar.”
“Is he going to fight the Vampire by himself?”
“I’m pretty sure he can handle himself,” Yisha said, picking him up.
He released an enormous yawn, his warm breath tickling her cheek, before resting his head on her shoulder. “I’m tired, Mamma.”
“Go to sleep then, my little cub,” she said, rubbing his back.
“Here,” Quin said, walking up, and what looked like a blanket appeared in her hand. “He can sleep in this. It’ll keep him warm.”
Quin led them off to the edge of the camp, where there weren’t any corpses, and laid the blanket on the grass. “This is a sleeping bag.”
A sound that resembled a whetstone running along a sword, except in a staccato rhythm, as Quin pinched a small metal handle and pulled it along the side of the sleeping bag. Yisha quickly realized that it was a large mat folded in half, held together by metal ridges that somehow interlocked in place. Quin pulled the top half of the bag to reveal the silky smooth padding on the inside, moving aside to let her put Draxxus down.
“Thank you,” Yisha said as she laid Draxxus down in the sleeping bag before closing it and mimicking what Quin had done to open it, except in reverse.
The little metal handle slid smoothly along, interlocking the ridges, closing and sealing in the warmth of the sleeping bag.
She fully sealed the bag and sat back on the ground. “That’s an interesting contraption.”
“Yeah, my father called it a zipper,” Quin said, returning with a bundle of dried branches.
“A zip-er?” Yisha said, struggling to pronounce the strange word, foreign to her tongue. “What language is that?”
“It’s English. The language my father’s people speak,” Quin replied, setting up a campfire by using what looked like Earth Essence to clear a patch of grass.
“Hey!” Merriam shouted, her voice as bubbly as ever, as she jogged over to them.
Quin shushed her harshly, pointing at Draxxus before whispering. “Be quiet or you’ll wake the boy!”
Merriam went silent as she slowed her jog, arriving on silent footfalls.
“Sorry,” Merriam whispered, clasping her hands in prayer.
Yisha gave her an exhausted smile. “It’s okay, Merriam. Was there urgent news?”
“No,” Merriam said before sitting down beside her. “I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Yisha said, looking up at Calythor, the blue moon. “The Vampires didn’t touch me, and what injuries Vern inflicted were healed by Quin.”
Merriam’s face twisted in disgust, her voice a seething hiss. “What did he do?”
Yisha’s gaze dropped to meet Merriam’s as she waved her hands. “It was nothing serious, really. Besides, Quin showed up before he could do more and killed him.”
“About time,” Merriam said before turning to Quin. “Thanks for ridding the world of a bastard like him. It’ll be better off without him.”
“It was my pleasure,” Quin said, igniting the newly constructed campfire with Fire Essence before joining them.
Merriam huffed in annoyance, shaking her head. “Enough of that. I don’t want to waste another breath speaking about the dead bastard.” She fixed her gaze on Quin. “So, Quin. Where are you from? I’ve never met an Althori like you before.”
Yisha’s ears perked up at Merriam’s question. She had also been curious about that but was too timid to ask.
She turned to Quin and found her eyes trained on the burning wood, her mind a thousand leagues from there.
“I’m not from around here, I’ll say that much,” Quin said, returning their stares. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to get to know each other better before you get any more.”
Merriam frowned in annoyance, but Yisha understood the sentiment, giving her an understanding smile. They were essentially strangers to each other after all.
“It’s okay,” Yisha said, patting Quin’s knee.
Merriam sighed beside her but tried a different approach. “What about your father? Is he really your father? You two look nothing alike.”
Yisha spun her head to glare at Merriam in reproach, but Quin’s musical laughter echoed through the night, taking her back. “It’s fine, Yisha, and yes, he is my father, but not by blood.”
Yisha returned her attention to Quin, intrigued by her response.
“What happened?” Merriam asked, leaning in.
Quin then told them her story. About her life in her little village with her parents. Of the foul necromancer and his attack. How her parents had died, and just as she was about to as well, June appeared and saved her. Since then, he’d raised her, treating her like his own daughter, and she came to view him as a father.
But Yisha couldn’t help but feel like she was leaving out some significant detail.
“Since then, we’ve been traveling, searching for my father’s family,” Quin said, finishing her tale.
“Is that what brought you here?” Merriam asked, enraptured by the tale.
A sad smile came onto Quin’s face. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Aww, don’t be like that,” Merriam said, pouting. “Come on, tell us.”
“That’s his story to tell,” Quin said, her eyes returning to stare back into the flames.
Merriam was about to press for more, but Yisha grabbed her wrist. “That’s enough, Merriam.”
Merriam looked at her, frustrated, but relented, sitting back on her haunches. Yisha turned to gaze at Draxxus, her expression softening. Reflecting on Quin’s tale, she inferred what likely happened to June’s family. They were no longer alive.
It made some semblance of sense to her. Before healing everybody, June had opened a portal that only the Twelve knew where it led. When he returned, everything about him seemed sadder. As if he had discovered a truth he feared.
Yisha turned and gazed into the blazing inferno as well. She sympathized with the man. She wouldn’t know what to do if she had lost Draxxus. In fact, she had almost lost him today. June’s strength and fortitude were admirable. He was a stronger person than she was, having the will to continue despite knowing what he knew.
Her eyes shifted over to Quin. One day, she hoped she could be as powerful as Quin to protect Draxxus and not rely on others.
Her thoughts then drifted to June. She closed her eyes and prayed to the Divine Mother and Lord to keep him safe from the dangers within Castle Dumar.
An ice-cold rage settled in Hivengel, but that wasn’t the only emotion present. Fear clawed at the edge of his consciousness as he prepared himself. Who would dare brazenly attack him? He tried to convince himself that only a fool would. If it were the other option, a member of the Twelve or their disciples, then he could do nothing but grovel for his life.
He stepped forward, spear in hand, as more of his Thralls entered the great hall. “Prepare yourselves!”
They all drew their weapons and formed a semicircle around him, facing the entrance. Silence hung heavy in the room as they waited for the invader. But nothing happened. The only sounds in the hall were their own heavy breathing and thumping heartbeats. The flickering flames of the torches crackled lightly as time dragged on.
Chains jingled behind them, shattering the silence of the room. Hivengel turned, anger boiling in his veins. Now wasn’t the time for his sweet little Reyah to cause distractions. But he froze when his eyes landed on a stranger holding her chain in his hand.
“Who in the hells are—” Hivengel started, but the stranger didn’t let him finish as a powerful blast of Psionic Essence slammed into them.
Hivengel could feel the stranger rooting around in his mind, peering into his very soul and judging him.
The stranger hummed in curiosity just before his assault ended.
Hivengel stumbled a step but remained upright. His Thralls, on the other hand, all fell to the ground, unable to withstand the attack. He glared at the stranger, unsure of how to handle him.
How had he gotten past all of them without any of them noticing?
Hivengel frowned as he studied the stranger’s appearance. The man was… small. Not as small as an Ulthari male, but still shorter than an Althori, even the females. In fact, he resembled a Darvin, a short and stocky people from across the sea on the continent of Amretill. Few Darvin lived on Yvestar, but they were present, mainly in the coastal cities. But the stranger wasn’t anything he’d ever seen before.
Hivengel stood to his full height and stared the stranger down, snarling at him. How dare he touch his property? “You shall release my dear Reyah this instant, you insolent swine!”
The stranger looked at Reyah, who stared back at him. He chuckled softly as the chains dissolved into dust, then turned to Hivengel with a cocky smirk. “There, I’ve released her.”
Reyah could hardly believe what she witnessed. A man had appeared out of nowhere, leaving her quite speechless. He hadn’t even spared Hivengel and his Thralls a glance. His greyish-green eyes remained locked with hers. It was like staring into the vast expanse of the open sky, where the endless horizons met Calythor.
A profound soul resided behind those eyes. One that gazed into hers, not judging, but with interest. Desire flashed in his eyes, stirring a wetness within her, before he quickly masked it. A tease—something she wanted to explore the longer they held their gaze.
She had been so captivated by him that she hadn’t heard what Hivengel shouted. A sudden, powerful burst of Essence knocked her out of her trance. The power she felt was at a level she had felt only once before in her life. It was on par, no, maybe even greater than her grandmother’s previous strength a century and a half ago.
The man broke his gaze from hers and turned to Hivengel before chuckling. Reyah gasped as her Soul Essence and Energy returned to her. The rush of it shot a sense of euphoria through her. Although she remained weak, running on fumes after being starved for a week.
“There, I’ve released her,” the man said.
The man knelt beside her and pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his wrist. A thin cut materialized there, and he offered it to her. “Drink.”
The sweet scent of his blood wafted into her nose. It was like nectar to a bee, and she couldn’t resist as she latched onto his arm, sucking greedily. She had tasted nothing as divine as his blood, not even before turning into a Vampire. It was intoxicating.
She lost herself as her stomach filled with his blood, and her Essence and Energy replenished. The fact hadn’t escaped her attention that his Soul Essence and Energy didn’t come as a pair. Instead, it was a single, continuous stream. That meant only one thing. He was a divine being. One whose power rivaled her grandmother’s.
Even after recognizing that truth, she continued sucking, even after drinking her fill, losing herself to her Vampiric nature. Her body and Cores brimmed with power as her mind clouded with a haze of ecstasy and lust. This feeling was something she would never want to part from, even if it meant submitting to him.
A firm hand wrapped itself around her neck, squeezing just enough to wrench her from her drunken haze. She opened her eyes, not remembering when she had closed them. The first thing she saw was the man’s storm-colored eyes boring into her.
His voice rumbled, sending shivers through her, firm, broaching no argument. “I think that’s enough.”
She released his wrist, backing slightly. A strand of saliva still connected them as an involuntary moan escaped her throat at his reproach and touch. It was powerful yet gentle at the same time. A single eyebrow lifted on his face upon hearing her, and he released her.
She shifted back and found her core burning with desire. Her arousal was heavy in the air. That much was clear from Hivengel’s face, crimson with fury.
Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. It had been over a century since she had felt like this. Not since being under the blood magic of her Master. Shame and self-recrimination coursed through her. How could she just forget herself? Losing to her baser instincts like a newly turned Vampire. She had better control than this. She then remembered the last thought she had just before he interrupted her, and anger immediately washed over her. What was wrong with her that she’d willingly degrade herself just for a drop of blood like some pathetic Thrall?
Clearing his throat, the man stood and turned to face Hivengel and the Thralls. “What is your weapon of choice?”
So caught up in her own self-recrimination that she hadn’t heard what the man said. She flinched when his hand gripped her shoulder, recoiling as she instinctively swatted it away before catching herself when her eyes met his. The kindness and understanding in them were apparent as he gave her a sympathetic smile before rising and taking a step back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze turning to Hivengel and the throng of Thralls.
Another wave of shame slammed into her as she rose to her feet, the numbness in her arms and legs stinging with every movement. She stumbled for a split second before a warm breeze caught her, steadying her. Had he just caught her with Wind Essence?
She regained her footing and finally took the time to take in the man’s appearance. He wasn’t an Althori, that much was obvious. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t place his race. Despite that, he had a unique look, with a rugged, handsome face and a clearly defined, muscular body.
But she was getting ahead of herself. “What was that?”
The man chuckled at her lapse in attention. He was about to repeat what he had asked, but Hivengel’s rage-induced outburst interrupted him. “HOW DARE YOU! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO LAY CLAIM TO WHAT IS MINE!”
The man grunted in disgust, giving Hivengel a scathing scowl. “People are not property for one to own, especially by someone like you.”
Reyah smiled at his remark. She was growing to like him more and more. Hivengel looked ready to explode.
“Which weapon do you prefer fighting with?” the man asked, taking his eyes off Hivengel.
The moment he did, Hivengel charged forward. Before Reyah could even shout out a warning, though, Hivengel ran right into a barrier. Blood squirted out of his nose as he cried out in pain and fury.
A light tap on her shoulder brought her attention back to the man. “Your weapon?”
“Right! Sorry,” Reyah said, a little flustered. “Twin curved swords.”
The man nodded and extended his hand out, palm facing down. She frowned, watching him curiously. Then an exclamation of surprise escaped her lips as streams of silver liquid slithered through the cracks of the stone floor. They flowed like rivers, coiling up to form the shape of two swords, identical in length and shape. With a clench of his fists, the liquid solidified into metal.
Floating before him were two of the most exquisite blades she had ever seen. It rivaled the craftsmanship of the blacksmiths from Atredori. No, this was beyond their work. Wood then sprouted from the hilt, encasing it. She inhaled a sharp breath at this. That was already four different Essences he had shown. That alone put him in the Mythic Realm. But she suspected he had ascended beyond that.
“Here,” he said as the swords floated before her.
She grasped them, finding them light and perfectly balanced in her hands. The wooden handle was as smooth as stone, as if the man had coated it with lacquer himself.
“I can keep the Thralls preoccupied while you deal with Hivengel. Is that okay with you?” the man asked.
Reyah looked at him with an electrifying smile. “That sounds perfect!”
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