"Save her!" The body of the woman wracked with sobs as her pleas faded to incoherence. "Save her! Please, I beg of you..." She iterated desperately, as her cradling grasp tightened around the unconscious child laying in her lap; whilst her fingers adorned with priceless jewels threaded lovingly through the long tresses of the child.
With her nose pressed onto the little girl's cheek, the woman whispered, "Asteryn… my darling, come back to Mummy. Please, please," and perhaps for the first time in that tragic hour did she avert her gaze from her daughter, and rested it upon the shadows which veiled the being much feared far and wide, to beseech "please…" for her daughter's life.
The being staying unmovingly tucked in the inner corner of the spacious balcony and hidden from view amongst the homely shadows of the new moon night: seemingly spilling inside as mist through the open doors, unafraid to be dispelled by the light emanating from the candles scattered across the large bedchamber; replied in an eerily serene voice. "With much respect, Lady Seraphine, I cannot. Everyone must abide by laws and none ought to interfere in the divinity of life, love and death —"
But was interrupted by a loud thud; as a man fiercely kicked aside an intricately carved wrought-iron table, whilst the bejeweled crystal vase supported atop it crashed to splinters on the ground; and spoke. "You can not? Or you will not? For, well known it stays, no other spirit wields a power greater than you...Shayde," The man spoke unwaveringly as he straightened the crown on his head and attempted to regain his regal composure, yet his downcast countenance reflected the anguish and hopelessness rapidly increasing with each pound of his heart; as he continued. "be it there in Wylde or here in LaVille."
And walked towards the four poster bed surrounded by anxiously withdrawn silken curtains and covered by crumpled cashmere which appeared to be hastily torn off; and around it to where his wife sat on the floor with her back against the side of the bed: cradling their daughter whilst imploring divine to restore her breaths. He crouched next to Seraphine and rested his right palm on her shoulder as his left tremblingly held Asteryn's lifeless hand; such a sheer contrast to the tender warmth of her flesh when she was born four winters ago.
Seraphine lifted her head as her teary gaze again searched for Shayde amidst shadows; and sniffled. "Ease our suffering, please, do not be so heartless."
Heartless? Not quite the worst of terms he has been accorded with, he chuckled soundlessly. For he undoubtedly was the dreadful spirit, he was accused to be; by choice, certainly but not entirely, as it was the curse of his power which required him to revitalize his energy by absorbing other's on every new moon night. By ushering to the forefront and intensifying every obscured memory of tristful emotion buried in the forgotten recesses of spirit's minds ... afterall, it stood undeniable that inbreathing the energy of triste was more ecstatically gratifying than bliss. Despite it, he was called so only in faintest of thoughts on a howling night, so not to upset him in fear of bringing his fury upon them; such was his reign of terror wherein he bestowed upon spirits unbearably immense mental torment and the haunting insanity of it drove them to self-annihilation.
Although there can never be death of life: the knowledge of it brought no solace as their desperation peaked, for every moment took their daughter further away from them and into the life of death; so on receiving no hint of a response from Shayde, the king offered persuasively. "We'll pay you your years in gold —"
"My years in gold!?" Shayde mocked, "Lord Wilhelm, I pray you reconsider your proposal to something more...viable;" as he stepped out in all his dusky glory from the mesmerizing ebb and flow of shadows waltzing with flickering candles, and continued. "for me and my clan Immortels de Wylde have inhabited these lands since their manifestation."
"Then anything you desire! Please, anything at all!" Seraphine interjected desolately; whilst her hands kept caressing Asteryn's hair and face, as if doing so would somehow keep death at bay. "I implore you, do not refuse."
It was after moments had ticked to many minutes, when Shayde: standing stock-still atop the carpeted floor hued with tangerine from the roaring fire in hearth at right, immersed with soulful vibes of lives pressed between books racked from top to bottom at the left, and the swishing tenebrosity of swaying velvet drapes; sneaked a peek at the motionless girl in her mother's lap.
Even though her countenance was of an ordinary child no older than four winters, except for the colour of her life having faded to deathly pallor: she held an odd lucent glow, which Shayde himself had seldom been graced with the vision off, in spite of his immortality; an unmistakably charismatic characteristic belonging to and shared by the spirits born under a special star, enchantedly and in divine adoration named, L'étoile du destin.
The ones blessed to be born under the gracious glow of this star were special indeed … and extremely powerful; for unlike others, they could channel the energy of their souls in any and every form, quite effortlessly. My, what an utter waste it would be for such a mystical spirit to wither to the void of death; especially when she is the only one of the rare few to have been discovered in the last two centuries: since the one before her fell prey to wars between clans coveting his unbounded powers. Shayde traced her face: Truly a valuable member she would be in my clan; and his gaze firmed with intention.
Finally acceding to the plea of Lady Seraphine and Lord Wilhelm de LaVille to revive their daughter's life; Shayde, to stay free of all charges of deceit, pronounced, "When one dies, one comes back; but one never comes back the same. There's always a price to pay...for resurrection." as his eyes became unfocused whilst his awareness strolled through the mental treasury of his acquired knowledge.
"Yes! Yes!" Wilhelm agreed eagerly whilst Seraphine nodded her head as embers of hope rekindled in their spirits. Wilhelm inhaled deeply to calm his stirring emotions before continuing in a voice laced with solemnity. "Whatever the price, we'll pay you. Just … bring her back."