A tide of darkness

Sacrifice

The last thing Shinnrae remembered way being dragged out of bed with the same knife to her throat, Zeraph whispering in her ear. He told her if she screamed or struggled he wouldn't hesitate to cut her throat. She had thought of it as a bluff; it probably was too, but Zeraph had threatened on a surprise attack on Devon, and she couldn't risk that. Before that she tried to lash out at him with the water jug, but he avoided the blow easily. He had then sliced the palm of her hand with the blade, and he had done the same with his. Zeraph pressed his bloodied hand against hers, whispering something in Latin. Shinnrae recognized some words along the way: sanguinis sacramentum, meaning a blood oath, as well as Intemerata, meaning invincibility, or untouchable. There you go, Shinnrae had thought darkly. Learning Latin was perhaps a little useful after all.

Now Shinnrae was crammed uncomfortably in the corner of a little crevice in a cave, which glowed golden-yellow with a single, warm candle. Shinnrae, clutching her bloody hand, looked up at Zeraph through her lashes. Zeraph was watching her intently, shadowed violet eyes darker still with resentment and hatred. His platinum-blond hair was so white it was almost translucent, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He wore a royal blue, studded leather armor, as well as a wolf hide cape. On his head rested a twisted crown, a tower carved ivory decorated with distinct blue runes of voyance and power. His hand was now healed with a jagged scar that jutted across his palm.

"What did you do with all my blood?" Shinnrae asked meekly. The question sounded strange even to her own ears. She had many more questions that she wanted answered, but her fear drove them aside. He smiled at her thinly; his lips curved up slightly at the corners, but other than that, his face remained passive, save for his demonic-looking eyes.

"We are now bound; you and I,"

Shinnrae jerked away, backing up against the cool limestone walls. Ice ran up and down her veins, freezing her joints. "Bound? As in married? Did...did something happen?" Shinnrae choked on the words as she said them. Zeraph grinned at her crookedly. As much as he and Delta shared the same looks, her appearances were softer and kinder. His face was sharp looking, with thinner lips and more prominent cheekbones. He let out a low throated chuckle.

"Not quite yet."

Shinnrae released a breath she didn't realize that she was holding. "I cannot get married to you, Zeraph. I am allowed to get married to whom I chose and I am engaged,"

Zeraph laughed. "I really don't care what you are entitled to and what you aren't. All I did with your blood is bound you and I with and oath; you, as well as anyone cannot harm me, without harming yourself,"

Shinnrae paled visibly. Bile rose in the back of her throat. "Go to hell, you-"

"Mind your language, Shinnrae," A familiar voice said from the cave entrance.

The same voice with the slight Welsh accent, the voice of the person who had saved her from the clutches of Zeraph a long while back. Her prince. Caspar stood, armed with his two iridescent long swords in hands. He wore the same green and grey mottled cloak he normally wore, cast over the top of what he was wearing when he bid her goodnight.

"Don't doubt that I will kill you, or if not, I will at least relish in cutting you up so bad that you lose all your blood yourself!"

Zeraph was cackling now. He truly was evil, Shinnrae thought. She wondered if he would be just the same with or without Merlin's curse. She shuddered, pushing the thought aside. She stared at Caspar in dismay, returning her gaze to Zeraph. To her surprise, he was laughing.

"Ah, her savior returns." He jeered, his tone was mocking. "It is too late though; so I urge you to try to kill me, or cut me up as you see fit. Whatever you do to me inflicts upon your poor and innocent Shinnrae."