The Consort's Fate

Chapter 1

Bogdan

Wind whistles across the field of grass. Each blade bends to its whim, the collective movement like a fluid picture beneath the summer's sun. It's graceful, as a whole, but if a single blade was pulled and subjected to the breeze, it would tremor in disarray.

Beneath the microscope of Nature, it would endure the humbling experience of isolation. A single blade plucked away from the rest. Exposed and alone. Hidden, yet longing to be threaded into the earth once again.

My thoughts continue on in this fashion, poetically macabre in their own right. They press down on me like a weight, heavier and heavier, until the feeling of isolation turns inward, caving into my still heart, and forcing splinters of proverbial ice to form around its border. I shoulder through the threshold of the door. The wind continues its song around me, beating the flaps of my coat and coercing the tendrils of my hair to participate in the dance of life.

I bend down and trail my fingertips atop the green foliage. It is soft, like velvet. Nature's gentle coat of fur. I pluck a single blade. Then another. I lift them both until they're eye-level and study their unique flutters, side by side. Each one alone, but still, alone together.

One for me, and one for him.

Two surviving vampires on earth, removed from the dance of life, and thrust into...this. One hides in darkness, while the other remains trapped beneath the spotlight, yet their lives are tied together in a way that will stand the test of time.

A low hum rumbles in my throat as I allow the thought to run its course. It is the silent reminder which keeps me believing this is not the end of our story, but merely a dark chapter I must overcome - for the both of us. I give Nature a final, cursory glance before slipping back into the shadows, tucking the blades of grass into my pocket.

The door puts up a fight as I shut it behind me. Just minutes ago, what sounded like nothing more than a gentle breeze becomes a painful howl against the wooden blockade. Yet, this is how it must be for now. Quiet. Hidden. The modest home and its minimal furnishings seem to hold their breath as I move my gaze around the room. It's our newest abode; the fifth house to mark our fifth year in hiding. Each year, Kelly assures me, will be the last.

"This is it, Bog-D," he will say, grinning from ear to ear. "We'll get the backing we need to rescue Finn. This is our year, man. You wait and see."

Each year, I do wait. I wait and watch as time slips by, the world we once knew shedding its skin of the past to make way for the Era of the Secondaries. I see how much has changed - how much continues to change - in five, short years. A new world has blossomed in the blink of an eye. On the contrary side of the token, there are moments when five years feels like an eternity. These fleeting moments seem to occur whenever I oblige myself the opportunity to admire the moon.

I have always preferred the moon to the sun. Its radiant beauty is often overlooked, and unlike the sun, you can gaze at its splendor head-on, with the galaxy as its backdrop. Its rays are radiant in their own regard, so much subtler than the sun, but powerful enough to illuminate the earth in a thin layer of iridescent light.

It is in these moments that my thoughts drift to delicate fingers, doe-like eyes, and an everchanging expression to mirror a myriad of barely contained emotions. It is in these moments that I wonder if, somewhere, he is enjoying the view with me.

Yes, it is in these hidden moments that the years feel like centuries.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

The lock of the backdoor jiggles once, then twice. There's a muffled 'crotchety piece of sh-' before the door flings open. A refreshing breeze moves around Kelly and stirs life back into the stale moment of my existence. He stumbles through the door, a paper sack clutched beneath each arm.