Beyond the veil of humanity, In a world where demons, vampires, werewolves, witches, and fairies coexist, the delicate balance of power is disrupted by the emergence of a forbidden mixed-breed. As prophecies unfold and allegiances shift, the fate of...
Queen Lyrebird jolted awake, her dream state shattered. Tears streamed down her face as she fell to her knees, gasping for air. Sweat dripped from her forehead, and her eyes welled up with anguish.
"What happened, love?"
King Lyrad asked, concern etched on his face as he grasped her trembling hands.
"I—" she stuttered, struggling to find words.
"She seems shaken," Queen Ayla observed, her brow furrowed.
Queen Lyrebird turned to her husband, teary eyes locking onto his.
"I... I watched the death of a girl," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"What girl?" King Lyrad pressed, his grip on her hands tightening.
"I-Imara," she muttered, her gaze dropping to her hands..
"S-she had the Sothic orb with her.." Queen Lyrebird continued
"How?" King Lyrad asked
"I-im not sure.." she whispered back "it bore dark magic that...possessed her?" Confusion obvious on her face
Queen Lyrebird's eyes snapped back to her husband. "S-she... she was thrown off a cliff... by her father." Her voice cracked.
"Wait...maybe the girl is the lad's mother...then if she died... who birthed the lad?" Queen Zephyrine asked, her tone inquisitive.
Queen Lyrebird's face contorted in desperation.
"I-I need to finish this!" She staggered to her feet, resolve etched on her face.
"The circle again!" she exclaimed, her voice loud and urgent.
The assembly calmly formed a circle around Queen Lyrebird, their hands clasped together. She sat in the center, eyes closed, as they channeled their collective energy and Queen Lyrebird muttered chants.
Queen Lyrebird's eyes fluttered open in a new vision. She found herself in a serene landscape: soft breeze rustling through trees, crystal-clear water flowing gently. A young man with thick, black spiky hair stood by the water's edge, whistling softly as he cast his fishing rod.
Queen Lyrebird observed him intently, noting the signs of struggle on his body: slightly torn shirt, bruised knuckles, and rugged hands. Suddenly, the water darkened, and the man's whistle trailed off. A girl's lifeless body floated downstream...
The man's eyes widened in horror as he rushed to pull her out. Queen Lyrebird recognized the girl – Imara, paler and more drained than before...
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"Hey!" the man exclaimed, tapping Imara's face repeatedly. He dragged her to dry land, checking her pulse.
Relief flickered across his face as he detected a faint heartbeat. Scooping up Imara, he sprinted toward a small cottage... Queen Lyrebird followed..
His humble cottage crafted from simple hay straws, yet remarkably sturdy. Gently, he laid Imara on a wooden bed adorned with delicate flowers. The man's fingers traced her face, concern etched on his features as he felt her icy skin. Quickly, he fetched hot towels from another room.
Placing one on her forehead and using another to clean her body, Queen Lyrebird observed the man with growing curiosity. Who was he? Something familiar stirred within her, as if she had seen him before, but where?
As the towel brushed Imara's hand, her fingers twitched. The man froze, watching intently. Imara's eyes began shaking, struggling to open. Her movements turned erratic, and she started shaking violently, spilling the hot water from the bowl.
The man was perplexed until he noticed dark magic coursing through her veins.
"What...the...?" he whispered, stunned..as dark airy magic went in and out of her body
"She's fighting it..." he murmured to himself, witnessing the battle unfolding before him.
Imara's struggles intensified, dark power surging through her. Each convulsion became more challenging. Finally, her body slumped back onto the bed.
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The man approached cautiously, hand extended to reach Imara's again when suddenly, Imara jolted sitting upright, staring at the hay wall as if seeing an unseen presence. Her eyes turned pitch black, darkness pulsing through her head's veins.
She tilted her head, baring her fangs in a snarl. The man raised his hands in surrender, taking careful steps back.
"Hey i-i mean no harm trust me..." he said, alarm etched on his face.
Frightened, he retreated further, eyes fixed on Imara's transformed state. Her gaze locked onto him, and she growled, low and menacing...
