Savia's Heart [Sequel to Bastian's Song] [HIATUS]

[ 7 ]

[ Savia ]

The village of Usk was dark when they finally crested the last of the rolling hills. Though angry clouds hid the stars from their sight, Savia knew they were still there. She always reminded herself that in the darkest times, the light still existed, even if she couldn't see it.

Alongside the covered wagon they traveled in, a river flowed with quiet dependability, lending a calming music to the night time air. The river seemed at odds with the looming sense of foreboding that the village gave off. Auron seemed to sense it too, as he moved closer to her side.

According to their messenger-turned-guide, there had been at least three sick villagers before he'd left on his journey. Based on the symptoms he had described—and exhibited himself—Savia assumed there would be more than that. Even the quickest quarantines were not always effective. Especially when people could not bring themselves to stop caring for the ill.

The same had happened to her own village decades ago, when she had died.

No one came to greet the wagon, but the messenger did not seem too concerned about the lack of a welcome. He drove over loose dirt, and Savia silently thanked the gods that the clouds above had not loosed their rains yet. Mud would have only made the journey even more miserable. Riding in a wooden box had never been a comfortable way to travel, but it beat being burnt by the light of the jealous sun.

When they were close to the largest of the homes in Usk, the guide stopped and shouted out their arrival. Auron offered his hand to Savia as she stepped down from the wagon, and an older woman exited the home.

Though wrinkles betrayed her age, her eyes were just as sharp as a newly forged blade. Her long, steel-grey hair was pulled back into a practical braid and her dress was serviceable cloth, worn at the knees and crinkled at the elbows.

Savia smiled. Things were always easier for her when there was a woman who didn't put up with nonsense in charge.

"I am Delia. On behalf of my village, I greet you." The woman bowed her head in deference.

"I am Savia, and this is my friend Auron. We have come to aid you. If you will take us to the ill, then we will do what we can to help them." She had long ago stopped promising to heal people. It wasn't always possible.

Without further words, Delia turned and led them into the house. The walls were carefully carved wood that gleamed even in the darkness, and the floor was worn smooth with use. Savia moved easily around the children's toys that littered the entrance and saw that there was light coming from down the long hall.

A single candle flickered in the room and illuminated the girl who lay upon the bed beside it, no older than eight or nine. Her eyes were closed, and her tanned skin was slick with sweat. The smell of fresh vomit assaulted Savia's nose, along with something sickly sweet.

Savia strode into the room and grabbed the blanket that rested over the girl's lower body. She dragged it off in one fluid motion and found what she feared: the child's legs were bloated to three times the size they should have been.

A hiss escaped Savia. Her eyes blurred and she saw the faint life force of the child. It took her shape and hovered above the body it belonged to. There, the beating red of a heart working too hard. Beneath that frantic rhythm, the dark gap of a body that was no longer functioning as it should. She was dying.

Savia inhaled and placed her hand over her chest. She pressed her palm hard against her shirt, until it almost hurt. Then she drew her hand away, and with it came her own life force; swirling dark purple energy that sustained her life long past her death.

Savia's eyes darkened into pits of inky blackness. Her skin grew colder, and her limbs grew heavy. Still, she drew the purple essence out of herself until she had what she needed.

"Auron." Short, direct, urgent, needy.

Savia's knees gave out and she hit the floor in a kneel; a supplicant before the power of death. Her palm came down to rest on the girl's heart, and purple met red.

The girl glowed with the power of it, pulsing and twisting and fighting. For a moment, the purple overpowered the red and her heart stopped. She stiffened. Then came the spasms, all through her body, making her limbs quake violently. Her jaw clenched, and her still-closed eyes flickered rapidly back and forth, trying to see what they could not.

The purple glowed brighter, and then the color changed, losing the blue tones until it was a warm red once more. She stilled, gradually relaxing. 

The smell of blood filled the air.

Savia's palm slid off the girl's chest and onto the bed as she slumped over. Her eyes remained blurred, but now they saw nothing but color and suggestions of shapes past the darkness at the edges of her vision. Someone lifted her head to turn it and shoved something warm against her lips.

The taste of metal filled her mouth, and Savia drank. She swallowed mouthful after mouthful of viscous liquid until heat seeped into her limbs and her vision cleared. Her fingers lifted to grab onto the arm in front of her and she looked up into serious golden eyes.

Auron.

It was his hand on the back of her neck, and his arm against her lips, and his blood sliding down her throat. She was draining him of his life, just as she had drained herself to keep the girl alive.

Savia took another mouthful of blood and swallowed slowly to savor the taste of it. She licked the ragged cut that had fed her until his skin knitted itself together and left no trace of injury behind.

Auron knelt beside her and his arm slid around her waist. He pulled her to her feet and held her upright. "You saved her," he whispered.

Together, they turned, knowing that the rest of the healing must be done later or not at all. Aides would not let anyone out of his grasp so easily, and Savia risked death for herself or Auron if she continued recklessly.

Outside the room, Delia met her gaze head on. In her eyes, gratitude mixed with fear, and her hands trembled. Their guide, who had been with them every step of the way from Huw, did not even look at Savia.

She had reminded them that she was a cursed abomination. A vampyre had no soul, and fed on humans to sustain itself in its unholy life beyond death.

Beside her, Auron stiffened, and his grip on her waist tightened. Savia closed her eyes and felt the weight of the world settle on her shoulders. 

Savia is a vampyre without fangs. You have no idea how much I fought about that with my own self, but I like the idea that vampyres really were just normal humans until they died. And then they were suddenly something more and less at the same time. 

I chose to have them keep their human teeth, though they can get to human blood any number of ways. Obviously, if they stab someone, that person is very likely to bleed. And then they just...*slurp*.

Gods, I really hope I'm not the only one who obsesses over whether dying somehow grants a person an extra set of teeth or not. Anyways, now you know why Auron is so handy to have around. 

He is best juice box. 

Sorry, not sorry.