The Heart of Lilith

Prologue

It took mere minutes for the bustling market to be flushed into empty silence. Wooden doors locked, curtains yanked closed, and children herded to the deepest sections of their homes, guided by hushed whispers of frightened parents. Under the rising sun of the coastal town of Venzor, satyr warriors lined the docks with their squirting eyes locked on the sea. Every ripple caused the men to bristle, and rightfully so. Our enemies never dared come this close, yet when a weeping child shrieks one word whilst clutching their bleeding arm, the town morphs into a possible battlefield. Mermaid.

     Those two syllables swept through the town like wildfire. I watched out of my bedroom window from the Oalfingaurd manor, a monument made of white stone and amber wood. Church bells rang as their doors flung open, offering sanctuary. While I watched the guards below abandon their posts  to join our brothers at the port. Anxiety pulled at my gut. Wrapping its infernal rope around my lungs and yanking. I knew the child was coming here, at least if the panicked words of the servants held any stock. I could hear their murmuring beyond my  heavy door.
If given a chance, I could help the young one. At least as much as I could.

     Despite the cool summer day, sweat stuck to my brow. My skin this morning, somehow paler than my nightgown despite sitting in the garden this past week, watching the boats come and go from atop the hill. Soaking in the sun for as long as I could bear it. My eternal fatigue whispered for me to return to bed when I spotted the child being carried into the house by a sprinting soldier. I ignored the whisper, ignored the deep ache in my legs as I shuffled to the wide staircase, watching the commotion from above in curious silence. My older brother, Koven, and current Lord over the estate barked an order above the crying. The doors to his study yawned open, two servant boys no older than ten holding them open. Their eyes wide and trained on the wailing child who isn't much older than them. Blood dripped from his forearm onto the polished wooden floor, blacked veins climbed up his arm to his shoulder and neck. The soldier carried him quickly into the study, followed by nursing staff at the firm yank of Koven's chin. I leaned and strained for a better look, my stomach twisting at the sight, a large chunk of flesh bitten and torn from the babes arm.

     "Ms.Oalfinguard! Please, you should be resting." a maid exclaims, with a gentle pull of my sleeve. But there are no more protests than that. Koven's gaze snapped up to mine, he was twenty-seven of age but his eyes and face held the stress of a much older man. His words are curt, the muffled crying of the child still sounding in the foyer.
"Go to bed, Draya." His brown hair sits messily between his curled horns, pulled back tight against the nape of his neck. His clothing was simple, he had only returned from sea last night. Still dressed in layers of black and brown, smelling of sea salt and sweat from days unwashed.
My throat is dry and hoarse with emotion "Do not do this!" I plead softly, holding his arm and leaning slightly for support. His weight never shifts, he keeps his stance unyielding as my aching legs beg to sit.
"There are sailors coming here. My crew, my men." He leans forward, his brow twitching in frustration. "Go to bed." He repeats, his voice is dark and cold.  He takes a step, guiding my arm to the railing and leaving me. I want to argue, to open those doors myself and peer upon the boy before his fate greets him. But with his men arriving soon, I bite my inner cheek and watch Koven enter the study and slam the doors shut. Dark green vines wrap along the handles and spread over the door like a thick web. Thorned and smelling bitterly of magic. Every twist and curl, a symbol of his firm stance, his anger.
     It drives me back upstairs, head lowered and teeth gritted. I could feel my fever growing and every step sent pain shooting up my legs. A maids arm tucks under mine as I approach the top step. I dont recognize her voice but I am not surprised. A lot happened here without my presence. Her tone is gentle and full of sympathy "Let's get you back to your chambers miss. I'll bring a cool towel."

                                                                                                            

                                               ~

     When the sun falls, I am pulled from sleep with a sharp knock to my door and a throat being cleared. Koven stands in the doorway, now properly dressed and washed. My room has been dusted and cleaned in my sleep. A new stack of books lays on my nightstand, my vase on my vanity washed and switched with new flowers.
"Has your fever broken?" He asks gruffly as I sit up, watching him cross the room to my side. I nod and scan his clothing, not a drop of blood on him. Power thrums from him, making the air around us heavy in my lungs.
"Are you going somewhere?" I ask, my gaze snagging on his boots. But he knows my real inquiry. He nods and offers a hand, helping me stand. "Yes. sailing a little beyond the reef tonight." He places a supporting hand on my middle back. "-My men are waiting for me at the coast." He adds and offers up a tight smile. My freedom in the home was restored. While we held no blood relation, he had found me, a sick and abandoned  human infant and begged our father to let me stay. And while I loved him deeply, I couldn't help but feel that's all he saw me as- a vulnerable infant. My twenty second birthday last month hadn't changed a thing in his eyes.

     He walks beside me downstairs to the foyer, the vines once along his study had slithered away and vanished. Oil lamps lit the space every few feet, large paintings of our clan's greatest leaders hanging from the walls. Always watching. I tried my best to avoid their cold gazes everyday. Kovens hand lingers on the handle to the front door. "The boy is alive for now, I'll be back at dawn with a priestess to collect him." His tone is distant, void of emotion. He had done this enough times.
He leaves and a sour taste invades the back of my throat as I pull one of the doors to his study open. The hearth crackles, the boy's breathing is shallow and labored as he sleeps on a small and narrow servants bed. No doubt one of the maids was sleeping on the hardwood flooring tonight. I push strands of my raven hair behind my ear, approaching koven's desk beside the bed. Notes have been scribbled in thin cursive, eyewitness statements, general record keeping of the boy's state of health. My snooping is cut short by the child's voice, it trembles. But not in pain, in fear.
     "Are you a ghost?" His white irises meet my matching ones, the black veins now up to his cheekbones. I frown and shake my head, though I doubt the boy is convinced.  I take a seat at his side, looking over his bandaged arm. "No, I came to check on you." I pause at his weary expression. "I know how you feel, little one. I'm sick like you." I can't mask my somber tone.

     "Then I'll be okay? I'll live?" His voice is raspy yet hopeful. I nod, like Koven, I had done this enough times as well. I knew when to lie through my teeth.
     "You will be well looked after. At dawn you'll go to the temple of Hienar" A smile appears on the boy's face. "They will cure you." I finish, forcing a smile to reflect his.

     A frown pinches his brows "What about you? Have you gone?" His eyes trail over my sickly skin, already damp from the hearth. "I've been too scared, maybe tomorrow I'll follow in your footsteps. Take courage in yours."

His smile returns "I'm Thilo"
     "I'm Draya." I respond and stand, with the boy smiling, my aching heart knows some peace tonight. I turn and hesitate at the door, giving him one last smile of encouragement. "Make me proud tomorrow Thilo, be calm and brave. Promise?"
    Thilo nods as eagerly as he can, despite the heavy fatigue that plagues his body "I promise!"
I nod and shut the door, pressing my back against the cold wood. It wasn't fair that I was able to escape his cruel fate because I had been taken in. A fragile secret, loved and adored behind closed doors.  Guilt makes my constant aching legs  numb for a moment as I return to my bedroom, silent.

Tomorrow Thilo will take his last breath while a  priestesses knife plunges into his heart. And I won't.