Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
“Everyone wants her back for their own personal reasons. Figure I can do two birds with one bottle of rum. Go into the Shadowlands myself and ask her on both accounts. First, what dumbass did this and second, if she really wants to come back or not.”
“You said you would not speak the words unless you could do so against my skin. I’m here now, skin within your grasp and yet you still desire to torment us both?”
“I've seen the future....and my brother kills me.”
“I hate you... I fucking hate you… It could be so simple… We could end each other here yet we are holding back… Fight back! Do not treat me as he did.”
“I'm just asking you all, to help me. Save our Alpha. Once she's alive, you all can go back to your dislike and distrust of me. Until then? We should at least act like a pack for once.”
“No matter how many women you woo, seduce, or take to your bed, I will still be your last waking thought.”
“Please, just remember that I am here for you. I meant every word I've said to you. All I ask is that you come to me if you don't understand. I might not, either, but I won't lie to you.”
The swell of voices continued, starting from a tiny sound into a rumble. It morphed into a brash roar and finally into a growl that reverberated into his ears. It was in front of him and behind him. All around. He looked up the wall of spiders that kept building upon itself. Spiders upon spiders leaned against the barrier, no, against the wards. The creature behind them loomed so silently and threateningly, watching the sorcerer with a quiet contempt. It hissed something but Theron could not make it out amongst the voices that were already there.
“Kael!”
He spun around, Ilyea’s voice suddenly so much louder than the others. He expected to see the mage but it was not her. Celestine stood in front of him, a wicked little smile spreading over her crimson lips as she stood peeling an apple in front of him. So indifferently, she turned crimson eyes to him as she took the paring knife to the fruit, sighing disappointedly the moment she finished and let the peeled apple fall to the ground.
“I’m famished.”
The ominous creaking of the wards made him turn back to the living wall of spiders. The shifting of small bodies and legs scratching against the magical barrier came forth again. He ran to it, knowing he needed to reinforce them but how? They were not his wards. He did not understand them and they could …
“It is some kind of Titan magic.” Ilyea said behind him, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “I will help you.” Theron turned to look at her but her eyes were not the verdant color he knew them to be. They were onyx and bottomless, her hair slipping into a snowy white. He knew the effects of channeling an essence. Stubborn child!
“Stop it. No more!” He yelled at her, pulling the trinket harshly from her chest. The fragile twine gave to the force of the pull, the vial breaking under the strength of his hand. A strange feel of déjà vu spread over him as if he had played this part before.
The sound outside of the wards reached an apex. A soft melody wound its way underneath the sound of voices, of growls, of yells and screams. There was a battle waging behind him, the sound of Lledwyn and the paladin fighting. But he could not pay attention to it. He had to reinforce the wards.
The spiders seemingly roared in triumph as tiny legs pierced through the wards. He could feel them touch and caress his fingers, lovingly as he looked back at them but they were no longer spiders. His heart sank as eyes focused on the three veiled figures.
They were holding his hand but they had no fingers. Void tentacles wrapped around his wrist, his fingers, and lower arm. Each smiled, grins that were rows of pointy teeth peered out from underneath the hoods. Tongues slipped out looking more like the suckers one could find on felhunters as they each spoke.
“Blood. For me, you will feed on blood.”
“For me, only sssoulssss will do.”
“I will take of sssse–“
Theron jerked his hand away from them, the tentacles straining to hold him as he scrambled backwards. The spiders had broken through the ward and advanced on him. The skittering sound of thousands of feet came forth as they swarmed him, the Veiled Three standing amidst the army of arachnids. The shadowy figure loomed behind them all, portentously staring down at him.
The Well hungers! The booming voice was so loud that it truly drowned out all of the other discord. Everything but that forsaken music.
“I need one more...” He heard himself saying, kneeling in front of the ward but it was pointless now. The spiders had won. He had not been able to reinforce the wards. He had allowed the darkness to consume him. He had not been enough.
The laughter of the Veiled Three slithered down his spine. Mocking laughter. You have never been enough. His skin crawled with the pull of the Drowned God, with the beckoning of those servants who had allowed their hand to dip too far into the Void.
The area had transformed into a graveyard and the spiders still invaded the land but they made no attempt to attack him. Instead, they attacked those he saw amongst the tombstones.
Not enough to save your Queen.
Celestine appeared before him, seemingly slumbering but he knew better. He reached for her, touched her and felt as if acid was being pumped into his veins. He feared he was not enough to do what he needed to do. Would she even want to be back?
Not enough to save your sister.
He watched Ryssa’s lilac-colored eyes as she bid him farewell. Watched her give him that sad smile as she told him to flee. To go and learn. To come save her after when he knew how to destroy the Veiled Seven. He had never learned. They could not be destroyed.
Not enough to even save a little mage and those that wanted to kill you.
Ilyea was bleeding from the neck again. He had not meant to bite her that hard. Lledwyn’s face held a fury of vengeance for even as he held his sister, the promise was in his eyes. He would kill to avenge Ilyea’s death.
And Kurel, blind as he was though still somehow managing a glare, urging Lledwyn that the deal was only valid in Sunspire Port. They would find another reason to hate him after all this was over.
Not enough for your family.
His wife and their daughter sat blankly looking at him as he wiped the memory of himself from their minds. They would never know his face even if they crossed him in the Bazaar. He would be a stranger to them but it had been for their own good, right?
Not even an egotistical harpy.
Feyanni stood with anger flashing in her eyes, her lips curled into a twisted sneer. One of her talon-like hands ready for his throat while the other held a cupcake. A cupcake that began to bleed the moment she crushed it in her palm. He had only managed to insult her and likely ruined a good partnership. All for pride ...
Never enough. Your sacrifices are for naught.
He woke with a pain at his chest, his hand instantly going to the trinket that should have laid there. Celestine’s trinket. The little thing that had been crafted by the blood mage, Ilyea by which she had replicated Celestine’s essence so well she had made him hallucinate. She had done it to get his attention. He had thought she had been trying to drive him to insanity. Misunderstandings at their best.
You make the strangest of friends.
His hands were naked and he could feel that he was not wearing his armor. He had shredded it. It would have normally made him scramble out of bed but everything hurt. Not the kind of hurt that happened when one took a physical beating or from healing wounds. It was a hurt so deep within, a pain so profound as if he had ripped his own soul out of his mortal shell and was still trying to acclimate to having put it back.
Like the time you ripped the soul out of a living being and bound another to it.
Pressing the trinket tightly against his chest, he tried to roll over on the bed but found it too difficult. Bed? He could not even open his eyes. The important part was that he had the trinket … for all that it was worth. Vaguely, he remembered the night’s events. He remembered scrying for the shadow pockets and Ilyea’s transformation at using the other trinket. The black eyes, the creeping white hair. He remembered…crushing the other trinket and the figure beyond the veil. And the spiders.
With alarm, he realized now where he might be. Erudition. Lledwyn and Kurel had seen him. Inside the wards. Had they yelled at Ilyea? Was he a prisoner now? Could he even move to figure it out? No. The only movement he made was to hold that trinket. If anyone wanted it, they would have to pry it from his dead hands.
He slept when he could not rise, caring little if anyone saw the blackened hands that resembled something more Arakkoa than elven, or the various violet runes that covered his chest and upper torso. He cared even less if anyone saw the intricate tattoo-like work on his back that looked suspiciously like folded, feathery wings.
But he remembered well and he had been enough. He had reinforced the wards somewhat. He had felt that little triumph as he had forced the power of the transformation into the wards but it had cost him. Cost him greatly now as he lay in a dead-like sleep. They would have to reinforce the wards again themselves but ...at least the spiders had been pushed back for the time being.
How long until they tried to wake him and found him unresponsive? How long until they tried to rouse him when he needed this forced sleep? He hoped they let him be. He hoped that as he lay there, with his hand wrapped around Celestine’s trinket that they did not interrupt his hibernation. They owed him this little peace.
But even as he lay there, he knew he could not afford the time he wanted. Like a child, he wanted to whine and be allowed to sleep another ten to twenty minutes. Or a decade. The ache that seeped down into his bones would not get better but perhaps ... one more day. He needed to hunt. He needed to finish gathering his materials. He needed to find Ilyea since he would broodily help her save her people even if they looked down upon him. He needed to prepare for a bonding spell that looked wonderful on scroll and frightening to perform.
He would be enough. He had to be.
Though for once, he craved the red velvet cupcakes he would not get back to. The deliciously sweet confection that he had grown tired of as everyone fed him the empty calories that had no nutritional value for him. The Harpy’s red velvet cupcake present would go untouched and that was one thing he mourned. He should have had one when he had the chance since she probably would poison them next time.
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