“You haven’t heard?” He grinned in that devilish way which caused chills to run down her back. Everything he did, every gesture or movement seemed to draw her to him. She hated this and made sure to fight it. If she could only control her hunger, keep herself from sensing his blood. She was sure this was the reason for the chills.
“Hear what?”
“Just last night, a truce was called between Dĩas and Evil.”
Samanthŕa was floored. Was this the thing which drove Staphãyn over the edge? “You jest.”
“Never would I.” He sounded so convincing. “Because of this truce, I cannot touch the Mãrquisŕa even if I wanted to and I assure you, I want to. I loathe that family. Always have. Still, I must admit that Evil is wise, I think, Dĩas even wiser.”
“Are you saying that Dĩas is protecting the Mãrquisŕa?”
“Nay, he is protecting himself. Evil is protecting the Mãrquisŕa; after all it is their bloodline. This is their little way of protecting themselves.”
“This is so confusing. I mean, I would have never believed it, Dĩas agreeing to a truce with Evil. What is Evil protecting themselves from?”
“Me, Samanthŕa,” he said plainly. “I am the one person who has power enough to destroy Evil, to put them back into their prison realm."
"Then why is Dĩas protecting Evil?"
"Ah, that would be me again, my Priestess. Dĩas did it because they promised him they would protect him. They also promised him he could keep the Throne, I am sure. Fool. I remember Dĩas joining with Evil once before.” He growled low but said nothing more about that.
“Why would…I do not understand.” She fumbled for words. “What power does Evil have over my father’s Throne?”
“Because the throne itself was and is Evil."
"I must be dreaming." She rubbed her skull. First the way her sisters were acting and now this. What is Hadãe was going on?
"Here is a bit of knowledge for you . . . just as I promised. The one who sits on that Throne controls how powerful Evil becomes. The Throne is nothing more than a collection of dark secrets, kept from you as well as everyone else, including the fact that it is my Throne.”
“Your Throne?” She became nervous. Was he Evil? She backed away.
“The Throne is a tool of sorts, Samanthŕa. It channels the Dark Matter into the essence of Evil. It makes them powerful since they have no real strength of their own. During the ancient world and its wars, I defeated Evil. I imprisoned them and claimed the Throne. I absorbed the Dark Matter within myself, recycled it to something of more light, and then gave it to our families. It’s much like what a Strygĩ male does for his woman when she is with child or what our bodies do when we feed and destroy one of Evil. Much like what a male would do before he fed his woman what he stole from Evil. What our males do for one, I do for all of you."
"I never knew this." She was simply amazed.
"When I was betrayed and imprisoned, Dĩas took the Throne so Evil could not reclaim it. Since then you have seen Evil rise and become strong. You have seen our family become weaker. And why have you been able to see what little you have while others have been so blinded?"
"Because I am Priestess and because of what little bit of link I had to you through dream."
"Yes, you were able to see some of what I saw. But now I must prepare you for the worst. Dĩas will soon go mad, if he hasn’t already.”
“Why would he go mad?”
“Because, Samanthŕa, only I can control the Throne. Only I have the strength to overcome it. But not even I can do it by myself. I need my Priestess, the keeper of the lights. You see, there is something special about you after all. You think you earned your title? I say you were destined to have it.” He pointed to the woman in the tapestry.
It made sense now, she thought. He held the darkness that could absorb Evil’s power and change it. She held the lights to keep him dark so that he did not turn Evil. Suddenly she became aware of what the dragon was truly embracing. It was a Throne and the bloodlines.
“This is why you wanted to make me stronger,” she exclaimed, “why you thought it important enough to lay your claim of protection over me.” I am more important than I realized.
“You’re catching on.” He smiled proudly. “And why your father attempted to lay claim over you himself.”
How did he know about that? Was surprise showing in her face? She quickly removed any sort of expression. The memory of that night sickened her. She refused to speak of it or even respond to what he said.
“So why not just take the Throne, then? Truce or not, just take it back.” Her father would kill her if he could hear her now.
He stood up and faced the tapestry. “The Throne has rules and those rules are ordained by Evil itself. To take it you need a sacrifice of the one who sits upon it, blood, willing or by force.” Her face went pale and she swallowed hard.
“Either Dĩas willingly gives it back, offering a small amount of his blood, or I will have to kill him.”
Samanthŕa knew Dĩas would not give up the Throne willingly. “Are you going to kill my father?”
Daŕēus shook his head. “I am trying to find a way around that. Dĩas turned against me long ago and is owed nothing more than death for his choices, but there is still some good left in him. As long as that exists then I cannot look upon him as an enemy. I cannot kill him. He has not renounced my blood, nor has he claimed Evil as his own. He has not pledged himself to the Dark Matter. Understand?”
Samanthŕa’s eyes drifted to the fire. Daŕēus was starting to sound wise now and that troubled her. If he was nothing more than an egotistical Giant, she could despise him. It took a very strong and wise man to overlook his reasons for hating someone in order to see what good the man had left in him. Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe Staphãyn was right. Staphãyn. Her thoughts swirled now as her heart sank. Daŕēus sensed her sadness.
“I apologize. I am sure this is a bit much for you to swallow concerning Dĩas.” He tested her.
“No,” she admitted, “My thoughts were on someone else.” She tried to change the subject. “Who were the ones I saw leave? Did they know we were here? I could get into a lot of trouble you know, if Dĩas found out.”
“I promised my protection,” he said coldly. His tone bothered her. “They are ones who doubt Dĩas and this truce. They will remain nameless as they are under my protection, just as you are.”
“But you said you would keep no secrets from me.” She reflected. Had she caught him in a lie?
“Once I know who has your loyalties, I will not. Are you loyal to the bloodlines or are you loyal to Dĩas? You have to prove yourself to me, just as I must prove myself to you, Priestess. Until then you shall not know their names.”
“I shouldn’t have to prove myself to anyone,” she said sharply. “If you’re so powerful, look into my heart. Know what I am, who I am, and who I am loyal to.”
“I have,” he told her. “The question is, do you know? You have a nasty little habit of battling your true nature, conflicting with what you truly are. Your heart would bond to me in an instant, but that muddled mind of yours rebels and gets us into all sorts of trouble.”
She felt her anger rise. How could she admire him when moments like this reminded her of how horrid he was?
“Do not become so angry. Divert your thoughts and ask me something, anything you want to know. Let me prove myself to you.” Was he baiting her, mocking her, what?
Without thinking, her mind jumped subjects. She blurted out the question without even giving it thought. Her thoughts these nights were in so many places at once. “In ancient times, what would we do to half breeds?”
He nearly spit out his brandy. “What?” He choked, raised a brow, and looked at her as if she was finally off her rocker.
“In ancient times,” she groaned in agitation, “if, say, my father had relations with a Phãegen woman and they had a child, what would be done to that child? Would we destroy the child beca
use it was not of pure blood? What are the old ways concerning this?”
Daŕēus growled low. “Are we evil? No, we are not. If the child’s heart was pure, we would never destroy it. Why are you even asking such things?”
“You said ask something, anything and I was just curious,” she told him, feeling her stomach give way slightly. She sat down and took a deep breath, hoping he could not sense her illness. “Do you know who my Awakener is?” She didn’t even know why she blurted that one out either, especially to him. She wanted to change the subject in order to protect Staphãyn, though, and in truth her sisters’ assertions bothered her.
Again, he nearly lost his brandy. A brow rose inquisitively over his penetrating eye. “I thought you wanted no part of your Awakening?”
“I don’t,” she answered with haste, pulling her long hair to one side of her neck so that it didn’t feel so heavy on her. The entire subject made her sear with discomfort. She wished there was a window open. She looked around the room in search of one. Something stained glass and gothic caught her attention from across the room. She jolted up and headed towards it. “I simply wish to know who I must avoid now that you have cursed me to suffer the first signs of it.”
“Ah, I see.” He stood up and followed her after she began to struggle with the latch. He leaned in so that his chest was pressed against her upper back. The thrill of his energy shot up and down her body in merciless waves.
“How would you be able to avoid him if you cannot even unlock a latch?” He laughed as the window swung open and cold air rushed against her face. She took big deep breaths, wishing the heat, his energy, and her sickness away.
“I am not amused,” she finally said. “Still, I am curious about some things since Dĩas has failed to teach me the truths of a Vii.” After she took enough air, she darted from underneath him and returned to her chair. She did not wish to be cornered, especially by him and especially now.
“Such as?” He seemed very entertained with her as he went to pour another brandy.
“Will you be honest with me?” She finally removed her fur cloak, having forgotten that she had it on and that maybe it was conflicting with her desire to feel cool.
“I have already promised you that, I believe right before you fled the supper table last eve, remember?”
She ignored him and the memory he attempted to invoke. “What would happen if my Awakener was dead or if I died, what would happen to him?”
Her question truly caught him off guard. He pivoted around quickly and just stood there for a moment. His eyes were clearly studying her again. “Are you thinking of taking your own life or the life of your Awakener in order to avoid your own Awakening?”
She nearly choked on her own air. “Of course not!” She scolded him for even thinking such things of her. “I was merely wondering; that is all. This is what my mind does when I have nothing else to do.” She gave the excuse which was not far from the truth. She did ponder the oddest things at times, though her question pertained to Staphãyn; but it was dangerous to let him know that.
“Clearly,” he growled a bit. “Then let us give you something to do, shall we?” He held out his arm to her. “I have a magic room prepared that has been waiting for its Priestess.”
“You’re not going to answer my questions?” She crossed her arms as if taking a stand not to move until he did.
He took a deep breath. “If A Vii does not Awaken then she faces madness, but in the case that her Awakener cannot fulfill his duties because of death or whatever else, I could easily step in and release her. It would be difficult for her and the experience would not be as spiritual. Aside from that, she would be left to suffer an emptiness that only her Awakener could fill, not I. If the situation was reversed and an Awakener lost his Vii, he too would suffer emptiness, a loneliness that would probably curse him with an irreversible madness over time, if he did not turn Evil altogether.”
“So madness, indescribable pain, death or turning Evil…this is what they have to look forward to?” She could barely speak the words. Her spirit mourned for Staphãyn and possibly herself, if she had the common sense to link the two.
“This is what you would have to look forward to as well.” His words seemed to shock her if not boldly force her to accept reality. “I promised never to lie to you; remember?”
Quickly she stood up and ran to him. Her tone was desperate. “I could curse one of my bloodline to suffer in this way?” Facing ones own truth could be brutal.
“Yes.” He was blunt.
“Is there no way I can stop it? Please, you must tell me how I can stop it.” She even grabbed his shirt, pulling it away from his massive chest. Again, her emotions were out of control. The sickness was unbearable and she was on the verge of tears. Saving her sisters was one thing, but she could not make another suffer as well in the process. She felt helpless. She felt as though she were going against the grain. It wasn’t enough for her to save the few. She needed to save the ‘all’.
He took her hands gently; his energy moved through her and instantly calmed her. She didn’t even fight it. She wanted to feel calm. She wanted to feel some sort of peace, finally. “I promise you Samanthŕa, that you have none of these things to worry about. I will swear on my blood that I will allow you to know no misery such as this. You, Priestess, do not understand now but I assure you that you have suffered enough. I have laid claim over you, remember? Your state of mind and being is of utmost importance.”
She nearly melted into him. His words, voice, and promise were serenity. She felt hypnotized by his presence. He was something like a song, haunting her, playing her into his very own tune. Without knowing, her natural instincts leaned her into him even closer, feeling the effects of the herbs fade and the sicknesses finally subside. In just that one moment, she was free of it, free of her worry, free of her problems. Without knowing it, her lips were nearly brushing against his, if he only leaned downward just a bit more. And he did…
“Daŕēus,” Maŕēus called from the doorway just as Daŕēus’ lips nearly grazed hers. “Daŕēus! The Theŕéan bloodline is under attack.”
Daŕēus turned while Samanthŕa was jerked free from his spell, feeling herself blush from what almost happened.
“What attacks them?” Daŕēus demanded to know as he let go of her hands, which were trembling in their effort to pull away.
“It remains unclear, brother,” Maŕēus replied.
“Tell Lucēan to see to it that the sisters return to Chymeŕah’s safely.” Daŕēus started out; then he realized Samanthŕa still stood there. She was shocked by what just happened and by what she just heard. The Theŕéans were under attack? Surely there was a mistake, she thought.
“Aren’t you coming?” He raised a curious brow.
Samanthŕa was even more surprised now. She never expected that he would take her. Dĩas would have never allowed it. She started to stutter a reply when he grabbed her fur-trimmed cloak.
“I told you, Priestess; by my side. No secrets. Now come.” He held out his hand and she took it. The same intensity tingled upon her flesh as before and a warm wave of energy cradled her. She might have floated alongside him, buoyed by the idea that he wanted her there, with him. She might have, and in fact, she did. He took her title seriously. For once, someone took it seriously.
"Stephãyn!" She called out in her mind to share her excitement. Only he would have appreciated this. "Stephãyn, the Father of the Blood treats my title--" But then she remembered . . . remembered Stephãyn would not nor could hear her. And that brought back a sadness that not even the moment could shake.
~Chapter 12~
The Theŕéans
***
Golden beast sleeping in flesh,
So goes hide and all.
Snarling feline, rise no less.
Who will hear your graceful call?
Theŕéans fight,
Theŕéans wake.
For centuries of imprisonment will come.
And
your souls Evil will take.
***
An eerie fog formed over the lower lands. From the hill above the Theŕéan home, which looked like a large pyramid, it appeared that nothing moved. Lights didn’t flicker within the stone archways of the rain forest perimeter nor did they reflect from the many windows or open entries. Coldness clung to the tropical terrain, which was unnaturally unlike its customary sweltering heat, like a tightening spasm gripping the land’s muscle and nerve.
The wintriness was not from the weather. It came from something else, something evil, or the presence of something unholy and foul, clinging within the dark lush jungles, forcing silence where nothing of natural habitat moved.
“Stay close to me,” Daŕēus told Samanthŕa from the saddle. Without argument, she made sure to nudge her horse even closer to his. She tightened her cloak around her. Her breath looked like white smoke. She thought of Sameŕald, whose mother was a Theŕéan. She wondered if she knew about the attack. She also thought of Dǒntáe, Trynaté, and their other twin, Thoŕn. She thought of all the Theŕéans whom she loved. Her hands shook from fear and worry.
The Brothers and the Lycãons wolves surrounded them with fur and fang or their armored presence, swords ready to pierce.
She hardly noticed that they were there. Her nerves were too much on edge. Her body was still sick and weak; illness returned immediately after she tore herself from Daŕēus before, but she held herself together for the sake of her bloodlines. She reached out to them from beyond the cold evil darkness with her breaking heart.
They could have misted or materialized easily at their goal, but sometimes it was best not to. For the unknown it was best to use the Phãegen way-- creep in on horses, undetected-- until they got a feel for what they faced. Daŕēus was never one to do the obvious nor did he do the same thing twice. He remained unpredictable, which gave his enemies cause to worry, or at least that’s what he was allowing her to pick up from his mind now.
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