Bereft: Demise

21 | Of Fanged Children

Even in the strangest of environments, time has a way of peeling back the numinous sheen to reveal normalcy. 

A week passed. I found comfort in the trappings of routine. I woke up in the morning, showered and dressed, grumbled at the pervasive mists outside the parlor window, then set out with a firm goal in my mind. I never knew what my day would entail, but these elements never wavered and I built my new world upon their support. Wake, dress. Continue. 

I ate breakfast with Vytians and wolves. I learned to duck my head and cover my oatmeal when the verbal jousting began between the two groups. The one time I hadn't, a gnawed bone thrown by Thomas had landed in the bowl and had splattered hot oats everywhere. Gavin had apologized profusely for his son's disrespect while I scooped glop off my face. Anzel had been beside himself. His tirade had kept slipping in and out of Vytian, but from what I had gathered he had snarled something about finding a furrier for all the pelts he'd have.

Every morning either Anzel or Elias would set a vial about the size of an aspirin bottle by my coffee cup. I would quickly take the infusion before the wolves noticed, muttering thanks under my breath.

Some afternoons I chatted with Aos Sí in the lounge located off the main foyer. I quickly learned rooms with higher occupancy, like the lounge or the dining room, were less likely to roam. Peroth's office was fixed in place; everything else rotated and moved about it. The Aos Sí knew various tricks to navigating the manor and—for the most part—were happy to share what they knew.

The Aos Sí were a vapid people. I learned that, in generations passed, they had been Valians. When the Dreaming Isle fell, the barriers separating the Vale and Terrestria had been weakened. Fleeing the cataclysmic wars being fought in their home realm, a large number of Valians had immigrated to Terrestria. 

When the barriers between this realm and the other solidified, those Valians had been trapped here. 

Trapped in a realm torn between the Sins below and the Absolians above.

Those trapped Valians who had managed to survive had passed on their genes with humans. Over the years, their children had continued to do so, crossing the different species of the Vale as they intermarried and joined. The end result had been the Aos Sí—a haughty, superficial people who believed themselves better than humans, when they actually had more human in their blood than I did.

I had to wonder where their myth had arisen. The Aos Sí hadn't been my main area of study, but I had reviewed samples of their mythos. I could remember a particular afternoon I had spent idle upon my living room sofa, flipping through some of my accrued texts. I remember reading about fairy rings and how stepping into one would land a trespasser with a wicked curse—or madness. The book had recounted old tales of how the fairies would entrap mortals in dance and those mortals would dance until they forgot their lives entirely. You were not supposed to thank them as that would create an unintended debt, and when offended they could be riled into all sorts of mischievous. 

I had tossed the book aside with a snort. Even now, I thought the stories utterly ridiculous—aside from the last one. The Aos Sí were haughty enough to be offended by even the most meaningless of things, and they did so enjoy their small revenges.

Haughty or not, the Aos Sí loved to hear themselves talk, and if I paid attention they occasionally said something worthwhile.

I would sit in the lounge with the flighty creatures, and occasionally my eyes would wander on their own accord and land upon the Sin of Pride. He would be standing in a darkened alcove or doorway, his arms crossed before himself as he kept to the shadows to hide his presence. I knew he was watching to ensure I didn't get into more trouble. His attention made me feel like an errant child.