Slave To The Fang

5,An unexpected arrival

Just as my man was about to pounce on the guard, I spoke up, truly bored of the situation already.

"Curmael stand down." I commanded firmly, holding on to the reins of my horse. My man turned to look at me, eyes red, fangs protruded, looking angry and blood thirsty.

"Don't kill him. But teach him a lesson." I said coldly and the other guard started screaming again. They had heard the tales. Sometimes, when the elite soldiers of theSouth handled you, you would beg for death. Most of those skills had been learnt from my brother's men in the North while others were purely southern and borderline barbaric. I knew my man would suck the man's blood to an inch of his life and maybe break a few bones. The man would not be dead but my men would be pacified.

"Let him go." I commanded my other man to leave the other guard. Turning my head, I and the rest of my men rode into the village, past the toll points with the echoes of the guards screaming behind us. I threw two gold coins into the toll collector's small house for good measure and moved on.

There were few people in the streets, and they all looked up with interest as we rode through the streets. I was sure in a while, most of the village would be buzzing with news of I and my men's presence. My lips pursed and I rode on, feeling my body creak painfully from two days of riding. I was tired, I needed blood but worse of all, I was bored. Incredibly bored.

Coming in search of the Ragna coven had not been planned for but from all recent indications, it was a necessity.

As we rode further in, I tried my hardest to summon a feeling, any feeling but I was sorely disappointed in myself but the moody setting wasn't particularly stimulating. I gave up easily.

I knew my way around the village. Magic was very strong here. I felt it. Generations upon generations of old magic and spells deeply rooted into the land. It was in the air, it was in the wind, it was everywhere. This could easily be the magic capital of the south if I was thinking about it that way. A few things had changed of course, slight modifications from had been twenty three years ago when I had last been here but covens were very similar to vampires. They adjusted mildly to changing times but their traditions, beliefs were deeply rooted and ancient and rarely ever changed. Almost the same as infrastructure and behaviour.

When I had last been here, Lyra had been the head witch as her ancestors had been. This was the first time another bloodline was in charge and with magic folk dying, I wasn't sure I could put off meeting this new leader myself. Something just felt too off and my gut was rarely ever wrong.

The sky deepened to a very dark orange with a surrounding dark hue indicating the coming of darkness just as we reached a very old and large house. The largest in the village. Where the head of the coven and few coven members usually resided. It was a cute but eerie looking house, wards of magic, generations old reached out to me, rolling over my skin like a cold hand. It reminded me of my now dead father, El Diavolul. He had been one of the greatest and most evil warlocks of all time, caused by his own hands too. The only people that almost had the same power as him were my mother and Aunt Amora but that was a story for another time.

The village or rather, little town was an assortment of mud streets, thatched roofs, carefully carved stone cottages and small houses. Compared to them, this house was slightly different. Of course it had the same telltale stone build but it was larger, had a gravelled road leading up to it and it was larger than all the others.

A tall, lanky man stood in front of the house as we rode up, no doubt already alerted of my presence. I felt myself start to smirk again as we reached him.

"Lord Kyryaan. Welcome. We weren't expecting you." The man greeted.

Hey. How are you? I hope you're well. Please stick with me. I promise everything will make sense soon.

How was the chapter?

What was your favourite part?

Corona diaries day whatever: Africa and the world at large are going through a lot. There is still the not so subtle civil war and violation of human rights in my country Cameroon where many people I know are being killed everyday. How many people have I lost? How many times have I been shot at? It is traumatising enough. Our neighbour, Nigeria has to deal with the barbaric supposed anti robbery force called SARS that instead kills people just for dressing nice. Women are being raped and killed in Namibia and nobody is saying anything about it. Children in Congo are exploited and killed. These are just few and the continent is bleeding. We need your prayers and your help. Please research about them and lend your support in whatever way you can. I would really appreciate it.

Question of the chapter: What do you do when you feel like all hope is lost? Me? I listen to music and try not to die.

Thanks for reading

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Tray-CKierra.