Chapter 3 ~ Blood of the Master

The blinding light faded into a soft dimness as he found himself within a darkened room. Senses that had been dulled to nothing suddenly awoke. For a moment he was overwhelmed with feeling. His body tickled, the strangely familiar sensation of millions of pins and needles pricking flesh like static sent shivers throughout his being. Sight and sound and smell returned in full force, bombarding him with color and the rank miasma of sweat and mold. For a moment his mind was pandemonium as a cacophony of unfiltered noise assaulted his senses from all quarters. Then it gradually faded. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, easily piercing through the gloom of this small place. Compared to the darkness of where he was before, this room was like the shade beneath a tree on a sunny day.

Six men stood towards the back of the small, rectangular room; armed and armored. Thick gray cloaks covered them. They were clearly not soldiers of the Twenty-First Century. In their hands were swords and metal bludgeons, not guns. They wore breastplates, and the circular rings of mail glinting in the dim illumination made him think of chain shirts or hauberks from medieval Europe. All bore a tanner skin tone and facial features that made him think maybe they could have been of Latino descent, though two had noticeably lighter faces than the others.

They peered at him with expressions that were a mixture between awe and horror as they stood frozen in silence. Broken boxes and barrels in various states of age and decay lay scattered about haphazardly as if tossed aside in a rush. Behind them, a shattered door hung loosely from its hinges. Due to the severity of the rot and wear it was hard to tell if that was recent.

He himself hovered in the air just above an intricate and complex circle. Faint light suffused its lines and numerous symbols, like hieroglyphics, providing the room’s only illumination. That light reflected in a pair of mismatched eyes; one a deep violet, the other which was a lighter gray, set in the tanned face of the room’s only other occupant. She was a girl, appearing to be around thirteen or so, with dirty blonde hair. Based on the soiled state of her clothing, a ragged brown dress and torn cloak, she was likely poor, homeless, or both. Strangely, only one of her eyes appeared to be gazing at him. The purple one was filled with reverence and hope, while the other seemed to look…beyond him.

A scent emanated from her left arm, drawing his attention. Blood trickled from the back of the arm and between the tightly clenched fingers. It shone with a light all its own. The familiar coppery odor reached him and seemed to send lightning coursing through his body. Body, of course, was putting it generously. He observed that his body was more a cloud of black mist than anything else. The sound of the child’s beating heart though was hypnotic, beckoning him closer to its source.

Words escaped her mouth and though her voice was a bit hoarse, it wasn’t unpleasant. However, he had no idea what she was saying. The language was completely foreign to him. It didn’t even sound like anything he knew.

Still, the blood called to him, almost humming with music; a siren song of its own. A sensation began to build within him as he listened, one he vaguely recognized as hunger. Seized by some unknown instinct, he moved closer to the girl, causing the men behind her to flinch away. For her part though she was slight and small, too small for her apparent age, she remained seated just in front of the glowing circle. Upon closer inspection, he was able to pick out the blonde highlights beneath the dirt and dust covering her wrinkled hair. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and around her cheeks.

For the briefest of moments he was reminded of Aster. Their features were similar enough that he might have mistaken them for cousins had this place looked at all like the world he remembered from before his death. A sharp spike of emotion welled up within him at the sight, one he recognized as grief and longing. “How strange,” he said, and his voice came out as a garbled whisper that caused everyone to flinch. He would have frowned but he still lacked a true physical form. The dark cloud that was his presence merely shifted slightly in the illumination provided by the fading light of the circle.

“Well,” he muttered. “This is fucked.”

What was he supposed to do now? Was he to exist in this strange new world as nothing more than a sentient gas cloud, alone, cut off from everyone and everything he’d known and loved? What had been the point of leaving the unending dark just to appear in a place where he lacked a body and the ability to even communicate?

Just as he was about let himself get lost in his own thoughts of defeat, the girl said something else. There was more urgency in her voice now and her one eye held real fear in it. When she glanced back at the armored men and he saw how her slender body trembled, he realized it was not fear of him. These men frightened her. Was she some sort of witch and he a demon summoned from the bowels of hell? Was that why her blood called to him? She must be the one who brought him here. It was beginning to make a sort of twisted sense. Now that he thought about it, it must have been her voice he’d heard calling from beyond the light. This girl, who looked so similar to his Aster.

She was asking for his help. But what could a cloud of mist do? Was he supposed to make the shadows do something?

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he realized that somehow his body, his presence, was connected to the darkness that blanketed this tiny room. It seemed familiar, close to the feeling he got from nothingness left behind. It was as if it were clinging to him, or he to it; like it was a part of him. When he focused on it, he felt a momentary shock to find that there was a tether, no, numerous tethers binding the shadows and himself together. On instinct, he reached out to it with thought and desire hoping for something…

And the darkness responded…

Suddenly, one of the men found their courage and stepped forward threateningly, interrupting his new discovery. As the man shouted angrily and swung his mace, the girl jerked away, instinctively trying to avoid the blow aimed at her head.

Panicking, he thought of the only thing he could in that moment; a blade. A long blade, something sharp and sturdy to intercept the falling mace. No sooner had he imagined and desired it than the darkness, the shadows of the room, leapt forward to realize his will. The ephemeral black cascading down the walls and creeping along the floors and ceiling drew together, coalescing into solid form.

A blade of opaque night sprung forth, arcing up between the girl and her attacker.

The man let out a scream of pain a moment later as the hand holding his weapon hit the floor with a dull thud. Red blood spurted from his wrist where the edge of the black blade cleanly severed flesh, muscle, and bone as if it were pudding. He stumbled back into his comrades arms, clutching the bleeding stump, gasping and sucking in air as he tried to process what had just happened to him. Every one of his companions stood ramrod stiff, unable to do anything but look on in surprise and growing horror.

Even the girl appeared frozen in shock as the mace landed near her. Her gaze snapped from her attacker to his smokey form. Specks of blood had spattered her face. At the frightened and anger laden shouts of the armored men, she scooted away from them, closer to him.

Her body crossed the circle.

At once, the scent of her blood filled all of his senses. Craven greed enveloped him at the nearness and he felt himself compelled to maneuver, though he was unsure how, his intangible form to her side. He reached out to her bloodied hand as his thoughts and desires seemed to mold a tendril of shadow to form the shape of a human hand.

As if sensing his need, the girl turned to him and offered up her wounded palm.

Instinct guiding him, he lowered himself and lapped at her blood.

Reviews

[Dewella~Vintella]

This will be interesting to see where it goes from here. Obviously I get what's going on and the current concept but I can't wait to hear more of her story/journey and and how's and why of these two coming together. Can't wait to read more, as always amazing writing!

[Caradoc]

Thanks again for reading! I've been working on this one for a while now. I think of the two I've put more thought into her, though so far he's gotten a bit more screen time. With Ireae I'm developing a character a bit different from the female characters I've done before. Ireae is harsher, with less soft edges, and a stronger drive. She's a female lead with a mission and our male lead is a fish out of water who is pulled along by her journey. For now.