Shattered Eternity The First Stanza: Primogenitus Episode 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living, dead or fictional, is entirely coincidental

This series is very graphic in nature and is intended for mature audiences as it portrays mental illness, violence, gore, and some sexual content, and may be disturbing or triggering to some. Viewer/Reader discretion is advised.

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Chapter 1

 

 Their feet came to a stop just before the wooden front steps of the house. The home that these steps were attached to was surrounded by a large dark wood porch where several rocking chairs lazily creaked in the soft evening breeze. Oururuu gazed upwards at the two story farmhouse, then to Jace, who led the pack.

 "What seems to be the problem?"

 "The path diverts. As if they made a stop in the house.."

 Jace lifted two fingers to his own temple, closing  his eye lids for a moment then turned his piercing yellow gaze onto Oururuu. Lowering his hand from his head, he reached it back to brush at his own slicked back blonde hair with an almost exhausted expression.

 "Muninn doesn't see anything in the air or on the ground, but their death trail continues beyond the fields. What's more is that there seems to be a life force inside the house."

 "Phew wee, I wouldn't want to be the guy who survived this shit show." Borthal unsheathed the large axe from his back and dropped its heft to the tight gripped hands before the rigid chest scales that lined his beastman flesh.

 "The poor soul who invested their life into this farm…" Oururuu's eyes trailed off as they surveyed the devastation. Not a single creature was left alive on this stead, nor any building left fully intact. Nothing was left but death and the wreak of rot.

 "If it is a survivor, you guys take care of them. I'll continue to follow the path and meet up with you at camp after I’ve cleared the rest of the area." Without another word, Jace bolted through the wreckage to follow a trail only he could see.

 Oururuu and Borthal turned to make their way for the house. The wooden steps creaked beneath their significant weight. Holding a hand above the door to steady himself, Oururuu stooped beneath the top of the door's threshold, Borthal following in kind. The pair discovered that the same havoc outside had found its way inside. Smashed furniture, destroyed walls, and signs of a struggle. Oururuu felt a small sting of distress in his heart for the people who had lived here. To have their lives uprooted and destroyed by the Undead under Lord Xanros' employ.

 His train of thought had come to a screeching halt when the distinct sounds of steps pricked his ears, steps that slowly ascended the stairs he could only assume led to the cellar. A man cleared the last step, blood having painted his white shirt and the left leg of his leather slacks. In his grip shook a sickle, his other fiercely clenching the still bleeding wound on his side. A wild look brought his pupils to slits beneath short unkempt red locks. Two curious horns protruding out from either side of his head through his sweat matted hair piqued Oururuu’s interest.

 Each desperate and raggy breath seemed to be this man's last, yet he continued as if purely out of spite.

"Came back.. came back to finish the job?" He panted out,"Well, too bad you won't be leaving alive either!!" The man shrieked and rushed Oururuu and Borthal.

Borthal lifted one foot to advance before Oururuu reached back and placed a hand on the platemail pauldron seated on his right shoulder. Borthal only responded with a concerned confusion taking hold of his features. 

 Before Oururuu could mutter a single word, the man was upon him. Spinning three times and delivering rapid strikes that deflected off of Oururuu's mottled stone skin. The man recoiled a step, but with a zealous tenacity struck again and again with the same effect. A roar bellowed from him as he leapt into the air, and simultaneously threw a strangely materializing silver chain. A purple substance dripped upwards from the reflective metal ringlets as it tightly wrapped around Oururuu. The moment the chain gripped him completely he wavered with a stumble forwards, a sudden jolt shooting through his entire body, as if all of his power had been sapped in a single instant. Lifting a hand defensively, he struck the blade from the sickle. Landing, the man stood heaving the same desperate and ragged breaths before his knees buckled, planting him onto the hard wooden floor below. 

 The hand holding the sickle shook with a grip that struggled to persist until it finally fell limp to his side, blood leaking from his nose and mouth, soddening the white cloth at his chest. Blue dull eyes waxed over, an empty gaze dropping to his knees, carrying on with sharp yet softly receding breaths.

 "Take this one Borthal. He seems to have some fight left in him, let us see if it is enough to save his life.."

 Borthal did as he was instructed and lifted the man, carrying him with the same attentiveness one would while laden with an infant. In their thundering strides the voyage to their camp had been short lived.  

 With much haste they stepped past Luka and Saraath who had stayed behind to mind the camp in their absence. Dripping blood from feet that dangled from Borthal's grip had been the only noticeable thing amiss, besides their panicked movements.

 Luka and Saraath both stood sharply.

 "What's the matter?!" Saraath had already begun to curl up the soft cloth of her sleeves to assist Oururuu.

 "Don't worry little sis, nothing y'all need to chip a nail over!" Borthal gave a toothy grin.

 They entered Oururuu's tent, where there sat a cluttered table in its center. Both of Oururuu's mighty hands swiped the clutter from the table, toppling books and bottles alike to the grassed floor, and as he turned he pointed to it,

 "Put him there!" Oururuu ordered, and moved to bind the stranger. Only when his hands hastily worked did he find that both of the man's wrists bore shackles of their own. Time was working far too efficiently against them for him to dwell on the mystery for long. With nimble diligence his hands secured a shackle of his own to the man's wrist. It had been fastened to a long metal stake by a short length of chain. In a single mighty blow, Oururuu drove it into the ground to the metal links.  And finally, he passed a green glowing hand over the binding, bringing it to shine with the same color lining it.

 His digits skillfully rolled up his sleeves above the forearm, then set to retrieve a knife and expeditiously removed the man’s shirt. The knife's edge slid effortlessly along the inside of the aged cloth, laying it open for Oururuu to observe the damage.

 From a wide and grievous wound spread black profane tendrils, burrowing through the stranger's flesh with a viscous tar, seething a vile eagerness. Turning his eyes, he lifted a hand and sharply pointed to a rack of jars that hung with a gentle sway from the tent's main beam.

 "Bring me a jar!"

 Borthal did as instructed once again and took a glass vessel that sat small in his hand, passing it to Oururuu who took it and set it next to the man's wound. For only a moment he pondered what his course of action should be. His tool of choice had not been far from him, as it never was. Lifting his tall golden staff by its red grip, he brought the opposite hand to the glimmering blue gem resting at its head. 

 At first it was a gentle glow, but soon roared with a white bright radiance shining so fiercely that it could blot out the sun.

 Borthal winced, lifting a hand to block the light with little effect, its brightness radiating through even his flesh.

 Oururuu lowered the bright glowing hand to rest on the man's wound, forcing it to twist and wretch. His hand came to a significant dull for but a moment,

 "Release him, foul creature!" Oururuu yelled, the light shining to a blinding sight once more.

The black tendrils cowered from the light that chased it, forcing it to recede from his wound. In Oururuu's still glowing hand sat an oozing orb, turning in on itself, shifting in agony. Placing the writhing orb into the jar's open maw, he tightly clamped the lid of the glass prison.

 "Inspire thy divinity, Faith be thy fact remain, circling forth and through selfish acts brought thy bane, smothered now in soulless sin, for only to live and seal thy kin!; Ward!"

 Oururuu traced a finger around the lid of the jar, seaming it into a single pieced vessel retaining the tarry contents fruitlessly bubbling, and splashing at the inside of the glass container. Heavy respiration accompanied a blue glowing sweat to gather on his brow. With his weight resting on the sturdy table, he extended the jar to Borthal's waiting hands.

 "Put it with the others.." he directed with obvious exhaustion in his voice..

 Changing his attention, he lifted the stranger and exchanged his place of rest from the table to a nearby cot. Pulling a sheet to the man's hips, he turned and sank into a large wooden chair nearby.

 Lifting open the large crate that sat resting at the far back corner, Borthal placed the jar carefully inside with tens of other identical jars, all holding the same black bubbling entity. Turning back, he knelt next to Oururuu,

 "Don't push yourself so hard. What would our parents say if they found out?"

 "Malnar would praise me for it.." Oururuu laughed through his heaving breaths.

 "And Falnar, she would slap her upside the head for encouraging it!" Borthal responded 

 The two laughed together for a moment before Borthal's short angular snout turned towards the stranger again, his curled ram horns obscuring the light shining down onto the stranger's form that held eerily still.

 "Is he gonna to be okay?"

 "He was at the threshold.. but he will live." Oururuu brought a hand up to wipe the blue glowing sweat from his brow.

 The folded cloth door opened with a delicate hand that was followed by an alluring face. Her features were speckled with soft snake scales here and there, while her pointed ears poked out from short blonde hair. Warm Hazel eyes found Oururuu recovering from exerting such a large amount of mana in one sitting.

 "Is everything okay?" She asked quietly.

 "Everything is fine now.. please come in, Saraath." He beckoned her with a gentle respect.

 With her invitation secured she entered and stepped next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder,

 "Is Uncle Matthias okay-" her eyes found the man.

 She retracted from Oururuu, and in slow soft steps, she approached the prone figure. standing over him, her hands joined each other at her chest as she stared down at him in a quiet personal moment. Reaching a hand toward him she hesitated, her brow displaying her qualm. Closing her eyes for a moment, she released a soft breath and opened her lids once again, bouncing her eyes in a fierce battle with indecision. The battle raged for moments before it finally settled in her mind. Swallowing back her doubts she reached out and rested her delicate hand on his forehead. Brushing the hair she found backwards between his horns. A gentle smile creased her lips, her eyes wearing a saddened distress when she found his now healed wound twisting into a pale scar over his side but was still coated with dried blood.

 "What happened to you..?" She asked in a quiet hush.

 With his Journal in hand, Oururuu opened it with a red ribbon on an empty page. A golden feathered quill rested between the pages that he took to write down all the things that he had experienced after they had transpired, to keep a record of sorts.

 "It sounds as if you know him." He said from his journal.

 A soft blush lightly painted her face, her eyes bouncing to Oururuu's and back to the man with her embarrassment.

 "He's.. kind of my Husband.." she grazed his cheek with her thumb.

The scribble of Oururuu’s quill came to a stop.

 "Husband-to-be.." she corrected herself.

 "You two were to be wed?" Oururuu asked in fascination, continuing the muted scratches in his journal.

 "Yes.." she replied in a tenderness that had been underlined with adoration.

 "I see.. I will take watch tonight. I am the most equipped to deal with his Frenzy. He is in safe hands."

 Saraath approached Oururuu and gave a cordial bow, her hands tightly pressed to the tops of her knees,

 "Thank you. Please take good care of him." Then excused herself.

 The moment she stepped back outside, she stopped with the cloth door still in her hands behind her. Her heart pounded in her chest, a certain giddiness taking over all reason in her mind. 

 A hop and a skip away she returned to her seat next to Luka at the fire. A soft blush had persisted on the ridge of her nose as her thoughts turned and fluttered with him in her mind, running rampant with the memories of their shared past.

 "What's go' ye so worked up, luv?" Luka asked in her nigh melodiously lilting voice, her hand busily poking with a sharpened stick at a few vegetables cooking over the open fire.

 "Our new guest I suppose.."

 "Everythin' aright?" She turned to Saraath.

 Saraath placed her hands on her own cheeks to wiggle from side to side in pure elation. 

 Luka canted her head, spilling her long sky hued ponytail over the side, the tall ears perched at the top of her head leaned in the same direction. All while her fluffy tail of the same variety wagged from side to side so ferociously she was forced to take it into her hands to tame it.

 "Come on! Spill it! Must be somethin' special if he can make you like this!" She gently bumped Saraath with her shoulder.

 "It's a boy I grew up with. His name is Maielk." she released the whisper of her enamor.

 Luka's insides froze, her eyes widening and her ears lay back. Forcing them to stand straight so as to not rouse Saraath’s suspicion and smeared on a false smile she struggled to wear.

 "Ye.. ye mean.. Matthias' boy?"

 Saraath nodded, a sweet smile set at home on her lips.

 Luka looked away, her teeth gnashed with old painful memories flashing through her mind. 

Not him.. anyone but him! Matron, she'd even take a vampire over him!! 

 "It must be fate!" Saraath planted a fist in her upturned hand, wearing a happy smile that quickly faded, her joy being smothered by something darker.

 "We grew up together. We were just kids when my Dad was murdered. Uncle Matthias took me and my sister Siranna in after that.." 

 

 The red hot brand seared the flesh on her back with a sizzle. Saraath grit her teeth so tightly her head shook to endure the pain in silence. The same way she had endured all of the Matron forsaken things they had done to her in the last weeks, after they murdered her father on their way home to the Blooded village of Maritoume.

 One day she thought.. one day she'd gut every one of them like the animals they were for this.. For everything they did to her and her sister.

 Siranna shrieked when they branded her next, bringing roaring laughter. The Dragon Warband men joyfully danced around her while she squirmed in agony on the dirt beneath her.

 "To your feet little creature!" One of the Dragons grabbed Saraath by the arm to lift her to a stand before the Warband Leader in the echoes of her wailing sister.

 "We did as you said and branded them with human slave crests!"

 The leader leaned forward from the darkness that covered his makeshift throne, sharp and evil eyes glinting from their shade. Lifting to a stand he  stepped around her to slide his hand over the fresh brand. Saraath winced, but did not so much as whimper at his painful touch, because she knew better by now. They took pleasure in the pain of others, and that is one thing she had the power to deny them.

 "How fitting for Blooded, the treacherous weapons so lovingly crafted by our Lord Xanros.. Let this one go. She's far too boring.. but this one.."

 The Leader did the same to Siranna, her legs wobbled, barely supporting what little weight she possessed. Beneath his intentful graze she let out a cry, his fangs displaying the pleasure that rumbled within him at her misery. Releasing a sick chortle he rubbed a thumb into the fresh wound.

 "Bring her to my chambers." Shifting his wicked eyes back onto Saraath, piercing her down to her soul, "But shall we call it a token of my good will, I'll allow you to take any one thing, but only if you carry it on your back."

 With the little bit of fire left in her broken eyes, she sharply pulled her arm from the Dragon man's hand, and took the sobbing Siranna by the wrist to pull her from the ones that would drag her away to suffer the same fate she had. Gently she turned and pulled Siranna's arms over her shoulders then lifted her onto her back. And though her brand screamed in pain, she marched towards the camp's exit without a single sound.

 The noise of clanking metal, and stretching leather rang out as a pair in her path, hampering her and her sister's egress. Their sharpened eyes barred down upon the sisters, wicked grins creasing their thin and dried lips. The Warband's chief raised his hand to them.

 "Like our Lord Xanros, I am a man of my word. Let them go." 

 "But boss-!" One protested,

 He had not even finished his sentence when he was suddenly pinned to the wall behind him, a spear through his mouth. Blood gushing from his maw, and the life fading from his eyes had brought a small twitch of joy to Saraath’s heart. 

 "I will NOT be questioned!" The Warband chief screamed.

The other Dragon that survived the chief's onslaught stepped sheepishly aside, permitting the two to pass.

 Freedom.. She thought to herself, the expanse of the roads south opening to her. She couldn't relax, not yet. In that one thought, she tightened everything she had inside into a woven ball, all of the pain, loss, and terror she felt. The safety of her sister was the only sound that drowned out everything else in her mind.

  For three days Saraath carried Siranna on her back, stopping only to rest and console her weeping sister. Using all of the skills her dad had taught her to forage enough nutrients to keep her sister sated.

 The front door to the large and lightly hued Farmhouse opened. Matthias canted his head and stepped out through the door to miss the top of the frame, going about the daily chores of a Legion farmer. Softly closing the door he turned and from his hands he lifted his eyes to find a stark naked girl standing near the front of the house.

 Saraath met the kind eyes of Matthias, her Father's Sword-brother, then heaved a sigh of relief that poured out all of the anger and tension she held so tightly coiled up. The entire world around her wavered, the black dancing at the edges of her vision. Even though her Uncle Matthias had made his way for her and Siranna, it did little to prevent her knees from giving out from beneath her. The darkness finally claimed her as she collapsed, spilling her precious cargo to the ground beside her.

 

 Luka's ears went from standing at full attention, to laying flat. She scooted closer to Saraath and brought her arms around her, offering her the most tender support she could.

 "I'm so sorry ye 'ad to endure tha'.. Drag'ns are cruel.." she spoke her softened comfort,  pressing a cheek to Saraath's shoulder.

 "It was the reason why I joined Oururuu in the first place.. he said he would help me find them, and make them pay.."

 Saraath held herself, her eyes resting sharply on the fire for a moment until they brimmed with tears, her brow furrowing to match her chin that shook in a saddened scowl.

 "Only then could I live the life of a farmer's wife in clean conscience.." her words trembled out.

 

 The hours of the night crawled by as his comrades rested, Oururuu had kept watch over the man. Oururuu was not like the others, he was no longer what one would consider organic life. He did not need to intake sustenance, though could for enjoyment, and did not need sleep. Eons had passed since Oururuu came to know this stone form, though he had been born Human, he chose to adopt this new life when-

 The man bolted from the cot, and quickly reached the end of the stake's chain. Clawing and gnashing his teeth, foam and spittle spraying in all directions, digging a rut in the black earth with a clawed hand,

"GIVE HER BACK!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs.

"GIVE.. her.. b…ack." The Frenzy soon subsided, leaving him to lay limp on the ground, face pressed into the dirt and grass.

 With gentle green glowing hands, Oururuu lifted the man back onto the cot, and placed a hand over his eyes,

 "Inspire thy Divinity, Rest now easily within thy soul’s embrace, Seek inward thou thine precious soothing grace,

proudly wearing thy sturdy crest,

Come forth and carry thine Just bequest; Slumber"

 The man gave a voiced sound of relief and fell back into a deep peace filled sleep.

 He would repeat this process several times before conscious thought would or perhaps could return to this unfortunate stranger. It is the damage Corruption wreaks on the body and on the mind.

 Oururuu continued to watch over him and tended to his intermittent berserk fits until the sun had just crested the horizon. A beautiful gold spilling it's hues onto the fluffy clouds above, rich rays violating the quiet and tranquil dark within the tent.

 The stranger groaned and brought himself to an upright sitting position. A hand rubbed at his face until his eyes narrowed, finding his surroundings. An unfamiliar heft pulled its weight at his wrist, looking to find the shackle that chained him to the ground. Sharply he pulled several times to test its strength, the resistance it offered felt as if he were chained to the very earth below.

 His eyes bounced over the entire inside of the tent, observing all of the curious trinkets and baubles that lay about. Even the statue in the wooden chair was a little much-

 The statue lifted its eyes to him, forcing a start from him and a short fall backwards over the cot. Resting on his knees he peered over the bedding to find that the statue had moved to a forward lean,

 "It brings me great joy to see that you are awake!" Oururuu wore a pleasant smile and spoke in a formal greeting.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked in an abruptly rude inflection.

Oururuu was taken aback, but did not let this taint his first impression,

 "My name is Oururuu, and to cut to the chase, I would like to know where Matthias is."

 He looked down to the shackle, and pulled on it once more,

"You take my daughter.. then chain me to the ground like an animal, and demand answers?!"

 "I assure you that's not what-"

"Don't lie to me!" He screamed, his heart pounding against his ribs brought him to a pant.

 "I see. If you would please excuse me.." Oururuu turned his head towards the cloth entrance, "You may come in now." He finished and stood and set on his path for the cloth door.

 Saraath stepped just inside next to Oururuu who maintained his back to the man, and rested a hand on Saraath's cloaked shoulder.

 "Are you sure this is safe?" He asked in a low, quiet voice.

 "He won't hurt me.." she whispered.

 "In any case, Borthal will be just outside."

She nodded in reply before Oururuu politely and quietly made his exit, hoping that this was what this man needed to anchor him.

 Lifting her hands she took the hood of her green half cloak and pushed it back to dangle from the rear of her shoulders.

 Maielk returned to his seat on the cot, a look of amazement crossed his face for a moment before it soured. Twisting his face into a snarl that turned him away.

  "Hey handsome.." she said softly.

"What do you want, Saraath..?" he spoke with a scowl.

 She stopped, folding her hands together,

 "What's gotten into you?" 

His lip had trembled when he turned, putting his back to her.

"I'm not the same man I was when you left.. on our wedding day.." His words finished with a crack of emotion. An emotion he hurriedly tried to bury in a thick coat of anger.

 Stepping closer, she reached her hands out towards him. A long snorted growl rumbled from him the moment before he turned to snap his teeth at her,

"Don't touch me!" He yelled.

 Dejectedly, she sat at the foot of the cot, her weight rested on her hands on either side of her legs with raised shoulders.

 "Maielk.." 

"Just leave me be.. let your owner kill me so that I can finally be free of this nightmare."

 Anger was the first thing to touch her, forcing a response she could not control. Within a breath she brought her hand to his cheek in a strike that cracked within the tent with its sound.

 "How dare you!" She yelled.

 Maielk brought a shocked hand to the place she had slapped, but before he could recover to rebuttal she seized him by his horns. With all of the strength she could muster she pinned him to the cot.

 "I am not owned by ANYONE!"

 Tears forming thick wells in her eyes breached the dam and trickled down onto his face,

 "Oururuu is my teacher! He's helping me to find the men who murdered my father, and hurt Siranna and me!" 

 She stayed there for a moment, shaking and panting, her loose tears dripping down onto him.

 For a moment Maielk met her eyes only to quickly look away when contact was made. Lifting his lip he showed his teeth.

 Pushing off of his horns she sat up and returned to the foot of the cot, a hand furiously wiping her tears away so that she could sharply look at him,

 "And he could help you too if you let him.." she slung a barb at him.

 With anger at the helm she then stood and took a few steps before she looked back. Her eyes had been the most edged that he'd ever seen, even as her chin quivered before she continued out of the tent.

 She stopped next to Borthal in a fervent moment to gather her faculties. She had felt the familiar sting of love.The same sting that persisted even when they'd argue back then, but things were different now. It was this thought that she tussled with in her mind, her body instinctively reacting much the same.

 "I heard yelling.. you okay?" Borthal offered out a hand to her, snapping her from her mind.

 A small jolt at his words forced her tear soaked eyes to lift to him from the dirt. Her shoulders relaxed as she placed her trembling hand on the base of his large thumb, as her cheeks trembled, forcing a weak smile before she continued. 

 Taking a seat next to Oururuu, she dabbed the hem of her robe sleeves at her eyes repeatedly.

 "Is everything alright?" Oururuu hadn't looked up from his journal.

 "Maielk doesn't want to see me.." she choked out, but it was also the other way. He had known how much his words would hurt, but it couldn't have been more than what she had done to hurt him. Something that had forced his words to sting her with a deeper regret.

 Luka changed positions and sat next to Saraath,

 "Why wouldn't he wanna see ya? Yer delightful!" She beamed a bright grin showing the pearl of her teeth.

 "The day we were supposed to get married.. I left him at the altar.." she admitted, shame filling every inch of her.

 "Hm.. that would do it.." Oururuu commented.

 "I had hoped he would have been happy to see me.." a look of confusion slid across her face, fidgeting her robe hems together. 

 "A wound like that would take time and understanding to heal.." Oururuu stood, 

 “And how he lashed out at you.. I fear he has had neither.” He patted a hand of support on Saraath’s shoulder, then stood to make his return to the tent.

Oururuu’s mind was consumed by the thought of how long Saraath had been his disciple. By human years it was closing in on nearly fifty. He couldn’t be certain as to how Blooded perceive the passage of time though. What he did know, is for the immortal races like the Seedless or even the Dragons, it passed by as if it had only been five years to a human, which was still a considerable time by all standards.

 Regardless, his first tactic to lower this man's guard had failed. It was now time for a direct approach.

 

 Relaxed, he sat in the same large wooden chair as before, holding his journal and pen in his hand, stealthily at the ready.

 "The physical treatment of your wound has been completed. Your assailant was Corrupted and so your wound was unfortunately corrupted as well. However I have successfully extracted it. You are expected to make a full recovery." Oururuu had hoped that through his professional bedside manners that he would perhaps unsuspectingly further his own agenda, even just a little.

"What do you want? A thank you?" His words were laced with just as much venom as before.

 "That will not be necessary. However, if you would, I have a few simple questions."

"Depends on what they are." His head tilted in another annoyed response.

 "If I may be so bold. Why were you in Matthias' house?" Oururuu tactfully refused eye contact so that he would not feel attacked by the question.

"That was MY house." He gave a huff with a sneer to match.

 "Hmm.. Our informant may have been mistaken then, though that is highly unlikely. Jace is exceptionally good at what he does. Please, expound further."

"It used to be Dad's house. When mom died.." he choked to a stop, and closed his eyes for a moment visibly swallowing, then drew in a breath through his nose and reopened his eyes.

"After mom died. Dad couldn't bear living in the family home without her. So Siranna and I built him a cabin on the back forty acres. If you want to find him, that'll be the best place to look."

 The silence that drew on from Maielk was only compounded by the sounds of the nature around them. Trying with all he had to keep everything bundled up inside, the only way he felt safe. All of the pride and self protection in the world could not hold his tongue for long though. 

 "For all the babies we'd have, Dad said.." Maielk choked up again, but this time turned from Oururuu, putting his back to him.

 Maielk gripped a hand over his eyes while the tears dripped from his upper lip. His breath shook, but he fought tooth and nail to remain silent during this small slip of pent up emotion. He refused to show weakness.

 Drawing in several deep breaths, he forced his mind to harden again. He didn't know these people so there was no way to tell if Saraath was telling the truth, since she couldn't even tell him that she was leaving, to his face. Swiping his eyes with the top of his forearm he turned back around and clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from quivering.

"But if you're going for trouble, you better bring an army." Maielk finished with a sneer, and a rude display that lifted his lip from his teeth again.

 Oururuu wouldn't show it, but his response saddened him. He hadn't intended for the conversation to go the path it did. He held no ill intentions, but possessed no way to make this man believe that.

 "Your name is Maielk, isn't it?"

"Yeah.." he refused eye contact.

 "Maielk, with your permission, I would like to continue my questions, if you are able."

He only responded with a short nod.

 "We were hoping to find your Father when we happened upon you severely injured in your home.. what happened?"

 

Dinner was finally ready after a long day in the field.

"Phew.. this was much easier when Siranna and Mom were still around. Not much I can do about that.." he thought to himself while wiping his hands on a cloth tied to his waist.

Lifting a basket of dirty clothes, he moved it to the washroom attached to the kitchen. He'd deal with them after dinner.

Sariah came bounding into the kitchen with all of the energy of a lightning bolt. Leaping at him, she latched her arms and legs around him then rubbed her horns into the meat of his shoulders,

"Got you Daddy!"

"You sure did, little love!" He laughed and began to spin, feigning reaches for her.

She released and took off running, and of course he gave chase. She ducked through the chairs, and then slid under the table to the other side.

"Come here you little!"

 Playfully but carefully he tackled her. The two slid against the wall beneath the window next to the table, laughing as he nuzzled her softly. They had stayed like that for a moment before he sat up, and released her,

"Now go on, sit at the table, dinner's ready."

She did as he instructed, and within a few minutes the two were eating happily together.  They always had a spot at the table where Matthias usually sat. He had never missed dinner before today. He thought that perhaps he got caught up with something else, that man did love his projects. Maielk intended to go see if he needed help after dinner.

 Sariah sat on her knees while she chewed, happily wiggling from side to side, wearing a joyful smile. Maielk cracked a grin while he watched her.

 Within a moment, the skies blackened, and a foul wind poured into the open windows, bringing both Sariah and Maielk to gag.

"Yuck! What is that??" She asked disgustedly, holding her nose.

 He stood, and moved to the window. That foul stench was one of rotting meat and death emanating from a black cloud that rolled towards the house.

"Get to the basement now!"

With a touch of panic, Maielk looked for anything suitable enough that he could use as a weapon. He had reaped with his hand sickle that day and it was readily available. The only other tool he could turn to a makeshift weapon was a simple hand axe he used to prepare kindling for the stove. Taking both he rushed downstairs.

 Turning several times, he saw one of their grain baskets had been empty and lying on its side. Hoisting it back up, he placed his weapons down to safely pick Sariah up and put her in it. He took the lid in his hand when he looked over her,

"Whatever happens, don't come out until they leave okay?" His heart pounded so hard in his chest his throat ached.

 She nodded and sat at the bottom of the basket and clutched her teddy bear as he placed the lid over it.

 With haste he packed things around it to make it less conspicuous. His sight snapped from his task,  heavy footfalls caused the stairs to the basement to creak.How had they found them so quickly!?

 Maielk pressed his back against the corner of the doorway to the room they were in and waited. A small armored goblin looking creature stepped into the hallway just beyond the door. He took in several deep breaths and struck.

 He swung the sickle out, and into the visor of the creature. Pulling it close, he brought down the hatchet several times onto the creature's head while it squealed until it stopped.

 Stepping out into the hallway there were only a few more of the same which Maielk dispatched quickly. Before he could ingress the doorway that led to this part of the cellar, a large and purple skinned creature stepped through the door. Its forehead was tall, the top of its bald head was almost flat, and wore nothing but a simple loincloth but held a weapon at the back of its hips. 

 Wasting no time Maielk bolted towards this creature. He had gained enough confidence from dispatching the smaller ones that he believed with everything he had that he could do the same with this one. 

 And with a mighty leap he brought both weapons towards the beast, who raised its hand and caught him mid air wrapping its huge digits around him.  

 With one good swing he brought the hatchet to the beast's neck. Black blood oozed out like tar while the beast widened a sickening grin to bear its rotten teeth. The creature stripped Maielk of his weapons, and drew a sword from his rear hip. 

 The pain was nothing compared to the panic he felt watching them tip over the basket that held Sariah. Holding out his hand while he screamed, his consciousness faded until there was nothing but black.

 His body ached and throbbed when his head finally lolled to attention. At first his vision blurred in and out of focus, a hand finding the pain in his gut that radiated in every direction. When it landed, there was a small metal ting. His eyes came to focus instantly looking down to find the same object sticking out of his stomach that his hands had. 

 It was a sword that had pinned him to the stone walls of the basement. The blade itself was a grotesque looking thing with a hand guard that curved out towards the tip, preventing him from pulling himself free. Sickly, black, and blighted veins spread out from the wound in either direction on his side.

 Panic set in while he looked around, seeing the basket that Sariah had been stashed in, tipped over with her teddy bear shredded and the red ribbon from its neck laying loosely on the floor. With all his might he pushed repeatedly against the hand guard of the sword. Voiced  effort became more and more desperate with each attempt. Until finally he tightly held the hilt, and pulled to the side forcing the blade to slice his side open, allowing a quick fall to the cold stone floor.

 gripping at his bleeding side for a moment he crawled along the floor while feeling came back to his legs. A bloody hand reached out, and took the ribbon as his right tightly gripped the handle of the sickle. 

Not me.. you won't live long enough to steal from me..

"Sariah!!" He shouted at the top of his lungs

 With every effort he could muster he struggled to his feet, and stumbled up the stairs from the basement, each step being met by a sharp and ragged breath until finally he reached the top-

 

"And that's when-"

 "This part I am aware of. My brother Borthal and I were present."

 The constant scribbling of Oururuu had come to annoy Maielk so much that it forced a slight tick every so often, but he had been smart enough to know that Oururuu was writing down his every word. Maielk's eyes went to his left fist still clutching the red ribbon. If only he had his Dad there..

"By the way.. Matthias is my Dad.. not my Father." He coldly commented.

 Oururuu glanced up from over the top of his journal, surprised but pleased that Maielk had volunteered this information.

 "Is there a difference?" He asked another probing question.

"To me there is.. Matthias gave me a warm bed, hot meals, and a loving family.. He's my Dad."

 "And your Father?"

"What I know of him.. he's a monster." His response carried with it a jaded expression of hate.

 "Who is your biological Father? I find it interesting that he can raise this sort of negative emotion within you. Surely he can’t be all bad."

"You should know of him well… Xanros the Elder."

 Oururuu's sight narrowed on Maielk, slowly lifting the cover of his journal to close. The hand that closed the journal trembled just barely in its perch above the gemmed book on his lap.

 "Who gave you this information?"

"When I was a child I spent ten years training with the Seedless. During that time I was brought before the Matron. She's the one who told me."

 A strange look of realization dawned on Oururuu through warm waves of joy.  Hastily scooping up his journal he furiously wrote and crafted a detailed drawing of Maielk sitting on the cot. His eyes bounced from Maielk, back to his drawing repeatedly. And with no warning Oururuu stood,

 "Please excuse me. I shall return." And left the tent in a flash.

 Silently he sat on one of the seats at the fire near the others. A hand repeatedly passing over his chin as if to stroke a fictitious beard in thought, then returned to his journal to hastily flip pages. His foot tapped near constantly during his scribbles only to take short pauses to stroke his face.

 Saraath had taken notice of Oururuu's strange behavior. In her experience she had always found him to be much more of a calm and collected statue than anything else. At the moment though, he was a fly trying to buzz in four different directions at once, intriguing her.

 "What's got you so puzzled?" Saraath finally broke the silence as well as his train of thought, in the same flavor of kindness that Luka had given her just earlier.

 Oururuu jolted, and gave an embarrassed ahem into a fist.

 "If his word is to be believed.. Maielk is the biological son of Xanros the Elder.."

 "Ye dinny know?" Luka spoke, holding her bow to her chest, her eyes locked onto the fire that danced within her emerald pools.

 "I do not believe the Elder makes it a point of who his son is." Oururuu retorted.

 "It's why Maielk was exiled from the Blooded villages.." Saraath said with a saddened tone.

 Luka's eyes found Saraath, then looked away in a hurry to find something else to gaze on. She didn't know that Maielk had been exiled by the Blooded too. She kept this thought firmly grasped in her mind, unwilling to share it with the others. She hadn't kept up on what he did after the day they both left the Forest..

 Saraath stood, and patted herself down,

 "If he told you that, then he should be ready to talk to me," with quick steps she left for the tent once again, having her own turmoil calmed by this point.

 She had only entered partially, holding the cloth door open a ways while she looked at Maielk fixating his sight on the ribbon in his clenched hand.

 "Maielk?" She asked in a hopeful tone.

"Saraath.." He dismissively replied.

 She took a seat at the foot of the cot again, sitting  daintily.

 "I'm.. I'm sorry that I left without telling you.." 

"Sorry doesn't undo everything that came after." He said with an edge.

 "Is there any way I can earn your trust again?"

"I don't know." He looked away from her.

 "Then let me start with this.."

 Reaching a hand over, she touched her finger delicately to the shackle on his wrist.

"Inspire thy Divinity, Warmth come within the night, And thy dwelling no longer beareth light

When all is quiet and all windows blocked,

Hear thy voice and unlock; Open."

 The restraint clicked open, releasing his wrist. He raised it to rub it with the opposite hand and looked at her with confusion.

"Why did you do that?"

 "If you can't trust me.. then at least trust him. Oururuu is a good man." She offered him a warm smile that made him look away from her.

 "And if you would do me a favor. Please don't tell Oururuu I know that spell. It's thief Divinity and I'm not supposed to learn that.."

"You shouldn't keep secrets from people you care about. It's how you and I got into the mess we're in." 

 The two sat in a quiet exchange for a moment before a large Beastmen’s head poked in the folded cloth door,

 “Saraath, Jace is back.” Borthal spoke, then disappeared outside.

 “Do me another favor.. Just stay in here for a little while until I can talk to Oururuu.” She stood, and exited quickly.

 Maielk sat on the cot, his arms resting on his knees in a comfortably numb confusion. Lifting a hand he covered his eyes just trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Not only since he awoke, but when Sariah was abducted..

​

Chapter 2

 

Large feet echoing down the hall were interrupted by the pure sound of a malcontent,

“Put me down! I can walk on my own!” She kicked and flailed with her stomach perched on the Undead warrior’s shoulder. Planting her hands firmly on the squishy purple flesh on his back, she curved her back up so she could at least see where they were headed.

 The three swiftly made their way for a large fortified wooden gate with bright golden metal straps and reinforcements. Turning back she saw the hallway that they had already passed through. Each edge and arch was beautifully carved and gilded with what looked like quartz and gold.

 The gate opened with a loud mechanical clank that left her ears ringing. The three only took a few steps in before the lead one brought her down from his shoulder.

 She had no more than ten winters, yet bore a ferocity that she gladly lashed out with. Brushing herself free of dust, her bright red locks bounced around her curved horns, and down her slender shoulders. After her light grooming, she bore her teeth to her captor.

“You were more gentle on the Wyvern!” she yelled at the lead soldier who had brought himself to a kneel, his sights locked on the floor.

 With curious eyes, she scanned the cathedral sized room. The arches reached a staggering height and made her waver as she attempted to follow them with her eyes. At the far end she found a throne with several horned people standing around the one she could only assume was the Lord of this place, resting upon a large golden throne.

 His white robe was interrupted with several leather fastenings, fur and golden jewelry from the tips of his horns to the toes of his leather boots. Deep azure hair had been slicked back and traveled behind him in a distance that she couldn’t see. She peered closely at his horns to find that they had the exact same shape of hers and her Daddy. Who was this man?

 One of the horned people leaned to whisper into his ear, bringing him to look at her from afar. Every hair on her body stood on end in the shadow of his daggered eyes.

 Raising to his feet he captured the first three steps down from his throne,

 “Thy mission?” His voice reverberated the long room through the rib cage rafter arches of the ceiling.

 “It is done, my Lord.” His gaze did not meet the Master’s.

 The Lord gave a pleased sigh of relief, his body visibly relaxing.

 “Good.. With all hope he will be a thorn in thy side no longer.” Shifting his gaze from the Undead soldier to the girl.

“Do you mean my Daddy!?” she yelled, her voice asserting through the same echo of the hall.

 The soldier’s bones loudly creaked when he stood to lean his face close to hers. A wicked grin creased his purple lips, the flesh layering away from his rotten teeth in a wide display,

 “Do you mean the insect I pinned to the wall?” He belted a laugh.

 He hadn’t even the moment to draw a breath before she brought her hand to his face. The contact belted its tune throughout the hall in a loud crack. Before he could recover, she seized his left ear and pulled him to her. His face was struck by not only her hand but astonishment of the raw strength of this little girl.

“You listen, and you listen well. I’ve watched my Daddy wrestle a Racoon Bear to the ground to get something from its mouth. I witnessed my Daddy befriend an Ichigator. My Daddy is strong and fearless. If you think he’s dead, then you're a fool!” She yelled her reprimand against the undead thing that assaulted her home and hurt her Daddy.

 She released the soldier’s ear and turned to address the entire hall.

“My Daddy will look for me, and when he finds me, you’ll all wish you were never born!” Her words rang defiant to the bone.

 A slow clap rang repeatedly, bringing her attention to the steady clicks of the Lord's boots against the polished floors. Upon arrival he circled her slowly and placed his hands behind himself, gazing down upon her with a pleasant smile.

 “Welp, thee bare Dragon’s fire within thine breast. Thou hath intrigued me to say the least.” he stopped just off to the right of her back.

Turning her head, she locked her fiery defiance onto him.

 “Say to me Welp, Whom taughtest thou to speak so highly?” his feet echoed as he continued to circle her.

“My Papa.. My Grandfather, Matthias. While my Daddy worked the fields.” Her eyes followed this man in his predations.

 “I see this well. And whom is thy Sire?”

“I don’t know my Daddy’s adult name.”

 “And yet thou wot thy Grandsire’s. How be this?”

“I learned my Papa’s name from the Townsfolk in the village.”

 He turned her left side, lifting a hand to graze at her horn. Sharply she turned her head to prevent his touch in a display that showed she was aware of her horns,

 “Surely they hath mentioned thy Sire’s name as well?” 

“The only word I ever heard the townsfolk use when they talked about my Daddy.. was Demon.” her top lip lifted slightly from her front teeth in distaste.

 His feet came to a still directly before her, where they held a silent standoff for minutes on end.

 Her stomach grumbled a squeal, bringing her defiant composure to crack. Even as her cheeks flustered, and eyes welled, she attempted to maintain her disposition. And though she spoke highly, and could keep intellect with adults, she was still a child.

 The Lord’s lips cracked an unsettling grin when he lifted his eyes to the undead soldiers behind her.

 “I trust mine men hath been most hospitable.”

 “Master, we flew all night-”

 The boom that erupted from the Lord shook the great hall to its foundation,

“I DID NOT ADDRESS THEE!”

 The soldier winced and stilled. While the hall came to a silence, the pleasant look returned to the Lord’s face when he turned back to the Girl.

 “Well?” He held out a hand to her.

She shifted uneasily and refused to maintain eye contact with him. His cold and false smile forced her insides to turn and chill. She was still confused as to why she had been taken from her home and from her Daddy.

 Turning, her eyes found the undead soldier who had whimpered back at the boom of the Lord. She canted her head slightly, the gears turning in her mind. She returned her sight to the Lord’s

“They were not unkind, though I was not fed nor given extra clothing for warmth in the night.”

 As if these words were the lever to activate him, he turned his entire body towards the undead soldier who immediately dropped to a kneel once more.

 “Thou hath brought this girl to mine kingdom because thou believest she be of the royal bloodline, MINE bloodline yes!?” his tone rang almost sinister.

 Her eyes turned to him when the pieces tumbled into place in her mind.

 “Y-yes my Lord..”

 “If thou believest so.. Then WHY WAS SHE BROUGHT IN SUCH POOR CONDITION!?”

 The lord pointed sharply to the girl as his voice boomed again,

 “She is filthy! Her clothes are rags, and she yet hungers! Didst thou expect a pat on the head and praise for this-!”

 “Sire I meant no-”

 “You dare interrupt ME?!”

 His reprimand was swift and merciless. Relentless heels rang on the quick approach to the soldier. The Lord’s hand rested gently onto the Soldier's purple flesh. Within a blink, red cracks spread across his skin, turning it pasty and grey. His form shifted and the ash caved in on itself, heaping onto the floor and swirling a dance in the air.

 The Lord turned and lifted his arms out,

 “Hark ye all in attendance!” His voice boomed in a volume that caused each of the horned people around his throne to start.

 “I am Xanros the Elder, Deity of the Dragons, and I will not tolerate insolence in MINE KINGDOM!”

The hall rang with echoes until it became deathly silent and still.

 Her heart pounded in her ears as Xanros stepped past her. This was the man that she had heard so many horrific stories of. His men were the very same that her Papa had fought against his entire life until he lost his leg.

 This man.. No. This God, was the reason why their world was slowly but surely perishing.

 Her teeth clenched tightly for a moment before rationality waved over her. She watched silently as Xanros returned to his throne, and waved her to him.

 Her small feet came to the base of the stairs that led up to his throne,

 “Welp, say to me. What is thy name?”

“My name is Sariah Kammael.” She gave a curtsy during her answer.

 Sariah was lethally intelligent. She possessed perhaps the best in both of her parents. It only took his small show of power for her to realize that she had been dragged into a game that she was now going to be forced to play. Especially if she had any intention of ever seeing her Daddy again. Yet just like her Daddy, she would do so on her own terms. Her first move in this dance was to test the waters that surrounded her, to find her boundaries. 

 Her display of submission brought a slight grin to crack his lips again. He lifted a hand and commandingly waved it,

 “Oracles. Take her, bathe, dress her, and let her eat her fill. Then return her before me.”

 Promptly she was surrounded by four robed females that bore veils over their faces. Their horns had been hewn off, capped with gold and bore chains that dangled. Pendulously the chains responded to every move they made with soft clinks of metal like a wind chime in a summer's breeze.

 “Come along, little one.” the head Oracle spoke and laid her hands on Sariah’s shoulders.

 The Oracles acted swiftly and exactly to Xanros’ orders. While Sariah did as she was directed, she quietly observed them. The fear waving off of them was so thick one could cut it with a knife. Each hand and each touch a delicate suggestion, as if the fear of incurring the master’s wrath was what drove their every nerve.

 After she had been bathed she had been adorned with a modest gown that covered her shoulders in long sleeves.

 She was soon fed, and brought before Xanros once again.

 

 In the exact way they had escorted Sariah out, they parted from her and excused themselves with a humbled bow to stand at the side of the hall to await their Lord's next command.

 Sariah gave them a respectful bow with her hands in front of her,

"Thank you for your work, Oracles."

 When Sariah turned, she was met by a gaze of disgust from Xanros,

 "They need not thy thanks. They exist to serve mine command."

 Sariah's eyes locked onto Xanros' and sparkled with a disarming defiance,

"They labor in honesty and without complaint. It deserves my praise. Just as it deserves yours."

 Before she could so much as blink, Xanros was upon her. His eyes slits, his face neared hers. She stood with her spine straight and a face stone, seemingly unaffected by his sudden aggression. Even as the air that rushed past her responded to his movement and flowed her orange locks backwards, she remained perfectly still.

 "Thou hath witnessed how I treat insolence, Welp."

 Sariah reached a hand to the cloth at her left shoulder, and pulled it down exposing her bare flesh to him,

"Wilt thou?" She responded,

 Xanros snapped his fangs at her and released a low snorted growl, yet she remained unfazed. 

 Their eyes locked for a short time before Xanros turned, showing her his back. His hands found each other behind himself only for one to lift and wave,

 "Oracles, find this insufferable welp a room, and confine her there until I send word."

 "As you wish, Lord." The head Oracle responded before she and the three others stepped around her.

 Laying her hands on Sariah's shoulders she guided her once more through the door directly to the left of the throne.

 Sariah tilted her head backwards to gaze beneath the Oracle's veil to find she had a small smirk. Their eyes met for a moment before the Oracle looked ahead, her face turned to an angry expression though visibly feigned,

 "You shouldn't have challenged the Lord, little one." Spoken with an edged tone of apprehension.

"A war is won through small victories." Sariah responded, her eyes following the same line as the Oracle's.

 Sariah had been greatly pleased in her small victory over Xanros' will. This victory did two things for her, not only did it prove that he would not bring harm on her, but it also led well for her to assert herself in future interactions. 

​

Just like taming an Ichigator.