A breath away from life (ONC2024)

VII. Monstrous creatures

The clan hall is still fraught with whispers, though many it seems have left for their own havens. The beauty of a haven often overlooked, a place to feel safe from winter’s chill and the blackness of tainted hearts. Another door leads us through into a slender hall, opening out into a snug, emanating warmth. “Lovely Wren, this evening has been amusing. From healing to betrayal and punishment, to death and a stolen grimoire. You are as passionate for revenge, as the sun is searing.”

“While you are as lazy as the moon that resides in the sky, from dusk to dawn. Watching, enchanting and bewitching.” The words are half murmured without much thought, as my gaze roves over the walls.

A swirl of air, and he appears behind me, his breath brushing over my neck in shallow waves. “Only you truly see such a likeness, all others see is another to lure and trap, but as you know, I will devour every soul that so much as tries.” His evocative words flow over me, as my gaze glides across the floor, still watching for that subtle difference. Though a string of temptation binds us both, as we linger ever more closely.

His alluring gaze so intent; but then I glimpse a subtle change. A lighter hue bearly lining the edges of the stone slabs, so worn, over on one side of the room. Hanging on the wall above, a tapestry showing the beauty of rose-laden vines climbing snow-scattered mountains, beneath a moonlit valley of glittering flowers. Resting on ornate pegs, I carefully reach up, running my fingertips along the delicate carvings. Closer to the base, a slight ridge circles the underneath. Instinctively, I press down from above, but the peg remains rigid.

Thinking, I raise the sword beside me, gently brushing a fingertip over the flat of Asher’s blood-smeared blade. Clutching the canvas, I feel the unusual softness, as I draw the rune symbolising the action of opening. Within moments, Asher’s blood soaks through, while a slight grinding echoes in the air.

“How wondrous you are.” Lorne whispers in his familiarly mocking tone, but a heat still lingers upon the edge of his words.

Brushing his chest softly, I pass him by stepping down into the opening of a steep staircase. The darkness feeling dense as my eyes begin to change, a prickling of warmth, and I know if another was to gaze upon me, my eyes would be aglow with an eerie redness. Lorne still awaits in the snug, not that I am surprised. Wandering amidst the darkness and the dust is something that he would hardly deem worthy of his time.

Near to the back of the room, where an ancient altar sits, rests the mechanised box. Grasping the smooth chest, the corners cold and edged with silver filigree, I return to the steps, feeling Lorne’s gaze. His sly smile turning mocking at the thought of knowing what I am to ask of him. Settling the chest on a low table, my eyes find his. “Would you be so kind...” My gaze drifts from him to the chest and back.

“Beautiful Wren, we bearly know one another, and yet you covet my blood so boldly. What will you give me in return?” His scent surrounds me once more, as he subtly tilts his head.

“I thought that you were the prince of sloth, not of avarice...” A shadow shifts in his pale golden eyes, the flecks of silver darkening.

“In the passing days, the sin of avarice has become more of a temptation.” His fingertips trace over my cheekbone and along the curve of my jaw.

“Be careful, lost souls like myself are not known for their loving devotion.”

“Both of us are cold and cruel, but there is beauty in that, lovely Wren.” As our gazes intertwine, a feeling of desire awakens once more, while my love and hate for Kovan seep ever more slowly from my heart. A faint whisper echoing the pain of years, rather than the unbreakable torment.

I consider him for a moment, his beauty, his openly mocking and teasing words, and how drawn to him, I am, before coming to a treacherous decision. “I will gift to you a single desire in return for a gift of your blood.”