The Children of When (Complete)

Chapter 4: Tyranius

Tyranius, the Elder Guardian of Florisia, threw down the latest report from the portal in disgust. Six children with mixed blood in one day – what a nuisance! He knew the two who'd gone to Dragardia would be dealt with swiftly and quietly, no questions were ever asked in Dragardia, and the one in Valleron? Well, the child would meet with the usual, unfortunate accident. Humans were always prone to accidents, such a clumsy race.

It was the three who'd arrived in Florisia presenting the biggest problem. The headmistress at the Fey Academy, Madame Persimmons, was a suspicious old witch. She always asked so many questions when a student went missing. How could he dispose of three at once without raising suspicion?

He left the window and began pacing back and forth. His job would be so much easier if they came up with a way to dispose of the mixed-bloods before they stepped out of the portal, but the Supreme Council in Dragardia was against it, preferring the deaths to appear as random events, far removed from the portals. Deaths within the portals would raise suspicions pointing towards the Guardians, the last thing they needed with their long awaited goals finally coming to fruition.

Tyranius grunted. He couldn't understand why the Supreme Council was still so obsessed with all this ancient prophecy mumbo-jumbo? It had obviously been written by some rambling fool over a thousand years ago. If there were any truth to it, surely if would have happened by now? The only threat that had ever existed to their unopposed rule had been the legendary amulet, and that had been destroyed centuries ago.

According to legend, each of the three pieces of the amulet were created by a separate race. It took the most powerfully Gifted representative from each race to merge the pieces. The amulet was then infused with the magical ability to seek and destroy those who threatened the safety of the world then known as When.

But it would take three equally Gifted beings to wield it as a weapon anyway, and that threat had been eradicated along with the amulet. With the worlds separated for the last thousand years, and any child born with mixed blood identified by the age portal and disposed of immediately, the amulet's power had ceased to exist.

If it had ever even existed! Tyranius huffed. He felt the same way about the legendary amulet as the prophecy; more mumbo-jumbo invented by the mind of a long dead fool. He snapped his mind back to the present. The more time he spent in this worn-out old body, the more his mind seemed to wander. Knowing how much better his brain worked when he was in his true form, he locked all the doors and pulled the curtains over the windows.

He closed his eyes, and released the required energy to flow through his body, the crinkly old skin of his elven form melting away. Even after so many years, he still got a thrill from the sensations aroused by the transformation. He could feel his nine glorious tails bursting out of their confinement, whipping out behind him in joyous release. White fur streaked with gold sprung up all over his body, so much more regal than the dull red fur he had lived with for his first one hundred years. He stood tall and majestic, revelling in the feel of his strong, lithe body, so unlike the frail shell of his Elder persona.

He smiled at the image of Tyranius the Kitsune in the mirror in front of him. Far superior to the reflection of Tyranius the elf he usually had to endure. Oh, how he wished he could rule Florisia in his true form and shed his elven persona forever, as the members of the Supreme Council were able to do in Dragardia. Soon, they kept telling him. But his patience had worn thin over the years.

Tyranius shuddered as he recalled the first one hundred years of his life in Dragardia, spent predominantly in his true form, as a fox. His one-hundredth birthday had been the greatest day of his life. Finally he was old enough to shape-shift into human - or in his case elven - form, and step into the role he had been born to fill.

Life as the ruler of Florisia was a dream compared with the battle for survival he endured growing up in Dragardia. His own Guardian was a cruel taskmaster, alternately beating or starving him when he didn't perform to the ridiculously high expectations demanded.

He snickered in disgust. All that to prepare for this role? In the one hundred and twenty years since he had been appointed the Elder Guardian of Florisia, the hardest thing he'd had to deal with were the few brats who managed to elude death from the creatures he sent after them. Not that it happened often, but it was annoying never-the-less.

Tyranius stepped away from the mirror, pulling his mind back to his immediate problem. He would have to contact his spy at the Fey Academy to keep an eye on the three new mixed-bloods. He'd noticed in the past that children who arrived on the same day often stuck together for the first week or two. While this was a problem when only one of them was a mixed-blood, in this case, it could present an opportunity to dispose of them all at the same time. Then he would only have to transport the Hellbeast through the veil once.

He groaned at the thought of having to deal with yet another Hellbeast. They were such tiresome creatures, and their masters had been demanding more and more gold for the creatures' services lately. Still, their high success rate, coupled with the lack of evidence they left behind, usually justified the cost.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside told him it was time to change back. He sighed, hating that he had to return to the old elven body, and grudgingly released the energy to flow through him again. His magnificent body began to shrink, his tails silently shrieking in protest at having to return to their confinement. The crinkly old elven skin once again replaced the silky white fur and a long black robe fell back into place. Tyranius shuddered, and the transformation was complete.

Tyranius, once again the old elven Elder Guardian of Florisia, shuffled across the room and flopped into the chair behind his desk. The sooner he sent a message to his spy at the Fey Academy, the sooner he would be able to dispose of the latest annoying children.