He walked around the room a bit in silence. Poised, hands behind his back, “I had to ask. It’s hard to tell what you might have gotten yourself into,” he admitted. “Regardless, I am concerned over this storm. It makes no sense to anyone. I would say it was from the hand of Evil and their wretched bloodlines, but I now know that’s impossible."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"It seems Evil is as confused as we are."
Now that was interesting. Usually, they would be boasting especially if they were preventing such a powerful night and it's rituals from taking place.
"Yes, and they too are being slaughtered by the dozens, and cannot leave their dens without fear. Seems no one is safe this night. And since we both seem to share a common enemy, the Elders of Evil have even been invited to the meeting in the Higher Realm.”
She knew it had to be serious if Evil’s Elders and those of the many Lights were laying down their arms to meet together on neutral terms. Her curiosity raked her brain with interest. That is, until the meaning of what he had said earlier hit a sensitive note again.
“Still, father, calling off the festival, at least for us? This decree will not fare well with the Lycãons. They already have a problem with your leadership. If you deny them their High Priestess or even fellowship of the bloodlines on such an important night, well, you could be asking for war.”
“The Elders and anyone of great power will not be here, Samanthŕa, to watch over you and the others. And the Elders of the Lycãons were invited to the meeting as well, but they refused. They are as stubborn as you are and seem to think Beal-Tene needs to go on as planned. They have sent your mother, of all nightmares, in their place."
"I cannot blame them. Attacks from Evil have weakened us. We need the power of this night to strengthen." She b it her bottom lip. Her heart bled her emotion. "At least allow me to go then . . . for I hold important title. Let me go in good faith. The Vlachŕa of the Lycãon will give me safe passage and--"
"No. I trust no one with your welfare. With Evil’s spawn attacking as they have been, it would be madness to send you out into that kind of danger. Just because our enemies are victim, does not mean I trust their cursed bloodlines. While their Elders are at our meeting, their spawn will no doubt hunt . . . even if they too are hunted. The families who are loyal to me will remain under the local protection of their Realms. This isn’t open for debate. I have spoken and it will be as I deem fit.” He returned to his throne. He sat in the same position, with his chin in his hand. But he did not dismiss her.
She tried again. A foolish attempt, but she had to. If he locked her up, despite what was going on outside, the Vlachŕa would swear he did so in order to spite them. “father, the Lycãons think you have poisoned the bloodlines and they do not trust the Strygĩ Elders either. The last straw was when you separated me from my mother, when you sent her away and took her rights as Elder. If the twelve sacred families are divided, then Evil will easily destroy us. And the Lycãon are so very close to renouncing--"
"Yes, yes, yes. We all know what the Vlachŕa think. I have no mind to care right now."
"Keeping peace is precious, father."
"Bloody Hadãe, Samanthŕa, they were invited to this meeting. It's not that we locked them out completely. They even realize the dangers afoot this night. Do you think them so dense that not even they have not recognized this storm as an unseen threat and sign?"
"Yes, but they also see the importance of carrying forth the rituals. They . . . " she needed a better way of explaining. " By denying the other families the right to go to the Lycãon realm is one thing, but then making things worse by denying me passage . . . well, it will throw salt on raw wounds."
"Have you not heard me? I said they were invited to the Higher Realms. It is not as though we built a bloody wall and locked them out."
"Yes, but no offense, if the message came from you, then they would not trust it since they have none in you. You would have had a better chance if you would have told me to invite them to this meeting,” she said.
"Well there was no time." He spoke impatiently.
Clenching her fists, remembering her place, “I assume I will be going if you will not allow me to attend Beal-TENE, then . . . .”
“You will not be permitted to be there, either.”
“I am High Priestess!” She reminded him of this fact while groaning in annoyance. Anger saturated her eyes, even though usually she was a champion at camouflaging her emotions. It was her duty to be at such meetings. This was just another way for him to control her and keep her in the dark-- to keep her caged.
“Samanthŕa, you must have patience. We must deal with one thing at a time. We have your Awakening to avoid first and foremost, which is why I separated you from your sisters and your mother. Remember? Or have you forgotten the doom that lies ahead for you if the Awakening is allowed to take its course? The same fate you will then curse your sisters to bear!” He shook his head with such aggravation and huffed with frustration, then repeated only what she already knew. “When one Vii puts off the scent that will attract the mate who is destined to perform the ritual of her release and Awakening, she can easily trigger it to happen to another Vii."
"I know. I know. Yet I have no idea what this has to do with the bloody meeting."
"I must protect you and I must keep Evil from sensing you are still a Vii, or placing you near others who might consider you a weak target simply so they can take your essence and claim your title. Or those like your mother, who would attempt to provoke the Awakening in you."
So were his reasons for keeping her caged . . .
"We are under the curse of dark times and much is at stake."
"I know what is at stake." She groaned, knowing their bloodlines suffered, Realms were at war, and Evil were gaining in numbers, among countless other things..
"Yes, but what you do not know, I am considering sending Dezarãe to your mother, to live, at this point. Let her have at least one of you to corrupt. Besides, I cannot take any chances of your sister invoking the Awakening within you. Especially not with all the measures we have taken to prevent it.”
She turned away for a moment and flicked a bit of wax on a candelabrum so that she looked preoccupied and unbothered. Her heart broke with the ache and fear of losing Dezarãe but she could not show emotion and remind him of how strongly she felt towards her. If he was reminded, then he would swear that the bonds between them were too strong and that would give him even more reason to send her away. Then, there would be no doubt in his mind that Dezarãe would trigger her Awakening. It was bad enough that she lost her other sisters, but Dezarãe also?
Samanthŕa would rather die at this point. But what choice did she have if Dĩas decided to take her sister away? He controlled their bloodlines and had even more power than she did as High Priestess. And as High Priestess, she took a blood oath to serve her father and his throne, just as she swore to serve both her family and the rest of the bloodlines. And after all . . . High Priestess or not . . . she was still just a Vii. If only she had been born a warrior . . .
Males had no need of Awakening. They were what they were destined to be at birth. Once they entered manhood, they and their beasts became powerful warriors. They fed without killing, if they kept to the old ways. If not, then they were evil and not someone of the family. She, however, was a Vii and did not have need to feed as a Strygĩ did. A Vii was a female who was inexperrectus - one who had not yet Awakened.
If she were allowed to Awaken, she would be able to merge with her beast and the element she shared soul with. She would be able to mist longer distances and manipulate the energies for much longer periods of time. She would be an immortal who lived for an eternity, not for just six hundred or so years. Without her Awakening, she would need to be bathed in the eternal fires of the Great Goddess, undergo rituals, to become rejuvenated. Those fires would keep her young if she ever had need of them.
That’s what Vampyŕe meant, one who was born fr
om and fed from the Goddess’ fire or pyre. As Vii, the simple flame of a candle could satisfy her, but as a fully-fledged Strygĩ, she would need the fire of essence--blood--a force of life to do so.
She felt him move behind her . . . uncomfortably close. She felt by instincts, his hand barely graze the tips of her long hair.
His voice became soft. “You have become rebellious . . . ever since I allowed you to return to your own chamber and leave mine."
"I . . . I told you . . . I wanted to be around my own things." She bit back a shiver, a cold disgusted chill caused by what he spoke of. She threw a door shut on the memories of his words. She never wanted to relive such things again.
"And still, you make me regret that decision."
Why was he bringing that up now? Was he starving for even more power over her? Did he now want to suffocate her? Was he aggravated that he had to go over this . . . a subject which infuriated him completely . . . her Awakening? Probably, she imagined, but at this point, she didn’t care.
Frozen, she kept her back towards him. The pit of her stomach felt weak as he lifted a piece of the hair he nearly grazed.
"Perhaps I need to reverse my decision and you should return--"
“It is not your decision." She spoke of her previous tantrums concerning the rights of having her own chamber, her own place of privacy, of safety. And, she cut off any chance of them sharing a moment . . . or rather, him thinking he might. A Vii needed to be fierce, especially when her bloodlines were becoming so corrupt. "If you had not tried to lay claim over me, I--”
“It was for your own good.” His voice became harsh and cold. "And not as repulsive as you may think. "
"It is repulsive when you are not my Awakener." She hissed low.
"No . . . but as High Priestess, you should know keeping the bloodline pure, that is what's most important." The sound of his words became distant again, so she knew he had returned to his throne. She quietly took a huge sigh of relief.
"Claiming me as your own, would not have kept the bloodline pure. Not without invoking the Awakening within me and worse." Deep down, Samanthŕa knew that was the only thing that saved her.
“I had hoped I could spare you the suffering of the herbs, by doing so, and with my own power, with the power of the throne, prevent your . . . cursed destiny. By having power over you, I could . . . " he paused, chillingly for what seemed like an eternity. " I admitted my mistake. Even I am prone to making the worst decisions while under the effects of Lycãon liquor.”
“Yes, so you have said many times,” she whispered.
“You would not have been punished to stay in my chamber if you would simply follow my rules and stop wandering off,” he snapped. “And let us not forget what you also stopped doing despite my warnings . . . no excuse for not taking the herbs.” He growled low, changing the subject. He often avoided talking about things that brought him great guilt. “You act as though you care nothing for the curse.”
“I have not forgotten the curse over my head, father,” she admitted, thankful that her sisters did not have to bear such a worry as her. Their Awakenings would bring about good prophecies and purposes for them. Hers, though she was unclear as to the details, would bring about nothing but dread. The Oracles swore it.
“If you have not forgotten, then why did you not take the potion I made for you last eve?” He upbraided her. “We agreed, did we not? Do the rituals and take the potions and I will allow Dezarãe to remain here with you. I will allow visitation with your other sisters. Do not take the potions and I will cut you off completely from your sisters and send Dezarãe away. Did we not agree to that?”
Samanthŕa turned to face him. She could not hide her guilt. Not this time. “They make me ill, father." Now she knew the true reason for his sending Dezarãe away or his most important. "I wanted to be able to attend the festival and be at my fullest potential. Many depend on this festival. What would they think if their Priestess was falling over as if she were dying?”
“What would they think? Who are they to think of anything other than what I tell them? ” He was cynical.
She knew better than to argue about his warped and egotistical opinions, so she got back on track. “I would not defy you and our agreement without good reason. I would not risk losing my sisters or having the curse, which haunts me, befall them. You know this, father.” Truth was she’d been dodging that potion for a few weeks now especially ever since he’d attempted to lay claim over her. She was sick of his control and sick of feeling weak. Even if her mind did not rebel, her will and very nature most certainly would. But if he did not know that, she wouldn’t willingly tell. She accepted the blame for this one night but that is the only blame she would swallow. She did not want to lose her sisters, but her very insides refused to kneel any lower than what she was forced to do already.
"Do I know this?"
"Yes." She bowed her head, staring low, but not because she was tilting with respect, but because her thoughts raced with the horror of the herbs. The potions and rituals felt as though they were slowly killing her, even if she had never experienced life fading from her body before, as he’d reminded her often when she’d complained in the past. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew. So, she had to take a break. She had to try to do so without him knowing, because if he knew, Dĩas would never allow it, despite the harm it caused her. He would force his claim over her even if it was in name only-- or he would do worse. She didn’t want to imagine anything worse. She barely escaped his chains as it were.
“It’s better to suffer the potion now than it will be to experience that dying for real, trust me,” he reminded her, again. “If the prophecy hanging over your head is as bad as I think, then dying will be the least of your worries. Do not throw out the potion again. Take it or I will force you to take it for your own good.” He rose as his dictating mood turned calm and distant. “I must go to this meeting. They are calling me.” He walked away from his blackened slick throne, hearing the voices of the other immortals in his mind. He started to mist when he stopped for a moment and looked at her. His frosty eyes were chilling.
“Samanthŕa,” he said, “do not leave the castle tonight. I know how your curiosity rules you and how famous you are for stumbling onto things. Trust me when I say that this is not something you want to stumble upon, especially when its imprint is such a mystery to the rest of us. Any dangers that befall you, we may not be able to save you from,” he stressed.
“When will you be back?”
“It depends on how long it takes us to get answers.”
“Can I reach you if something happens?”
“Nay.” He frowned. “There shall be no outside interference. The meeting realm has been sealed. Just stay put and nothing will happen. I have strengthened the protective boundaries over our realm with my power. Nothing of negativity can nor will pass.” He vanished without giving her the last word.
And Samanthŕa stood there, alone, thinking-- that there was no way in all the worlds she was going to miss the festival. Somehow or another she would find a way to go. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d escaped Dĩas’ cage and snuck away. It wouldn’t be the last if she were smart enough not to be caught. He might have been stubbornly ignorant to the reasons why she must go--ones concerning the Lycãons and all those pledged to the Goddess--but she was not. She would not allow her bloodlines to be torn any more asunder than what they already were. She would not consciously help evil tear her many families apart.
As for this storm, she had little faith that Dĩas and the Elders would find the hand behind it. She could, though, and if the night held any kind of luck at all, she would. Then maybe they would think twice about keeping her out of a meeting. Maybe Dĩas would think twice before sticking her inside a cage.
She left the room focused on her task ahead, as the heavy spell bound doors magically sealed behind her. Instead of misting back to her room, though, she decided the walk would give her time to think.
Only a
few steps ahead, it occurred to her that the hallway was empty. Nothing moved within its sleek narrowness. Not even a breeze lingered, ruffling up the glowing crystals or heavy tapestries that kept it from sounding too hollow.
Where is everyone? She thought as she turned to go the other direction.
No sooner had she cleared the corner, she slammed into a very large chest. It knocked her off her balance a bit, causing her to stumble backwards. A strong and familiar arm caught her so she didn’t completely plummet or hit her head
“Careful, my clumsy and very silly Vii. We don’t want to bump that head again, now do we?” She heard her brother, Staphãyn, laughing at her. She looked up to find him dressed in his best garments-- leather pants, high boots and clean gathered shirt. As usual, his dark features were alluring. His black hair was tied to the nape of his neck with a thin bit of leather and his penetrating eyes seemed ready to catch any prey. Despite him nearly knocking her off her feet though, she was not prey. And only he would dare call the High Priestess ‘silly’ anyway. No one else would be so foolish.
Jerking her arm away from him, she brushed off her dress, at the same time scolding herself underneath her breath for being so clumsy. She didn’t need to give Staphãyn anything to tease her about, including the whole ‘bumping her head’ thing. She did seem to make an awful habit of that, just not by choice.
Her senses perked up, as she smelt mead on his breath. Her nose crinkled slightly at the smell. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” she asked. “I would have thought you’d be with the Phãegens right now, knowing how you prefer mortal company over ours.” She tried to rub in something he made no point to hide. Staphãyn rarely stayed with his own kind. He distanced himself from the family more and more each night. The only link which remained, was with Samanthŕa and at times she felt him distancing himself from her as well. This caused sadness to enter her heart; for he was one of the few brothers, she still trusted or felt deep affection for.
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