The mountain clans spread out before us, as the square jostles with the heaving clansmen, gathering around an earthen dais. Kovan roughly throwing me into their awaiting hands and brewing malice, giving the wrathful tempers another willing sacrifice. Pushing back, I rise as I see Lorne, chained to a stone cross, bloody but unruffled.
The same scarlet hawthorn, dripping from his chains, over his open wounds. His head turns, a look of knowing upon his face as we stand apart, an intimacy still filling the air between us. The clansmen, seeing me standing before them, shiver, as they take in my bloody appearance, but as they move to surround me, the sight of Violet’s lifeless body fills my gaze.
Seeing her burned and gruesome, only her face illuminated by the moonlight, now left cold and hollow, even though her glassy eyes are wide, sets my feelings aflame. From the darkness within, an echo of a fragment of my soul pleads for her, while my vision turns red. My talons lengthen as my fangs descend, urging me to ease the heat in my throat, rife and raw with anguish. Trembling in pure wrath, my voice is soft but ice-laden. “Since you've thrown kindness aside..., enjoy sharing a living death.”
Their swords thrust, as I sweep away those closest, brushing their blades aside, and pouncing upon another’s chest. Brimming with a thirst that feels endless, I sink my fangs into their neck, a scream piercing the air, as my venom burns through their veins. Others rush towards me, but my strength and swiftness leave their blades and weapons striking nothing but cold air.
Throwing aside all who dare to stand in my way, I reach for Lorne, grasping his chains where a heavy lock hangs, before tearing it away. The lock breaking, the weakened chain falling aside. “Lorne...?”
Striking another two clansmen, I knock them aside, sinking my fangs into their soft warmth, an intoxicating delight rising as they too, begin to turn. Looking up, I meet Lorne's mirthless gaze. “My charming brother, poisoned my wine with his own blood, leaving me weakened, as a thrall.” His words are no surprise, as I struggle through the haze of bloodlust still urging me to drink with a longing heat. Tearing myself away, I appear behind him, untying his silver threaded ropes.
Stepping back, Kovan appears beside me, reaching out, only for Lorne to send him sailing through the air. Taking my face between his hands, he lifts my chin, caressing my lips. “The rune you've been looking for is known as Callisto, it’s a sigil for our homelands, opening a path between the lands here, known as Beltane, and the lands of Callisto; but... only on a night of the crescent moon.”
Another clansmen swing’s his blade as Lorne, twisting away comes to stand behind him, tearing his head from his body, as the winds tear the loving leaves from their trees. “Is life always so thrilling with you, beautiful Wren?” He stands in the moonlight, still as idle and as beautiful.
“It seems only with you beside me; and what of the third desire? Are you truly risking divine punishment by breaking our bargain?” Laughter, enchanting and bold sounds from him. “It was for you to trust me.” Leaning in with that familiar irony veiling his haunting eyes, our lips brush briefly before we're torn from one another. Kovan's gaze radiating wrath as the heaviness of our bond sinks into my bones, urging me to bow to him as though a puppet on a string.
Yet, as despair comes to ensnare me once again, Sire’s little serpent awakens once more, glowing brightly as I turn, back to back with Lorne. The pains and heart-wrenching ache that Kovan twists, rise through me, but I no longer feel so bound by his will.
Clawing another rush of clansmen, brandishing their blades before us, I begin to flit from one to another, taking their mortal lives and returning them, for one's of blood and darkness. Dancing between them, I scatter carmine droplets, lovingly spun by the lust of my bitter revenge. Turning to one of the last clansmen, I find Kell before me, while I glimpse Kovan and Lorne entangled with one another, their elegance and swiftness belying their hope’s to kill.
Caught by the beauty of their warring strikes, Kell brings his blade up, slicing my chest as I dance away, feeling only the sting of his sword. “You dare to betray prince Kovan, turning his own brother against him.” As his sword cuts through the air a second time, I catch his blade, slashing my talons across his stomach, tearing him open.
Falling to his knees, I throw him aside, knowing that speaking to him, would be nothing but a waste of time.
Blood trickling down my chin and onto my chest, I feel my wounds slowly closing. The sweetness of human blood, a lasting taste upon the tip of my tongue. Glancing at Lorne, still engaged with Kovan, I meet the latter’s gaze as he watches those around me, rising in droves. I feel as a lightness binds my thralls to me, as though I’m able to feel our surroundings through them. ‘Come to me.’
More and more rise, coming to stand beside me, as I feel their fear and their anger, but also their bloodlust. ‘Kovan awaits you. Ease your bitterness and loathing.’
Just as they move as one, Kovan appears, slipping past Lorne. “I promise, little bird, I will kill every last one, and then I will spend my time showing you, the truth behind a living death.” His eyes rage as a snarl curls his lips, and I curl over with an intense pain from him twisting our bond ever more. Blackness shadows my gaze as I fall to my knees, but find myself in Lorne’s arms instead. “Lorne..., we need to draw the runes.” My whisper is hoarse, as blood and sweat clings to me.
“I’ll use my blood.” Setting me down near the stone dais, I take a moment before rising, but as I begin to draw the pentagram, he turns to me, irony in his gaze. “How do you feel about greeting my mothers.” Not waiting for me to answer, he slits his finger, painting the runes in the same formation as the night of the ritual. The moon, a hanging crescent as once before, glowing eerily, catching the dark sigils. Standing back, he withdraws two daggers, pulling out a small clear vial, while pouring it onto the blades.
Throwing the second towards me, I catch the hilt, just as he speaks a few quiet words, the daggers bursting into flame. Even without him asking, I walk to the heart of the pentagram, him beside me, as we thrust the daggers into the ground. The stone beneath giving way, as the blades sink in to their hilts.
A shimmer in the air alights from above, as a star strewn bridge curves into being, the sight, wondrous.
Lorne stands aside guarding the pentagram, just as Kovan reaches for me, throwing me onto the ground. Had I needed to breathe, my breath would have been lost. Rolling to the side, we tussle, my tattered dress flaring as I thrust him back, reaching for another’s fallen sword, and slashing him across his torso.
Drawing away, he reveals his own blade. “Little bird, let us see if you are worthy of the master’s praise.”
Surging forward, our blades clash, our strength showing. Flitting around one another, we spin, turn and parry. Time feels heavy, as we each watch the other for a much welcomed weakness; and then it comes. Singing of an angelic note and melody floating into the air, Kovan tensing. Ducking beneath his sword, I rise, thrusting my blade into his gut. Meeting his lofty glance, I wrench my sword upwards. Blood pouring from his mouth, as I split his torso wide open.
Dropping his sword, pain etched upon his lips in a fateful grimace, I reach into his chest, gripping his heart, as I ruthlessly tear it from him. A choked gasp leaving him, as his knees buckle, twitching, his sinful pride his downfall.
Yet, from his story, I know that even losing his heart will not be the death of him, after his claiming of my soul.
Standing over him, his torso torn open, my thralls kneel behind me, as I wonder, have I truly become, as monstrous as I must...
My gaze turning colder, I watch Kovan struggling, as a slow clapping resounds in the silence reigning after our bloodshed. A chill that even I can feel, hangs in the air as I roll Kovan away from me. Turning, I find Lorne kneeling before three other-worldly beauties. The sirens' hold my gaze, their eyes varying shades of green, so very striking against their flowing deep blue locks. Their light brown skin, only brightening their gaze.
Slowly, and reverently, I walk to them, Kovan’s heart held aloft before me as I come to kneel beside Lorne. Not daring to raise my eyes, I wait, still holding his heart. A weariness that has worn bone-deep, slowly seeping away, as the sirens' kneel before myself and Lorne. “Look up, Wren, you should bear no shame.” Her voice is of the sweetest poison, and, as I glance at Lorne, I understand from where his own sensuality is gifted. “You have shed blood, punished as well as bore punishment. You have chosen to trust after bearing betrayal, and have tamed the poison in your heart into a dark morality. Thus, I give to you this gift.” She lowers her gaze to Lorne and back to me. “Beautiful Wren.”
Before I have time to smile, each places a hand over Kovan’s heart, as red flames flare, before turning black and rounding into a glowing sphere. “Awaken.” Their voices echoing through the square, the glowing orb is thrust into my chest. I feel as the bond chaining me to Kovan breaks, and know even without seeing him, that the peace I feel is the gift of his death. A heat throbs throughout me, as I feel myself rise into the air, my mahogany waves floating about my shoulders. Darkness pours into me from the seemingly endless night, before carrying me to the ground with a gentle caress, as though bound by my will.
Lorne, reaching for my hand, raises it to his lips, as I feel the heat of vitality flowing within me. “A goddess borne of darkness, upon the death of my brother.” His lips whisper in that yearning voice, that fills me with desire. “A wicked kind of justice, that can only be yours.” Embracing me, his arms slide around my waist, even as we stand before his mothers’, I feel his lips kissing and caressing my neck.
A haunting beauty emanates from their smiles, as they watch the two of us together. “A goddess of dark morality, Wren. Your soul is yours once more, but your vengeance has blackened your heart. Your penance will chain you to these lands of Beltane, where you and your thralls will watch over the darkness. As a creature of the night, you are a memory for all, of the bitterness of heartache and the torment of a living death.” The harshness of her words are still spoken with a beautiful melody, as Lorne and I watch his mothers’ glide towards the lands of Callisto, holding a knowing glint in their green eyes.
Swiftly turning me in his embrace, our eyes speak of our desires as we meet in a kiss. The darkness of my heart is truly my own, my bond with Kovan having died along with him.
I have lost my love, but in my darkness, I have found a truly monstrous desire of my own making.
Thank you for reading ❤️
(Word count 1,961)