Her last memories were of Ryas across the river. Yuliah looked around. She was no longer by the river but inside a shed and could make out the graying sky through the cracked door. She needed to get back to the river and see if was Ryas or not she saw earlier. Her mind moved faster than her body did, and she stumbled around.
"Ward?" her hand pushed the door open. He didn't answer, nor could she see him. Instead, she looked on confused as to why the stone floor extended then disappeared. The smell of pine and leaves swirled around her carried by the wind. Yuliah headed where the floor disappeared and found that she stood on top of a tower and what she thought was grass were tree tops.
How did this happen? She searched for a way down but couldn't find one. Then felt a pulsing ache in her head. Cloth crusted to her forehead, she screamed as she ripped it from her head, and dropped to all fours. Tearing the fabric from her head, the wound on her forehead broke open, and blood began to seep out again.
As she laid hunched over, drops of blood dripped from her head and onto the words carved into the tower. The outer layer of stone rumbled and shook, then spun in circles leaving Yuliah scrambling back towards the center. What was going on, her heart jumped. Then it came, a feeling she knew all too well.
A fire that burned as it shot up her arm. The mark of the Nomen! She quickly looked down to see the blood vines coiling out and making it's way upward. Yuliah lifted and propelled forward until she kneeled with her head down in front of the scriptures.
A presence stood in front of her, and spoke, but she could not lift her head to see who it was. "We have given our blood, our bodies, our souls to the mark. To see it fall into the hands of a useless girl."
Yuliah tried to lift her head again. "Where am I? And who are you?" she demanded. All this time she
"If you can't even lift you're head. How can you control the mark!"
"How can I control something I know nothing about!" She shouted, and her eyes took on a violet glow.
The voice laughed. "The Ethereal Spirit. Maybe you aren't completely useless after all."
"Maybe I'm not," she answered. Her Father gave it to her for a reason. He believed in her, and so did her Mother. She would not fail them.
"This," the voice deepened, "Is the Gods Tower. Lift your head," it commanded.
Yuliah's head snapped up, her eyes locked onto the shadow standing in front of her. Two black orbs in place of eyes that belonged to neither a man or woman stared back at her. Another black hole opened and closed as a voice came out. A cold emptiness spread from the pit of her stomach to her body. She swallowed and fought back her fear.
Yuliah gazed further into the black orbs in front of her.
"The Mark controls all Nomens, born from the Dark Ethereal Spirit."
"What does it cost?" Yuliah asked. A dark power like this does not come without a price to pay. She had little knowledge of the mark, but when it burned, it tore, away deep inside of her.
"You're soul. The more you use it, you will bind to the mark, even after death you'll come here. Like us. One life. One blood. The way of the Nomens."
"One life. One blood. You say, and there is no other way?" She asked.
"There isn't. Give the mark your blood, and you will be able to control it now," the voice spoke.
"That's it? That's all it takes?" She couldn't believe it could be that simple. She hesitated but pressed the mark up to the gash on her forehead.
Drops of her blood fell onto the mark, and the blood vines shot up her arm again. Yuliah began to take heavy breaths as the vines coiled and curled up her arm. The pain. It came from deep inside her and cut at her insides. She would not scream, not this time. Her breaths turned to pants and her face twisted.
The voice laughed louder than before. "That's it, let it bind to you girl, bind to the Ethereal SPIRIT."
Yuliah whimpered and looked up at the shadow. The dark orbs pulled her forward, and she felt herself falling until her consciousness shut off.
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He maneuvered himself onto the fenrir's back and with one clean cut severed the beasts head from its body. The puncture wounds on his sides ached with each movement he made. He would have to heal the human way. With hardly any strength left, Ryas could not release his Ethereal Spirit right now. He needed to save what's left in case; they ran into something more threatening.
"That's the last of them," Lohan walked over.
"Where's Zehan?" Ryas asked. That light hair bastard escaped too, not before stabbing him twice. He'll die when he finds him. With the fenrir's head in his hands, he walked back towards the Men. "Bring the bodies and heads with us. We'll put them on spikes to keep the other fenrir's out of our camp."
"He's with the guards. Camp? Where should we set up camp?"
"Close to the river. We'll need water for the horses and to clean up. Take this," Ryas tossed the head at Lohan and walked away.
They'll head back out tomorrow and search again. That bastard couldn't have gotten far, not with Yuliah, and not in his state. Ryas made sure to deliver a crippling enough blow to him. A man would have broken ribs and back. He wouldn't have the ability to get up and walk away. It only meant he's most likely another fucken halfbreed.
They set up camp by the river, with the moonlight as a guide. None of the men were prepared, and everyone slept side by side by the campfires. Their fingers clutched around the hilt of their swords. The Fenrir heads sat on spikes, and dimly lit torches circled them. One of the men checked Ryas' wounds, applied a dark ointment, and then bandaged him up.
He lost the man and got himself injured. Ryas laid on his back to rest. The last time he felt this way would have been after one of Lucan's wives stabbed him, but Yuliah used her Ethereal Spirit to heal him. His thoughts moved to Yuliah and pain welled inside his chest. Ryas exhaled deeply.
Regret, that's what he felt, more than before when his eyes caught sight of the stars that glimmered brightly in the night sky — reminding him of all the nights he spent with her next to him. How much she loved looking up at them. The smell of lavender in her hair and her soft body pressed up against his. Ryas felt his chest cramp up. He missed her. He hoped that wherever she was, she was safe. Then something slid down his face. He immediately reached for it. Wet moisture on the tips of his fingers? Tears? Ryas scuffled to himself. What the fuck was this now? She made him feel all kinds of way. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and entered into the Ethereal Flow.