My mind wakes up and I regain memories from sitting and staring at the others in the main hall of the castle, startling me. It seems like only seconds have passed since I lay myself down in the common hall of the castle to sleep with the rest of the Fallen Dark royalty, but from my sudden rush of memories, my body and mind in a slumber but my eyes wide open, tells me that it has been many mortal years. I sit straight on the second throne on the dais, not having moved even an inch from my original position.
I look at my wings. Though my mind and eyes are awake and under my control, the rest of my body isn't. The glamour seems to have frozen in time just like me, so my wings, skin, and eyes look like those of the Fallen Dark.
Instead of my healthy pale skin, the magic makes it look like it is gray and dead like the skin of those around me. My wings, which are normally an inky black, surrounded with an untainted Dark aura made of shadows, look like they have feathers made of tar and sludge with an aura that is inverted. Where the Dark aura is radiating out of my being, the Fallen Dark aura keeps power to itself, unknowingly making it less powerful. My irises, I assume, are a dead gray, instead of the blood red they become when I use my powers or the electric blue-green they are when I am not using my mental abilities.
I am still examining myself when I feel something calling to me. The call is so compelling, its whispers so alluring that it takes all my willpower and self-control not to follow it at once. The whipping scars crisscrossing my back burn, a reminder of a time when I didn't have self-control and father was there to witness it.
When I regain some sort of sense of mind, I realize this might be what brought me out of the sleep. Without hesitation, I focus my mind and let it travel on a path toward the call.
Since I am really an unblemished Dark being, I have many more abilities than the Fallen Dark beings surrounding me. My two favorites are mind control and physical strength, both being the most helpful to me with my experience. I mask the power that radiates from my body while I follow the trail. A trail is peculiar; it not only leads me to the person's mind, but it also shows me a little bit about the soul of the person.
Most untainted Light creatures have trails that are varying shades of white, closer to gray the more they have sinned without good reason. Fallen Light creatures have trails that are a very dark gray, close to black, but not quite. Untainted Dark creatures have trails that are inky black, and closer to gray the more they have sinned without good reason, like with untainted Light beings. The only way to tell the difference between those who have sinned enough are the differences between their auras. Fallen Dark creatures have trails that are a muddy black, much like a mix of black and brown. These are the main four types of trails, besides the Spirits' Vessels' trails, which are always red, yellow, blue, or a mix of these colors. Humans are all the same shade, a perfect mix of black and white.
I mentally stand upon this new trail, and within my first glance, I am shocked. It is larger than any of the other trails I have walked on, signaling emotional strength, and it is a pure gold, radiating untainted Light aura on the left side and untainted Dark aura on the right. Only one has been rumored to hold such a trail of mind, according to books left by the last few untainted Dark seers who met with the last Prophet: the wielder of the Lion's Gift.
The untainted Dark aura calls to my own, and, before my power can mix with the 'chosen one's', I pull my energy into myself, and I scoff. As long as my father has me on the side of the Fallen Dark, nothing can stop us from bringing justice or bring us to 'unity'. I feel the dark heat of anger and revenge, creeping up to my head before I push it down. This new foe will be protected like a fortress and I need to focus with a clear mind.
Let me see who this new warrior is and how skilled he will be. I have been training for centuries to defeat the golden 'chosen one'. Father will be enraged that I am not truly a Fallen Dark, but he will forget everything once I bring home the severed head of the oh-so-special one.
Out of all the Fallen, I have always been the most powerful. I know father has his own agenda, but I need to avenge mother's murder, and the power I will gain will protect my sister and my people. No longer will Dark beings of any kind persecuted or in suffering. The Light creatures will have to bow down to us to save themselves, and they will face the same suffering that father tells me my people have been facing.
As I walk upon this golden trail, I start to hear whispers and echoes. I hear in particular a girl's voice, calling out for someone to pick themselves up and spar. Normally I hear whispers and echoes of the voice of the person who the trail leads to, but there is no possibility of the 'chosen one' being a girl. Women are hardly warriors anymore, but they are dangerously seductive and beautiful, like a pagída méli, a creature-world plant similar to a human's flytrap, a beautiful flower with crimson petals that draws you in, and then kills you.
It secretes nectar so sweet, mixing it with any bit of magic the plant can summon and the nectar glamours your nose into smelling the scent of your true love, whether or not you have already fallen in love or not. Once the nectar's scent is received, that particular batch of nectar embodies that smell. It draws in everything, including creatures without much self-restraint, and before you know it, the flower's large root system has you wrapped up and is dragging you into the ground.
The vain ladies of the court who have money often pay for a seasoned Fallen Dark alchemist, usually a Goblin or Faerie, to take the flower's nectar and match it to the smell of someone in court. They are mainly Fallen Dark Angel princesses or noblewomen, begging for attention and the farthest thing from innocent they can be. Sometimes, when a prince or princess cannot find a spouse before taking the throne, a ceremony is done with the pagída méli, finding a bride or groom quickly, but it is a process that costs resources and labor.
I remember a time when father and I were hunting, I was perhaps a decade old. Mother and Viloria stayed home, doing ladylike court things, or whatever a mother and daughter do together, though they are the ruling queen and princess. I had gotten separated from father, so I traipsed through the jungle, looking for my father's guards and company. I encountered a pagída méli, but I was wary, silently creeping above it.
The petals unfurled a bit and I watched, entranced, though I didn't move an inch. The nectar glistened and I smelled the most beautiful aroma of something dark and heady, like the smell during a heavy rain. It was also a faintly fruity smell, with a hint of comforting vanilla and sweet honey, along with a small kick of citrus. It was everything soft and comforting along with everything strong and heady, almost dangerous, reminding me both of sparring until I am limping along with how tenderly mother would care for me after father would punish me.
The aroma was completely intoxicating, and I didn't notice I was right in front of the beautiful flower until father grabbed me by the back of my neck and slashed with his sword at the roots. We rode back to the castle on his Fallen Dark stallion, where I got scolded and punished for being distracted by something beautiful.
I start to see a wall in front of me and shake myself out of my wayward thoughts, seeing his mind. I reach the outer most layers, I assume. I snap my wings into action, lifting myself up to look through the transparent barrier over the top of his mind. Thousands upon thousands of metal walls thicker than me surround his thoughts and memories. I look in wonder as I see he is asleep right now.
I close my eyes and try to penetrate his mind. I can't get through even the outermost layers. Suddenly, the transparent barrier lights up, signaling that he just woke up. I keep myself in the air and try once again to penetrate his mind, but it's of no use.
Then, without me poking or prodding, I see a vision projected on the transparent barrier. Strange, it seems his mind is heavily fortified, but even so projects his most powerful thoughts. I finally push past the first barrier and I am sucked into a black void.
After the moment is gone, I find myself with no body or form at all, only watching someone sleep in their bed. The room is lavish and is painted and decorated with tones of blue. It looks like a room in the castle but much more modern. Light filters through many windows on the wall I watch from.
I quickly look up when I hear the bedsheets rustle. A teenager girl, most likely human, sits up in the bed, looking sort of confused. I almost laugh to myself. This is the legendary warrior destined to bring peace? I look around the room, trying to see if there is anyone else who could be the warrior. She stands up and I momentarily freeze time, holding it for only a minute with my limits.
She is only a little shorter than me, but above average for her height for a human female. Her hair is a luscious and full brown in its braided crown she holds upon her head, and her skin is fair, but not Caucasian-fair. More like she has Asian roots, most likely Indian, causing her skin to be a healthy fair glow and naturally pink cheeks, like roses blooming in her skin. Her high cheekbones and sharp jawline are contrasted by her eyelashes, which are long and thick, framing deep brown eyes with flecks of gold and her soft chin. Her lips are full, the bottom lip larger than her top lip, and they are a rosy red color, slightly parted.
I look closer when I notice she has a collection of beauty spots over her face, neck, and arms. I have the urge to count them before I step back. She is not lacking in feminine curves, with a full bust, slim waist, and curvy hips.
From her night clothes, I assume, showing a lot of skin I can see a lot of muscle. I must be wary of her. Father is right; beautiful women are treacherous snakes. You wouldn't expect something this pretty to be this strong. Hate rises in me, a dark feeling. She gets to sleep soundly at night without having to hear the screams of her dying mother in her nightmares. I shake my head in disgust before unfreezing time.
She projects the vision again, and, this time, I dive into it, finding that it is a moment of a dream. I find myself in her dream body as she stands in an unfamiliar room, looking down at an unfamiliar bed. On the black sheets is a feather, half untainted Light and half untainted Dark, a feather unheard of. The aura of the feather itself is very powerful, and it links itself to the girl. A note tied to the feather with a piece of twine contains one word in a loopy script: Soon.
Funny, as the chosen one has always been told in the rumors to have white wings, glowing brighter than the sun. Looks like her wings will be only half of this bright white, while the other half will be the darkest, purest black, similar to my own, but definitely purer than mine.
Her powers will begin awakening today. Not only will she be awakening, but creatures all around the universe that went into sleep will be rising once again, Light and Dark, Fallen and untainted.
Millennium ago, my history books tell me, Light and Dark were balanced and at peace. After a Light faerie backstabbed a Dark witch, the two sides went into war. That last violent act was the straw that broke the camel's back. After centuries of this war, an unknown disease spread through the Dark soldiers, making them Fallen Dark. The disease became a pandemic, and soon, the war became the battles of the Fallen against the untainted.
My grandfather, who was one of the first to be turned, hunted out all of the untainted Dark who hid in the shadows. I am the only one left; even the ones who hid among the Light beings were traded for Fallen Light creatures. Little did the Light know that Fallen Light beings die soon after they are turned.
The whole battle was put on hold as each and every creature lay down for the sleep, caused by the whisperings of the Spirits. The last Spirit Vessels were chosen in the middle of the sleep. The mortal's year 2006. Spirit Vessels are either human or half human, half creature. Five are chosen every generation. These Vessels had not much purpose or power because everyone is still asleep. They all died out within a year.
The last Prophet proclaimed that with the wielder of the Lion's Gift will come an entourage of beings much more powerful than the weak vessels chosen during the sleep. Word travels around the creature world, saying the last Prophet died long ago, so there is no valid information left.
I am jerked out of her mind when my hold on the time freeze shatters. I see the girl brushing through her hair when I freeze, just me this time. Her hair is not brown…it is different shades of red, auburn, dark gold, and light chocolate brown. It shines in the light and gives her hair a golden glow, like her trail.
No rumors or prophecies even mentioned this phenomenon. Her hair is the same hair of the mane of the Lion of the Most Powerful. One strand of that hair is having said to make the strongest weapons, besides aura weapons, which no one can make anymore, and heal any wound. It can let you communicate with the dead, among other miracles.
But there is a catch, according to the legends. Her hair must be given to you by the Lion, or, in this case, the girl, in her free will. One strand of her hair could let me speak to mother one last time. It is even more urgent that I find the girl, and before father does. He won't see the need to talk to mother one last time.
The girl looks like she is struggling with her hair, the beautiful wavy ringlets flowing down to her knees. I hold back a smile at the sight of her slightly pouting, the fact that she probably doesn't know she's doing it making it even more amusing.
All of a sudden, I am jerked out of her mind and, instead of going back to the trail, I am in a pitch-black room. I lose consciousness when something knocks me on the back of my head.