ATtD Ch 56
Woo, sorry for the delay, luvs. ^^;;;;; I’ve been busy with a big commission and the death of someone I worked with that has turned the last month or so upside down for me, and now I’m planning on a trip to Florida after Thanksgiving-I need some time to breathe but this sort of vacation isn’t going to give me that. =_= I came back to this chapter, decided I hated where it was headed, and cut it up a bit to keep from my annoying habit of dragging things out forever. As for Helic’s Legend: it’s important but not something you need to stress over. Needed facts will be supplied later about it. (So it won’t be on the test. <3)
If you haven’t checked it out yet, you can find a lovely new picture by whisperelmwood here http://voxfuriae.livejournal.com/512.html based on chapter 55 of ATtD (not for kiddies, please). I believe she does commission too, if you want to beg nicely. Just click on her name and it will take you to her page. (Will you look at that, draw me a picture and I’ll happily pimp your artwork XD)
Oh, and I’ve posted some WIPs stories you can find here http://hp.adultfanfiction.net/authors.php?no=1296784414 although don’t expect quick updates. My mind is on ATtD and I refuse to stray too far.
Awakening To the Dream
CH56
CH56
A tickle… Faint… weak… but persistent. Calling him… repelling him… Oh gods… what the hell was that smell? Feeling half dead, Seamus opened weighty gold eyes and looked around blearily, his head apparently not in the mood to move.
Dim torches lit the large room. There were no windows or doorways in sight… He didn’t like that… it left him feeling shut in and trapped. He smelled dirt, and stone, and that… that rich, sickening rot wafting from the darkness behind him. His stomach heaved and he fought valiantly to keep his insides in while burying his head against the cool stone floor. He didn’t know this place. He had the vague memory of being here for a fair span of time, and maybe his parents at one point, which was odd in itself, and then darkness… and the smell…
A snake slithered by, paying him no heed. He returned the favor, groaning as he flexed his arms from their sleep. His eyes snapped open, staring at his once pale limbs. His hands were no longer hands, but long wicked talons sparkling black, thick, protective scales covering his lower arms. But it was the blood that made his heart clench and his stomach churn. It smelled like the rot, the disgusting red rot that every inch of him called to crush out of existence. The same red that had pulsed in his hands, slick and foul, that he had squeezed into a slippery pulp… but it had still been warm on his tongue…
His stomach lurched again, and this time he didn’t fight it, willing himself to throw up. He sobbed between coughs, grabbing his head fitfully. But the smell didn’t go away, nor did the violent memories lurking in the dark of his mind. It was a dream… that was all… just a sick, twisted dream…
Dragging air into his heaving lungs, he pulled away, crawling across the floor away from the red sick on the floor, and the smell haunting behind. He clawed his limbs forward, ignoring how his senses told him that his whole body was covered in another’s blood. Just a dream… He sunk into the shadow of a support pillar, turning empty gold eyes on the snake already resting there. He did not want to move, but he did not want to fight either. The snake made it easy for the both of them and curled back in its coil. Seamus clunked his heavy head on the ground and fell back asleep.
*******
He awoke hours later to the sounds of hissing and scattered footsteps. The torches had roared to life, lighting the room and the ancient symbols soaked in blood on the floor… and the snakes. Hundreds of snakes glittered across the ground, writhing on the floor in dark living waves of water. Glancing to his right, he found a huge snake had joined his little companion, and both were watching him with cold glassy eyes.
“Don’t mind them, boy. This is their home after all.”
Seamus gazed up at the sound, meeting taloned feet and scaled legs similar to his own new arms.
“I am Kayne, of the Society of the Anhk Ro. This is Oran, and Regan. We have come to help you with your birthing.”
Seamus greeted the other taloned feet wearily. “I… I think I need to see an Auror. I may have… uh, I think… I think I k-killed someone.” He finally whispered.
Kayne knelt down, matching gold eyes fixed on Seamus’. “The master here has offered you a room to rest while you regain your strength and senses. You will be locked in for a few days until we can tell if the ritual has had the proper effect. If it hasn’t, we will begin the necessary preparations for your isolation from society.”
“Aurors…” Seamus persisted weakly.
“The Aurors will kill you on sight.” Kayne answered brusquely. “Now, I am going to carry you. Do not struggle, for your own safety.” Seamus started at the touch of claws on his shoulder, his whole body tensing in a way that felt alien as new muscles revealed themselves. “…We have no intention of hurting you”
As much as he had no proof to that fact, something told Seamus to trust them. Hesitantly, he nodded and resigned himself to be lifted, and carried through the maze of torch lit corridors. He turned once, to see the body he knew should be there, but all that remained was a large stain of blood and a huge stone altar carved in the center of the room. He didn’t know if he was relieved or not.
“I don’t like it here.” He commented as they walked up another staircase, only to find that there were still no windows. “It smells like death.”
“The air grows fresher as we rise.”
Seamus wondered how far they had to go before that was true. He buried his face into Kayne’s shoulder to help block the smell, eyes caught on the two following behind.
“…Are you afraid, little bird?” Oran held deadly talons out to him. Seamus stared at the hand intently. It was larger than his, older looking, the scales a deeper black that might have stood against a falling bolder for as solid as they looked. The claws were elegant death, each talon longer than the finger it sprouted from. His weren’t quite the same and he held his up to compare. Yes, there was more pink in his hand, and his was smaller, probably because he was newly formed.
Eventually he moved his arm close enough, and clicked his hand against Oran’s. It felt strange, heavy and dull, but not necessarily dangerous. “Should I be afraid?”
Oran smiled gently. “Nah. You’re in good hands with us.” He gave Seamus’ hand a warm squeeze, his wicked claws curling effortlessly in the kind gesture. “It’s not the most easiest thing to wake up one day and realize, but we’re all here for you. Think of us as a support group for the genetically impaired.”
He wasn’t really in a joking mood, something he would wonder about later, but he returned a hollow smile, and continued to examine the two Anhk Ro as they moved down the corridor to another flight of stairs. They all looked alike really, in the basic sense. Each had golden eyes too intense to be human, and black feathery hair with purple and gold highlights depending on how the torchlight hit. Dark scales decorated over limbs and torso, solid and heavy on the lower arms and legs and ending in deadly talons. Small dark wings rose from their backs, more ornamental than flight worthy it seemed.
Seamus wondered briefly how he must look, foreign dark hair to his normal sandy blonde locks, and wicked claws and scales, contrasting with gentle fluttery wings, and buttery warm skin. …He’d be laughed at. A lot.
“Why are your wings so much bigger?” Looking down, Kayne’s wings nearly swept the floor, while Oran wings barely reached his calves, and Regan’s his knees.
“I’m very old, one of the first changed. With each new generation of Anhk Ro, our wings sprout smaller. When you have a chance to see, you will find your wings are very small, the smallest yet.”
“How old are you?”
“Very.”
Seamus frowned at the cryptic answer. “You don’t look very old.”
“It is rare for us to.” Oran spoke up. “Regan is the youngest out of the three of us here, and he’s a decrepit five thousand.”
“I would prefer you not to describe me as decrepit, brother.” Regan huffed, his wings flicking agitatedly.
Seamus was pretty sure they were teasing him, but it was difficult to tell. “You’re brothers?”
“Not by birth. We all share the same blood, the same curse, so we call each other brother or sister.”
“Oh…”
“It’s not obligatory, little bird.” Oran added once catching Seamus’ expression. “No one wants you to feel uncomfortable. The older each of us gets, the more we find ourselves growing fonder of our kin, if only because we understand the trials we all face. Each of us have had thousands of years to come to terms with what we are, and we are more than happy to help you through any problems you will certainly have arise.”
Seamus gulped. “H-How old are you, really?”
“I’m afraid I make poor Regan look like a spry infant in the great sway of things.” Oran sighed good-naturedly. “I’m all the way at my eighty-fourth.”
“You’re eighty-four hundred years old? That’s… that’s mad, is what that is!”
“Eh…” Oran elbowed Regan, who was chuckling. “Thousand. Eighty-four thousand years old. Kayne’s much older than me though, he’s possibly the oldest one left.”
“Possibly.” Kayne confirmed, pausing to open a door. “Have you ever heard of the immortals, newborn?”
“I, uh… like in school, and you know, fairytales and stuff. My first year they even had the philosopher’s stone at Hogwarts…” Wherever this was going, he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.
“There are some beings, that through magical means, can extend their lives indefinitely. Mortals are familiar with these types, likely because they can obtain immortality through them. Trinkets, blood diseases, soul fractioning; wizard kind see these as ways to immortality. True immortals know different.”
Seamus licked his lips. “Do you know different?”
Kayne gave him a long side-glance, his lips curling up at the edges. “Yes. As will you.”
Not having much to say to that, Seamus nodded with wide eyes and did his best to ignore how his feet scraped against the doorway as he was carried through. The hallways all seemed to blur together after that point, his mind trying and ultimately failing to absorb just what exactly had happened to him.
He found himself in a warm, comforting room before he knew it, high narrow windows letting in bright midday light from where he rested on a large bed. It looked a bit rundown, as if in disuse, but given the number of rooms they had passed, Seamus was just glad it had windows, and the stench of death was merely a faint memory.
“We’re going to spell you to sleep, Seamus, and leave. When you awake your real test will begin.”
“…Wait, test?” Lifting his head, he found three matching sets of gold eyes regarding him solemnly. He gulped, fear twisting in the pit of his stomach while in the back of his mind he could hear a man scream his final scream, bones cracking among slick scarlet juices. “Don’t make me-I won’t. …You can’t make me.” He didn’t care how old they supposedly were, or how much they understood what was going on, he was never going to… Never that. Never again.
Exchanging glances, Oran knelt beside Seamus, gently grabbing the boy’s hand. “I’m sorry, but the memories will only continue to come back to you. None of us have ever forgotten our first, no matter how long we live. It reminds us why we must never give in.”
“The test is to see if you can control your instincts, Seamus. We have no intention of allowing you to kill another.” Kayne pulled something from his pocket, placing it on the bedside table. “We will be observing you while you are here. Between the three of us you have no fear of getting past our guard and causing havoc. Not that I feel that will be the case. Use this if you wish for one of us to speak with you, otherwise you can keep your free time to yourself between test and our visits. For now you will be contained to these rooms, but there will be times when we will arrange otherwise.”
Seamus nodded dully, not truly listening. The screams were only growing, red flashing before his eyes. He eyed his hand, strange, deadly talons stained in blood. “…Who was he?”
“A very bad man.”
Seamus closed his eyes. “I… I’d like to sleep now. Please.”
Kayne nodded to Oran, who placed a hand to Seamus. The boy slumped over moments later, breathing evenly. They carefully tucked the boy among the sheets, casting a few cleansing spells to get the majority of the blood and dirt clean from the boy.
“What do you think?” Regan asked once they had left, and warded Seamus’ door to inform them when the boy awoke again.
“It’s hard to say. The ritual seems complete… but it was a very close call. That far into his change, the effects may not be as successful compared to one who had the ritual earlier.”
“…He seems a good lad.” Oran looked down at his feet, his hand twitching nervously. “I can only hope he doesn’t have to suffer in such a way.”
Kayne placed a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “You know all too well that even one who suffers so can overcome such pain, brother. Remember, the ritual was completed. Even if not in time, it will still take some of the edge off, at the very least. He certainly won’t have to go through what you did.”
Oran nodded, giving a weak smile. “It would be a sad day to see such a bright boy go mad.”
Regan snorted softly. “Give him a few thousand years, he’ll be lost like the rest of us. Which reminds me… should we really be so blasé with our host? I find it surprising, if not a little unsettling that he so readily opened his home to us like this.” He eyed the hallway suspiciously, as if expecting dangers to pop out at any moment. Given some of the immortals he’d visited over the years, it was hardly unheard of.
“/We have nothing to fear, not while Juro is in charge.” Kayne said simply.
“He’s hardly pure.” Regan pointed out lowly, having caught the flash of scales in the darkness.
“Few truly are. When you live as long as he, you have an abundant amount of time to fall into the more violent side of nature. Juro is one of the few that has been able to claw his way back from that endless brink.” Kayne turned to the youngest of the group, a stern expression on his face. “Still, be respectful. He is not some trifle of an immortal; he is an Elder, most importantly a Master, and a cherished one in our community, along with his brother.”
“Of course.” Regan said easily. He was respectful to most anyone anyways, just because of the likelihood that a loose tongue could set off the wrong powder keg of an immortal. “I shall certainly pay his son the same heed. I hear he’s attacked a good five of them now, and never gained a scratch from the encounters. He must be quite the great warrior.” He smiled warmly as the shadows giggled, a small dark face peeking from behind a statue to blink blue at them.
“It was only one!” Musa insisted fervently, a large smile splitting his face to reveal perfectly pointed white teeth.
“I don’t know… all the way in Greece they say you battled a man the size of a mountain, a foul tempered one at that.” Oran chimed in teasingly. “With you bare hands. They say the whole plain shock when you brought him to the ground.”
Shaking his head, Musa slithered free of the shadows, his hands waving as he corrected the teasing trio. “It was only one, and he was hardly a mountain. I don’t know why they’re talking about it all the way in Greece though. Kenelm’s probably younger than you there, and not very powerful.”
“Kenelm is young, but he is far from weak, little naga.” Kayne held open his arms, beckoning Musa closer. “For one your age, it is quite a feat, most certainly worthy of a Soul Vigil.” Musa beamed at that, and eagerly grabbed the man’s clawed hands.
“Do you really think so? Honestly, besides Elder Juro and Elder Beau, I’ve only heard bad things from the other immortals about my standings… Not that I care what they think.” He added fiercely.
“I think you have a very good chance of winning, and even if that doesn’t come to be, I’m am more than sure that you’re worthy of the position.” Kayne replied sincerely. “The Anhk Ro may be known for our ability to sense evil, but a few of us possess other senses. Mine say you are a worthy, upstanding boy.” He gave Musa’s hands a squeeze, pulling away. “You should be careful; not all of us are on your side. Until you are settled into your proper place I would refrain from making enemies. Perhaps you should be more cautious of whom you pick fights with next.”
Musa made a face. “Although I don’t want to bring extra problems for my Heir, I cannot allow any rudeness to Elder Juro. And as long as I am under his house, and likely even after, I will continue to defend him.” He smiled, his teeth glinting warningly at Regan. “So watch what you say of him.”
“Of course, of course, how foolish of me.” Regan apologized good-naturedly. “I certainly enjoy having the use of my legs.”
Musa giggled again, this time going up to great Regan. “Since Elder Masou, we haven’t had any pleasant company, and that was ages ago. How long do you think you’ll be staying?”
“I suppose that depends on the generosity of your father. Ideally we would like to stay for at least a month, until we’re certain Seamus has settled into his new form.” Oran grabbed Musa’s hands in greeting, holding tightly. “I suppose you’d like to meet him, hmm? The poor boy will be quite bored around here with only a bunch of old men for company.”
“Honestly, Oran.” Regan protested.
“Oh, so you’ll be chasing after the little bird then? Believe me, Regan, that’s one of your duties, because you aren’t likely to get either Kayne or me running the boy through his beginning exercises. We have out feeble backs to consider.”
Regan rolled his eyes. “I think you suffer from an acute case of slothfulness more than something as dull as old age. We would enjoy your help, of course, Musa.” He added, turning back to the boy. “As much as Oran jokes, someone around his own age would be able to help the boy comes to terms with his changes.”
“I’d love to.” Musa bounced excitedly, but then paused, his lips pursed as he slapped his tail idly on the stone floor. “He’s just a wizard though… and I heard half muggle at that… He probably wouldn’t find me enjoyable to be around. I tend to frighten most, even the ones that know better.”
“He’ll have to learn eventually, better now than by those who would lead him astray. He does seem to have the inkling of instincts for trust, so I doubt you’ll have much to worry about.” Kayne narrowed his eyes a moment, assessing Musa’s aura. “…As I said, your aura speaks of purity… although a lot of spilt blood lies in your past.”
“And my future.” Musa didn’t back down from the intense gold gaze. He had come to terms with his fate a long time ago, wherever it would lead him. “I’d like to meet him, no matter his reaction. But right now I need to get back to my studies before Elder Juro finds out I’m bothering you.” He smirked, backing away and grabbing the sword he had left leaning against the wall, holding it casually. “Dinner is at seven in the open dining hall. You can wash up in your rooms, and there is the baths to the west if you’d prefer. Just ask one of the snakes, they’ll be happy to show you.”
“Are you any good with that?” Oran asked, pointing to the sword too large for most humans to even conceive lifting.
“I should hope so. Beau still whips me every time I spar with him, but I think I’ve improved since the last time he was here. …You’re welcome to spar with me in his absence, if you like.” He offered with an absent wave of his hand.
Oran was hardly fooled by the mischievous smile Musa hid behind his modest stance. “I’ve sparred with nagas before, little one. Your speed will be your greatest weakness.”
“That’s why I’ve got such a strong bite.” Musa replied smoothly, shouldering the huge blade as if it weighed nothing. “I’ve brought a Hiedar to its knees with nothing more than an ounce of my saliva.”
“And how in the world did you get close enough to a Hiedar to bite it?”
Musa smiled smugly. “I’m not the sort to just give away my advantages. Fight me and maybe you’ll get to find out… but not today. Juro would not like me taking up your time when you’ve only just arrived.” He added, a troubled frown puckering his brow. “Excuse me; I should go. It was nice to speak with you all.” He gave a swift bow, slithering away after the trio returned their farewells politely.
“Cute thing.” Regan commented, clasping his hands behind his back as they continued down the main corridor.
“More than that. You may have been speaking with the next Soul Vigil. I’ve heard Ezella has chosen two Candidates; that’s usually a sign that the blood has grown weak. The odds are in his favor.”
Kayne nodded at Oran. “It could also mean that He needs particular help. Inar and Couatlicue both selected particularly powerful Candidates, and I hear that both of Ezella’s are hardly pushovers, power wise… not to mention the naga. Even in the Heir’s first years, you would not have found a being like the little naga chosen as a Candidate. The humans would have revolted if a magical being were chosen as Soul Vigil to rule over them. As much as the world has changed, it hasn’t changed in that aspect. …I think Beau has finally found the proof he has needed.”
Oran sighed, brushing imaginary lint from his vest, while sing-songing quietly, ‘I kneeeew iiiit. Just wait and see; the Heralds are going to use this as an excuse for war.”
“They have every right to it. The humans and their Council are to blame for this. Human rule has caused nothing but suffering and instability. The Heralds should be allowed their turn before the end comes… as short as it appears to be.”
“Lot of good that will do.” Oran snorted dismissively. “I still say His family has some responsibility in all this. Their ways may be twisted, but they couldn’t have been so blinded to have not seen this coming. Even Helic saw it, and everyone knew what a fool he was.”
“Helic? As in Helic’s Legend?” Regan asked, his attention caught. As much as he denied it, he was easily bored by ‘old folk’ talk, even if the two beside him didn’t appear old in the traditional sense, and he tended to zone out while they rambled. He blamed it on his own youthful idiocy, something he was still enjoying into his five thousandth and sixty-third year of life.
“Whoops, I forgot the lad was still here.” Oran mock whispered to Kayne, who merely rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be out playing with the snakes? I hear there are a few tribes roaming in the back lands of the temple that could use a good scare.”
“You met Helic?” Regan persisted, ignoring Oran’s teasing.
Kayne grabbed Oran by the scruff of his neck in an affectionate manner. “Stop yowling in my ear, brother. Yes, I was the one to record his prophecy. And this annoying lad here had the honor of killing him all those years ago.”
“Believe me, the legends of him are horribly overrated.” Oran added with a dour expression. “It’s beyond me how such a fool gained his own bloody legend. After I ate him, I swore my intelligence was cut in half for over a month.”
“You’re just upset you weren’t mentioned.”
“Damn straight. I ate Helic-I ate him! I was the perfect enemy, violent, cruel, a killer with no remorse or logic beyond death; I created the perfect ending to the otherwise meaningless life of Helic, and no one knows. That fool was nothing without us, and we’re not even acknowledged.”
While Oran continued to complain, Kayne explained to a very intrigued Regan. “Helic happened to trespass on one of the Immortal’s domains I had been occupying at the time… Beau’s, if I remember correctly… or likely, Beau had emptied it of its previous occupants. He was in a cleaning spree at the time, Juro having finally gained his title of Silent Void and controlling his madness through sheer will. Together they went through the lands and wiped clean the unstable ancient Masters that had never gained souls. At any rate, the land was fair game, and I needed a secluded spot since Oran had been in my care for only a couple of hundred years and was still fighting his killing instinct. While Helic was looting the house he… he broke something. I don’t think even Beau knows what it was exactly, but the power signature it left behind shook the planet with its destruction, and woke a voice from Helic. The Universe spoke its peace and faded, leaving the man in an odd stupor. We’d been having a pleasant conversation of how many nice treasures were left available with the deaths of the Masters, when Oran woke up and promptly ate Helic. It was hardly a tragedy.”
“The bastard was planning on killing us the moment he realized he wasn’t alone. I was a telepath before my changing, and Helic didn’t even have enough magic to use a wand, never mind identify an Anhk Ro.” Oran broke in. “He was nothing but a petty murderer, and thief, too stupid to know when to not play with things beyond his knowledge. If anyone is to blame for the current state of affairs, it’s that fool. Not the Council or the humans, or the wild children of Light; Helic cursed us all by waking a fate that could have slept eternally if not for that bumbling man.”
“Ignore Oran; he’s just bitter. Old Helic’s death set him back a good fifty years in overcoming his instincts.”
“He was foul.” Oran sniffed disdainfully. “Hardly worth the rush of pleasure I got killing the bugger.” He glanced down the hall leading to their rooms. “I think I will take that bath…”
“So you’re telling me the great Helic, the Voice of the Universe, is in reality a thief that cursed the Earth with imminent destruction?” Regan said flatly, his shoulders sagging. “This is worse than learning the tooth fairy had been mauled by a Tilgla eight thousand years before I was born.”
“Oh you are young!” Oran slapped the poor man on the back, his claws slipping off of equally strong scales hidden beneath Regan’s clothes. “Still naïve… you’ll be a horrible influence on the little bird, I’m sure. Between you and the naga, I’m almost worried for the newborn.”
Kayne cleared his throat lightly. “Something tells me the boy has more to fear from you, Oran. Enough dallying; blood is not welcome in these halls and I’m dripping in it-And for Furiae’s sake, stop chasing the snakes.” Shaking his head at the inordinately aged children he had been saddled with for this mission, Kayne led them to their rooms to clean up and change.
ATtD Chapter Index Links
If you haven’t checked it out yet, you can find a lovely new picture by whisperelmwood here http://voxfuriae.livejournal.com/512.html based on chapter 55 of ATtD (not for kiddies, please). I believe she does commission too, if you want to beg nicely. Just click on her name and it will take you to her page. (Will you look at that, draw me a picture and I’ll happily pimp your artwork XD)
Oh, and I’ve posted some WIPs stories you can find here http://hp.adultfanfiction.net/authors.php?no=1296784414 although don’t expect quick updates. My mind is on ATtD and I refuse to stray too far.
Awakening To the Dream
CH56
CH56
A tickle… Faint… weak… but persistent. Calling him… repelling him… Oh gods… what the hell was that smell? Feeling half dead, Seamus opened weighty gold eyes and looked around blearily, his head apparently not in the mood to move.
Dim torches lit the large room. There were no windows or doorways in sight… He didn’t like that… it left him feeling shut in and trapped. He smelled dirt, and stone, and that… that rich, sickening rot wafting from the darkness behind him. His stomach heaved and he fought valiantly to keep his insides in while burying his head against the cool stone floor. He didn’t know this place. He had the vague memory of being here for a fair span of time, and maybe his parents at one point, which was odd in itself, and then darkness… and the smell…
A snake slithered by, paying him no heed. He returned the favor, groaning as he flexed his arms from their sleep. His eyes snapped open, staring at his once pale limbs. His hands were no longer hands, but long wicked talons sparkling black, thick, protective scales covering his lower arms. But it was the blood that made his heart clench and his stomach churn. It smelled like the rot, the disgusting red rot that every inch of him called to crush out of existence. The same red that had pulsed in his hands, slick and foul, that he had squeezed into a slippery pulp… but it had still been warm on his tongue…
His stomach lurched again, and this time he didn’t fight it, willing himself to throw up. He sobbed between coughs, grabbing his head fitfully. But the smell didn’t go away, nor did the violent memories lurking in the dark of his mind. It was a dream… that was all… just a sick, twisted dream…
Dragging air into his heaving lungs, he pulled away, crawling across the floor away from the red sick on the floor, and the smell haunting behind. He clawed his limbs forward, ignoring how his senses told him that his whole body was covered in another’s blood. Just a dream… He sunk into the shadow of a support pillar, turning empty gold eyes on the snake already resting there. He did not want to move, but he did not want to fight either. The snake made it easy for the both of them and curled back in its coil. Seamus clunked his heavy head on the ground and fell back asleep.
*******
He awoke hours later to the sounds of hissing and scattered footsteps. The torches had roared to life, lighting the room and the ancient symbols soaked in blood on the floor… and the snakes. Hundreds of snakes glittered across the ground, writhing on the floor in dark living waves of water. Glancing to his right, he found a huge snake had joined his little companion, and both were watching him with cold glassy eyes.
“Don’t mind them, boy. This is their home after all.”
Seamus gazed up at the sound, meeting taloned feet and scaled legs similar to his own new arms.
“I am Kayne, of the Society of the Anhk Ro. This is Oran, and Regan. We have come to help you with your birthing.”
Seamus greeted the other taloned feet wearily. “I… I think I need to see an Auror. I may have… uh, I think… I think I k-killed someone.” He finally whispered.
Kayne knelt down, matching gold eyes fixed on Seamus’. “The master here has offered you a room to rest while you regain your strength and senses. You will be locked in for a few days until we can tell if the ritual has had the proper effect. If it hasn’t, we will begin the necessary preparations for your isolation from society.”
“Aurors…” Seamus persisted weakly.
“The Aurors will kill you on sight.” Kayne answered brusquely. “Now, I am going to carry you. Do not struggle, for your own safety.” Seamus started at the touch of claws on his shoulder, his whole body tensing in a way that felt alien as new muscles revealed themselves. “…We have no intention of hurting you”
As much as he had no proof to that fact, something told Seamus to trust them. Hesitantly, he nodded and resigned himself to be lifted, and carried through the maze of torch lit corridors. He turned once, to see the body he knew should be there, but all that remained was a large stain of blood and a huge stone altar carved in the center of the room. He didn’t know if he was relieved or not.
“I don’t like it here.” He commented as they walked up another staircase, only to find that there were still no windows. “It smells like death.”
“The air grows fresher as we rise.”
Seamus wondered how far they had to go before that was true. He buried his face into Kayne’s shoulder to help block the smell, eyes caught on the two following behind.
“…Are you afraid, little bird?” Oran held deadly talons out to him. Seamus stared at the hand intently. It was larger than his, older looking, the scales a deeper black that might have stood against a falling bolder for as solid as they looked. The claws were elegant death, each talon longer than the finger it sprouted from. His weren’t quite the same and he held his up to compare. Yes, there was more pink in his hand, and his was smaller, probably because he was newly formed.
Eventually he moved his arm close enough, and clicked his hand against Oran’s. It felt strange, heavy and dull, but not necessarily dangerous. “Should I be afraid?”
Oran smiled gently. “Nah. You’re in good hands with us.” He gave Seamus’ hand a warm squeeze, his wicked claws curling effortlessly in the kind gesture. “It’s not the most easiest thing to wake up one day and realize, but we’re all here for you. Think of us as a support group for the genetically impaired.”
He wasn’t really in a joking mood, something he would wonder about later, but he returned a hollow smile, and continued to examine the two Anhk Ro as they moved down the corridor to another flight of stairs. They all looked alike really, in the basic sense. Each had golden eyes too intense to be human, and black feathery hair with purple and gold highlights depending on how the torchlight hit. Dark scales decorated over limbs and torso, solid and heavy on the lower arms and legs and ending in deadly talons. Small dark wings rose from their backs, more ornamental than flight worthy it seemed.
Seamus wondered briefly how he must look, foreign dark hair to his normal sandy blonde locks, and wicked claws and scales, contrasting with gentle fluttery wings, and buttery warm skin. …He’d be laughed at. A lot.
“Why are your wings so much bigger?” Looking down, Kayne’s wings nearly swept the floor, while Oran wings barely reached his calves, and Regan’s his knees.
“I’m very old, one of the first changed. With each new generation of Anhk Ro, our wings sprout smaller. When you have a chance to see, you will find your wings are very small, the smallest yet.”
“How old are you?”
“Very.”
Seamus frowned at the cryptic answer. “You don’t look very old.”
“It is rare for us to.” Oran spoke up. “Regan is the youngest out of the three of us here, and he’s a decrepit five thousand.”
“I would prefer you not to describe me as decrepit, brother.” Regan huffed, his wings flicking agitatedly.
Seamus was pretty sure they were teasing him, but it was difficult to tell. “You’re brothers?”
“Not by birth. We all share the same blood, the same curse, so we call each other brother or sister.”
“Oh…”
“It’s not obligatory, little bird.” Oran added once catching Seamus’ expression. “No one wants you to feel uncomfortable. The older each of us gets, the more we find ourselves growing fonder of our kin, if only because we understand the trials we all face. Each of us have had thousands of years to come to terms with what we are, and we are more than happy to help you through any problems you will certainly have arise.”
Seamus gulped. “H-How old are you, really?”
“I’m afraid I make poor Regan look like a spry infant in the great sway of things.” Oran sighed good-naturedly. “I’m all the way at my eighty-fourth.”
“You’re eighty-four hundred years old? That’s… that’s mad, is what that is!”
“Eh…” Oran elbowed Regan, who was chuckling. “Thousand. Eighty-four thousand years old. Kayne’s much older than me though, he’s possibly the oldest one left.”
“Possibly.” Kayne confirmed, pausing to open a door. “Have you ever heard of the immortals, newborn?”
“I, uh… like in school, and you know, fairytales and stuff. My first year they even had the philosopher’s stone at Hogwarts…” Wherever this was going, he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.
“There are some beings, that through magical means, can extend their lives indefinitely. Mortals are familiar with these types, likely because they can obtain immortality through them. Trinkets, blood diseases, soul fractioning; wizard kind see these as ways to immortality. True immortals know different.”
Seamus licked his lips. “Do you know different?”
Kayne gave him a long side-glance, his lips curling up at the edges. “Yes. As will you.”
Not having much to say to that, Seamus nodded with wide eyes and did his best to ignore how his feet scraped against the doorway as he was carried through. The hallways all seemed to blur together after that point, his mind trying and ultimately failing to absorb just what exactly had happened to him.
He found himself in a warm, comforting room before he knew it, high narrow windows letting in bright midday light from where he rested on a large bed. It looked a bit rundown, as if in disuse, but given the number of rooms they had passed, Seamus was just glad it had windows, and the stench of death was merely a faint memory.
“We’re going to spell you to sleep, Seamus, and leave. When you awake your real test will begin.”
“…Wait, test?” Lifting his head, he found three matching sets of gold eyes regarding him solemnly. He gulped, fear twisting in the pit of his stomach while in the back of his mind he could hear a man scream his final scream, bones cracking among slick scarlet juices. “Don’t make me-I won’t. …You can’t make me.” He didn’t care how old they supposedly were, or how much they understood what was going on, he was never going to… Never that. Never again.
Exchanging glances, Oran knelt beside Seamus, gently grabbing the boy’s hand. “I’m sorry, but the memories will only continue to come back to you. None of us have ever forgotten our first, no matter how long we live. It reminds us why we must never give in.”
“The test is to see if you can control your instincts, Seamus. We have no intention of allowing you to kill another.” Kayne pulled something from his pocket, placing it on the bedside table. “We will be observing you while you are here. Between the three of us you have no fear of getting past our guard and causing havoc. Not that I feel that will be the case. Use this if you wish for one of us to speak with you, otherwise you can keep your free time to yourself between test and our visits. For now you will be contained to these rooms, but there will be times when we will arrange otherwise.”
Seamus nodded dully, not truly listening. The screams were only growing, red flashing before his eyes. He eyed his hand, strange, deadly talons stained in blood. “…Who was he?”
“A very bad man.”
Seamus closed his eyes. “I… I’d like to sleep now. Please.”
Kayne nodded to Oran, who placed a hand to Seamus. The boy slumped over moments later, breathing evenly. They carefully tucked the boy among the sheets, casting a few cleansing spells to get the majority of the blood and dirt clean from the boy.
“What do you think?” Regan asked once they had left, and warded Seamus’ door to inform them when the boy awoke again.
“It’s hard to say. The ritual seems complete… but it was a very close call. That far into his change, the effects may not be as successful compared to one who had the ritual earlier.”
“…He seems a good lad.” Oran looked down at his feet, his hand twitching nervously. “I can only hope he doesn’t have to suffer in such a way.”
Kayne placed a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “You know all too well that even one who suffers so can overcome such pain, brother. Remember, the ritual was completed. Even if not in time, it will still take some of the edge off, at the very least. He certainly won’t have to go through what you did.”
Oran nodded, giving a weak smile. “It would be a sad day to see such a bright boy go mad.”
Regan snorted softly. “Give him a few thousand years, he’ll be lost like the rest of us. Which reminds me… should we really be so blasé with our host? I find it surprising, if not a little unsettling that he so readily opened his home to us like this.” He eyed the hallway suspiciously, as if expecting dangers to pop out at any moment. Given some of the immortals he’d visited over the years, it was hardly unheard of.
“/We have nothing to fear, not while Juro is in charge.” Kayne said simply.
“He’s hardly pure.” Regan pointed out lowly, having caught the flash of scales in the darkness.
“Few truly are. When you live as long as he, you have an abundant amount of time to fall into the more violent side of nature. Juro is one of the few that has been able to claw his way back from that endless brink.” Kayne turned to the youngest of the group, a stern expression on his face. “Still, be respectful. He is not some trifle of an immortal; he is an Elder, most importantly a Master, and a cherished one in our community, along with his brother.”
“Of course.” Regan said easily. He was respectful to most anyone anyways, just because of the likelihood that a loose tongue could set off the wrong powder keg of an immortal. “I shall certainly pay his son the same heed. I hear he’s attacked a good five of them now, and never gained a scratch from the encounters. He must be quite the great warrior.” He smiled warmly as the shadows giggled, a small dark face peeking from behind a statue to blink blue at them.
“It was only one!” Musa insisted fervently, a large smile splitting his face to reveal perfectly pointed white teeth.
“I don’t know… all the way in Greece they say you battled a man the size of a mountain, a foul tempered one at that.” Oran chimed in teasingly. “With you bare hands. They say the whole plain shock when you brought him to the ground.”
Shaking his head, Musa slithered free of the shadows, his hands waving as he corrected the teasing trio. “It was only one, and he was hardly a mountain. I don’t know why they’re talking about it all the way in Greece though. Kenelm’s probably younger than you there, and not very powerful.”
“Kenelm is young, but he is far from weak, little naga.” Kayne held open his arms, beckoning Musa closer. “For one your age, it is quite a feat, most certainly worthy of a Soul Vigil.” Musa beamed at that, and eagerly grabbed the man’s clawed hands.
“Do you really think so? Honestly, besides Elder Juro and Elder Beau, I’ve only heard bad things from the other immortals about my standings… Not that I care what they think.” He added fiercely.
“I think you have a very good chance of winning, and even if that doesn’t come to be, I’m am more than sure that you’re worthy of the position.” Kayne replied sincerely. “The Anhk Ro may be known for our ability to sense evil, but a few of us possess other senses. Mine say you are a worthy, upstanding boy.” He gave Musa’s hands a squeeze, pulling away. “You should be careful; not all of us are on your side. Until you are settled into your proper place I would refrain from making enemies. Perhaps you should be more cautious of whom you pick fights with next.”
Musa made a face. “Although I don’t want to bring extra problems for my Heir, I cannot allow any rudeness to Elder Juro. And as long as I am under his house, and likely even after, I will continue to defend him.” He smiled, his teeth glinting warningly at Regan. “So watch what you say of him.”
“Of course, of course, how foolish of me.” Regan apologized good-naturedly. “I certainly enjoy having the use of my legs.”
Musa giggled again, this time going up to great Regan. “Since Elder Masou, we haven’t had any pleasant company, and that was ages ago. How long do you think you’ll be staying?”
“I suppose that depends on the generosity of your father. Ideally we would like to stay for at least a month, until we’re certain Seamus has settled into his new form.” Oran grabbed Musa’s hands in greeting, holding tightly. “I suppose you’d like to meet him, hmm? The poor boy will be quite bored around here with only a bunch of old men for company.”
“Honestly, Oran.” Regan protested.
“Oh, so you’ll be chasing after the little bird then? Believe me, Regan, that’s one of your duties, because you aren’t likely to get either Kayne or me running the boy through his beginning exercises. We have out feeble backs to consider.”
Regan rolled his eyes. “I think you suffer from an acute case of slothfulness more than something as dull as old age. We would enjoy your help, of course, Musa.” He added, turning back to the boy. “As much as Oran jokes, someone around his own age would be able to help the boy comes to terms with his changes.”
“I’d love to.” Musa bounced excitedly, but then paused, his lips pursed as he slapped his tail idly on the stone floor. “He’s just a wizard though… and I heard half muggle at that… He probably wouldn’t find me enjoyable to be around. I tend to frighten most, even the ones that know better.”
“He’ll have to learn eventually, better now than by those who would lead him astray. He does seem to have the inkling of instincts for trust, so I doubt you’ll have much to worry about.” Kayne narrowed his eyes a moment, assessing Musa’s aura. “…As I said, your aura speaks of purity… although a lot of spilt blood lies in your past.”
“And my future.” Musa didn’t back down from the intense gold gaze. He had come to terms with his fate a long time ago, wherever it would lead him. “I’d like to meet him, no matter his reaction. But right now I need to get back to my studies before Elder Juro finds out I’m bothering you.” He smirked, backing away and grabbing the sword he had left leaning against the wall, holding it casually. “Dinner is at seven in the open dining hall. You can wash up in your rooms, and there is the baths to the west if you’d prefer. Just ask one of the snakes, they’ll be happy to show you.”
“Are you any good with that?” Oran asked, pointing to the sword too large for most humans to even conceive lifting.
“I should hope so. Beau still whips me every time I spar with him, but I think I’ve improved since the last time he was here. …You’re welcome to spar with me in his absence, if you like.” He offered with an absent wave of his hand.
Oran was hardly fooled by the mischievous smile Musa hid behind his modest stance. “I’ve sparred with nagas before, little one. Your speed will be your greatest weakness.”
“That’s why I’ve got such a strong bite.” Musa replied smoothly, shouldering the huge blade as if it weighed nothing. “I’ve brought a Hiedar to its knees with nothing more than an ounce of my saliva.”
“And how in the world did you get close enough to a Hiedar to bite it?”
Musa smiled smugly. “I’m not the sort to just give away my advantages. Fight me and maybe you’ll get to find out… but not today. Juro would not like me taking up your time when you’ve only just arrived.” He added, a troubled frown puckering his brow. “Excuse me; I should go. It was nice to speak with you all.” He gave a swift bow, slithering away after the trio returned their farewells politely.
“Cute thing.” Regan commented, clasping his hands behind his back as they continued down the main corridor.
“More than that. You may have been speaking with the next Soul Vigil. I’ve heard Ezella has chosen two Candidates; that’s usually a sign that the blood has grown weak. The odds are in his favor.”
Kayne nodded at Oran. “It could also mean that He needs particular help. Inar and Couatlicue both selected particularly powerful Candidates, and I hear that both of Ezella’s are hardly pushovers, power wise… not to mention the naga. Even in the Heir’s first years, you would not have found a being like the little naga chosen as a Candidate. The humans would have revolted if a magical being were chosen as Soul Vigil to rule over them. As much as the world has changed, it hasn’t changed in that aspect. …I think Beau has finally found the proof he has needed.”
Oran sighed, brushing imaginary lint from his vest, while sing-songing quietly, ‘I kneeeew iiiit. Just wait and see; the Heralds are going to use this as an excuse for war.”
“They have every right to it. The humans and their Council are to blame for this. Human rule has caused nothing but suffering and instability. The Heralds should be allowed their turn before the end comes… as short as it appears to be.”
“Lot of good that will do.” Oran snorted dismissively. “I still say His family has some responsibility in all this. Their ways may be twisted, but they couldn’t have been so blinded to have not seen this coming. Even Helic saw it, and everyone knew what a fool he was.”
“Helic? As in Helic’s Legend?” Regan asked, his attention caught. As much as he denied it, he was easily bored by ‘old folk’ talk, even if the two beside him didn’t appear old in the traditional sense, and he tended to zone out while they rambled. He blamed it on his own youthful idiocy, something he was still enjoying into his five thousandth and sixty-third year of life.
“Whoops, I forgot the lad was still here.” Oran mock whispered to Kayne, who merely rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be out playing with the snakes? I hear there are a few tribes roaming in the back lands of the temple that could use a good scare.”
“You met Helic?” Regan persisted, ignoring Oran’s teasing.
Kayne grabbed Oran by the scruff of his neck in an affectionate manner. “Stop yowling in my ear, brother. Yes, I was the one to record his prophecy. And this annoying lad here had the honor of killing him all those years ago.”
“Believe me, the legends of him are horribly overrated.” Oran added with a dour expression. “It’s beyond me how such a fool gained his own bloody legend. After I ate him, I swore my intelligence was cut in half for over a month.”
“You’re just upset you weren’t mentioned.”
“Damn straight. I ate Helic-I ate him! I was the perfect enemy, violent, cruel, a killer with no remorse or logic beyond death; I created the perfect ending to the otherwise meaningless life of Helic, and no one knows. That fool was nothing without us, and we’re not even acknowledged.”
While Oran continued to complain, Kayne explained to a very intrigued Regan. “Helic happened to trespass on one of the Immortal’s domains I had been occupying at the time… Beau’s, if I remember correctly… or likely, Beau had emptied it of its previous occupants. He was in a cleaning spree at the time, Juro having finally gained his title of Silent Void and controlling his madness through sheer will. Together they went through the lands and wiped clean the unstable ancient Masters that had never gained souls. At any rate, the land was fair game, and I needed a secluded spot since Oran had been in my care for only a couple of hundred years and was still fighting his killing instinct. While Helic was looting the house he… he broke something. I don’t think even Beau knows what it was exactly, but the power signature it left behind shook the planet with its destruction, and woke a voice from Helic. The Universe spoke its peace and faded, leaving the man in an odd stupor. We’d been having a pleasant conversation of how many nice treasures were left available with the deaths of the Masters, when Oran woke up and promptly ate Helic. It was hardly a tragedy.”
“The bastard was planning on killing us the moment he realized he wasn’t alone. I was a telepath before my changing, and Helic didn’t even have enough magic to use a wand, never mind identify an Anhk Ro.” Oran broke in. “He was nothing but a petty murderer, and thief, too stupid to know when to not play with things beyond his knowledge. If anyone is to blame for the current state of affairs, it’s that fool. Not the Council or the humans, or the wild children of Light; Helic cursed us all by waking a fate that could have slept eternally if not for that bumbling man.”
“Ignore Oran; he’s just bitter. Old Helic’s death set him back a good fifty years in overcoming his instincts.”
“He was foul.” Oran sniffed disdainfully. “Hardly worth the rush of pleasure I got killing the bugger.” He glanced down the hall leading to their rooms. “I think I will take that bath…”
“So you’re telling me the great Helic, the Voice of the Universe, is in reality a thief that cursed the Earth with imminent destruction?” Regan said flatly, his shoulders sagging. “This is worse than learning the tooth fairy had been mauled by a Tilgla eight thousand years before I was born.”
“Oh you are young!” Oran slapped the poor man on the back, his claws slipping off of equally strong scales hidden beneath Regan’s clothes. “Still naïve… you’ll be a horrible influence on the little bird, I’m sure. Between you and the naga, I’m almost worried for the newborn.”
Kayne cleared his throat lightly. “Something tells me the boy has more to fear from you, Oran. Enough dallying; blood is not welcome in these halls and I’m dripping in it-And for Furiae’s sake, stop chasing the snakes.” Shaking his head at the inordinately aged children he had been saddled with for this mission, Kayne led them to their rooms to clean up and change.
ATtD Chapter Index Links