Dark Destinies- Clare Siobhan (Fanfiction) Magical Generation

Chapter Ten- Innocence

Even in this worthless body... Let me be your soldier. Let me be your strength... Even just for a moment.

Let me matter.

Just once.

"Let me go!" the pitched shriek erupts through the dark room.  Silver streaks of hair ruffle against the violence as the man handling her advances onto her meager body.  

"Stop squirming, girl," a gruff voice replies, his tongue is thick, his accent throbbing the words out.

"Stop it, please!" Nita pleads as her dark figure stands in the distance, her hands are quaking as she reaches out into the empty air, watching as her daughter's face is clasped into his brutish grasp.  "You're hurting her," her body is stolen of its freedom as the golden glow circling her feet on the ground bursts at her every attempt to free herself from the enchantment.  Her limbs squirm against the force, but the sight before her scorns the soul compared to the mere discomfort of the ring ensnaring her. 

"If she continues to resist, then I must use force," he speaks again.  As he shakes her head to stay still, his adorned arms rattle, the wooden pearls colliding against each other.

His tall broadness overwhelms Valeria's slim pale body, her long glassy locks wavering about in stressed clumps of silver.  The darkness of his skin is diminished compared to the intensity in his black beetle eyes.  They glimmer, searching for something.  His thumps manage to snare her cheeks, forcing the raging quicksilver pools in her eyes to glare up at him.

Ambrose's heart leaps as the door creaks open, going the distance with a stride forward.  The charge is announced with the echo of his footsteps against the wooden floor.  

"S-Sage Nganga," the young boy trips over his tongue, his grip is tight as he hides the weakness of it behind his back.  The mask he wears shatter as the fear spreads throughout ever corner and dent in his face.  His mouth trembles as his nose itches, his eyes are the windows to his nightmares.  "W-Welcome back, sir," the stuttering lay on him like a curse.

"Ambrose, no-"

"Quiet, Collins," the man barks.  His grasp on the girl's face loosens as she tugs herself free, lashing at his hand like a fly on a large animal.  Unbothered by her clawing, he let's her go as she falters back against the wall, her head held high as the wild look about her clothes and hair frame the embitter in her scorn.  A light scar of flushed red and irritation meets her delicate cheek, tearing the skin.  Meeting eyes with her brother, she shakes her head as she mouths the word No repeatedly.  Her gestures grow fierce as the man takes a step towards the light creeping in through the agape doorway.

His large hands fall round his broad body.  A long green cloak, barely containing the bodily structure of age and ambition pronounce themselves, knitted in his folded brows.  His face is brown and dark like the room, his eyes like holes alight.  Bright coloured pearls and wooden shapes bind themselves in long thing strands around his arms and waist.  Bones of unknown creatures perch on his neck, seemingly clinging onto his throat as if to symbolize power and capture.  Sculpted calves hold this man up high, barely bracing the magic hold within him.  Large nostrils sit over his full lips, glowering. 

"Ambrose..." he repeats Nita's cry, but the name sounds different in his tongue.  The thick accent drenches the name, making the boy twitch on the spot.

"He has nothing to show.  He is innocent,"

"The offspring of a vampire is never innocent.  Much less a mix," he spits out.