Seed of Life

by D.E.P.

Sicarius was unconscious, but was no more after hearing a growl of a beast clash against the scream of another. At first she could only feel the cold ground beneath the palms of her hands, nothing more. She slowly lifted her refusing eyelashes until she saw the scene before her in a slanted view. She only stared in her immobile stance with a deep frown covering most of her face. The frown was quickly rid of as she formed a snickering smile, for she knew of the hyacinth’s power.

  Once she had been so cunningly unpetrified with the quick stab of the emerald dagger pertaining to Glacies, she had felt a profound vertigo come about her. Her vision seemed to have left her, her head moving from side to side in utter confusion and frustration until she had seen the light before the cracks of the doorway she had voluntarily come through. She had known then that Glacies’s sisters were not far from the only exit in the room.

  “Sunt es hic They’re here,” Sicarius had stated to a dumb-founded Glacies.

  Glacies had only looked upon her dazed eyes with no answer until she slowly opened her mouth in her dreamy stance. “Forte posset et elicere eos Perhaps I could go out and lure them…” Glacies had started to state. But the voices of the siren’s, high-pitched as they were, had dominated any ideas that came to mind.

  “Scimus es in illic princeps mea, cum nostris pristine sororem sicut bene. Ne tu forte non nunc. Muris vicina, finem habet carminibus, et scio tela in gustu frueris We know you’re in there my princess, with our pristine sister as well. There is no chance for you to escape now. The walls are bordered, magic has its limits, and we have weapons I am sure you will enjoy in the tasting!” one of them had screamed out, the voice filling the small room with loathe.

  Sicarius had scanned the small room, noting the bags of mucus that hung from the ceiling. “Et Magni And Magni?” she had questioned silently, knowing all too well that she was stabbed by the touch of his sword. Glacies had only shaken her head in discomfort. The room was dark, the walls falling down like drapes of dried blood with only a small amount of light coming off from the sacks in which other offspring of the sirens slept no more.

  “Consurge Awake!” Pulmonora had screamed with dissension. Her voice was quickly followed by a single note at the end. Slowly a melody had formed, causing what was once asleep to awaken for the taking.

  “Sunt Expergefactus They are awakening,” Glacies had stated, her eyes bearing the horror entrapped in her dark pupils.

  Sicarius had scraped both of her precious daggers against each other. She gently had blown on her fingers to cause small flames to border the sharp blades. Glacies had seen her power. Quickly motioning her hands on the reflection of her fear, she caused the flames to transform into a glow of pure liquid. Bubbles began forming as small droplets fell upon the ground. And then it began, the large bodies inside the tight sacks had begun moving vigorously, causing the sacks to expand like an elastic substance. First the arms had protruded outwards; a thin shade of grey bordered the surface of the skin. The nails had quickly cut the thin membrane, exposing the heads of the deathly figures that had been hidden for a time being.

  More than a dozen began moving around the room. They glowed as their mouths bared the sharp teeth that had always formed in their ancestors.

  “Oportet esse Sicarius You must be Sicarius,” one of them had said. She was similar to Pulmonora, thin fragments of red hair running along the surface of her almost bare skull. Their monster stance seemed awfully unappealing, causing Sicarius to cringe her mouth in disgust.

  “Quod ego sum. Quis prorsus non esse. Forte an foedius figura quam Pulmonora, vel eius magna amita? Ego deprecarentur in progressus si sum non rectam That I am. I can’t quite tell who you are. Possibly an uglier figure than Pulmonora, or perhaps her great aunt? I apologize in advance if I am not correct,” Sicarius had snickered.

  “Putas tu dominaberis terram potes! Erras enim arcu erit extrema You think you have dominated the land with your power! You are wrong, for tonight it will be the end of you!” the siren had stated with great hatred as she slowly approached Sicarius and Glacies, Glacies who had walked in back of Sicarius’s bold figure.

  “Ergo oportet ante quam interficere cogitans Well then, you must start planning on how to kill me,” Sicarius had answered as she grabbed Glacies’s hand, pulling her towards the staircase and into the room they had been in before walking past the large black doorway. The steps behind them did not ease, their approaching movement causing a deep dread even when hope was still at the rise.

  The door was promptly kicked open. It was not the sirens who had forced the door to break off its hinges as it crashed against the black stones. The sirens had looked quite mystified by the quick appearance of Sicarius. Nevertheless, they smiled with their evilosity that had yet to drip down like honey from their tampered souls. “Dignum exitum iterum. Te Feror off, tamen ad y manu. Finis vitae sed facile observo Prorsus. Qui cognoverunt quod Sicarius utinam hospes Such a close meet once again. You drift off, yet you return to my clutches. It is easy to note that your life will end rather drastically. Who would have known that Sicarius would our guest?” Pulmonora had looked onto Viviorque’s wicked face.

  “Quae utique numquam futurum. Ipsa est tandem! Non ante peccatum eadem soror. Dissipabit non tempus et occidere iam nunc Of course we never thought such things would happen. Yet she is here at last! Let us not make the same mistake as before, sister. Waste no time and kill her now!” the blonde siren had screamed with full delight. The statues sprung forwards, exposing their weapons before the two figures.

  “Est tantum fata finem It is only your fates that will end,” Sicarius had asserted as she exposed her own weapon before her. Glacies hid behind Sicarius. It was not certain whether she was afraid of her older sisters or if it was merely an embarrassment for herself to form an alliance with an enemy of her kind.

  The sirens stared in shock, they did not believe what was hidden between Sicarius’s fingers, for it was the weapon they had planned to destroy her with. The whip bore its fulfilling bright colors, the electricity wrapping itself along the surface as Sicarius wasted no time in pulling the whip backwards to gain enough force to unleash her wrath.

  “Non potest esse! Stulte, tu fecisti cum ea non viderunt, telis It cannot be! You fool, you must have not seen her when you brought the weapons!” Viviorque had screamed at her sister, her mouth gaping widely with anger. She whipped out her own weapon, causing the whip to quickly move its sharp needle towards Sicarius. Both whips hit against each other, the current racing from one weapon to another.

  “Tamen nescit uti Yet, she knows not how to use it,” stated Pulmonora, ignoring her sister’s quick remark. She had smiled briefly before slashing her own whip with rhythm towards the other whips. It seemed to be a match of tug and war between Sicarius and Viviorque, but as Pulmonora’s whip drew near the primate, Sicarius had no option but to release the only weapon that may have provoked the sirens to prologue her stay.

  “Movere puer Move it child!” screamed the red-headed siren behind Glacies. The siren had lifted her frail arms in protest. Glacies had withdrawn her small blade, holding it in a threatening manner. She could not kill her own kind, it was something that she would be unwilling to live with. Her sister’s hearts were much different from hers, but did it also entitle her to their killing? She hoped not, for if it was thus; it was something she would not bear in completing.

  “Nos parta iam nunc We have won her now!” screamed Pulmonora with anxiety for the killing. She had moved her steady arms as if attempting to grab the breathing figure before her. The statues only watched, not wincing until commanded. Pulmonora brought her whip backwards once again as Sicarius withdrew her ancient blades. “Non fallere me Do not deceive me!” Pulmonora had yelled as her weapon soared into the air, wrapping its arm around the body of Sicarius. There was no way to avoid such a blow, for Glacies was behind her and if she had pushed her body downwards, Glacies would have certainly tasted the sufferance the weapon yielded.

  The silver blood that ran underneath
the superficial surface, throbbed with pain as her body was slowly being compacted. The sirens only stared with wickedness, waiting for the body to kneel down before them. The current that traveled along the spiral whip vibrated intensely as Sicarius stared to what was in front of her with a bold figure. A steady frown formed above her vibrant eyes, but even then she did not show any signs of suffering. Perhaps this was how Sicarius had always won in the past; her enemies would become tired of waiting…waiting for what? The taste of her blood? A boar runs throughout the valleys, yet her enemies do not strive to cut its throat. Perhaps it was only the feeling of killing one greater than itself?

  The sirens began to look confused, knowing that by now the body would have been without soul. “Immortalis est enim dicunt She is truly immortal as they say!” whispered Viviorque to her sister.

  “Prohibere eam Stop it!” screamed Glacies in desperation. Her face was closely as pale as the bubbles forming on the outskirts of the castle. She seemed close to crying, but she did not shed even one tear before Sicarius’s misery.

  “Nescis, puer, bello sic dictus fuerit quod frater vester slayed? Dico tibi verum, per muros laborat fetor sanguinis Do you not know, child, that this so-called warrior has slayed your brother and sister? I tell you the truth, the stench of blood circulates along the walls,” stated the siren behind the doorway. Her thin strands of ruby hair did not move a whisper as she stared with great interest at Sicarius’s miserable body. She began to laugh, the sound escalating from her croaking throat to a high-pitched appalling sound. The sudden sound was quickly ended, not by the quick slay of the sword, but by the sight of a jumping figure of luminescent blue.

  Noticing the whip had loosened around her body, Sicarius pulled herself out of the entangled weapon. Quickly she had thrust the whip towards the wall, causing it to fall out of reach of the sirens. Pulmonora stared in shock, not at the whips that had fallen from her grasp, but at the beast that she had once been master of. “Hoc bestia non fatuus cum passiones. Fuimus domino. Nunc non repugnant. Cithara, soror Let this beast not fool with your emotions. We have always been its master. It will not defy us now. The harp, my sister,” stated Viviorque as she motioned her hand for her sister to yield her a harp. Her bony fingers moved through the strings with rapidity, as she sang a soft song of torture.

  The hyacinth had slowly moved around the small group, bearing its long fangs that protruded outwards in a threatening manner. A loud croaking sound came from its throat, a sound more deathly than the silence of death itself. Viviorque smiled before stating the next line of her wicked song. The blue that had once been opaque along the furry body of the creature began to release more of its color—the color of pure blood. Not realizing the pain it was supposed to bore, the hyacinth had continued with his stalking stance, stepping onto a rug of deep blue that sparkled before each step.

  Sicarius had only looked onward. She looked upwards, her eyes scanning the surface of the walls. She smiled to herself, knowing that the force the ruler of the castle had created had vanished, flickering to inexistence. This was what her patient figure had waited upon. “Est tempus (It is time),” whispered Sicarius onto Glacies’s ear. Her moistened lips had quivered as she slowly lifted her glowing eyes towards the sirens. Her mouth gaped open with rage, her teeth just as cunning. She kicked the weak siren that had come from down below, their frail figures disappearing down the steps and back into the room in which they were born earlier than they were due. Now it was only between Sicarius, the sirens, and the menacing statues. It would be a challenge Sicarius would call the victory upon.

  “Quid stare cum est expendisse mea genus? Occidere Sicarius! Non occides sororem nostram quae est in statu nullius Why do you stand there when she is overruling my kind? Kill Sicarius! Do not kill our sister, for she is still in her unconscious state,” screamed Pulmonora as she pointed her ominous finger at her prime enemy. Sicarius was already a position ahead, running towards the statues themselves. Scythes dug deep into the watered down air, failing to strike the racing body that had fallen onto the ground in a sliding manner. Sicarius had slid between the legs of one of the giant statues. Its eyes scanned the interior of the castle, not knowing that Sicarius had already grabbed the whips as she slid underneath his body. Quickly, Sicarius had binded the legs of the tall statue, causing him to stumble in his steps and crash onto the black tiles that showed his true imaginings of becoming free of the sirens’ ruling. Several pieces that had once been fixed together to compose the majestic figure now lay sprawled onto the ground.

  “Adepto eam Get her!” yelled Pulmonora as the stealthy song proceeded with far more rapidity than before. The hyacinth began lowering its legs to the ground. Its menacing face transformed into one of a weak, yet determined beast. Sicarius had grabbed onto the stick of a scythe, pulling herself outwards a short distance from the golden innocent weapon. She kicked it, causing her body to fall besides the harp. Her body tumbled, causing her to rise up as fast as she had fallen. She breathed one last breath before turning towards the arrow that was released before she had fully turned around. Swiftly she turned, grabbing the arrow with both her hands, only inches away from her beating chest. She had smiled stealthily, her black bangs falling down across her mischievous eyes.

  Pulmonora had only stared, smiling with annoyance. Glacies had withdrawn her own harp, playing a soft tune of reawakening. Her voice was hardly heard through the echoing underwater castle, but it could not be mistaken that her words produced great power. The hyacinth began alleviating, slowly wriggling its body from its dormant stance. Its eyelids opened with obliviousness. The haughty eyeballs moved profoundly in a circular position until noting the body of Sicarius as she sliced through the arm of a close statue. Thin cracks formed along the surface, almost unnoticeable with the naked eye. But still the microscopic crevices were there, allowing the arm that had once contained a vital weapon to slowly crash with the other broken statues.

  “Satis Enough!” shrieked Pulmonora, her eyes bearing the truth behind her false devine body. She slowly walked towards Sicarius, holding up her hand as to block the arrow that was thrown to her. Swiveling the newly caught weapon, the golden arrow quickly disappeared from existence. Only a small golden color, the color of the tip of the weapon, was seen as it shined in a circular menacing pattern. “Princeps mea, oblitus quod viribus operari in aqua profundum My princess, you forget that my powers work in the water’s depths,” stated Pulmonora as she neared the aware Sicarius.

  Sicarius walked towards the flowing figure in front, “Tunc scitote quia me maleficio aliquam. Numquam ego admodum usus est magica per vita mea. Ita nunc gaudeo mihi causam Then you also know that I have a little enchantment myself. I never quite used magic throughout my life. In a way I'm glad I have a purpose for it now.”

  Pulmonora had only smiled peculiarly. Her haughty eyes widened with disapproval as she faced Sicarius with a threatening position, their eyes only inches away from eachother. Who would strike first? Would it be the vile Pulmonora or the feisty Sicarius? Viviorque snapped her fingers pervasively. “Ad parte soror mea To the side, my sister!” whispered Viviorque in a manner in which only Pulmonora could hear. Sicarius lifted her dagger, slashing against the ruby haired figure. Pulmonora quickly lowered her hand towards the ground, lifting her leg to kick Sicarius farther from her.

  Silent words sprang from the mouth of Viviorque, her hair floating upwards as if water was enveloped along her body. The ground began to shake; the small pieces of stone vibrated with the force of the black tiles making up the floor. Slowly the sharp pieces of stone began to rise around them, faster and faster until the fragments nearly touched the clear dome above.

  “Est tempus. Dimittere ira It is time. Release your wrath!” shrieked Pulmonora as she grabbed Viviorque, pulling her to the room in which Glacies boldly stood. But Glacies’s threatening stance was not enough to push her sisters away. Pulmonora had simply pressed her cold hands onto Glacies’s face until all three were safely hidden in the dark roo
m. Pulmonora grabbed the child, forcing her to see by wrapping her fingers along her quivering eyes. The small sharp pieces swiveled in the air, pointing directly at the confused figure below. Viviorque and Pulmonora watched in anticipation as the sharp fragments began falling. They felt the force as it increased steadily from the height above. It was nearly impossible for Sicarius to evade such misfortune.

  She rose up slowly, looking upon her dust-covered blades until she saw a musty reflection of what was to come. The pieces were merely half ways, no time to spare. The hyacinth and herself were in the same situation, trapped in a dome of sharp stone. They would be stoned anytime soon unless…perhaps they could escape to the waters.

  As if noting the thoughts of Sicarius, the hyacinth had let out a large growl as he kneeled before the recently befriended woman. Sicarius’s black cloak flew along the creature’s body and was quickly lifted up as the beast’s legs moved vigorously along the black stones. Pulmonora smiled all the more, not the least depressed of Sicarius’s quick acts of survival. A steady laugh seemed to echo through the immense hallway. Sicarius tightened her grip on the blue fur, only turning her head for a mere second to note what was to come. She was unsure if she liked the outcome; she bit her lip until it was bruised. The thin fragments of stone had not crashed against the black tiles as she had thought. Instead of hearing such a strong force, she had heard the lightly clashing of the dangerous pieces as they quickly followed the hyacinth and herself to their disposal. The wicked figures of the sirens were shown as smiles of close death. The hyacinth was far smarter than the deathly shattered pieces; the beast quickly touched the slick wall of the castle, jumping off of it as the sharp rubbles clashed against the wall, nearing their bodies.

  Sicarius had lowered her head, slowly whispering into the gliding ear. The vampire had known that creatures such as this one understood the inhabitant language so long as it could not speak it. The neck of the figure tightened as the thick blood pulsed in the warm muscle fibers of the beast. The fragments that had only formed a cloud behind them now began to take the appearance of the siren ruler himself. The long arm began reaching towards them, the index finger being the taker of life.

  Swiftly the legs of the hyacinth moved, seemingly swelling with ambivalence. A thick drool leapt out the sides of his mouth, slowly dripping from the large canines that sprouted like daggers outside his ample jaws. A steady breath pulsated as he lowered his head nearing the passageway.

  It was quite of a bewilderment to the sirens. They had thought the daggers of stone would quickly cling onto their bodies, digging deeper into their flesh until their floating bodies eased on a puddle of shining blood. But it was not to be. The sirens had smiled, yet their brief facial expression ceased from existing as they glared with horror. Quickly they shut the doors, their harps a long ways away from creating a sound of force. But since the hinges were broken, it only created a force upon themselves. Quickly, they dropped the wooden piece, running swiftly down the steps and into the room of frail sirens. They pulled Glacies forward, her feet being dragged with deep regret—her harp had lain up above.

  The fangs of Sicarius sprouted as they neared the entrance. Quickly she grabbed onto the door frame, dropping behind the hyacinth’s shadow. The broken pieces did not lower their pace. Sicarius grabbed the door with ease, positioning it in front of the open space. Feeling her hands along the door, she knew there were still small gaps that could not be covered. Sharp small fragments of the statues raided her fingers, causing blood to trickle downward. She tasted her fresh blood, closing her eyes with approval.

  “Quam nos, non multum You are not much different than us,” whispered a sound below. Sicarius quickly looked downwards. The hyacinth brushed its mighty tail onto the ground, growling as it sensed the siren lay across the ground.

  Sicarius had walked towards the limp siren who portrayed a weak image of Pulmonora. The woman began to laugh the same way she had before, her cry escalating throughout the silent room. “Vale ad vos Goodbye to you too,” Sicarius stated after a long silence. She grabbed the handles of the door, pushing the left side outwards and the right side inwards as to block herself from the racing daggers of ceramic. The pieces of stone did not wait for approval as they raced into the room, piercing the first figure they saw fit—the red headed snarling siren. She stayed petrified in her frail position, not refusing the quick injections of the stone daggers sinking deeper into her flesh.

  Sicarius frowned at the sight, not able to bear the thought that she was not much different as the siren assassins. She pushed the door, causing it to hit against the glass that formed the castle walls. It did not break, for the water’s force was far greater than the blow from the interior. She walked down the steps forming the entrance of the breeding room. She did not wait for Glacies to come out, for she had known that she was her sister. Her father had fought for the land as she had—a tradition in their long list of families. Perhaps, Glacies was merely an offspring of him as he crossed the forbidden lands to seek a powerful magic to create the ark that was so well protected by the blue spirits she had seen on the ship.

  It had been several years since she had seen the crevices that made up the carvings of such a peculiar piece of enchantment. Not even she knew what laid inside, only the kings righteous enough were able to lay hands on such artwork. Her father had held her by his side as a child, as a monster, and through the many wars until he was no more. Yet he did not mention her name on the scroll for those important enough to lay eyes upon his creation. Several rumors stated that only a small vile lay inside, a vile that contained the knowledge of all. Other rumors stated that a seed lay inside giving the fruit of immortality, a fruit no one had laid their hands upon after the great elders had banished them along with their lives. Still yet, rumors stated that time could be controlled by a simple masterpiece. It was not sure what lay inside, but it was all too certain that it was something of importance since all the rulers who had attempted to peer inside did not lay one finger on the object.

  She had tasted a drop of Glacies’s blood. It was only one drop that had fallen from her elbow, a drop she had caught with her quick fingers. She had slowly lifted the finger, peering into the blood juice until she finally laid it upon her impatient tongue. A sourness was felt along the edges of her gums, but nevertheless it was a bitterness that had power. Only a small glimpse came from the drop, the glimpse of her father in the same situation as Magni. He had been inside the mucus membrane for an eternity until one saved him at all costs. Glacies had looked above at her petrified father. Oddly she had saved him as well, cutting the sack with great force. The body had quickly fallen upon the pool of thick blue mucus that had contained him in the sack. Because of this, Sicarius would entrust her sister, biting her to contain her soul as it was. But Glacies did not come, and Sicarius was not about to return.

  The hyacinth stood by her side as Sicarius slowly walked through the ample hallway. She had opened the castle door, not wanting to swim from the ceiling above in fear that a new power was in the making. The doors opened with the slightest touch, displaying another part of the castle by which the king sat with his back on Sicarius.

  Sicarius attempted to close the door, but they refused to let the sight of the king to be no more. She positioned her back against the wall, in hopes that the king had not sensed her presence, a hope far from reality. “Veni foras Sicarius Come forth Sicarius,” the lord of the sirens stated, his voice echoing throughout the long hall. He had not turned from his position in the middle of the ample hall. Sicarius shook her head in refusal, but nevertheless walked upon the tiles with regret. A reflection of blue illuminated the room, shining from the glass with increased velocity.

  Sicarius walked in front of the large chair, kneeling down at the ruler before her. “Ego certo mea filiae fruendum parvulus comitatu I'm sure my daughters have enjoyed your little company,” he had stated. His eyes shown like white glass and the wrinkles on his face shown like waves on a shoreline. Sicarius did not re
spond, only lifting up her body to peer into the kings foreseeing eyes.

  “Cur non te occidet? Est praemium possidebitis quod prohibet mortem ante me Why do I not kill you here? It is the prize you possess that prevents your death before me,” he spoke once again.

  Sicarius smiled peculiarly, “Si quaeris in arca, non est aliquid daret. Non etiam rex scit ubi residet. Semel vidit, deinde iterum. Cecidit a supra. Absconderunt et rursum certo spiritus If it is the ark you seek, it is something I cannot give. Not even the king knows where it resides. He saw it only once, then a second time. It fell from above. I am certain the spirits have hid it once again.”

  The ruler lifted up his trident, clashing it against the floor with his wrath. “Vos Impono vestri own patruus You trick your own uncle?” he stated with innocence upon his face.

  “Vos tradidit meis. Nihil possum facere vobis. Etiam non videtur talis palmarius, esse filia You have betrayed my family. There is nothing I can do for you. Even I have not seen such masterpiece, being her daughter!” Sicarius screamed through the room. She spun her daggers before walking towards the open doors.

  “Nos certe obviam iterum We will certainly meet once again,” the majesty had stated once again, a whisper Sicarius may have not heard. He did not attempt to kill her, not because she was a ‘relative,’ but because she contained powers he had not seen in any vampire of her kind. Pulmonora walked towards the king, knowing Sicarius had descended.

  “Illa 'vestri neptis (She's your niece)?” she questioned.

  “Frater esset patris mei amplius. Non licet sanguinis credidit. Orta amicitia meam creaturam, non vides (Her father was like a brother to me, nothing more. She is not of my blood, though she believes it. My creation broke our friendship, do you not see)?” he stated as Pulmonora wrapped her arms around her father.

  She whispered into his ear, “Glacies se ha aventurado fuera de ella Glacies has ventured off with her.”

  “Fortasse omnia non est amittitur. Illa revertar, loquens ad me universum quid Sicarius videt Perhaps all is not lost. She will return, speaking to me all of what Sicarius sees!” yelled Mortalis of Aquas, lifting up his trident in triumph.

  Sicarius had swum to the surface of the stream, eager to escape her uncle’s domain. She had pressed her hands onto the hyacinth’s back, enabling it to breathe under the surface of the water. There she had seen Glacies atop a rock, her chest beating uncontrollably for she was too young to breathe the contaminated air from afar. It was then that Sicarius leapt behind the shivering figure, dragging her into the depths of the stream. She bit her at the most tender area of the body—the neck in which her mouth quickly formed along the crevice. Glacies had moved her arms violently as if she could not breathe under the calm waves above. But it was certainly this she could not do, for Sicarius entrusted her with a power to breathe when water was not present.

  Chapter 17

  Within the Shadow of Death