Opening his eyes, Azul found himself disoriented by the sudden change in his field of view. The entire room looked to be glowing with various lights, so intensely bright that they caused him to force his eyes shut.
But even closing his eyes did not help. The colors of the light still penetrated through his eyelids. It was as if they had been branded onto his very retinas. Branded by two searing hot irons.
"I had not expected you to have the Eso-sight," Grandmaster Janshari said with a hint of surprise. "But then again, I should not limit my expectations for a marvel such as you."
Azul suppressed the desire to lash out at anything, at anyone. It was a testament to the amount of pain his eyes were undergoing.
[Sight good…make better predator…host simply not…used to it.] The distorted voice of Hunter resounded throughout his mind.
'Hunter?' Azul thought to himself. 'You can speak to me?' And was it just him, or did Hunter sounded more intelligent than last time?
[Yes…connected we are.]
If he was being honest with himself, Azul was only a little surprised and somewhat uncomfortable. Even before the connection, the unlocking of his seat of power, Hunter had already been increasingly able to make his agreement or disagreement known with his actions. But now that there was the voice of another being--though himself, but more alien--Azul was not sure what to make of it.
"What are these colors?" Azul directed his question toward the grandmaster.
"Not to worry. The disorientation will pass. The colors you see are simply the inert essences of the Esotherial. You cannot see the inert essences of the Esotherial without the Eso-sight. You can, however, see the activated essences of the Esotherial even without the Sight."
"So when you activate these inert essences through your seat of power, you can still see them even without the Sight?" Azul asked, his eyes still tightly shut. The disorientation was still in full effect.
"Precisely so. You are quite apt for one so limited in knowledge," Janshari complimented. "Here, I will help turn off the sight for you."
As soon as Azul felt a touch on each of his eyelid, the glowing lights faded away. Peeling open his eyes slowly, he found his field of view returning back to its normality, and also found himself staring into the eyes of Grandmaster Janshari. The old man was uncomfortably close, only two feet away from him.
[Prey…strong.] Hunter commented warily.
"What exactly is a seat of power?" Azul asked. He wondered if any humans blessed with talents had an entity like Hunter living inside their seats of power. Azul doubted it though.
Gray eyes curiously peered into Azul's, as if searching for a deeper reason behind the question. "It is a complex subject, but I shall try to explain it. Seats of power are unique places of solitude where the esotheric channels are located. Each unique seat of power is a place that is integral to the owner. One might even say the very essence of his or her power. The seats of power are then used to commune with the Esotherial."
"What do you mean by communing?"
The old man gave a dry laugh. "So many questions. But I can understand. Were I to be placed in your self-same situation, I would ask questions too. After all, to better understand the world is to better understand yourself. And the key to do so is to ask questions."
[Prey noisy…but host noisy too.]
Azul waited patiently for the old man to continue, doing his best to ignore the impatient, distorted voice of Hunter inside his mind. He was not sure, but he could almost sense a playfulness to the voice. A playfulness that belonged to a predator taking its time to hunt down an easy prey.
Seeing that Azul did not bother to comment on his little tidbit of life advice, the old grandmaster merely continued, not the slightest bit unfazed. "One must first know that spells and rituals do not exist from out of nowhere. They are granted by communing with the Esotherial through one's seat of power. Words, actions, will, blood, soul and such self-governing forces can help activate the inert esotheric essences. They can also act as mediums."
The old man waved a hand. "This is the most elementary explanation, but you can learn about this later from Bernard." Janshari turned toward the witch. "You must now uphold your part of the favor. Help the witch. Help Sylva." The grandmaster almost pleaded the last few words.
Azul nodded. "What do I need to do?"
From the folds of his robe, Grandmaster Janshari took out a small dagger, its length running the entirety of his hand.
It was a practiced motion, one so smooth that Azul had no doubts the grandmaster had drew the dagger out on multiple occasions.
Even Hunter grudgingly admired the motion.
"An old man such as me has to have a few measure of ways to protect himself, does he not," Janshari said, taking the dagger by its golden hilt and expertly readying it toward the witch.
"Do not worry, child," the grandmaster whispered softly, his voice akin to that of a gentle breeze, akin to that of a loving parent speaking to a dear child. "All shall be fine."
There was no response from the witch to his words, but the grandmaster already expected this reaction, for the witch had been damaged in both mind and soul. And the damage was so severe that it had rendered her into an almost vacant vessel.
Gently, with his free hand, the grandmaster moved the slim arms of the witch, which had been wrapped protectively in an arc around her legs. Then he proceeded to lay the witch down onto the cot.
No longer hidden by her arms and her original sitting position, the eyes of the witch could now be seen. They were of a blue hue, a startling sky-blue color. But those blue eyes of her were vacant. There was no will, no life to them.
"The lifeblood from a living heart is both a powerful symbol and a medium to the Esotherial." Janshari softly breathed out.
With those whispered words, the dagger in his hand moved closer to her left breast. With an almost sickening ease, in rhythm to the soft rising and falling of her heaving chest, the dagger cut through the white silken fabric of her dress. The cut was made precisely so that her breasts would be bared. Then the dagger trailed ever so gently against her pale skin, making a small arcing cut across her left breast to the right.
Blood flowed freely.
But.
No reactions came from the witch. She made not a single sound in reaction to the cut. Not a single gasp of pain could be heard. Not even a sharp intake of breath.
It was a testament to how truly broken she was, how she was solely in her own world, ignorant of her surroundings.
A sorrowful broken bird she was.
"As close to the blood from the living heart as one can get." Dagger in hand, Janshari stood up, then looked toward Azul. "Now drink from her as you access your seat of power. Feel it within your own blood, for blood calls to blood, especially so to one gifted in the esotheric Blood. Let the Esotherial guide you. Soul to soul, life to life, blood to blood."
A moment passed in silence as Azul took in the old man's words. And the first thought that crossed his mind was not of the serious nature of his words, but of the time Bernard had first offered him a free meal.
What was with humans offering free meals?
Hunter agreed with the sentiment. He was not one to pass up a free meal. [Yes…take from prey.]
Azul was lost. He was not sure of how to access his seat of power. His seat of power seemed to be entirely different from that of humans. Was it not the entity living inside him? Was his seat of power not Hunter?
[Yes…I seat of power…we seat of power…I help host.]
At those words, Azul found his legs moving by themselves, dragging his body toward the bed. His legs were no longer under his control, but under the control of Hunter.
[Do not resist.]
Azul did not.
He knew that, at this moment of time, things were out of his control. He did not have the full knowledge to understand what was happening. He could only go with the flow. He let Hunter take control.
His eyes were no longer his own.
Azul merely felt as if he was a watching a moving scenery as Hunter controlled his body.
To the eyes of Hunter, everything had a purpose. Everything glowed with a purpose. Using the Eso-sight was second nature to Hunter. It was an instinct so familiar that Hunter knew he had done similar actions long ago.
He knew how to take the blood strength of his prey and bind its blood to him. He took power from his prey. But he did not give power to his prey.
What the old but still strong prey wanted was to share his power with the female prey, and with it, stabilize her. Hunter did not relish the idea.
He was one who takes from others. Others did not take from him.
Edging closer toward the female prey, Hunter bent a knee. Even without looking back, he knew the strong prey watched him for any signs of wrongdoings. Hunter knew the strong prey, deep inside his mind, did not trust him.
With the eyes of a predator, Hunter looked toward the witch prey.
The smell of blood made him almost delirious. He wanted to howl in joy. So many suns and moons had passed since he last had the living lifeblood of preys.
He moved his head closer to the cut near her left breast, near her heart, until his mouth was directly positioned above the cut.
There was no excitement for Hunter upon seeing the slender curves of her breasts up close. Nor was there excitement for Hunter upon smelling the distinct bodily smell of her prey scent. He knew of the mating rituals that his preys loved to undergo.
But to Hunter, there was only the thrill of the hunt, and the ensuing thrill of blood.
He was simply Hunter. A hunter of warmth, of blood.
He could have used his hands to drain her blood. Doing so, however, would make the blood lose its taste to him. Only by directly using his mouth could he savor the warm taste.
His tongue lapped at the edges of her left breast, then traced a slow arc toward the grooves of her breasts. His prey had a smooth, delicate skin which only made the process easier for Hunter.
The prey's blood flowed easily.
Soon he tasted his witch prey.
With the taste of the gushing warmth, he also tasted the salt and sweat of her body. Then came the ever so familiar yet unfamiliar rush of power. Her most distinct memories came to Hunter. But they came in fragments of fragments, for the blood, though potent, was still very little.
Memories of the blue skies. Of clear days and family. Of wings and flight. Then of cloudy days. Of broken wings. Of sad days and no family.
Hunter now knew of his prey, of his prey's unique esotheric signature.
The witch prey was lost to the Esotherial. But Hunter knew he could call her back.
He knew of her blood. And the blood inside Hunter knew of her.
Blood called to blood.
With a focused will that could have only belonged to him, Hunter reached through the inert Esotherial energy, searching and shaping the specific essences that conformed to blood.
Then he willed his own blood.
The process was almost instinctive for Hunter.
Thin lines of rope-like essences, what Hunter liked to call tendrils, sprouted from his body. These crimson tendrils then coiled back and forth, pulsing to a rhythm only they knew of. Snake-like, the tendrils reached for the cut near his prey's heart.
From the open wound, the tendrils entered deep inside her body, then coiled around her heart.
Using her heart-blood as medium, the tendrils then reached through the inert Esotherial, invisible to all but the Sight, and pulled the lost witch prey back to her body.
Reaching through the inert Esotherial, the tendrils connected her esotheric signature to Hunter's esotheric signature.
Blood connected blood.
Hunter and his witch prey was now bonded with a true blood covenant.
The witch prey was now his familiar, and a part of her blood, her power, now belonged to him. But with it, Hunter also shared with his prey a tiny measure of his power.
And through the Eso-sight, Hunter could see the inert snake-like, blood esotheric bond connecting his witch prey to him. The bond, however, could only be manipulated by Hunter, the master, or one skilled in esotheric Blood.
In addition, the stability of the witch prey's mind and soul, which had been called back from the Esotherial, was now dependent upon the bond. Too much of her mind and soul had been drifting in the Esotherial for far too long. It was why the stabilizing blood bond was necessary.
Hunter did not like being connected to a prey. But Hunter knew that that his host would wish to return the favor. And Hunter knew when to avoid an uncertain fight in unfamiliar surroundings. He trusted his instinct for survival.
Hunter returned control to his host.
"You have my utmost gratitude for saving Sylva," Grandmaster Janshari said from behind Azul. "And with it, a helping hand should you ever wish for it."
Azul could only nod, almost in a dumb manner. Too much had happened and his mind was too busily taking in the information.
A rustling noise was heard.
It came from the bed.
Both Azul and Grandmaster Janshari turned toward the bed.
Life had returned to the vacant eyes of the witch. Like the sun appearing after cloudy skies, her sky-blue eyes brightened as recognition entered her mind. Those blue eyes slowly took in the new surroundings that was her room, slowly rotating left to right. Then downward which led to the eyes noticing her general state of undress and bloodiness.
Sylva, the witch, screamed then.
[Another noisy prey.]
"You know, for all my knowledge, I have never once considered this part after the blood covenant was over," Grandmaster Janshari added wryly.