by Sela Croft
Realities had shifted, confusing me. The creature had intended to scare me away and might have succeeded. But I’d come too far, seen too much. I couldn’t turn back. His arrival had renewed my abilities and reminded me that I possessed untapped power.
Instead of being cowed, I was inspired to go to the cliffs. Having revitalized contact with the supernaturals, I was determined not to let go. As quickly as possible, I got to my car and headed toward Olympic National Park.
The drive seemed to pass quickly, as my mind was on my destination. By the time I arrived, it was dark out. Yet a full moon lit my path. I drove past the cliffs I’d visited before and went to the coast. After parking the car, I made my way to the beach.
To the left was the Pacific Ocean, and to the right was the forest, dark and lush. There were stretches of sand, giant mounds of driftwood, and towering rock formations on land. I’d reached Ruby Beach, but stood well back from the water, since it was high tide.
I breathed in the fresh night air and gazed at the bright moon. I was alone after dark, tempting the fates. Yet I refused to lose my nerve. I’d been drawn to the area, having seen supernaturals there before. I’m not sure what I was hoping for. But as I stood, facing the ocean, a movement caught my eye.
Could it have been Draven? Among the trees, I’d caught a glimpse of his dark hair. I turned and walked in that direction, hardly breathing. Then I spotted him ahead, ducking behind a tree.
Racing forward, I tried to catch up. But I didn’t see where he’d gone. The moonlight shone on the water and illuminated the coastline. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draven glide toward a rocky outcrop. I called to him, but he didn’t turn.
Running, I followed him to the edge of the rocks. Only he wasn’t there. I looked up and saw him at the top of the rocky hill. There was a dirt path to my right, so I took it. Quickly, I navigated to the top, breathlessly looking around.
Draven was ahead of me. He’d taken the path beyond where I stood. I yelled for him to stop, but it was as if he hadn’t heard me. With my heart pounding, I strode onward, determined to reach him.
Then I was standing on the rocky outcrop, high above the water. The tide had swamped the beach, and washed over the sand far below. Draven wasn’t far. I saw his handsome form and held tight to the bond between us. I longed to see his eyes, to hear his voice.
Draven had slowed, but he was headed along the cliff toward a scenic view of the ocean. The last time we’d been together flashed in my mind. He’d had his arm around me, protecting me. He would do so again.
I was almost there, but hesitated. Wanting and wishing for that moment for so long, I could hardly conceive that it was happening. I took several steps, until I was close enough to see the shine of his hair in the moonlight.
“Draven…” My whisper did not get his attention, so I moved closer. I stood at the edge of the cliff, inches behind my love. Dizzy with the thrill, I reached out to touch him.
My hand grasped empty air. Draven had vanished, replaced by three clawed women with serpent hair. Their black capes whipped around in the wind from the Pacific and their eyes dripped blood onto their cheeks. In unison, the women emitted a deep-throated laugh.
It had been a trick, just as it had been when I’d chased after Draven at the university. The enemy had lured me to the cliffs. I lunged backward, with only escape in my mind. But my freedom had ended.
Faster than lightning, one of the women reached out with clawed hands and snatched me from the cliff. I gasped when she wrapped me in her arms. I struggled, but her strength overpowered me. The connection to the supernatural figures produced amazing sensations inside me.
I reached deep, searching for power, digging for ability that I needed. Yet I was too new with my skills, my strength not fully developed. I was no match for the women who’d captured me. The ocean was far below, and I feared the drop might kill me.
With a surge of energy, the three women plunged toward the water’s surface. I plummeted into weightlessness, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I’d realized my transgression too late. I’d reached beyond the boundaries of my existence, committed a forbidden act. I had provoked the gods…and was about to suffer the consequences.
BLOOD OATH
Immortal Prophecy – Book Two
Chapter 1 – Draven
The torture had continued, making me lose faith that I’d get free of my captors. Each time they came to do their worst, their horrid faces were starkly clear, since I had the ability to see in the dark. It was too much to ask for them to even light a candle.
The torturers worked in pairs, rotating so they didn’t tire. The creatures weren’t vampires, just sordid creatures revived from the dead. The white-haired, empty-eyed forms had no heart or soul, thus no mercy. They were minions of the dark ones they served, and no more.
Any pleas to stop only encouraged them, but silence was no better. The strange devils thrived on giving pain, and even more on witnessing its result. Had I not been a vampire, and an unusually strong one at that, I wouldn’t have survived past the first few sessions.
For a short while, I’d been left in peace. Yet that wouldn’t last. I couldn’t predict when the next team of soulless creatures would enter my cell. There was no need for them to lock the cell door, since I was chained to the wall.
My arms ached from lack of movement and my legs felt like jelly. I dared not collapse for fear of pulling too hard on the collar around my neck. That would be the end of me, so I couldn’t risk it. My head pounded, and my skin burned, yet I tried to keep still.
Healing in between their visits became more difficult. I rarely had time to fully recover before they returned. It was their aim to wear me down, so that I would give in. My loyalty to my cause was lost on them, as the only loyalty they possessed was a result of duress.
Such creatures didn’t have any worthy purpose. They existed to serve whoever held the greatest penalty over their heads. It seemed that any life was better than no life, so the atrocities continued in their duties, such as they were.
I’d tried to guess where I was being held. The stone building was crumbling, cold, and smelly. It wasn’t one that I’d had the pleasure of visiting before. The white-haired ones were only minions of the Dark Fighters, an enemy faction that had gained strength and numbers in recent times.
Dark Fighters didn’t linger on major city streets for fear of being arrested for their insurgency. They amassed outside of the more inhabited areas and stuck to deep forests that provided cover. The group was renowned for their guerilla tactics and feared for their ruthlessness.
In my case, that proved true. I had no certainty that my captors would cease before killing me. Although they’d be wise not to go that far, I wouldn’t bet my life on their good judgment. If I had a better sense of where I was, and of their activities when out of my sight, I might shift the odds in my favor.
My ability to watch another from a distance was limited. With Mirela, it worked like magic. But that was due to our mutual bond. There was a special link between us that went beyond the brief relationship in the human world.
Yet I didn’t possess the ability to watch others. There had to be a bond of some value, before it would happen. Since my captors worked for my avowed enemies, there was no such connection. I’d tried, just to see if I could do it. But, as anticipated, I hadn’t been able to.
I could only guess about the part of the kingdom where the jailors held me. By process of elimination, I’d ruled out certain areas. But that still left a lot of territory. Not that it did much good to ponder it. I’d have to escape their terror before I had any hope of returning to my people.
As much as I resented their poor treatment, I was disappointed in myself. I’d gone aboveground and delayed, as though I’d been on vacation. My leisurely stay had cost me dearly. It had been foolhardy, as I’d left myself wide open for exactly what had taken place.
Mirela had captivated me, and I’d been so smitten that all good sense had drained away. I
’d been out in the open, where anything could happen. So the enemy had sent their hired crew to retrieve me. The enforcers didn’t take sides, but their services could be purchased.
The serpent-haired women executed orders; that was all. The Dark Fighters had seen an opportunity and taken it. It must have been a coup for them to incarcerate me. Under other circumstances, I would have been surrounded by security.
Yet in the human realm, I’d neglected to take precautions. It hadn’t seemed likely that my enemies would forage above their ocean kingdom. Yet the appearance of a white-haired creature, and the ensuing fight with him, still hadn’t been enough to alert me to the dangers that existed.
And I hadn’t stopped to think about it. My mind had been on Mirela, so other considerations had been ignored. Each torture in the dank cell was a reminder of my irresponsibility. My torment, even death, was the least of the possible consequences.
I held a place of power in Lumea and had many who counted on me. The future of the kingdom was at stake. At the moment, I was doing a despicable job of taking care of matters. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I’d jeopardized Mirela’s safety.
Had I been content to return home, once I’d seen her, events would have proceeded quite differently. A brief glance at her would not have enlightened dark forces about her existence. Yet, greedily, I’d stayed, craving one more hour or day together.
Like a schoolboy in love, I’d erred in judgment. I couldn’t bear the thought of Mirela in danger. Yet she was, and her precarious condition was because of me. The emotional pain ripped me apart more than any physical torture could.
What was the point of all of this? It seemed that the Dark Fighters had employed my captors for a reason. The torture wasn’t solely for pain itself, although that might have been sufficient for those who delivered it.
During the excruciating sessions, I was plied for information. The kingdom was at war, and each side seemed determined to win at any cost. The Dark Fighters had been around for as long as vampires. They were vampires, although they’d splintered off into an independent coven.
The main goal was to overthrow the royal armies and take control from King Alban. Yet the fighters had no desire to unite with other factions. It was clear that they wanted power for themselves and had no intention of sharing.
The faction I commanded was a band of vampires who stood for other values. My group had chosen Guardians of Immortality for a name. As immortal vampires, the Guardians sought to create a more progressive regime in Lumea.
The aim was to preserve immortality, so even humans might achieve it when earned. And so the vampires who swore loyalty to our cause would be protected, able to live lives based on more than the baser things of existence. If the light of Lumea had any chance of flickering brighter, it depended upon the Guardians.
The king did not see things our way. Alban sought to retain power and deny rights to others. The Immortal Guardians were his enemy, as well as the Dark Fighters. Yet the two factions fighting against the royal armies also fought each other.
It had been a bloody war so far and continued to rage without abating.
My captivity was bad for my cause. I needed to be free to command the vampires who had united with me. We’d fought for so many decades that it seemed unfeasible that one mistake could be our undoing. It was beyond belief that I was in the hands of the deadly fighters.
As if on cue, the twisted creatures entered my cell, filling the stifling air with their stale breath. The two on this shift were new to me. No doubt their boss had wanted some that were fresh, and better able to execute their duty.
One of them was very tall and wiry, with pockmarked skin stretched over protruding bones. His face was a horror in itself. His partner was a bit shorter but just as awful. His eye sockets were empty orbs vacant of life. The two moved toward me in unison and, without even twitching, plied me with their implements.
It seemed that fire wasn’t enough, especially since it hadn’t compelled me to give in. Though it had scorched and seared my flesh, I hadn’t revealed a shred of information. The current team worked with razor-sharp knives, carving and cutting while conducting their interview.
Their questions didn’t stop. “How many are in the army of the Guardians?” and “What is your strategy as leader?” were repetitious. I’d been asked over and over. Yet they came up with a few new questions, or versions of ones previously asked.
The most they pried out of me were groans of agony. The blades sliced my skin, some cuts deeper than others, yet I refused to answer their questions. “You will tell us,” the tall one said. But I did not respond.
When their efforts at gaining information failed, the two changed tactics. Alternately, each began to prod me. The offer was that I could join the Dark Fighters. The group was already winning, so I’d be given a place with them.
The torture would end, and I’d be released. I’d have their guarantee of safety and good care. Considering my status, I’d be given a suitable role. My support of their cause could help propel them to success, and as part of their campaign, I’d reap the benefits.
Even in my stupor, I didn’t believe their promises for one second. The fighters cared only for their own. New recruits weren’t part of the picture. Imploring me to join them was one more way to take control. If they plied me with luxury or offered to share winnings, it would just be a new strategy.
Any way to get at me was worth a try. I was not deluded in thinking that their offer was sincere. It was merely bait. Once I agreed, and had given all they could take from me, I’d be killed. I’d die by their hands, as surely as I would if I remained in this hellhole much longer.
The two must have continued to bait and torture me until I passed out. When I returned to consciousness, the cell was quiet. My wounds were healing, if more slowly than I’d like. My enemies hadn’t obtained information, or persuaded me that theirs was the greater purpose, and I’d be right to join them.
But they had worn me down. Too much time had passed since I’d last eaten. Being of ancient blood, I was stronger than most. I could go for a long while without feeding, weeks if I had to. Yet under duress, my requirements for nutrition were greater.
Plus, the extent to which I’d been deprived went beyond sustenance. The longer I was chained to the wall, the weaker I became. The one thing that was difficult to endure was extended confinement—with no end in sight.
It occurred to me that King Alban would not be pleased that the Dark Fighters had put me in prison, and would be enraged if I had the nerve to die. It was true that his royal army fought against the Guardians.
But if anyone was going to put me in my place, it would be the king—not some undeserving, power-hungry mob. For that was how the king referred to the Fighters. He had no respect for their aims, especially since they wished to remove the crown from his head.
The fact that I led the Guardians against the king didn’t make the imprisonment any more acceptable. The king was arrogant, so would want to deal with me himself—as well as my band of guardians. He would be furious over the rebel leader of the fighters incarcerating me. If I was to be taken out of action, the king reserved the right.
I surveyed my cell, looking for the hundredth time for a way to escape. If I didn’t know where I was, then my army wouldn’t either. I couldn’t expect them to find me, then sweep me away to safety. It was more likely that was up to me.
I used what strength I had to heal. It was vital that I recover before the next visit. It was the only way that I could hope to endure. Even then, I didn’t know how much more I could take. My limits hadn’t been tested to such an extent before.
The best thing would be to get away, so I tried to contrive a plan. Thoughts of Mirela were all that kept me going. I could not leave her alone to deal with the dark forces. Those who had stolen me from the human realm could do the same to her.
I shuddered at the thought. My purpose, above all, was to protect Mirela from the grasp of darkness. I’d done a shabby j
ob so far. I swore that when I got free I’d ensure that no harm came to her.
The dark forces that were intent on swallowing me up would come for Mirela next. At the very least, they’d do their best to keep us apart. Even in their single-minded vision, they were aware of her value and would prevent her from uniting with me.
In a panic, I reached out for Mirela. I attempted to observe her at the university, for assurance that she was okay. I was able to see the campus, and the areas she frequented. A sense of her presence lingered where she’d been.
I managed to find Lana but didn’t see Mirela. I couldn’t find her at the dorm, or the quad, or the cafeteria. Even the library brought no satisfaction. Desperately I searched, but with no luck. I picked up a sense of her and tracked her off campus.
My hope was that Mirela was at her job. But the direction her car had gone was away from downtown. I tried to track her but lost the trail. My ability waned due to the long incarceration. I dug deep to restore it but was unable to resume the connection with the human realm.
One thing was certain: Mirela was not at the university. She’d gone out to the ocean before, and I feared that she might have again. I’d tracked her car to the highway before losing it. My heart sank. If Mirela went out to the coastline, anything could have happened.
I had to escape by any means possible. Mirela was alone and at risk. It was up to me to save her. Such was my motivation that I nearly pulled away from the wall, chains and all, igniting the light in the collar and severing my head. But a second before I did so, I thought better of it.
Weak and despondent, I closed my eyes. All I could see was Mirela, alone and needing me. I must get out of prison and go to her—but I had no way to escape.
Chapter 2 – Draven