Chapter Twelve - The Chosen Soul

 

“Are you going to be alright?”

Raven didn’t look up from the ground as she walked. She took a deep breath. “Yes, I think so. He took it hard, finding out who – and what – I am. But he’s my brother, and he’s most likely worried sick right now. He’ll probably just be glad that I’m back and in one piece.”

Adonides walked beside her, always at a respectful distance, yet Raven suspected, close enough that he could reach out and grab her at the slightest indication that there was trouble. They moved through the forest, cloaked by Adonides’s veiling spell. As they walked, they made no sound. Animals continued about their business, oblivious to their passing presence.

Eventually, they came upon a clearing and drew to a stop.

Ahead sat Haledon’s temple. It had been white-washed by the sun over the years. It looked clean and inviting and waited at the center of a field of sunflowers.

“Before you return to the temple, there is something else you need to know.” Adonides had drawn closer and the look on his handsome face was serious. Raven gazed up at him, worry beginning to gnaw at her insides.

“What?” she asked tentatively.

“In the clearing, when I was teaching you… I performed the spells because I knew you could not.”

Raven’s brow furrowed. “Of course I can’t. I haven’t yet learned how.”

Adonides shook his head. “No. That’s not what I mean. Raven, you are more than capable of casting any magic you desire. As Malphas’s daughter, you possess immense faculty. However, at the moment, you are drained. Weak.”

She looked away from him, embarrassed that he’d been able to tell. The truth was, she’d been a little dizzy and weak since her trip back from Caina.

He put a finger beneath her chin and turned her face toward him once again. He was smiling gently at her. “I’m not only speaking of physical weakness, Raven. And yes, I can tell. However, I am also referring to your loss of power. Tell me truthfully why you did not deal with Talon on your own.”

Raven’s eyes widened. How had he known? When in Talon’s custody, she had felt her powers stirring, there for her to use, but just out of reach. At the time, she had simply assumed that it was a lack of training or perhaps overexertion and excitement. Or fear.

Adonides shook his head slowly, as if he could read her mind.

“Your magic failed you because you had not fed.”

Again, Raven’s expression turned confused. “I haven’t eaten in a while, but what does that have to do with-”

“Not food, Raven. Life. You must consume life in order to replenish your power. You have done much since first becoming all that the daughter of Malphas can be. You have learned of Winter, realized your magic, met your father – that, in itself, can be draining.” He smiled a teasing smile and continued. “However, everyone who has come to know you knows that you deign not to consume animals. You do not feed on life, Raven.”

At her comprehending look of disgust and horror, he continued gently, his hands softly grasping her upper arms. “You are Dark Royalty, Raven. I’m afraid you have no choice. Your power depends upon you feeding.”

“I can’t,” she said the words even as she felt the numbing reality sink in. Before he answered, she knew what he was going to say.

“You can.” He pulled back away from her. “And you will.”

In a motion so fast that it blurred, he had sliced his wrist open with one extended claw. Bright red blood pooled at the wound and then dripped down his wrist to fall to the ground below. Raven stared at the open cut, her heart rate instantly increasing two-fold. She felt a hunger rise within her and was thoroughly disgusted by it even as she was entranced by the ruby-red liquid before her.

“I can’t.” What have I become? This isn’t happening. This can’t be. I really am a monster. Loki is right to hate me.

“You can. You won’t hurt me, Raven, and I will not harm you. Let me help you.” He held his hand out before her. “I give this to you freely, princess. Please drink.” His other hand wrapped gently but firmly around her right wrist to tug her toward him.

“Adonides, I don’t want to do this,” she whispered. She felt her knees go weak as she stared at the thick red liquid that continued to rise from his wound. She felt her power stir within her, as if it was waking up and listening, waiting. But this was too wrong. Unnatural. Disgusting! What must it taste like?

“Yes you do,” he replied patiently.

She closed her eyes and let him draw her into his arms. Instinctively, she wrapped her hands around his wrist, not sure whether she did so to hold him back or to bring him closer.

Raven parted her lips when the scent hit her nostrils. And then his blood was in her mouth, sliding over her tongue, warm and sweet like wine. Raven unconsciously gripped his wrist tighter as the heady liquid slid down her throat. It was not at all salty, as she had expected. Instead, it burned and numbed like strong liquor and warmth began to spread throughout her body.

As she swallowed, she heard someone moan softly and wondered whether it had been her. The world spun away as she drank. All that remained were her and Adonides and his magical blood as it ripped through her senses, suffusing her with fire and ice, power and passion. As if from a distance, she felt a strong band come around her waist, a hard body pressed tightly against her own. She did not care. She simply drank and wanted more.

She pulled the devil’s blood into herself and the warmth sank lower, moving through her midsection to the core of her womanhood, where it pooled and heated, ebbed and swirled like a building storm.

She moaned again, this time knowing full well it had been her. Lazily, she opened her eyes. Glowing golden orbs gazed back at her, held her in their will, heated with a near frenzied passion. Adonides’ fangs had grown longer, and a low growl escaped from deep within his throat.

The heat in Raven’s center pulsed and expanded in answer. It was an unconscious response, old-brain and powerful. She swallowed one last time and removed her lips from the small wound in his wrist.

Adonides pulled his arm away and, even as the wound automatically healed on its own, he shoved the fingers of the same hand through Raven’s hair, gripping it to once more pull her toward him. She went without a fight, wanting his nearness as much as he apparently wanted hers. It was the blood. Ancient, undeniable. It was burning her up inside.

Adonides lowered his lips to hers and hesitated, his breath uneven and heavy. He closed his eyes and seemed to tremble where he held her, his grip tightening on her waist and the fist-full of hair he held.

Raven allowed her body to act one step ahead of her mind and curled into him, pressing her hips to his, where she was immediately aware of his rock-hard arousal. In response, even as the awareness of his need made her feel delirious, Adonides closed his eyes and growled deeper, meaner.

“Would that you were not your father’s daughter, Raven,” he hissed across her lips. “But you are,” he admitted, his fist curling into the flesh at her side. “And he would kill me.”

He opened his eyes again and Raven’s widened. The hungry blaze in his burning golden orbs was unnatural, terrifying, and mesmerizing. A pair of suns, eating up everything in their path, including what little will power Raven cared to possess at that moment.

For the space of an erratic heartbeat, a crazy recklessness inside of her considered surrendering to this furious need, both his and hers, and sating the monster that had awakened within her. Punishment be damned.

And then she blinked. Monster. His blood had awakened a monster inside of her. In both of us.

I’m a monster. What in Abaddon am I doing?

And then, as if she’d fooled herself into believing it was wine all along, she suddenly remembered that she was actually drinking blood. She was drinking blood. A devil’s blood, nonetheless.

I am a devil. What the Hell am I doing?

She closed her eyes against the sway of Adonides’s powerful gaze, pressed her palms to his chest, and gently pushed him away. With obvious hesitation and abject disappointment, he released her, allowing her to slip from his grasp.

She stepped back and his hands slipped from her body.

She took a few more steps back and he remained where he was, a towering specimen of dark, tempting desire. His eyes continued to burn. Now that Raven had put some distance between them, it was becoming increasingly clear to her that Adonides was not a man to be trifled with. He was not a man at all, but a devil, and a very dangerous one at that.

The look in his stark eyes was enough to make that potently clear. She was beginning to feel very foolish for giving into the desire that had suddenly spiked within her – and very lucky that Adonides was afraid of his master.

It took a few minutes for the both of them to collect themselves. Finally, Adonides ran a hand through his sable hair and inclined his head respectfully. “I apologize, your highness. I was out of line. I meant to give you what you needed – that is all. Please forgive me.”

Raven shook her head and stared at the ground. “There’s nothing to forgive, Adonides. The fault is as much mine as yours.”

More silence passed between them. Finally, Adonides asked, “How do you feel?”

Raven looked back up at him and considered herself. Now that he mentioned it, she’d felt better from the moment she’d taken her first swallow. Whereas before, when she had known that there was magic within her, it had been latent and unsure. But now power and magic swirled within her like a storm of fireflies, buzzing throughout her bloodstream.

She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, aided by the infusion of his blood. “I don’t know what to say. I feel really good. Better than I’ve felt for a long time.” She shrugged and sighed. “So I suppose I owe you. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure, your highness.” Adonides spoke reverently. Raven glanced up to see that he’d gained control of his ardor. His eyes no longer shone eerily and his fangs had receded significantly. “And you owe me nothing.” He turned then, his attention at once upon the small church in the distance.

“You’re certain that he is here?” he asked.

Raven blinked. The change of subject was so quick, it was disorienting. However, she fully appreciated his chivalry. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Yes. This is where he would have gone.” She knew Adonides was referring to her brother.

Adonides turned to her and she faced him. He bowed his head in deference. “If you wish it, we can continue your lessons tomorrow afternoon. You will be strong enough to try the spells on your own.”

Raven nodded. Though she could not quite manage a smile, he acknowledged the attempt and smiled in return. Then he took a step back. “Until then, I suggest not going anywhere alone.”

She nodded again and the handsome Abaddonian disappeared in a flash of blue light and smoke.

Raven stared at the space where he had been and then turned toward the temple. It was so peaceful, so bright white, even at night. The sunflowers around her swayed in a summer eve’s breeze. She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes and listened. Bees buzzed somewhere to her right. An ancient oak creaked in the forest many yards away. An owl hooted in the darkness.

And someone screamed, “Raven!”

Raven jerked, opened her eyes and looked up toward the temple. It’s front door had been thrown open and several people were rushing out to meet her. She recognized her brother at once, and Summer, just behind him. Two men in yellow, red and gold robes raced after them and Raven realized they must be acolytes of the temple.

“Raven! By Haledon, you’re safe!” Loki sprinted down the path that cut through the sunflowers and barreled right into her, gathering her up in a painfully strong embrace and hugging her tight. He finally released her when he noticed that she wasn’t able to breathe and held her tight at arm’s length. “What happened? Where did you go? Who were those men? How did you get free?” Loki stopped to glance around them at the sunflowers. His brow furrowed. “What are you doing standing out here?”

Raven could only smile at him. She hugged him and the two shared a moment of silence as the other three caught up to them. Summer was the first to speak up.

“Raven, are you alright? What happened?” she asked breathlessly.

Raven pulled away from Loki and smiled at the blonde woman. “I’ll explain it all inside. I’m starving.” She looked at the acolytes, wondering if they could tell she’d just finished drinking a devil’s blood. “I hope you priests are allowed to eat in that temple, because I don’t think I can go for another ten minutes without food.”

Real food. Not blood.

They smiled, and one of them laughed. “Of course. Please come in.” He gestured to the temple, and they followed.

*****

The young man in blood-red robes knelt before a large shrouded throne. “Master?”

A figure in the shadows, dressed in black and draped in darkness looked up. Only his eyes, which reflected an eerie and unnatural light, were visible.

“Speak,” came his command, cold as the stone on which the man knelt.

“My lord, a Blue Robe from Castle Eidolon has come to see you. She claims to have information of great importance.”

The shadowed figure slowly lowered his head, contemplation evident in the heavy, silent air. And then, in a voice reminiscent of distant, rolling thunder, he ordered, “Show the elf in.”

“Right away, my lord.”

The man in red robes rose stood and exited the chamber. A few moments later, he returned, this time with a female elf in blue robes trailing hesitantly behind him.

They approached the throne, she much more reservedly. As they moved, she took in the black metal sconces lining the walls, which held heavy lit torches, their red firelight sending dancing shadows across the symbolic relief carved into the stone around them. She recognized several symbols immediately. They were markings from various canons of augury and told tales of calamitous presages that had been passed down for ages.

They reached the stone throne and the man in red robes bowed once, rose, and left them alone.

Jaren stared into the darkness. She could just make out the outline of a large figure in black clothing beneath a hooded cloak that shaded every feature but his eyes. Those eyes reflected the firelight as would an animal’s at night. She could feel those eyes watching her and the power of the presence she sensed reminded her of something… but she couldn’t remember what.

“What is it you want, elf?”

“I’ve come to talk to you about Cruor. I know that the Omega Order studies his legend, among others. I know you are waiting for indication of his return.”

Silence was the reply.

Jaren swallowed and squared her shoulders. “I think the time has come for his rebirth. I have noticed the signs.” She paused, pulled a leather-bound tome from beneath her robes, and held it up in the fire light. “And I have brought the prophecy. It is the original, written tens of thousands of years ago. You’ll see that I am not mistaken,” she said as she held it out toward the throne, “once you read it for yourself.”

The silence continued, and Jaren’s knees began to grow weak. Had she made a mistake in coming here? The Omega Order had always been regarded by the elves as a fanatical sect of mortals who felt they could manipulate the outcome of fate by carefully studying, and attempting to influence, any prophecy that foretold of world-wide catastrophe. No one knew for certain who led the secretive cult, but much to the elves’ occasional chagrin, the Omega Order had managed to sway the outcome of many mortal happenings over the years.

They had been around for a long time, and Jaren hoped that by convincing the Omega Order enough that they chose to take action, she could prove to others, Gray Beard and the disbelieving prince Astriel, in particular, that her speculations were correct.

Her desire to prove her worth to Gray Beard was instrumental. Should she succeed, the master mage may offer her a place in the coveted Blue Robe hierarchy. Gray Beard’s favored enjoyed positions of power and were virtually untouchable.

But as she stood there, the subject of scrutiny to one that she could not even see and whose proximity felt disconcerting in an entirely troubling yet strangely familiar way, she pondered the wisdom of her actions.

“I am curious, elf. Why would you care?” He had spoken just when she was positive he had nothing further to say. She bit the inside of her cheek and wondered why she, an elf, and a Blue Robe mage at that, was so frightened of this mortal leader of some ardent cult. As she pondered her answer, he waited in silence and in shadow.

She shrugged. “I have nothing to lose by coming to you, and I have much to gain should you find what I say to be true.”

More silence followed. And then he laughed.

Jaren blinked. The sound was beyond unnerving. It rolled across the darkness and over her skin like fingers of fog, nearly physical in its presence. She took a step back.

Through the darkness, she could see the shrouded figure rise from his throne. He stood to an impressive height and then moved slowly, deliberately, across the raised platform toward the top of the stairs.

“I must tell you, Jaren, that you are right,” he began as he approached the carved stone steps, “and you are wrong.” He descended the stairs slowly, and the shadows played across his cowl, teasing her by never completely letting up, never allowing her more than the briefest of glimpses at his hidden visage. “Cruor is indeed returning. The Chosen Soul has surfaced and night grows longer in anticipation of its endless dominion.”

Jaren found herself retreating in time with his descent. He had known her name. Had she mentioned it? She was almost certain she had not.

“However, you are wrong about one thing,” he said.

Jaren shook her head, taking another step back. “What?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

He descended the final step and paused. And then, as if in a nightmare, he stepped forward one last time, pushing back the edges of his hood as he did so. It fell to his shoulders and Jaren gasped.

She shook her head again. “No… Impossible…” Her eyes grew wide and she would have said more, but her voice was caught somewhere deep inside, along with the air she tried desperately to breathe but couldn’t. Now she knew why his presence had felt so powerful, so familiar. Now she understood everything.

“You do indeed have much to lose by coming here. And lose it, you will.”

Jaren tried to scream. With every ounce of her will and every bone in her several-thousand-year-old body, she fought to cry out, to give voice to the myriad of spells she might have used in defense. But his magic was ancient and voiceless and poured over her like a wave of suffocating blood, warm, red, and terrifying. It didn’t matter. She knew that anything she might have done would have proved useless.

As the Death Mage drew closer, his luminescent eyes glittering malevolently in the red fire light, she felt her soul begin to spin and rise to his call. She closed her eyes and fell, knowing she would fall forever, a body with no life, a spiritless corpse.

A sacrifice to Cruor.

*****

“She is safe.”

Yes, for now. Despite your temporary lapse in judgment.”

Silence. Then, “Forgive me, my lord.”

I have already, or you would not be standing, Adonides.”

More silence passed.

She is safe. However, the brother grows tiresome. He may pose a problem later.

“Understood.”

*****

Raven and Loki sat together on the short wooden bench in the temple of Haledon. They’d been left alone after many questions and many answers, and now they finally rested in mutual calm, their voices naturally lowered in deference to the night and all that slept.

“Loki, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why does Haledon heal people if the gods are not supposed to interfere with our lives?”

Loki smiled. “Haledon doesn’t heal people. People heal people. Using the same kind of magic you’re learning to use.”

Raven thought of Adonides and the spells he’d shown her. “I don’t know how to heal anyone.”

“No. Not yet, maybe. But one day. I don’t think that’s the kind of spell this Adonides you tell me of would teach you to use.”

Raven was silent for a moment. Her thoughts turned to the magic she’d come to understand thus far. It was all meant to hurt, to defend, to cause harm. She was the daughter of Malphas, and despite what her brother said, she doubted she would ever be able to heal anyone. It just was not in her blood.

Blood.

She glanced at Loki, wondering when she would feel safe enough to tell him about this latest detail in her change from mortal to monster. She asked, “Why is it only Haledon’s acolytes that heal if anyone who knows how to use magic can do so?”

“I think when someone learns they can use healing magic, they find themselves attributing it to divine intervention. And they come here – to give thanks, to ask for more power, whatever.” He smiled again. “But don’t tell Maelix I said so. He’s the head priest here. He would throw me out if he heard me talking like this.”

Raven smiled, looking at her brother sideways. “You aren’t scared that Haledon himself, will hear you?”

“I don’t think he’s the kind of god petty enough to care. If I believed that, I wouldn’t like him. And, I’ve always liked him.” He grinned broadly and she laughed.

“Indeed, you have. I think Maelix can tell. He said that the two of you performed a search spell together. Did it work?”

Loki nodded. “Yes. The message that finally appeared in the water read, and I quote, ‘look only as far as the eye can see.’ It was terribly helpful.” His tone was laced with facetiousness.

Raven thought about that for a moment. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the window that looked out over a darkened, sunflower-filled landscape. “Oh, I don’t know, Loki. What did you do after you read it?”

“I went to the window and saw you standing in the field with your eyes closed.”

“Well then, there you have it. You looked as far as your eyes could see, and there I was. After all, I was standing at the field’s edge. If I’d been a few yards further, in the forest, you wouldn’t have been able to see me at all.”

Loki laughed, this time a little too loudly.

Raven nudged him, her eyes wide, a finger to her lips to suggest he quiet down. He nodded and leaned in closer. “You got me. Haledon knows what he’s doing.”

Raven nodded. “And apparently so do you.”

*****

Torch light sent flickering shadows dancing across the glassy surface of the scrying pool. “Show me the Chosen Soul.” A voice, deep and terrible, echoed off of the cavern walls. A cloaked figure waved his hand, and the surface of the water shimmered to life.

An image materialized in its depths.

Cruor peered at the subject for several long moments. He was silent; his visage expressionless, utterly belying the tides of emotion warring with one another behind that serene façade.

He waved his hand once again, and the image disappeared. He moved away from the scrying pool to the large leather-bound tome that rested on the stand against one wall. Once more, he waved his hand, and the book’s covers opened, thick pages flipping from right to left.

Somewhere toward the middle, the pages stopped, and the black-inked text upon the page began to glow. Cruor read.

 

At the dawning of this endless night

As god or morning reigns in light

My fingers shake, the dream I’ve had

Has wrapped itself around me tight

 

I pen this vision, cloaked in rhyme

A scream that sounds like songs sublime

A message, pray, to no fruition

In our children’s children’s children’s time

 

A thief of ice on a tempest’s fall

Will steal the eldest soul of all

From the Spring of quondam spirits lost

And take it from the guarded hall

 

The eyes of Death will open wide

As the spirit is allowed inside

A receptacle of mortal flesh

Where, for decades – twins, it shall hide

 

Death will grow and come to see

All the Soul has come to be

His Chosen, flesh, and spirit marked

Food for mage and god to be

 

As sable as this endless night

As stunning as the god of light

With will of fire and air of cold

A sacrifice for Cruor’s might

 

Upon its taking, like a stone

The empty shell, aside is thrown

The world will shudder, warm no more

And Death will dance on frozen bones.

 

The Death Mage gently closed the book, lowered his head, and closed his eyes.

He needed The Chosen Soul. And now he knew where she was.