The Creatures Series

Tenth Mist

Tenth MistCreatures of the Mist

© All Rights Reserved

##### Tenth Mist #####

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I’ve got friends from the other side, behind the shadows and forms, waiting for the unwanted lurkers.

The whole library is shaking. The woods from the foundation are smashing against each other, producing wooden dust falling from the ceiling and raining upon us. I take a breath out to clear the air near me so that the dust won’t enter my respiratory system. I can’t say the same about Trace, though. He’s too focused on letting go of his control that every single book in the library are vibrating strongly for him. A few books already flew out from their shelves behind me. Some more fell near him. Before I knew it, a dozen of books turns out not just a hundred, but a thousand. That’s the number that we have to expect from the country’s biggest public library.

“Trace!”

I call out to him, but he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. Let alone recognize me. I learn that very soon deeply when one book starts to throw up the pages inside it. The papers fly fast. Soon, all the books do the same thing. They throw up all of the papers and fly into midair. They pass quickly like small, thin jets, competing against the law of gravity. A group of papers fly towards my direction. I dodge them just in time after getting a cut on my wrist. The paper group already arrive near Trace’s side before the first drop of oil is about to fall out from my newly cut wound.

“Calm down! You’re going to destroy the whole library at this rate,” I tell him even though he probably can’t hear me.

A shelf that’s far from the rows starts falling out of balance. A loud bang fills the air aside from the uncontrollable pressure that the papers are making. The wooden shelf land on another shelf that’s standing in front of it, making the shelf across from it fall as well. And soon, this triggers the domino effect. It doesn’t help that the earthquake hasn’t even stopped because of his emotional explosion, since other shelves start to fall out of balance as well.

I take a step closer in order to stop this madness. The reparation won’t be a matter. But even if there’s no one here anymore, it’s still dangerous for Trace to go on like this.

Calling out all the darkness in this room, thick, black clouds surround the entire place in no time. This time, I have to use my own powers to stop him.

The pages are reacting better than I thought it will be, though. A group of it flies to my direction like fish, swimming through the air like it’s sea water. The paper group is far in the upper ceiling, before it drastically drops like nuclear bombs. Thick and targeted.

My feet jumped from side to side as the pages are trying to hit me. Those which fail to hit me are smashed to the floor instead, really hard that they turn to paper dust. When the group is finished and I managed to get away unharmed, I use my dark shadows to form solid stairs and let me walk up. Another group of paper flies towards me, but I burned it to ashes this time. The black fire consumes the pages like hungry cold demon viruses, leaving not a single remains for the eyes to see.

I reach the topmost part of the stairs where I’m standing right above where Trace is standing. I’m planning to jump on him. The problem is, when I look down, he’s not even in his previous position. So I look around fast until I spot a flashing figure at the second level, his white cloak dancing in the tense air. Right above me.

Trace looks at me in the eyes, and I can see that it’s not him at all. His eyes are all completely dull of gray, eyebrows are angry, and mouth is closed shut. That’s what he does before he launches the attack. Before I knew it, thousands of pages are facing their sides at my direction, ready to cut when let loose.

In an instant, I use my shadows to form a protective shield around me. I make sure that it’s as thick as possible so that when the pages start to make contact with it, paper dust is sparkling all around the air outside.

He doesn’t look too happy when it happens. Trace raises his right hand up, and half a minute later, after adding a stronger shake to the earthquake, a new battalion of papers are ready to be launched again. Now, an evil smirk is plastered on his lips.

What an odd curve to appear on him, I think.

In a split second, everything moves in a slow motion. For some reason, I’m too enchanted by the sight as Trace locks his attack on me. I see his eyes. I read the intention. He has gone out of control....

The wound comes in a prevailing wallop, solo but strong because for some reason I can only feel the papers hurting me on a single spot. My neck feels like it's about to snap at anytime. Blood trails from my neck and down to the middle of my breasts, sweeping my skin in a bittersweet gesture. Pounding in my ears is a whopping howl, raspy and ghostly. Suddenly, my body becomes stiff and heavy, unable to conjure. Knees stale and mind blocked, I fell helplessly under the spell of weakness.

Someone plants kisses all over me like my body belongs to him. A right hand cups the back of my head while the left one cares my back, as if afraid that I'll fall feebly like a rag doll. I can feel him leaning on me, or perhaps the other way around. I'm not sure. The direction seems to change quickly every second that I lost track of where I am. The bottom part of him, mostly, is pressing against mine urgently. I can feel hunger hanging in the air, but the feeling gets in and out eventually as my consciousness fails me once more.

By the time I can blink again, it feels like minutes have passed. The temperature has gone so low that there's a white mist forming in front of me every time I breathe out. I look at my surroundings and notice that I'm still in the library. Well, at least what is left of it.

Something falls from the sky ceiling and lands with a thump behind me. Pure white and snow. There's a scoop of it on the wooden floor, trying to make room among the ruins. I look up and find a quarter of the ceiling has been torn down here and there. The sky over it is grey, still snowing a little. More snow comes down and a few drops touch my skin. It feels nice and calming.

A torn, white fabric is dancing in the air, played by the cold breeze from the corner of my eyes. That's when I finally notice his presence for the first time.

His hair has turned from orange blonde into a completely light dull, the same shade of the sky above us. It also somehow looks smoother and tidier in the razor-sharp edges style. His eyes are glowing with grey light, completely consuming anything else that was once there. His clothes are half-torn in an acceptable mess. His jacket is still intact, only with a few cuts and little dust at some places. The buttons are not fine, though. They are all gone. His undershirt is a mess. It's completely torn and, for some reasons, still clinging on him as a roller bandage. The bandage looks like white ribbon, with edges floating around where he's sitting, which apparently is on a pile of books and collapsed pylons. His hands are clinging together, his elbows are resting on each of his thighs while his knuckles are supporting his chin. Then I realized that his eyes have been resting on me this whole time—sharp, tense, but at the same time also expressionless.

He has turned.

"Trace," I call out to him softly.

Even so, his body still goes rigid and stiff, shaking in fury. When I think that he's about to let himself controlled by his powers again, he suppresses the feeling and gains back his composure. The shaking stops once and for all in a heartbeat.

"It's okay." I hold my pale hand out, hanging in the air for him, showing no threat. "You'll be just fine." A serenely, reassuring smile builds itself up to my lips.

Trace's clapped fingers starting to shaking again, but this time for good. His cold, distant eyes break down to a cry. Tears are raining down into rivers on his cheeks, almost frozen there by the coldness. I walk carefully to him, making sure that every step held danger for him, and finally pull him into a hug once I'm close enough.

He's hesitating at first, but circles his arms around me eventually. His cold lips touch the phalanx of my neck when he buries his face on my chest. He feels even colder than the weather that's coating around us right now. I search for his heartbeat, and it's pumping quite rapidly. "It's fine. There's nothing to be afraid of," I reassure him for one last time.

It was one different morning to begin with ─ different because I woke up not just as a Noirmelns, but also as its soon-to-be head of the clan. Not even in my worst nightmares that I ever dreamed of being one, but the preparation of the ceremony that has been circling around the castle busily signs one thing for sure ─ it had not been a dream to me.

I didn ’ t expect any of the family members to start their rebellion so soon, since the title is still in my grandfather ’ s hands ─ who is their brother, father and grandfather as well. But that chance is not limited to what their hearts desire, and especially not to the non-family members. Perhaps that was why one fool tried to mess with me and Trace when we visited the nearest city ’ s library.

It was my presence ’ s fault entirely ─ I wasn ’ t going to deny that. Mr. Heindolf was working there as the head librarian. He was once the Noirmelns ’ most trusted servant. He had been serving my late grandmother for longer than my existence. But because of one mistake, he was fired, banished from the castle that he had been spending most of his lifetime here. Then, there were rumors that whispered false temptation into his ears.

The last look that he gave wasn’t for the place he was going to leave, but for who the rumors said.

Me.

Mr. Heindolf was still reminded by his fury when me and Trace decided to visit the city’s library to borrow some more books for Raion, because apparently my nephew already finished reading everything that my secret library could provide him. He’s a fast reader.

Unfortunately, Mr. Heindolf refused to cooperate and didn’t want to let go of his animosity. It only took five seconds for him to lose all of the hold on his self-control before he lashed out and stabbed a poison dagger on my chest.

He missed my heart because I dodged at the very last minute after pushing Trace out of the way. But Heindolf was more of like intentionally to do that, since he planted the sharp blade of the dagger inside my right bust.

I fell on the floor for a few minutes, becoming weak momentarily because the poison pained me enough to make me unable to stand any longer. That was the time when Trace’s anger took over of his self-control, attacking Mr. Heindolf with everything he got, and then started to destroy everything that was on his sights. I recovered after my black-blooded elixir got the poison out of my system and pulled out the dagger’s blade out from my flesh before dumping it on the floor. My black blood stained the blade, but I didn’t want to leave any vestige so I made it disappear by turning my own stain into acid poison. The acid took care of everything and consumed every last bit of the mess.

I could say the same about the library, though.

Trace lost his control the second he saw me fell to the ground, covered in blood. He had made sure to destroy it so bad that it was impossible to recover this from human’s awareness. All under his trance or rage, of course. Or else he would have known any better than to draw attention from the humans as I taught him.

Being a very influential figure in both the creature and human world, Grandfather takes care of everything like a snap of a finger. He’s easily able to fool the humans’ media into thinking that there was a group of terrorists that planted a bomb inside the building, creating the mess as they can see right now as a sign of threat. But luckily, he was there and noticed the odd ticking sound behind one of the shelves inside the library to be able to warn the rest of the visitors. But unfortunately, it was way too late for him to save the late head librarian, Mr. Heindolf.

“That’s him,” a voice says accusingly.

“I can’t believe the Greymist has struck again,” another one choruses.

“I can’t believe one of them is still alive.”

“Why is he still here?”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous for him to be around inside out castle?”

“What is the head clan thinking, allowing such creature to roam around freely?”

“Shush! They’ll hear you.”

“Oh, right. Like she can do anything.”

I pass a killing glare at the last wizard who whispers nasty things about me ─ the same one who started the susurration, apparently. He froze in spot as if he just saw something worse than a vengeful ghost. That makes the rest to stop murmuring.

I turn my attention back to Trace to check on him.

Trace is still in his transformed form after the incident ─ eyes glowing grey light and clothes still floating. He was just like how I was when my power first awaken ─ too strong that it forced itself to push outside this shell of mortality. Soon, it will have to crack. Soon, it will be painful.

Empleyer la illium o la meva forco (Push the light into my darkness)

E fer foc fonra de els cendres (And make fire out of the ashes).

Just like the forceful spell that compels white light to appears from a black fire, this stage will be hard for him to go through.