Shouts came from all directions as Thena’s army of angels assaulted them from the sky and the front. The lesser angels dropped down amidst Elona’s troops and attacked with great ferocity. Then the mortals charged forward with a cry, backed by the archangel’s strength. Eyes wide, Elona froze. Her mind screamed at her to cry for death, to set the prophecy further in motion.
One rider rushed at her. His shield burst into her side and knocked her from her mount. While falling, her gown caught on the saddle. Furs and silk ripped from the bottom when her steed charged off in fear.
“No,” she said as she pulled herself to stand. “No, no, no. This is not right.” Slowly turning, she saw that all around her a battle had erupted, one she had warned her people about, but none were truly prepared for. Sorcerers, healers, and necromancers that stood at the front dashed behind their creations and back into the crowd to escape the onslaught. Blasts of mana burst across the field as some became cut down while others used their creations to protect them.
Tears fell as her people died, as soldiers and the seven tried to hold ground so the others could escape. While Thaos’s men helped Elona’s forces escape, rage continued to fill her soul.
Screaming sounded in the distance but she did not know the source until her throat burned. Fists held tight at her side, the ichor rushed through her veins.
Although she was bleary-eyed, anger overflowed, and she gathered about her as much power as she could. Her godhood would provide her with more than any mortal could withstand.
Standing with legs spread shoulder width apart, her slippers digging into the ground, she felt the power pulsing through her. In one breath, her hands flew forward, sending a crippling blast that knocked all who were charging towards her people to the ground. Flowers and grass ripped out of the dirt in the wake of her blow. Still, only those who were impaled on their own blades would suffer more than minor injuries. Only those impaled would reap the true fate they deserved.
In an attempt to give them extra time to retreat, she sent out another furious cry. Bringing her hands down, she created a rain of fire between their forces and Thena’s. It weakened her some, causing bumps to form across her skin. This was not at all what she had come to do, and she had not used her godhood like this in such a long time.
A seraph landed before Elona, her wings spread wide and her beautiful features twisted in a predatory glare. A silver sword glinted at her side, and a matching headpiece held back her moon-white hair. She was the first appointed to the position, one for which all seraphim were named. Sera, anger tempered only by honor, fixed her golden gaze on Elona.
“You will take your leave, Elona,” Sera commanded, her voice sounding far off yet close at the same time. Elona shook her head, too distraught to speak, ready to attack with more brutality than before. The power gathered at her fingertips, ready to end lives this time, only to reclaim them and use them to her advantage.
Elona, in a split decision of anger, turned on the seraph. Lunging forward, she pulled out a small dagger she had positioned in the girdle around her waist. Tears blinding her, she was unable to find Sera, to pierce the angel most precious to Thena.
Instead, Sera rammed her blade through Elona straight to the hilt. It tore through her chest and sent a staggering force through her. With the blade having found her heart, the organ frantically beat to keep her alive. Piercing the heart was one weakness of the gods. That single act could disable them for a short period. Through blinding shock and numbing pain, Elona was unable to think.
Golden ichor oozed out of the wound, turning to black dust when it fell to the grass. Sera leaned in close to Elona, her voice seething the warning of death. “Take all that belong to you and leave or we will follow you all the way to Talamnar. You are only offered this choice because Thena knows you and once loved you.”
Elona’s mind awakened along with the throbbing pain in her chest. The urge to protect her people became stronger than the urge to seek revenge, yet the energy of the world dwindled in her hands.
When her vision faded, Sera’s face only visible to her, Elona pleaded, “Release me.”
After Sera pulled her blade free, and before another decision could be made, a strong arm caught her around the waist. It pulled her up and away with ease. Seated on the horse of the rider, Elona felt her body mending, felt long and deep breaths fill her lungs. All the power she had gathered to her vanished, all the thoughts of death faded.
She could smell him. Even through the blood and sweat, even through her fading consciousness, she could smell Thaos seated behind her, and it did nothing to ebb her anger.
“You are a liar,” she managed, fingers weakly digging into the arm that was still about her waist.
“I assure you I am not,” he muttered into her ear. The beast picked up speed, its black coat showing the strain of the muscles underneath. She felt its soul, darker than any animal that naturally walked Arlania. Thaos squeezed her, holding her securely to the horse as the darkness and silence enveloped and pulled her under while the wind whipped by them. The gifted gailenia being trampled drifted through her vision before she faded into darkness.
VALIA
The scout had reported back some days prior, validating Nysa’s words.
Thaos had pitched his camp not far from Thanis near Thena’s Pass far before Elona had arrived. Valia had watched them for days. She saw the fires lit at night, the Were prowling about in the nearby forest, and humanoid beasts flying over their camp. Their presence hung over her like a dark cloud, but Thaos kept his distance for those few days, not giving any indication when they would begin their attack against her glorious city.
As soon as Valia’s scout had reported back to her that Elona drew closer, Valia knew the goddess was who Thaos had been waiting for. Valia had immediately gathered her priestesses, priests, and Maidens at Thena’s temple, which connected to the castle. Candles were lit around the open space, rose petals and griffin feathers scattered across the floor. Valia knelt on the hard mosaic tile. She would remain humble before the golden goddess that had always seen to all their needs.
Surrounded by Maidens and clergy, she knelt before the towering statue of Thena. The outside air surrounded them in the center where the temple opened up and rose above every building, allowing citizens to watch ceremonies. Their people were given notice of an impending attack, so it was not surprising to see some had gathered near the entrance of the temple to offer their prayers. Not all came in support, but it was enough.
Valia folded her hands in her lap, the others following suit. Her voice had started low, overwhelmed with pleading, but then a calm drifted through her, relaxing every fiber in her body. Eyes closed, she tilted her face upwards, feeling the rays of the morning sun wash over her. This was something she had only done twice before within her fifteen years of service, and while the seraphim told them some years ago Thaos would not attack, he was coming.
After kneeling and praying for a long time, it felt as though someone were watching them. Soon afterwards the other’s prayed alongside her. Urgency filled her words as they blended into theirs, until at last their prayer was as one.
“Thena, gracious goddess who tends to our souls, who made us and gave us a home, who shelters and loves us. We humble servants beseech thee, aid us. Our enemies are your enemies; we are far too weak against the darkness without your stern, loving hand.”
Over and over they recited this, not missing a word. Their voices rose and carried through to the city. Her people recited what it was they heard. On it went, time fading away, all other things fading from Valia’s mind except the warmth of the sun, the breeze rushing past her, and the feeling of holy energy that surrounded them.
After what seemed like hours, a gust of wind blew Valia’s hair back before a loud thump and a grunt sounded before her. Valia’s eyes snapped open, ready to draw away. She tilted her head to see a naked woman with gold laced, white rope binding her legs and arms. The hair that draped across her body was as white as th
e mountaintops, skin to match, and her eyes as deep as a storm.
Looking above the woman, Valia had to stop herself from gaping, and she remained kneeling before the creature her goddess sent. Seraph had appeared to her in the past, but she would always look at them in awe. Three pairs of wings beat, shimmering of gold and fire. The seraph’s armor had not an ounce of blood on it, and long, blond-white hair flowed about. This was the original seraph, Sera. Never had Valia doubted her predecessors, except on things like this. She’d never had to call upon their help until recent times, and neither had her mother before her, though the priests and priestesses told her anyone could call them. They would appear to those born within Ilystaria and sometimes to those without, depending on whether Thena saw their need great enough or if minor angels, male and female, took it upon themselves to assist mortals.
Sera was the most beautiful thing she had seen, yet she knew how deadly the seraph could be.
“Valia,” Sera spoke, her voice carrying like the wind, hands held loosely at her sides, “faithful servant of Thena, we have come to your aid, and we have taken from them as punishment. This one is yours to do with what you will. Understand that she is immortal, sealed to the Goddess of Necromancy. Know that not a single drop of blood may go near her.” Valia blinked, supple lips turning to a deep frown when she looked upon the white haired woman. Valia realized who it was Sera had dropped before her. This was one of the seven Elona and Thaos commanded, a Thrason, Betrayers of Men.
Valia looked back at the seraph, worry seizing her soul. “What if they return for battle? What if they return for her?”
The seraph smiled. “Then you may call on us,” Sera assured Valia. “One utterance within this space and we will not hesitate to come to your aid.” Without another word, the seraph flew off, disappearing within a swirl of clouds.
Now Valia focused on the one who lay before her.
Valia gracefully stood. She winced at the throbbing in her knees and legs but pushed through the pain. Her gold trimmed, white gown’s train pulled behind her when she glided to the Thrason woman, curious eyes taking her in. The girl refused to look at her, instead choosing to glare at the floor.
This was a very unique circumstance. An immortal bound to the walking gods of destruction had been presented to her. Many stories moved alongside their names, each child granted some form of power and study. Their history was something Valia learned as a child to ensure she would not make the mistake of others, to know the danger of faltering kingdoms, of death, and of madness.
“What is your name?” Valia asked. She knew what the blood taker’s name was. Her question was a mere attempt to start conversation. Wanting to turn her over, Valia dared not step any closer to the one named Arisa. The Thrasons were said to be extremely dangerous. As an immortal human, Valia assumed she would have an endless supply of blood within her coupled with thousands of years of knowledge. One little knick and there would be no telling how much damage she could do.
Something on the girl’s upper arm caught her eye, a pulsing violet haze that shone through the parting of her hair. Curious, Valia bravely knelt beside her, feeling the presence of her Maidens surrounding her in defense. When Valia pulled the girl’s hair back to reveal the burning mark of a handprint on her arm, the girl glared.
“Let me go,” Arisa said, her voice hoarse. Valia ignored her, fingers tracing the mark, feeling the power throbbing behind it. A curious sight, Valia wondered if this was all that bound her to the life of immortality. A gods’ mark was simple yet strong, each was said to be unique based on who bound them to life. It was beautiful, not something Valia thought Elona the Hideous could produce.
“What is your name?” Valia asked again, speaking pleasantly and firmly. Again Arisa grew quiet. Valia squinted and saw Arisa’s jaw churning. Being no fool, Valia grabbed a dagger from the belt of one of her Maidens and cut into the fine fabric of her gown.
Valia shouted, “Open her mouth, now!” Maidens obeyed, one held Arisa’s head still while the other pried her mouth open. Arisa Thrason struggled against her bonds but was unable to do anything with both the tight knots of the seraphim and the strength of Valia’s Maidens.
Valia balled up the fabric she had cut and shoved it into Arisa’s mouth. Taking another strip from her dress, she tied it around the blood wielder’s head to keep the wadded cloth in place, to keep her from causing harm to herself in desperation.
When Arisa scowled, Valia smiled. “I do not want to keep you bound like this. It is simply not our way.” She brushed the hair away from the girl’s pale skin. “I know not what your goddess does, but we shall treat you as a guest and as the royalty you once claimed to be. Perhaps in time and with your cooperation, we can make some peace about this.”
The scowl Arisa held turned, eyebrows bunching up while her eyes passed over all close to her. Valia had taken many prisoners of war in her attempts to gain peace with warring lands. Never had she taken one like this, one who was of a royal bloodline as old as her own. One who could easily kill her. One who was possibly more powerful than she and all her Maidens. When doubt began to settle, she breathed deeply and prayed Thena would guide her true. She wondered what the purpose was of having a Thrason handed to her.
“We will have you unbound,” Valia informed her. “I am giving you, even as my enemy, some trust in the matter. I expect with this kindness that you treat me with just as much. If it is not something you can do we will either have you continue in these constraints, or I will plead to have the seraphim put you away. Is this something we can agree on?” Arisa’s eyes were wide and her jaw tight. It was a leap of faith. Valia remained as calm as possible to give the outward appearance of power and control.
At last Arisa, with eyes shut tight, nodded.
When she nodded to her Maidens, they pulled the cloth out of Arisa’s mouth before ever so carefully cutting the ropes that bound her. Arisa winced, groaning when she rolled out of the uncomfortable position she had been in. The stories of immortals feeling pain was true, and Valia took no pleasure in seeing this.
Pulling her legs close to her, Arisa rubbed her wrists. The impressions from the rope were slow to fade but still healed much more quickly than any mortal would have.
“Why are you doing this?” Arisa asked, keeping her gaze locked on Valia. The queen stood and a slight breeze rushed past her bare feet, her thin legs showing where she had cut the fabric.
Valia raised a curious brow. “I told you, you are a guest.”
“A naked guest who can never leave.” Arisa was bitter, her words ungrateful. Still Valia nodded sympathetically. “You say I should act as the royalty I once laid claim to, yet so far you have deprived me of one basic need.” Taking a deep breath, Valia turned to her Maidens.
“Find her appropriate attire, any simple garment will do.” The Maiden, Hannah, nodded before slipping away. Valia saw her long-time companion, Valkyrie Meghan, grimace at the blood user. She had picked Meghan when she’d first gained the crown. Of course Valia would ask for advice from her oldest friend later, but for now the decision was Valia’s and Meghan could not say yea or nay. No weakness could be shown; if it were something the two would disagree on, Arisa could use that to her advantage.
Either way, the blood user seemed compliant for the time being.
“What is your name?” Valia asked once more. “Or should I simply call you Thrason—”
“Betrayer of Men,” Arisa snapped. “I thought I was a guest, or do you mock all your guests?”
Valia was queen of a great city feared by many, looked up to by thousands, yet she was humble enough to realize when she had made a mistake.
Graciously she bowed her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “I apologize. Of course there is some bitterness in my heart that has been handed down through the generations. May I please know your name so we will not come to this junction again?”
Her apologetic words seemed to have made some pathway to Arisa’s heart, but it was not without some
hostility. Rolling her eyes, Arisa rubbed her ankles and answered, “My name is Arisa Thrason, one time princess of Darso.” Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around her knees and stared up at Valia. “Why did you call for the angels to attack us?” Valia staggered in her thoughts.
“It was you who came to attack us,” she spat, her calm composure gone. She took a step away, understanding that if she offended the immortal, Arisa could now attack her.
Arisa instead shook her head, giving Valia an equally accusing look. “Thaos told my goddess that Thena had requested his assistance with an impending attack from Katharos. Thaos in turn asked for my mistress’s help.” The two of them, while the priests, priestesses, and Maidens hovered over them, gazed at one another.
If Thena had truly requested aid, her angels would not have attacked them as they had. If they truly were to help with any impending siege, Thena would more than likely have sent a messenger to Valia. Valia knew her goddess was not a liar. Neither would Thena set plans in order to start war, no matter what prophecy was spoken. She was, as her people were, just.
Desiring to retain composure, Valia gave instruction to her Maidens to care for the betrayer, to set Valia aside some peace until she called on Arisa again. Rest was needed after much mental strength had been given to protect the city. All to do now was wait, to see what would happen and perhaps understand where they had gone wrong.
DRUDAN
The screaming echoed in his ears as he rode away with fury, the hooves of his horse landing true. Drudan made sure all that lived were able to escape before he too took flight, seraphim and angels following them to Thena’s Pass. Shocked by the events, his trust in Elona was shaken. She had warned him of the danger of death or deceit on Thaos’s part. Despite knowing what was likely to happen, she’d made them travel so close to the gates.
In the hills, far enough from Thanis, Drudan dashed upwards. Deafening cries and groaning were accompanied by the looks of confusion and anger from those in their party. His sister Maida was surrounded by spell casters of varying degrees while her hands pushed firmly onto Levin’s chest, her highest caster. Her white gown, styled to mimic Elona’s, was soaked in blood and marred with dirt. Maida lamented, the sound further agitating Drudan.
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