I awaken from oblivion to distant crying; a mournful howl of a being who has been torn from everything they love. It is the cry of the Chimera Sea. The soft rustle of cloth, hurried footsteps, and hushed whispers accompany lending a soft moonlight timbre.
"Did you hear what happened to the Lord?"
"No, what happened?"
"I overheard Headmaster Gregoire speaking to Headmistress Byrne; someone attacked the Lord last early night."
"Will he die?"
"Don't be an idiot Ceres. He is the Immortal Lord, he can't die."
"I know Myorla. You have told me many times. What if he is immortal like we are?"
"He isn't. I saw the Lord fall off his steed and break his neck, any one of us would die instantly. The Lord did not. In a few candles, he was back on his feet and strolling through the palace like it never happened. It happened about a century ago. Now the Immortal Lord rarely leaves the palace. Without a Bride, he cannot travel beyond the Soul Trees. He is forced to spend night after night in pain, pent up in his rooms answering letter after letter from people who want something from him. The affairs of his estate are his excuse to ignore the happenings outside the realms. We all know it is his soul is dying and with every New Moons Turn, he grows angrier and angrier. He knows as well as we do, there will be no lift to this curse. The spark that makes him human will fade and we will fade along with him. We will become the shell of the beings we once were."
I remember Myorla and Ceres as the maids who chased me around the bathing pool the night I arrived. Letting their hushed tones wash over me, I take a few flickers to gather my thoughts.
Again, what happened to me this time? It has become a pattern of waking with gaps in my memory. How long can I continue this without losing my sanity? I breathe deep, relaxing further into the embrace of down stuffed pillows calling up the sounds of my last memory.
Chicken scratching fills my ears through the haze, but no chickens are kept near the place I sleep. Then, ah, it's more akin to etching on leather-hard clay. The realization links my mind to the flash flame.
I awoke to my mupu etching vases and placing them in the kiln. No, my memory remembers nothing of the familiar scent of baking clay. My mind makes another link, I remember Myorla and Ceres and the bathing pool.
The Immortal Lord.
I awoke to the sound of the Immortal Lord writing and with the calmness of a still lake, he explains he found me unconscious in the bathing pool. I frantically search for my dresses feeling as though I'd be struck down by the Dyus should I forgo them. It's futile as the Immortal Lord's deep tintinnabular timber engulfs me saying, "I have dried you, dressed you, and cared for you these past four nights, anything you wish to hide can no longer be hidden from me."
My heart leaps in my throat, he saw me; and not simply my hands, face, or feet but all of me. I'd grown angry, very angry. I wait for the wave of rage to consume me but instead, I feel satisfaction; and like s'modion tiles memories fall forward. The smugness I feel is akin to my original killing. I was hanged for the death of eight villagers. When I woke in my mupu's sleeping chair, I only felt satisfaction and smugness. In all my deaths, this satisfaction has been twice.
When I killed the villagers and now.
Had my anger unleashed my uncontrolled Loris'rife and Will and killed someone?
Thoughts stray back to the words Myorla and Ceres spoke. The Immortal Lord was severely attacked. Realization strikes, I attacked the Immortal Lord. I lowered my hood and if not killed, severely injured a being. My deepest fear came true and for my treachery, my mupu would hang. I take a deep breath, shoot straight up in bed and release a short, high-pitched scream.
Startled by my needless outburst, Myorla and Ceres drop the contents of their hands and wail in unison. Our cries combined are like dying cows which I ignore when I spot a red piece of fabric resting near my foot. I snatch it, barely registering it chimed with bells and silver pressed coins. I wrap it around my head, fling off the covers, jump like an expert acrobatic out of bed and rush towards the bathing room. I grab the handle and pull the door forcefully where it bounces off the opposing wall. I am halfway across the bathing room when the door slams shut. The bells and coins attached to my hood cry mournfully bouncing off my cheeks every step of the way. When I reach the Immortal Lord's room I pull it open with all my strength I take a step and stand on the threshold. The door smacks my rump in protest of its abuse forcing me to give a little hop into the Immortal Lord's rooms before slamming shut.
The men in the room cease their actions. I hear tricking water and tilting my head to the side I peek through the folds of my veil. The Immortal Lord sits in his bed in the process of writing hand hovering over the page. The manservant Gregoire was in the process of pouring tea, which is spilling over and getting soaked into the carpet. Both stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed. If the situation hadn't been so dire and my mupu's life not on the line, I'd of laughed at their comical faces.
I throw myself to the floor, bowing with legs folded beneath me and hands placed flat on the carpet with fingertips touching each other and thumb to thumb forming a triangle in the space between them. I rest my forehead on top.
"Please," I cry as loud as my hoarse voice will allow, "I am very sorry my Lord, when I woke I was so very angry. When I woke up in my rooms, I knew something was amiss. The chatter of the maids confirmed my suspicions. They said you were fatally injured. I didn't mean to do it. I'll do anything you ask me to. Please don't hang my mupu."
This is the longest speech I've ever performed and all without stuttering. Wait, I am speaking to the ground, what if they hadn't heard?
The manservant recovers first, "What are you babbling about?" he asks, "The Immortal Lord would. . ."
"Gregoire," the tone speaks volumes and I hear a click of teeth. "Now why in the why in Opred's name would I kill you mupu?" the Immortal Lord asks, voice raspy like sand.
I sit straight settling my weight upon my folded legs and soft chiming fills the air at the motion. The question ushers logic into my fear-induced, panic-stricken mind. Why would the Immortal Lord kill my mupu? Unless he knew about my original bargain with the town and is an accomplice in the bargain, he would know nothing. My mupu is safe. I doubt he would rush to the village square and declare I'd released my power.
Blood rushes to my face and I thank the Dyu's my mien is obscured. I made a fool of myself.
"W-W-Well. . . y-y-you s-s-see m-my L-Lord a-a-a-about th-that, um," fear begins to seep and adrenaline drops returning me to my normal speech patterns.
"Perhaps we should leave that discussion or another time, eh?" he chuckles, odd with the harshness of his throat.
He's not angry?
"Y-Y-Yes my Lord," I stammer and tilt my head back and up to the side, and tintinnabular sounds issue from the improvised hood. I catch a glimpse of flame complete with deep oranges, reds, blues, and yellows.
A white cotton shirt frames a lithe sturdy frame with a fit waist and strong shoulders. My gaze travels too high. I can never look above the waist or it will mean death to my mupu and my gaze catches the hands of the Immortal Lord.
His right hand contains a medium-sized leather-bound book that has a familiar feel and his left hand holds a quill of the most brilliant colours. The quill has long, feathery strands of glowing greens, blues, and purples shining with an inward light.
"You have indeed unleashed your powers; fortunately I am immortal. Immortal I may be, but I still sustain injuries and have lost a lot of blood. Only one food sustains me and heals me."
Before he can proceed, I interrupt and ask, "W-What d-d-do you need?"
"You do not want the price."
"M-My ch-ch-ch-choice."
"Pain and blood are all I can offer you."
Tch, pain, and blood? I've ended my life a shameful amount of times and self-resurrection is pain flowing in reverse.
I lift my head and my veil merrily sings of confidence, "T-Tell me wh-what you need."
"Blood from a wound made by S'Ira'Enkifolgd and by a willing being."
"I-I-I am wi-w-willing." It is only blood after all. "S'Ira'Enkifolgd?"
"I possess the only one in existence," the Immortal Lord's head gestures to a Currath nightstand. The Currath grows naturally in Everlasting it's blinding whitebark reminds us Ryun's light is never beyond our grasp. Large, broken pieces of Feyan wood scatter the floor like a large infantile game of Pick up Branches.
Atop the stand is a knife wrought in gold and embedded with rubies, emeralds, and opals. It calls my name and the glittering jewels captivate me. My body reacts without cognitive effort snatching the blade from its resting place and I hold it to my wrist. The honed blade pricks my skin sending a tear of blood down my honed skin where it collects in the cook of my elbow.
"If it is blood you need, th-then blood you shall receive."
Motions sirs to my right, the manservant reaches to stop me.
"Gregoire, out."
"But my Lord, she can't possibly under. . "
"OUT!" the Immortal Lord shouts, voice barely topping a whisper but his Will ripples across my skin with the caress of ice. I shiver and goose pimples raise on my skin. I feel the manservant open the door, walk out and close it behind him. The motion of the door makes the candles flicker with the pull of air.
The Immortal Lord closes his book and puts it aside placing the quill on top sighs says, "Now, do not do anything rash. Think about what you are doing, feeding me your blood will. . ."
My ears shut down refusing to listen to his nonsense. I only comprehend that the Immortal Lord needs blood and surely the amount he needs wouldn't kill me. My body reacts without my consent and I watch as an outside observer as I drag the blade across my wrist. Pain flares but it's fleeting.
Quick as lightning, the Immortal Lord rushes from bed, clasps my bleeding appendage, and bites down on the wound.
Out of reflex, I jump causing the Immortal Lord's teeth to dig deeper and tear the skin further. I still refuse to cry out loud.
"You made your choice, do not fight me. It will only hurt more if you struggle," a deep voice rumbles making my bones vibrate pleasantly. It takes a few breaths to realize the words are spoken in my head. Warmth fills me making my muscles relax. I want to run away but I'm paralyzed.
Instead, I say, "S-so you do d-d-drink bl-blood." My Dyu's where did that come from? A man is drinking my life force and I am trying to make polite conversation.
A deep chuckle reverberates up my spine and the Immortal Lord gives a final caress with his tongue and says, "I asked you what your people spoke about me and what did they say?"
When I do not speak, he drops my wrist and clasps my chin. Tilting my head, he attempts to intimidate me with his gaze. Instead, the weighted fringe of my improvised hood falls over my eyes. I shut my eyes to be double sure my gaze won't bring destruction.
"Speak," he growls.
I have every intention not to answer his question but his Will flows over me like the Chimera Sea. I gasp and words rush from my mouth, "That you are cursed to never walk under Ryun's light. You drink blood to maintain your life, cruel and unforgiving none of your New Moon's turn brides survive."
"Exactly," and like perenkas, the Immortal Lord throws back the chiming fabric, entwines his fingers in my hair, and yanks my head back exposing my neck. I glimpse a flash of fang before he bites down on the main vein of my neck. An exquisite fire roars from the bite and up my face. Before I can cry out in pain, it subsides and is replaced by a foreign sensation and not entirely unpleasurable.
I gasp and shudder the sensation forcing me to drop the knife. It hits the carpet with a soft thud. On their own accord, my arms encircle his neck and press him to my neck even more.
In response, the Immortal Lord growls, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me flush against his body. Energy rises every time he takes a drink, my limbs weaken leaving me lightheaded and my knees buckle. It is the Immortal Lord who holds me upright.
I groan and not because I am in pain. The sensation I feel is pleasure and something I have never felt. The Immortal Lord growls again, the sound echoes through me like a gong. I feel strong arms lift me followed by the sensation of flying. Then I am enveloped in a cloud and a comfortable weight settles atop me. The Immortal Lord's incisors slip from my skin and the weight is removed. I attempt to open my eyes, but I am weak. All I want is sleep.
Before the softness of bedding can send me to oblivion, the Immortal Lord shifts and lifts my head, "Drink," he commands, and warm liquid touches my lips. Obediently, I part my lips and liquid rushes tasting of nectar. I know not what the liquid is, only that I need it. I suck greedily, savoring the taste; sweet but salty in unison with an earthy tang I have never experienced. All too soon the liquid is removed, and I give a small whimper of protest.
I relax, letting the soft could engulf me and drag me to oblivion.