by Alana Grerig
It was long after the moans and screams from the pits had quietened that the meeting finally concluded. The plan for conquering Orea was now complete. Nimayaorin stalked the halls leading back to his chambers. My plan is guaranteed to succeed; now that the light is destroyed, there is nothing to stand in my way, he thought while gliding, silent as a shadow along the arched corridors of his fortress. Without realising it, Nimayaorin found himself outside a chamber he never, ever entered. Tonight, however, there was no longer anything to fear from this room. His control over Orea was all but complete. The darkness had won; the contents of this room was no longer a weight hanging around his neck. Raising a clawed hand, he chanted the incantation to unlock the ivory door.
The chamber’s black tapers were lit. The blue flames cast eerie shadows off the objects, throwing grotesque shapes onto the blood red walls. Gliding further into the room, Nimayaorin considered the contents. For many years, this room had been a form of torment for the great Nimayaorin, laying bare his true identity and how far he had truly fallen. Casting his scarlet gaze over the boxes of books and frames which held faces he was still not able to look at, he made his way to the larger traveling chest, its brass stud-work glinting in the candlelight. This one item was by far the most personal he owned, one he shied away from. Too many memories, and memories were dangerous. They led to feelings, and feelings were not something Nimayaorin wanted to ever experience again. So far into the darkness had he fallen, his depravity so completely absolute, that Nimayaorin no longer saw in colour. His sense of smell was dulled, and he felt no pain. Any sense of touch he had, had been lost long ago. This suited him just fine; feelings were for the weak.
Running a claw over the elvish-carved lid, Nimayaorin considered opening the chest and casting light on the contents that he had locked away so many years ago. Minutes passed. Nimayaorin didn’t move, indecision flickering in his eyes. Letting out a screech of rage, the great dark tyrant snatched his claw back as though burned and fled the chamber, making sure to relock the cursed room and all its memories. Storming back to his chambers, Nimayaorin ordered for three slaves to be brought to his chamber. He paced while he waited. Surely a spot of torture, followed by glutting on the blood and warm entrails of his victims, would better his mood.
The screams that emanated from the grand chamber were those from nightmares; they continued for hours. Nimayaorin took his time with each victim. The first, a woman of vampire descent, fought back, which added an extra element to the proceedings and allowed the tyrant to exert himself more than usual. All traces of vulnerability he had felt earlier vanished once the vampire’s heart was cupped in his hand. I am invincible; nothing can stand against me now! Nimayaorin thought, licking his claws clean of blood. The feasting had been enjoyable. Now fully sated and feeling more in control, he left the pile of skin and broken bones for his attendant to clean away. Stopping to pick up the three sets of eyeballs he had carefully removed from his victim’s skulls, he took his gruesome trophies to his study. Nimayaorin placed the fleshy orbs into a crystal jar. Placing it along with the other jars he kept as a macabre record of his murders, he turned to his Book of Shadows and pored over the dark spells while awaiting news from General Lervirion.
***
Lervirion and his dark legions entered Clear Water Valley. The ghouls were under orders to only infect the minds of the witches; there was to be no partaking of the flesh here. Hissing their displeasure, they turned to mist and targeted high-ranking witches throughout the Valley. The plan was to possess the leaders. The rest would follow them, just like sheep. Ghouls would never be suspected, as they were believed by all to have been eradicated in the last magical war.
Ghouls were known for their mind control, so it was imperative that not one of the foul creatures were discovered. It was hard to kill a ghoul but not impossible. Gliding like ghosts through the houses, the ghouls hunted for the most influential of the witches. They were able to do this using their ability to ‘taste’ someone’s will. The stronger the ‘taste,’ the more influence the creature had over its peers. For the ghouls, this was child’s play. Within an hour, they had possessed every witch of influence in the realm.
Phase one was complete. Now the dark murmurs were on standby to help stir up the population and guide their thoughts towards the darkness. Chaos was about to have rein throughout Clear Water Valley.
***
Sapphire was becoming concerned; she had not yet found a portal into Gloria. As she swooped down to catch a tree cat for her supper, she pondered once again over the intense pain she had felt not long ago. This had been followed by…nothing. This disturbed the great owl. A mental numbness was never a good sign when one mind was connected to another. It usually meant the connection had been permanently severed. Making the kill swift and clean, Sapphire delicately ate her meal. Evangeline cannot be dead; the prophecy is tied to her life force. If she has indeed passed to the realm of the dead, then all of Orea shall perish in the void.
After cleaning her beak and talons in a nearby brook, Sapphire once again took to the skies. The Olia landscape was indeed beautiful, though she hardly saw the russet treetops or the golden grass fields. I must find another gate into Gloria, if only to have my darkest suspicions confirmed.
Chapter Sixteen
The coven was restless. It had been weeks since the scouts had been sent to fetch fresh blood. Fights were beginning to break out over nothing; the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Winter was becoming bored. She wanted to go to the feeding grounds and have a dalliance with a handsome man and then sup his rich blood. Just thinking about it made heat pool low in her belly and made her gums itch. Though she only appeared to be a young woman of no more than twenty-one summers, Winter was, in fact, hundreds of years old. Rising from her four-poster bed, she moved languidly to her vanity. Her father would return shortly from his meeting with a small fraction of rebellious subjects, and on his return, he would no doubt expect an audience with her.
More suitors to parade in front of, I shouldn’t wonder, she thought while picking a lipstick from her new makeup box. Such treasures she had gathered since her people discovered the other world. Settling on a shimmery pink, Winter carefully applied it to her full lips. The colour worked perfectly with her chestnut waves and ice blue eyes; Ariana was going to be so envious of her new look. Getting up, Winter picked up the gift she had for her best friend and headed out of her room.
“Where are you going, Your Highness?” inquired a silky voice that set Winter’s teeth on edge.
“Nowhere that concerns you, Archie,” she spat back, hoping it would deter him from following her. Sadly, it seemed to amuse him.
“Come now, Your Highness, I am only concerned for your wellbeing, as any man who cares for you should be,” Archie crooned. Winter resisted the urge to bare her fangs. She had learned that this seemed to excite him, which was the very last thing she wanted. Winter scowled at him. Archie Van Grüber was becoming a problem, one she hoped her father would deal with on his return. Picking up her pace, she rushed along the corridor with a love-sick Archie hot on her heels.
“How did you manage to get into my wing of the castle, Archie? You know full well, no would-be suitor’s - or in your case, stalkers - are allowed down here.”
Looking very pleased with himself, Archie explained how he had convinced the guards they were now an item. Well, that was the last straw! Stopping abruptly, Winter spun to face the smirking vampire. Everything about him screamed narcissistic. All vampires were beautiful, it was how they lured in their prey. However, Archie was overkill: slicked back black hair that shone with oil, a dinner suit, spats, and a very thin, perfectly oiled goatee.
Who dresses like that?! Winter thought to herself as she took in his appearance. Looking directly into his eyes, she suddenly had an idea. Stepping closer to him, Winter gave her thick eyelashes a flutter.
“Well, seeing as you are so resourceful, maybe I should give you another chance, hmm?” Winter almost gagged on the
words as she stared, in what she hoped was an adoring fashion, into his eyes. Clearly, he was as gullible as he was irritating. Archie went into full on smoulder. The over-confident fool reached out and stroked her face. It took all of her willpower not to break his arm clean off.
“I knew you were attracted to me. You play hard to get, but I knew you burned for me,” he boasted, still stroking her jaw. Taking his hand gently in hers, which neatly stopped the creep from touching her face, Winter arranged to meet him later that night in the courtyard for a romantic stroll. Archie readily agreed. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it.
“Until later, Princess,” he smouldered.
“Yes, until later. I must get on now, Archie; I am meeting Ariana, and I am already late.” Winter smiled, reclaiming her hand, and discreetly wiped the wetness from his kiss onto her leather pants. Taking this break in physical contact as her chance to leave, Winter turned and headed along the corridor. She didn’t look back. When I find out which of the guards believed that oily creep, they will regret the day they were turned! she thought.
Ariana’s face was a picture. She was practically drooling over the lip gloss and compact mirror Winter had gifted her. Winter hoped it made up for her not being able to cross into the other world. It was hard for Winter knowing what had really happened that night in the human world. What she did know was that Ariana was innocent. They had only spoken of it once, just after it had happened, and that was when Ariana begged her best friend to never disclose what truly happened. It would bring shame to the whole coven, rather than just the House of Dai. Reluctantly, Winter had agreed.
Ariana Dai had been taken before the high council and the King, found guilty, and branded across her back. To this day, Winter could still smell the burning flesh and hear her best friend’s screams. She had stood with the rest of the coven and watched the punishment. Thanks to Vampire healing abilities, Ariana had healed well, though with the brand being bewitched, she still bore the scar of the bewitched branding. The image of the rising sun covered the top half of her back for all eternity.
“So, why were you so late? Surely it didn’t take that long to put on your makeup,” Ariana teased, poking her friend in the ribs. Winter explained with much eye rolling about Archie and his antics. “Seriously, the guy has some serious guts to pull a stunt like that.”
“No, Ariana, he is seriously stupid to pull a stunt like that; my father will not be pleased,” Winter fumed while her oldest friend merely laughed. “And did you just refer to a vampire as a guy?” Winter teased her friend. She was amazed at how easily the coven had picked up the casual way in which the human creatures spoke. It was so much more fluid than the way they had all been taught.
The girls chatted for hours, comfortable in the plush recliners, glasses of red wine in hand.
The atmosphere changed rapidly when one of the royal scouts appeared on the threshold.
“The King has returned! All of you make haste to your posts! Has anyone seen the Princess?” he shouted into the crowd, though there was no need, as everyone was silent. Suddenly the room was a hubbub of activity, as vampires scrambled to return to their duties. Winter sighed. It was now her duty to go and greet her father at the gate and offer him a goblet of blood. The custom was so outdated. She had asked on many occasions why they must continue it. Her father had looked aghast and explained that to her while it may be outdated, to a two-thousand-year-old vampire, it was practically modern!
King Fredrick was tired. It had been a very tiring few weeks. The civil war had broken out over Coven supremacy, of all things, and it was a bloody mess. Many lives had been permanently ended. He stroked his trimmed beard, a relic from his human life. If he chose to shave it, it would, in a matter of hours, grow back to the exact length and style it had been when he was turned. Fredrick often counted his lucky stars that he had trimmed it the day he had become a vampire. His horse snorted with impatience. The beast was no doubt as road-weary as he was.
“Soon, Ulysses. We must uphold tradition, much to my daughter’s disgust,” he chuckled while patting his grey stallion’s neck. After another few minutes, Winter appeared from the grand front door and met him and his warriors. Just to rile her, he often referred to his warriors as ‘knights.’ She looked just as beautiful as she had the day he left, though this should come as no great surprise to a vampire. Fredrick was always amazed by his daughter’s beauty. It was her smart mouth that hindered her marriage prospects. The thought pained him. He wanted her to be settled, and he needed her to ready herself to undertake Royal duties.
“Father, how glad I am to see you home and well. Here is the blood, the elixir which sustains us,” Winter said. She had been saying the same line for a hundred and forty-two years since her mother died. Winter quickly shook the image of her mother’s beautiful face from her mind.
Smiling down at his daughter, Fredrick took the goblet and drank deeply. The rich, velvety blood was welcome after so many hours with only wine to sustain him. Many of the myths surrounding Vampires in the other world were simply fabrications, though drinking blood and not being able to consume food were two that held true. Reaching for his kerchief, he dabbed at his lips and returned the cup to his daughter.
“How wonderful it is to be home and to see you well, my daughter,” he replied in a formal greeting. Fredrick dismounted Ulysses in one fluid movement and casually handed the reins to a stable hand, instructing that he was to have an apple and a bucket of oats after his rub down. Turning back to his daughter, Fredrick offered his arm. Smiling up at her father’s kind face, Winter slipped her arm through his, and they made their way back into the castle.
“How was your trip, Father? I hope all is well and the fighting will now stop.”
Looking at Winter, his heart swelled with pride. So, she is interested in the governing of the realm, he thought as they walked towards his chambers. Maybe she shall surprise me and pick a husband. Feeling foolish for getting ahead of himself and zoning out of the conversation, Fredrick returned his wandering mind to his daughter.
“I am sorry, Sweetheart; I missed what you were saying. Too many conflicting thoughts are taking up room in this old head of mine,” he said, smiling down at her. Winter smiled. She knew her father had much on his mind, and so she would not be unreasonable about his lapse in concentration.
“It’s fine, Father. It wasn’t anything that can’t wait. Once you have had supper - or even tomorrow - once you have rested, I can tell you then.” Kissing his dusty cheek, Winter let go of his arm and headed toward the corridor that lead to her wing. When she reached the door, she called to her father, “I will see you at dinner. Ariana needs my help with a project, and I know how much you need a rest.”
Nodding to her, Fredrick waited for her to go before he continued at a slower pace towards his chambers. Though he was well enough, he was tired after such a long ride and felt the need for a long bath and maybe a nap before supper. Upon reaching his chambers, Fredrick walked to his desk, and, as was his ritual, he picked up the ornate gold frame and gazed at the image of his beloved late wife, Helen. How beautiful she had been. He missed her so much. Just as he had when Helen had graced these chambers, he repeated the words he had said to her a hundred times: “Hello my love, I have returned to you unscathed, and, well, I have missed you every second since we parted. Now that I am home, I feel whole once more.” Raising the image of Helen to his lips, Fredrick kissed the cold glass and sighed. The last part of his homecoming always felt hollow these days; he did not feel complete returning when his beloved wife was no longer here to greet him. Every homecoming was the same. How happy he was to see his daughter - who had her mother’s face, apart from her eyes. No one knew why her eyes were ice blue. All vampires had the same colour eyes, a rich burgundy. When viewed up close, any beholder could clearly see the flecks of bright red within the irises.
Replacing the photo frame, Fredrick picked up the pile of missives, which were neatly bound with a golden ribbon, and dropped down i
nto his comfortable armchair. Kicking off his riding boots, he untiled the ribbon and flicked through the notes, party invites, a petition for marriage, and a dispute over payment for goods. Content that he was not going to find anything that could not wait until tomorrow, he put the pile on the coffee table and headed to his wet room for a long soak in his rather large bath.
Winter found Ariana waiting outside the entrance to her wing of the castle. Smiling at her friend, she quickened her pace. Ariana didn’t return her smile as expected. In fact, she was crying. Concern suddenly filled Winter’s heart. She hurried the last few feet between them.
“What’s wrong, Ana?” she asked, reaching for her hand.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Ariana mumbled, wiping her eyes and smudging her mascara. It didn’t look like ‘nothing’ to Winter. However, there was no point in trying to find out what had happened; Ana would tell her when she was ready.
“Well, I am ready when you feel like talking. In the meantime, we need to sort your face. You have mascara all over the place,” she said, smiling and pulling Ariana along with her. They half ran to her bedroom where they spent the next hour giving each other makeovers and doing impersonations of Dame Higshot, their old-school mistress.
