I am jolted to senses as I am yanked up from the ground firmly.
"Serena, get up," Ithuriel hisses in my ear.
"Ow-" I start sharply, making to turn on Ithuriel, then cut myself short, understanding a little too late exactly what's happening.
A pallid, thin man glides towards us through the depths of the dusky evening. Crane flies dart in and out of his path, some catching in the monstrous spread of his glossy, feathered wings, too slow to outfly him. His short burlywood hair floats in tiny little waves, catching on the base of his downturned ears and sharp cheekbones that look like they could cut an oak in two. Even from this distance, I can practically smell his disapproval. The high Angel counsellor had come to scold me again.
"Serena," he spits, regarding me coldly with downturned eyes as he drops to the ground. He doesn't bother to spare a glance towards Ithuriel. I swear under my breath, crossing my arms furiously over my chest.
"What exactly were you planning to escape, coming out here with that knight of yours? Do you care at all for your people?" he growls, blatantly ignoring the words that previously sprung from my mouth, though there is no doubt in me that he heard them. I do not give him the satisfaction of my hesitation.
"Afternoon, counsellor Igor. Me and Ithuriel-"
"Serena," Ithuriel hisses lowly at me from the side of his mouth, placing a hand firmly on my arm. I continue anyway, adding to the slowly rising fire of counsellor Igor's growing disapproval.
As such a young Queen, the council in many terms have the right to overrule me, command me if they see due. But Igor on his own is too much of a temptation not to mess with.
"Me and Ithuriel are doing something for our people, in fact, we were just discussing the best way in which we should infiltrate the vampire palace of Sezeria," I finish, flicking back the volumes of my dark, curled hair. Ithuriel shoots me a dirty look and I slowly come to terms with the ludicrousy of the thought, sweat beginning to pool on the palm of my hands. The statement was not entirely untrue, after all, I did say I wanted to do something, even if that something was a panicked answer based purely from the obstinate ruling of my own heart. I swallow nervously.
"Were you not saying in recent meetings that you wanted the Princes of Sezeria dead? I think with the sword skills and magic I have been honing, and maybe a dash off added allure, I would be perfect to deal with them," I say, flicking my hair, allowing a curl of magic to lick the air, coiling upwards from the palm of my hand like a molten, fiery snake.
Igor's pale eyes drill into me, as if trying to determine whether or not he should attempt to stab me to put an end to this madness. Furiously, he opens his mouth, a fiery look in his sallow, red face. I brace for another lecture, another scalding, and yet... It's not his voice I'm hearing at all.
"I think the two of you would make excellent spies." As if in a synchronised ritual, we all turn our heads to the thickets of the viridian forest, where a burly shape is lounging carelessly against a tree. It lifts up something from the ground and hauls it back over its shoulder with ungodly force, before it starts lugging slowly towards us, the duo of feathered and metallic wings barely visible behind its enormous frame. There is only one other angel in the Illistrae clan who is so brazen as to take their sweet, sweet time in addressing the high counsellor.
"Elris, how good to see you," I grin, feeling my wings flutter with slight exhilaration as a dangerous but tempting thought runs through my mind like a wildfire, a seductive realisation that hits me in the chest like an arrow to the heart. Maybe I wouldn't just be a Queen on a throne any more. I might actually have a chance at getting out of here.
"What say you Elris? Have you been cooking up any fantastic concoctions up in your forges? Anything that might suit your Queen for getting into Sezeria?" I half grin, laying on the flattery thicker than butter on toast, but he waves it off with a swipe of his gloved hand.
"Maybe I do, my Queen,"
Elris is a forger- one of the four elite divisions that make up the Illistrae clan. The others being warriors, like Ithuriel, who specialise in hunting vampires, magical divinists, like myself, and guardians who protect the people. Each of them, like Ithuriel's red paw tattoo below his right eye, carry a symbol of their division.
Elris is also older than any other angel I know, older than Igor, and far more skilled. Angels can live for thousands of years, and Elris might just be old enough that he has seen the start of the war before the threat of vampires became a constant brewing on the horizons. I, however, pale in comparison. To the council of elders, I am a young wild child Queen who obsesses over magic and the dangers of vampire hunting- more of a liability than a Queen really. For what does a twenty year old angel know of the cruel world of vampires?
Yet, if there is any chance this plan, this half baked, idiotic dream of a plan could work, then Elris would know, and he would help. Flicking up his visor, I watch the muscles in his arm ripple as he drops the bulbous sack on the floor beside him, returning my grin with a set of smoke stained teeth. He wipes his sooty hands down the sides of his apron, and goes to fish around for something in the peculiar sack, scraggy grey hair flopping in his face.
"I have always said the queen would do better on getting out there than being stuck here." Comes his muffled voice as he thrusts his grimy hands deeper into the sack, eliciting some sharp clinks of what could be the freshly forged weapons of today.
"She is a Queen, not an ornament, she shouldn't be collecting dust on the backlines while the rest of us fight this war," His tone is light, but underneath it I catch an air of contempt and suddenly I realise it's not me he's scorning.
"Why, thank you, Elris," I say, flashing him a half grin from the side of my mouth, just away from Igor's line of sight.
Igor, clearly unprepared, hesitates for a moment, then deciding to stay quiet, takes a notably large step back. Elris is Illistrae's finest Forger. He's been known to forge swords by drawing the power of a tempest, or make little metal spiders that imbed themselves in the skin of your enemies and give them petrifying hallucinations for a week. Perhaps this is the reason why Igor decides he's better off staying silent. Behind me, Ithuriel is still, the shape of his glosmere wings inadvertently enclosing themselves around me. I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck.
"Be careful," he warns as I feel the wisps of his silver hair catch on my cheek.
"I will," I mutter back, a little indignantly. Shuddering, I try my best to stand tall. Satisfied at last, Elris draws up, straightening his back as he clasps a glimmering object in his pawed hands with a proud smile. The three of us turn, craning our necks to see what he might have. The last of the sun's rays seem to rebound on it, emitting an odd glow which swirls and twists in the dying light. I pull myself closer, peering carefully at what it might be.
"I've been working on this all year," he beams proudly, holding it out to me on the flat of his hands. I linger over it for a moment, my fingers brushing over the smoothness of the gold plating. It is a necklace. A ruby pendant, oval, but with a split down the side to indicate a waning moon, looped through links and links of tiny, gold chains. And it is beautiful. Something inside the pendant moves, viscous and animalistic. I recoil, stumbling back. Ithuriel catches me by the shoulders.
"What is that?" he growls, eyeing the sloshing mysterious liquid inside the pendant- looking as though it is trying to escape.
"It looks..." Ithuriel pauses for a second. "Malicious." He adds finally. I nod my head in silent agreement.
The thing about Elris, is that the nature of his experiments are as unpredictable as they are marvellous. And sometimes, that wasn't for the better. Igor grunts, holding back vomit.
"Vampire blood," declares Elris with a toothy grin. "I had some leftover, a rare thing it is. It mixed so wonderfully with the gold." At this, I pause, unsure quite what to think.
"...What does it do?" I ask slowly, the words forming carefully on my lips, trying to hide the shakiness of my voice. Elris looks as though he thought I'd never ask. He gestures to me with his free hand.
"Try it," he offers, holding out the glowing pendant. Uneasily, I reach out for it, the tantalising feeling of having my plan realised clashing viciously with the ice cold fear that streaks through my veins. Vampire blood... Ithuriel catches my hand with surprising violence. Shaken, I turn to him.
"Careful," he warns again, harshly, this time loud enough so that everyone can hear it.
"You don't know what it does yet."
"I don't need babying, Ithuriel, I am not a child anymore," I retort under my breath.
The wind blows his hair cascading across his face, midges darting around his bare chest. I hope feebly that the darkness disguises the worry in my eyes. Staring at me for just a moment longer, he sighs, turning abruptly away: knowing he has no power to stop me, yet sometimes, I wish he would.
Clasping my hand around the pendant, I shakily hook it round my neck. For a moment, nothing, then:
"What in the name of Celeste have you done with her wings?!"