Our World Forgotten

[13] Lurking

Hundreds of miles away in the heart of the southeastern Solarian wilderness, the half broken isolated palace of Blood Stalk, seat of the Duke Terrare vel Corin, the last living son of the fallen Solarian King and the uncrowned ruler of Solaria. From above the fortress looked like nothing more than mere rubble and ruin, however underneath the ruin lay an underground fortress that stretched for miles in all directions, of course there was also a thickly layered Solarian glamour cast over it to keep Drackien sensors from finding his sanctuary.
     The underground palaces had been a fail safe that he had constructed nearly four hundred years ago. The networks of his own design were high functioning, even thriving as whatever pitiful numbers of Solaria had survived the wars quickly increased and spread under ground like a virus in the circulatory system of the earth. He knew their time in these palaces were coming to a close quickly, his people grew lustful for the sun and the air. They were ready to reclaim their titles as Mages of the Skies.
     Terrare stood over the dimly lit table in his study, his fingers spread flat on the surface as he supported his weight. His golden eyes laced over with chromatic strands. Around him the golden glow of the  candelabra exposed the ancient texts and scrolls of Solarian Mages and recent reports. He'd hoped to find a report on the Drackien's business within the Grendeline borders, instead he found something a thousand times more delighting.
      Tyran, Thorne Born of Drack, had found a mate, and a soulmate at that. His spy in the Grendeline kingdom had informed him that she was of Grendel decent, though their was a glamour of something else in her veins. Something that had not appeared for hundreds of years. Terrare plopped down in the seat at his desk, his hands steepling beneath his chin as he calculated his next move. Her description sounded suspiciously familiar, the image was on the cliff of his thoughts.
     There wasn't much that he could do at the moment, suspicion was just that. Hardly enough to justify a full fledged massacre–not yet, at least. There were hundreds of Drack in the Grendel city, far too many to confront even without the ever lingering threat of the Thorne Born lurking by. Their numbers were still too low, though he had more of his citizens going through mage training.
     Still, those who didn't make the cut ended up scalped and their blood drained for his experiments. Any other loss would just be considered a waste of blood. While Terrare was the uncrowned King of Solaria, his people had formed a Council in order to protect the people should their government become too unruly again. His brother had no self-preservation when it came to his bloodlust, his downfall came swiftly at the hands of the Drackian King.
     While Terrare was even more blood thirsty than his brother, he prided himself as being a man who picked and chose his battles wisely. He had to paint himself in a favorable light if he hoped to achieve the crown from the Elders. He’d already dispatched a handful of spies to northern Grendel and had turned several of the palaces servants into his Familiars so he never missed a detail.
     Terrare rose from his desk. His rich, black velvet robes billowed around his figure as he turned and crossed the room to the heavily warded doors. He needed no words to dissolve the ward, he'd grown in power enough to be able to just center his palm on the door. Blood magic flared with life beneath his skin, filling his eyes and covering his golden and silvery lined eyes in an oily crimson colored tar that looked black in the dim light.
     Magic swirled around his arm, fading into his skin. The doors unlocked with a groan and a grind, the bolt leaving its home and allowed the door to open inward to reveal a finely lit hallway. He lowered his hand slowly, a smirk grimly spreading on his face. It wouldn't be long before his powers were mastered and he'd be able to resurface. In the meantime, he decided to seek out information on the suspiciously familiar woman. If there was a way to destroy the Thorne Born, she was the key to it.

Ziva

She'd found a way back into her room without waking her slumbering guardians. Her limbs felt heavy with exhaustion, her skin frozen from the wind. She wasted no time in shedding her mates cloak and snow stained trousers. Her eyes were half lidded as she halfheartedly tugged on a night gown and robe, tying the front laces lazily. In her mind she knew she'd never looked more homely than she did at this moment, though now she could care less as she threw her covers open and slid into bed.
     She was in mid reach for her blankets when sleep claimed her. Her gown rising her her mid thigh, her snow woven dreaded hair fanned out around her, framing her soft angled face. The blackness of her mind had turned to pictures that were none too pleasant.
     She felt her heart lurch, a bright light flashing before her lidded eyes, covering her dream vision in a blinding light before it faded slowly and allowed her to see a whole new world bared before her. She was running, urgency driving her legs to carry her swiftly across the prickly meadow in search for some type of shelter. She needed to hide, some part of her was screaming at the lurking danger that chased after her.
     A more curious person would have checked behind themselves as they ran to inspect the danger, but she knew it would slow her down.
     She fumbled to the ground, clutching the torn, thin layer of cloth that was her gown. She looked as if the had just escaped a prison. The grass beneath her pricked at her skin and it wasn't until she scrambled her way under a fallen log that she noticed the poor state of her knees, shins and thighs. Dried blood stained her legs through thin, long gashes. Dried blood crusted and scabbed at the edges, mixing with dirt and sweat.
     What happened to her? The question skidded through her mind. She heard heavy footsteps crunching the spike like grass and flattening it. A beastial growl sent shivers down her spine. Her breath hitched and her hands flew to cover her mouth as if to prevent the sharp noise from carrying through the air. The footsteps stopped, a huskily crazed giggle shook her to the core.

     "Come on out, girl." The gravelly voice froze her to her spot. Where was Tyran? Had he gotten to him already? "Show yourself to me. I can smell your blood, such a sweet, sweet scent. You won't be able to hide forever, woman. I'll draw you out one way or another if you refuse to obey." He threatened though his words were poison dipped promises.
     She stayed silent and retreated to the darkest corner she could huddle herself into. 

     "I'll find you, Ziva. When I do, you'll be mine. You won't get away again."
     Ziva could barely feel the ice cold wind from her open window draft over her exposed skin as she thrashed around her bed. Her brow wrinkled in distress, the nightmare plaguing her had been a reoccurring one and it usually ended when an outside factor stirred her from her slumber.
     Thankfully the outside factor was a particularly loud howl of wind as it tore across her. Her eyes opened drowsily, eyes only imagining a darkened figure with rust colored eyes shutting her window silently. Panic took her for a moment until a flame hot hand brushed lightly over her forehead and trailed down the side of her face.
     A small, reassuring kiss was placed in the center of her forehead while soothing words were spoken in a foreign tongue in her ear. She relaxed almost instantly, too tired to fight to see the culprit. She let herself drift off into a peaceful slumber, this time undisturbed by nightmares and unaware that her mate had slipped through her open window to watch over her while she slept.
     Blowing a bit of warm Fire weave her way to cocoon her in a protective shimmer of heat. He pulled the covers over her, ignoring the peaks of her breasts to the best of his abilities as he covered her. He'd ask her about her thrashing in the morning, he decided as he wove a shielding weave of fire to hide his image from her should she wake up.
     As her mate, it was his job to protect her. He'd do it willingly and happily, even if it meant facing exhaustion.