Anything beyond that, the Priestess was not sure of as her mother’s sight nor Kaléé’s could see no further.
How determined were they to really see though? Samanthŕa knew deep within her heart, not much. No, for the past four nights, she and Chymeŕah clung to one another desperately. They spoke no more on whether or not the lies were true. Unspoken, they refused to accept it at all. Samanthŕa even shared her mother's chamber.
Let the outside stay lost to them, Chymeŕah said on the first night. Here, whatever Aréel said, does not exist.
Oh, Dĩas and others of the bloodlines, particularly the Elders who attempted to play peacekeeper, made attempts to enter Chymeŕah’s Realm but she sealed it off from them all. She wouldn’t even acknowledge attempts from Monéaklá, who literally screamed blood stricken tears from outside the portal.
Perhaps the Priestess and her mother believed they could remain like this for all eternity. That is, until the messenger came giving word that Samanthŕa had been called to a meeting within Dĩas’s Realm. It concerned her title of High Priestess. At that very moment, the messenger waited outside Chymeŕah’s Realm for two nights, denied access to enter. But an order of reply had been declared and refusal to leave until he, the messenger, received it. At this point, Samanthŕa didn’t care if she spent the rest of her nights here in her mother’s dominion. There was no need to go back and she was positive that she did not want to know what Dĩas wanted with her title. She just wanted to believe none of it existed . . . if such a thing was ever possible.
And it was easy to believe especially since the realms had been quiet. There hadn’t been one attack from Evil since the so-called secrets were announced. How befitting, she thought to herself with sarcasm. No one even spoke anymore of what happened to the Theŕéans, Kaléé claimed, who spoke to Chymeŕah and Samanthŕa continuously in their minds, for Kaléé had been keeping one sharp eye on everyone with her spying ear glued to the ground.
While Chymeŕah and Kaléé were preoccupied, trying to sort out this mess and prepare a reply to the messenger, Samanthŕa gave up and took to the gardens. There among the many mounds of crystals, night lilies and winters rose bloomed in thick, ravishing bushes. Their scent acted as aromatherapy, keeping her calm, as so did the clear tranquil waters in a nearby spring and waterfall. She sat on a marble bench, closed her eyes, and tried to keep her mind off of him, her problems and new conflicts, since she couldn’t understand why she bothered to begin with.
Despite the gibberish Aréel announced, she was positive that he was not hers to be had. And the way he left her when last she saw him, proved it so. His absence over the last few nights didn’t help matters either. But how could she truly bring herself to hate him for that? How could she be foolish enough to think that she could belong to the Father of the Blood? Did she really think that at all or was it just his blood soiling up her thoughts? Maybe she was the one guilty of what she tried to convince her sisters of? Wasn’t that the natural way of things? We are each other’s mirrors? We attack and accuse what we are guilty or capable of ourselves?
Had she confused feelings for something so much simpler? Had she merely been drawn to his power . . . moth to flame?
She flipped open a small, velvet box and took out a long burgundy bottle filled with a special wine her mother had been making for her. It was made with small amounts of essence, blood, to help with the hunger she was finding hard to cope with.
Daŕēus’ blood, his power, seemed to have done more than cloud her judgment, she thought, as she poured a goblet and took a sip. It didn’t completely agree with her, for her struggling beast had its own distinct craving, but it would do for now until she figured out how to manage her predicament.
What would she do? Allow Dǒntáe to awaken her? If she did, would her starving for Daŕēus's essence finally be relieved?
She shook her head with silent doubt. Despite how others claimed he felt towards her, she did not feel that way towards him, no more than she Kalãe felt to be her mother. This also proved that Dǒntáe was not her destined Awakener-- for no Vii could resist his charms if he were.
As the wine was causing her stomach to grieve and her palate to revolt, she set the goblet down, taking a deep breath and giving up.
“I’ll likely starve now.” She hissed, pulling up her antique colored chemise and leaning back towards a statue while the mist of the small waterfall caressed her with kisses of falling spray. "It seems, Goddess," she spoke to the stars, "I am doomed no matter what route I go--Evil curses or starvation."
“Would I allow you to starve?” Daŕēus’ voice came from the shadows.
She flew upward; half turning and then jerking quickly back around, denying him a decent welcome.
“Well, well, and to think I was having a wonderful night.” She rolled her eyes with false displeasure.
“I wonder if you would serve me such bitterness if you knew where I have been.” He sat beside her, laying yellowing scrolls upon her lap as if they were an offering of sorts.
“What are these, excuses for your silence, rudeness, and reasons for your abandonment? Tell me, is this normal behavior for one who has staked a claim of protection or are you simply special?”
He laughed, crossed his arms, and looked up at the sky. He seemed unaffected by her sarcasm, amused. He seemed normal. “Take a look, my Priestess. Your peace of mind may be found in there for they are the real documents from the Vestibule of Scrolls. Only I must admit, the Oracles who betrayed us by consuming the Dark Matter weren’t too pleased about giving them up, or having me demand them in the manner that I did.” He winked.
Oracles. Betraying. What? “Was this a replay of the Tavern?” She partly teased but her real interest focused on what he had laid before her. She ripped open the scrolls, reading avidly.
“You will never let me live that one down, will you?” His eyes gleamed.
“That among other things. I am sure if you stick around though, you will only add to my list. So the Oracles are now corrupt?" As strange as it sounded, it made so much sense. "Has Evil left anyone who can be considered pure and untainted?” Before he could reply, she started to hiss. “Spawn of filth! Did you read these?”
She jumped up and started to pace. “Lies, all lies, especially concerning Dǒntáe.” She froze and frowned. “Poor, dear Dǒntáe, and poor--” She almost said the name of his Vii but refrained. Once it was spoken, the secret would be released, and she was uncertain if that was such a wise thing to do. Did she want Evil to know that she knew?
His face tightened at her concern but her mind was rattling too much to truly take notice. “What did Aréel and her minions hope to gain from all this? Wouldn’t they realize we would discover the truth?”
“I am sure they hoped to buy some time,” he told her. “To do what, I am not sure, but I can promise you, I’ll find out.”
“You can start with the messenger who awaits our reply.” She moaned.
“Messenger?”
“Yes; something to do with my title. Dĩas has called me to his Realm.” She sighed, giving him no time to respond. “And my father? Do you think he was aware of these lies?” She handed him back the scrolls for safekeeping.
“It is hard to say, Samanthŕa. He is still such a mystery to me,” Daŕēus admitted. “I sense the Dark Matter influencing him but I also sense light in his soul.”
“But it says nothing in those of my true Awakener or the curse. Or did I miss that?” She grabbed the scrolls again but he resisted giving them back to her.
“It is not here.” He shook his head and threw up his hands.
“So what does that mean? Does that mean there is a curse or there isn’t? Wait, I have read the scrolls concerning that, so there is a curse.” She began to pace again, remembering all the hours she spent in the Vestibule of Scrolls reading about it herself.
“Can you truly be sure? The Oracles have been corrupt for some time. Who knows what scrolls are truths and what is not? It will take some time to fin
d out.” He stood up and touched her arm. “Trust in me; I will find out.”
She stood still, silent and looked at him. Her eyes were studying his, now that she could look into them for at least short spans of time, without falling giddy and hypnotized. “Until then, I will play it safe and consider the curse still stands. I will take no chance concerning my sisters.”
Her answer displeased him. “If there was a curse, do you not think I could protect you from it?”
“I shall protect myself, thank you.” She walked away from him towards the roses. “I have been doing it for a long time now.” She whipped around, changing the subject. “I don’t suppose you discovered anything more concerning this NORSŔAH and Phãegen business, have you? My brother Staphãyn is still out there and may be still in danger.”
"No, I haven’t. This seemed more urgent to me,” he confessed, tossing the scrolls down. “I would think this would be enough to please you for now.”
“Oh it does.” She was distancing herself. It was as if they were right back to square zero and in truth, they were. Nothing had changed except she’d almost played the fool; she would never do that again. “But Staphãyn…”
“Tell me where he is then. I will protect him. Problem solved.” He cut her off.
“No,” she said as she started to leave the gardens, but he cut her off under a large trellis of stone.
“Let me feed you then. You look weak.” He started to offer her his wrist but she slapped it away.
“No, never again. I shall take no more blood from you. I will prevent my Awakening the same way I started to in the beginning. I have to get it under control.” She jerked herself free.
“You will poison yourself again?” He demanded to know but she avoided the question.
“Daŕēus, leave these things to me. There are more important matters at hand, for instance the messenger and this new information. What shall we do with it? Announce it?” she pondered out loud.
“Have you considered simply Awakening?” He raised a cool expression.
“Are we back to that again? Did you not hear me? There are more important matters at hand.” She was agitated.
“Samanthŕa, think on this. Maybe the reason Evil has gained such a footing is because the balance of power is off. You are not complete unless you Awaken. If you are not complete then your powers as High Priestess are immature and lacking their full strength. Maybe they need to deal with you, the real you, which they have no expectation of seeing. Sometimes being unpredictable is our best of weapons.”
“Am I hurting you by not being complete? I mean-- am I holding your strength back?” She shook her head. “No, I will not accept that. Even if it were true, I would not jeopardize my sisters’ lives. I will have to find out the truth of this curse before I can even consider…” She was rambling. She started to walk away again but he refused to let her. Her body fell against a concrete pillar, his body used as a means to keep her there.
“You are not thinking straight. Let me replenish you.” He demanded her comfort as the shadows burrowed around them. His power submerged her into his wanted intent, but to his surprise, she fought him. He under estimated her strength and she once again slipped away.
“Fetch my mother, will you, and let her and Kaléé know of these things. I must prepare myself.” She said this and started to flee.
“Prepare yourself for what?”
“For Dĩas,” she replied, "they are waiting for me, remember? It's time to see what they are up to next." He opened his mouth to reply, but she vanished.
~Chapter 17~
The Wrath of the Priestess
***
Never under estimate the wrath of she,
Provoked by the fool who in the end shall scream.
And so doth the bodies of all her scorned enemies,
Fall and bleed in bloody masses, upon heaven’s thirsty floor.
***
Reformed Evil and those who accompanied them were seated in Dĩas’s Great Hall. The Elders of the twelve families and clans, including the Vlachŕa of the Lycãons, entered not long after. Daŕēus had already arrived, determined to discover what this was about. Samanthŕa and Chymeŕah stood with him.
The messenger, a small seedy looking familiar, crippled by the weight of staff and robe, bowed before Dĩas and Aréel, begging for forgiveness. “They did not honor the ritual of things. Instead of giving me a message and time they would meet with you, they simply followed me here.” His voice was slithering and pathetic. Samanthŕa was sure he was a pet of Aréel’s, for her bloodline would never deal with such a thing.
Dĩas appearing to have a new iciness drift across him waved it away. "Be gone thing. Your purpose has been served."
Slowly, balancing itself with its staff, it wobbled away.
“I am here, so let’s get on with it, shall we?” Samanthŕa was harsh and bold, with little patience concerning the likes of this and them.
“Give us a minute.” Aréel hissed. Her disposition of sorrow seemed lost during the four nights that passed since her fragile false attempt at making amends occurred. She, Dĩas and the others hovered together at the far end of a long table, whispering. His throne sat covered with a blanket near the back of the room. It had been moved, for whatever reason, the Priestess did not know. .
By the look on Dais's face, he wasn’t too pleased when he saw his daughter with the Father of the Blood. As he peeked and peered over the shoulders of his company, it seemed as though nothing had changed concerning him. Samanthŕa started to wonder if the ball had ever even happened. Judging by the atmosphere and visages of those here now, one was left to wonder. His castle was darker, gloomier. The servants looked distressed and the few Lampiŕs they saw, appeared to be downright morbid. There were more Veŕatüs, Mãrquisŕas, and Vãlãhs moving about though, snarling, and lurking their presences about more so than anyone else. The stones seemed to breathe an eerie frigidness . . . something Samanthŕa hated because it sunk to her very bones.
“Let’s get on with this.” Chymeŕah hissed. Her long dark nails tapped against the sleek surface of the table. "You called us here, did you not? Therefore you should be more prepared!"
Finally Dĩas, Aréel and the others who had renounced Evil returned to their seats.
Aréel’s face was gleaming with uncomfortable delight. “Very well then, we shall begin."
"About bloody time." Kaléé snarled. A giant wolf, Rameŕas, stood brazenly beside her, ready to attack if need be.
"We have called you here, Samanthŕa, concerning your title of High Priestess. You are no longer required to hold such powers as we have found you have committed treason against your father’s rule.”
“What?” Samanthŕa nearly fell out of her chair. Daŕēus’s fist slammed against the table.
"What's the meaning of this?" He growled.
Aréel rushed to finish. “Have you not hidden from us the whereabouts of your once brother Staphãyn, aiding him in his attempt to destroy the families?”
“What is this madness you speak?” Daŕēus demanded to know.
“Ah yes, the Father of the Blood is clueless again. See, we told you we could tamper with your thoughts and memories, and this is just another example. You do not even know what your Priestess does behind your back.” Aréel looked at Samanthŕa. “Did you not meet with Staphãyn and his wench, giving them path and direction to the realm of NORSŔAH where you claimed he would be safe? And then by doing so, aided him and our enemy in destroying us, which led to the attempted demise of the Theŕéans?”
“Enough!” Darius's anger reached a high. “She met with him, this is no secret, but she did not aid in any attack. Furthermore, it has yet to be proven that the NORSŔAH, Phãegens or Staphãyn were behind any such attack.”
Samanthŕa shook her head and looked at the table. So this was their plan, and such a typical plan it was. Evil loved to manipulate, twist, and warp the truth to suit their agenda. These sanies filth were not reformed. They were simply a dise
ase, sent here to spread their Dark Matter. The real question was, how could her father be allowing it?
“We have all the proof that we need.” Aréel spat at the floor.
“Then present it,” Kaléé ordered.
“For those who are loyal to the Goddess’s bloodlines, we have and will. But your loyalty, the loyalty of the Lycãon and of Daŕēus and the Priestess are under question. We will be getting to that, however.”
“How dare you speak of the Goddess!” Kaléé raised her staff but just as she did, Dĩas warned:
“This meeting has been invoked as Neutral. Your powers were bound before you entered through those doors. Strike us and I warn: your power shall then turn on you. You will be cursed.” His eyes were fixed and daring.
Kaléé spit to the floor and chanted in a foreign tongue only used by Vlachŕa. She spilled forth her own bought of curses.
“I said--” Dĩas started to say when Chymeŕah interrupted him.
“Be wary, Dĩas, for what she throws down upon you will not befall you until the meeting is done. Until your binding is relinquished. My sister is wise, you see.” She hissed with satisfying depth.
“Bloody Hadãe! Worry not of her chants, Dĩas, for she is just a crone, a crone who suffers from her own curses. Just look at her, old and decaying. The only one of us reflecting such a state.” Aréel erupted with amusement.
Dĩas roared with laughter, but no one else.
“Only a fool underestimates the power of a Vlachŕa.” The wolf Rameŕas's voice was disturbingly low as he placed snout on Kaléé’s shoulder. Her eyes were turning white while she became possessed with the voice of her hex.
“Moving on,” Aréel threw up her hand and tried to appear unconcerned; but part of her apparently was. She continued to speak but had to do it over Kaléé’s frightening whispers. “A truce will be demanded of all of you before you leave, especially from the Lycãon who turned their backs on the bloodline long ago. As for you, Samanthŕa, your title is remanded, whether you and yours like it or not. Your guilt has been found. You have no choice.”
Bound By Blood Page 23
