WHITE DARKNESS - BLACK MAGIC SAGA - BOOK 1

SEA OF TRUNKS

Kingdom of Eskarya, Eglary, King’s Castle

23rd to 31st of December

Barely arriving at his manor the next day, Eisdrache went straight to his room after greeting his mother and father.

He couldn’t think about anything else but what had happened.

That kiss — if he could even call it that — with Vaughan had kept him distracted for more than a week and he didn’t understand why. That kiss was the reason for his suffering the summer holidays. He hadn’t even eaten! He should not think about that kiss. But he couldn’t help it. The two summer months, he had had to try and block his memory so he wouldn’t enter in a kind of trance remembering the coldness but at the same time warmth, her lips had.

Why — Why he hadn’t done it before? Why — Why he had never imagined kissing her, her lips? Why not?

All the time he had been in Gleaxsiara he had always heard how the boys talked about her and how pretty and nice she was. Always. Since bloody first year. Since the first time she stepped down her carriage. Since the first time she entered the Banquet Hall and professor pronounced Vasilka. Although in first year, everyone was a bit scared of her and her family — because all the rumours that rolled through the chateau. But he had never judged her or listened to the accusations because everyone was a bit scared of his father too.

In first year, she seemed so shy, always blushing softly when someone spoke to her, or a professor made her step to the front. Everyone wondered why she wore those black leather gloves which prevented her to touch anything or anyone.

He could remember the first time someone had touched her — by accident and was barely a brush — and she had jumped so scared that she had fallen to the floor after slapping aggressively the hand of the person who had dared to touch her — a boy from third year at that time. The boy had tried to apologise because he had thought that he had slapped her or something, but she started trembling as she screamed that he could not touch or even approach her.

He could remember how everyone looked so worried and a student from House Faris had to call Sthepon Reeves. Nobody talked about it after that — everyone wondered why she had reacted so aggressively and defensively, but nobody asked. That year also was the first time he saw her crying and in total panic. That had been the first time she said to him that she had nightmares — she did not explain why or what kind of nightmares and he did not ask.

That year was also the first time she crossed paths with him, and he had tears on his face. She had just sat with him in the couch and talked about the book she was reading — something about a curse in ancient Votrye and a prophecy — and he listened to her, every detail she said about it as his tears slowly stopped.

Second year had been a bit calmer, and some boys even started to like her — even bloody Rhazel Cox had liked her. Every time he heard how the boys of their house and some others talked about how pretty she looked, Eisdrache could not help but frown and shudder — he could not agree on that. She had also stopped using the gloves that year. That year had also its weird part when he saved her from falling off a broom and die. She had got scared when his hands caught her so abruptly but did not say anything.

He could remember also how that year she was always brewing potions because of a book her godfather had given her and how sometimes she asked him if he wanted to join her.

Third year had been quite… different — strange and bloody confusing. The first time he saw her, because she hadn’t spent holidays with the Vailants, he could not help and feel something twisting in his stomach. It had been weird — very weird —, and he thought that maybe he was sick or something but — sick why?

That year had been the first time he had stared at her for more than five seconds. That year had been the first time he had looked at her body — how much it had changed in the summer and how her features seemed finer and more delicate. How her curls were soft and distracting now. How in every place he looked or went, she was there. How her cheeks and little nose became rosy in winter — or the way she sipped her hot chocolate and passed her tongue across her lower lip savouring every part of it. The way her eyes shone when she went to Crunswor’s class, and he brought new beasts and the professor let her touch them. That year, at least the time they could spend a record time without fighting. And he couldn’t not smile all the time he was with her. But that time had also been the first time they fought quite often, almost every day, saying things they knew would hurt the other in a way the rest couldn’t imagine.

It had been the first time they had said — yelled — ‘I hate you,’ they had never said that before, it was always ‘despise,’ so it had felt pretty nasty.

Fourth year then had been quite different. He had a specific memory of both of them with their friends.

His favourite moment in the world ever. Growing up, he adored those moments.

The usual Vasilka group this time next to Jia Xieren, Isobel, Lhea and Esmerai, were at the edge of the now frozen Attlely Lake to enjoy the evening of that precious Saturday. It had been snowing a few minutes ago, but it had already stopped. Rhazel, Esmeray and Jia had done snow angels near the blanket the group was on.

“Come on, Vailant!” laughed Leevanna. She was doing skate tricks while her friends cheered her up. A while ago the rest had joined her, except for Eisdrache, until they had got tired and pushed Eisdrache to put on his ice skates and go.

“I’m not going to freaking skate on the freaking lake!”

“Ugh, you’re a chicken,” she laughed rolling her eyes before jumping and spinning gracefully. Leevanna had been trained when she was a kid on ballet and ice skating, so she was rather good at it. “See? Is easy!”

“I don’t want to die!” he dramatized still trying to stand up.

“You’re not going to die, Vailant” she chuckled sliding through the ice until she reached him, then she extended her hand that was covered with a black leather glove he had seen her wear before. “Take my hand,” he rolled his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Nope, not a single bit” she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t either, but I promise I will help you.”

“Fine,” he huffed taking her hand and letting himself be guided by her until they reached the middle of everything. Then she let go of his hand. “Vaughan!”

And her laugh was glorious, he hadn’t realised that before. As she was distracted in making fun of him, he caught her off guard and threw her a big snowball, which hit her straight into her face making her fall on her arse.

She growled and shook herself off the snow covering her. Now it was his turn to laugh his arse off, and that was certainly something she would never let happen.

So she made her own snowball and threw it at him, hitting him right on his lower stomach, almost between his legs, leaving him without air. However, he didn’t waste a single second in complaining before shaping another snowball, but a breeze came, and made the ice more slippery than it already was, making him fall on all fours.

Leevanna exploded in laughter seeing how the snowball he had made fell directly into his head.

“Stop laughing and help me!” he shouted, but that just made her laugh even more, so much that she fell over the ice, now making him have a laugh, but before he could even give the second ha, she had already thrown another snowball at him. And he threw another one to her. Eisdrache quickly started crawling as fast as he could and trying to get on his feet, but Leevanna was just not having it, and started chasing after him as many snowballs coming from her, hit every inch of Eisdrache’s body.

Soon they started throwing just snow on the other’s face as they struggled over the ice to see who was the weakest.

“Dance with me,” she said smiling and taking his hand to make him spin.

Eisdrache thought that her rosy cheeks and nose were prettier than the whole landscape behind them.

Their fifth year had been full of pranks, laughs and fights everywhere, and god the memories he had from that year were just so glorious.

Fifth year had been his year, yes, everything about it had been just fine.

He grinned maliciously when he saw a white-haired head from a study table in the common room, Vaughan was sitting with a lot of books around her, the same ones he had seen her carrying in the library when they met by chance. He approached her carefully and pressed her lips to avoid laughing when he saw her asleep over a book. “Boo,” he whispered in her ear.

The girl woke up suddenly by screaming as she fell out of the armchair. Eisdrache burst into laughter. “f**k!” She growled still sitting on the floor before getting up to sit again on her armchair. “I swear you rest me life years every time.”

“What are you doing here so late?” He asked her as he sat on the armchair next to her. His early morning snack could wait a few minutes.

“Homework,” she buffeted.

“You take Foreign Nonchanter Art?” he frowned.

“It's interesting and not that bad,” she shrugged. “I have Magical Art too,” a low sigh left her lips. “Did you know that Nonchanters had this thing called Realism before magic came?” he shook his head. “The artist portrayed life from the depths of an unordered urban land, and it was awesome,” she smiled enthusiastically as she showed him a page of the book. “They painted about poverty, misery and despair.”

“Why would someone paint about those things?” he looked at her with a soft frown. None of them realised they were too close, with their hands almost brushing.

She chuckled. “But look,” she pointed a picture on the page, “even if doesn't move, they painted this so well that I swear I can feel how the people felt at that time… The despair they had because there was no food or money, and they didn't know if they were going to survive.”

And he looks at her and sees her eyes sparkling as she talks about art and pretty things like that and — and he has never been so interested in something as he's now. They spent an hour or maybe two just talking and talking, well — she talks, and he hears her, smiling every time she gets mad for the things Nonchanters did before they found out about elemental magic.

“Er — oh, Gods, look at the hour,” she realises when her gaze upped to the clock. “Uttara, you should be bored of me talking and talking already.”

“Actually no,” he whispers as she grabbed her things to go and try to sleep at least one hour before classes. She hadn't listened to him. “You're still sick?” He frowned when he saw her red cheeks when he placed his hand on her forehead.

She shudders a bit at his cold touch. And he doesn't know why he put his hand. “Something like that,” she murmured by looking up, encountering with her eyes, he still didn't pull out his hand from her skin. And perhaps that is not what surprises her, but the gentleness his skin is pressed against hers, as if he was afraid to scare her. Two seconds, just two seconds of eye-contact before both realised what were they doing. “Eh, er — I — I should be going now,” she babbles getting up after he took off his hand of her and both clarified their throats.

“Er — yeah, yeah — of course,” he says also standing up and running the fingers through his hair as his left hand remains in his pocket. “You — er — your book.”

“Oh — yeah, sorry,” and she avoids all eye-contact as she grabbed the book he was handing her. “I — see you.”

“Yeah — s-see you, Vaughan,” he stuttered as both walked in different ways.

Now sixth year had been… well. A f*****g rollercoaster. He had admitted for the first time his feelings, inside his head, of course, but he had.

And that year was also the first time he — he had kissed her. He could not help and think about her.

He could not help and think about how her soft lips had pressed his, how she had caught his upper lip and how her tongue had ghosted his flesh.

He could not avoid thinking and losing himself in the memory of her shaky, cold breath with hints of cherry syrup and honey — the way he had breathed her gasps filling his mouth with her intoxicating and venomous flavour. His hands had trembled for a couple of hours after the kiss, feeling the ghost of the skin of her tender cheeks against the palm of his hands — how his fingers had been so close but so distant from her hair.

Shut me up.

For holy f**k’s sake.

The determination in her voice, all the things they said, the cold gaze she had gave him before they breathed against the other.

It had felt so good — so tasty and — it could not happen again.

A couple of days ago, her father, Nicholas Vaughan, had been at his manor, but the jade-eyed girl had not come with him. He had thanked that.

He really did not want to see her after… That.

But Eisdrache could not help it and now was wondering if she was going to come with her parents to the Winter Solstice gala in King’s castle this year like the previous five, or only her parents would come.

Fuck’s sake, mate, stop, the voice in his head snapped in a growl. What the hell was wrong with him?

Why couldn’t he push his feelings away as he had done all his life? His façade of stone faded away like smoke with the breeze in matter of bloody seconds. He was going to Obclaud.

Needs to do it or all is going to go to the same shite. He could not let his façade fall just because yes.

So, it starts.

Doesn’t need to close his eyes — and he would fall if he did it.

In his mind’s eye appears something similar to a flower book or photo album. The images of her start reproducing and his jaw clenches because he can almost smell and taste her. Two glassy jade eyes shining under the moonlight, coasts of dark green contrasting with white and fine red spider webs. A blink. Thick eyelashes and eyebrows framing clear green waters that conduce to a dark abysm nobody would ever leave. And now there is just an abysm, black and dark. No light, no moonlight, no shining.

Soft ribbons and bows. Blood-rushed but yet so cold. Warm inside. Cherry syrup and honey ghost his mouth for a second before the taste becomes bitter, fading away until it leaves him.

White spirals. Soft against the skin of his hands. It tangles in his fingers, embracing them. Now they drain, leaving his hands. It dies and becomes dark. Rough. Red fruits that now are dead against the dying grass. Wilted flowers and spring skies are frozen, the winter breathes and covers everything, burying the memories and smells with ice and snow.

The texture of her skin it’s like silk. He forgets about it. Doesn’t exist. It is now deep inside that abysm.

The flower book closes, and the essences die against the old pages. Now a trunk, small one. Dark wood and a padlock with the shape of a silver rose. The key drowns in a dark sea. He hopes it gets lost next to the trunk — next to the many others he has in that dark sea.

Now it is just a sea.

No flowers. No cherry syrup and honey.

Everything is dark. Calm.

He continues following his father among the multitude inside the ballroom of Eskarya’s castle. The king, Osnos, was in his usual throne surrounded by beautiful ladies and his offspring. His eyes divagated, trying to find Orya. He hadn’t seen her since she had practically cursed him that day by the entrance of the forest. To his surprise, he found her, wearing a pale-grey coloured gown with diamonds all over her. She had her look down and he could see the small tears pooling in her eyes. She was accompanied by a tall man, almost four inches more than her.

And Eisdrache clenched his jaw.

Thinking how he may approach without being unsubordinated, his eyes caught something near Orya. The Head of Elements.

“Father, what are the Leightons doing here?”

Luther turned his head, “I can’t even start to believe it,” they were greeting the Head of Elements, Aftan Alexus, who was greeting the king. The Lynch Family next to the Leightons and Dexter Madden. “Surely he can’t be serious,” he, hearing his father’s words, frowned his brows at him.

“Aren’t the Leightons Unpures?” he asked.

Luther Vailant narrowed his eyes at him before tapping his cane into the floor, near Eisdrache’s foot, “Don’t say that word, Eisdrache,” he growled. “Someone may hear you.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

He hated when his father did that, threaten him with his cane, he means. His father would never hurt him, he knew, that accident all those years ago was never going to repeat itself; it had been that after all, an accident. Still, Eisdrache had become aware of the consequences some of his actions may have but would never tell his father that said incident haunted him since he was a child.

Every time he committed a mistake the nervousness of waiting for a punishment was there. But he would never say it. No. Those memories are deep down the dark sea too. Shoved rudely into a dark wooden trunk and a padlock with a normal shape. He wonders how many keys and trunks are inside that deep sea. Wonders how painful it would be seeking the correct key for each of them when the water dries, and the memories lie against the black sand.

“But yes, they are,” his father huffed. “I don’t know why they are here. We better go with them,” said his father, eyes still narrowed at the traitors. “I have to speak with Aftan anyway.”

Eisdrache nodded. They had begun to walk again. “You don’t think they are going to sit with us, do you?” he asked to his father, who merely shook his head.

“I hope they don’t.”

When they reached the side next to Head of Elements,’ his father tapped his cane once against the floor, attracting the attention of the people there.

Orya included.

Her gaze collided with Eisdrache, and his eyes softened. He wanted to speak to her, he just didn’t know how.

“Oh, dear Luther!” greeted Aftan Alexus at his old friend, a smile and chuckles resonated. Eisdrache knew they were, he had seen the man before in one of the… meetings, his father had. The patriarch of the Lynchs, Hyatt Lynch, greeted Luther with a nod. “I was just greeting here some acquaintances… I reckon you know about the Lynchs and Leightons?”

Luther nodded, a closed-mouth smile on his face. “The Lynchs, yes, however I believe I haven’t yet been introduced to the Leightons,” a wry smile was given to them, nonetheless they didn’t seem to notice.

“I will introduce you then,” said Aftan very cheerful. “Luther, these are Dean and Jane Leighton, I believe their daughter, Miss Harlee is in your son’s year,” the three adults greeted themselves with handshakes, Eisdrache followed his father’s behaviour, who had secretly brushed his hand against his cloak to clean it. “Eisdrache you know Miss Leighton, am I right?”

Eisdrache smirked at Harlee, who blushed. “Yes, she and I are… acquaintances.”

Rhett Lynch grimaced and Eisdrache could see he was fisting his hands, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Eisdrache?” Mr Leighton asked. “Where is your name from?”

“My father and I happen to have Anthalian roots, from the royalty,” he answered. “My mother, Skarlova, on the other hand, is from an ancient family in Oskea, Kilska.”

Mr Leighton seemed to be taken aback by this, Eisdrache knew he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Dexter Madden rolled his eyes; Drache just raised an eyebrow at him. Eisdrache glanced at Harlee’s mother, who was whispering in her daughter’s ear something about Eisdrache.

He muted the conversation of his father and the other adults and centred himself in Mrs Leighton’s words. She wasn’t being very quiet anyways. “He seems a very handsome boy, Lee,” the woman whispered, making her daughter blush and shake her head. “What? He is from Anthal and all, you could try and get along,” and then the daughter whispered something Eisdrache couldn’t quite catch.

Eisdrache swept his eyes through the Leightons. Their clothes seemed to be mostly Non-chanter made, still they seemed to be pricy and from renown tailors. Mrs Leighton, Jane, was wearing a V-shaped floral but plain black dress which reached her knees, pearls decorating her neck and a medium-sized bag in hand. Mr Leighton, Dean, was wearing a suit, white shirt under his blazer, no tie. And their daughter was wearing a dark-grey palazzo with a bone-coloured blouse, not fit for a ball.

“Oh dear, I was looking for you.”

Eisdrache turned to see his mother, who greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a hug, and her husband gave her a kiss on the forehead.

In contrast with both the Leighton and Lynch families, Skarlova was wearing a shimmering black gown with a translucid shawl. Her neck decorated with a laced chocker with a diamond pendant. Her hair in some kind of elegant up-do. Contrary to Jane, she was wearing heels. Luther was wearing formal robes and a cloak, all black but silver buttons. Eisdrache was wearing and also black suit, covered by a cloak made of the same fabric his mother’s dress was made.

Skarlova was elegant, well-mannered and received a kiss on the back of her hand from the Head of Magic and Hyatt Lynch. The Leightons seemed fans of handshakes, clearly unaware of protocol.

That is when an idea occurred to Eisdrache. A very brilliant one.

As his father continued to speak with Aftan Alexus about some work stuff, he said, “Oh, mum, I haven’t been able yet to introduce you to Miss Orya Lukova, she is a participant also in the Paragon Tournament from Stouvania’s part.”

Orya’s eyes gleamed, however she looked first to the tall man next to her, who nodded. Eisdrache just signalled her mother to her. “Lady Vailant, a pleasure to finally meet you… The short time I spent with your son, he always spoke about you.”

“Oh, Eisdrache, you talk about your dear mother with your friends, I’m flattered,” Skarlova chuckled politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Lukova. I hope my son and you are great acquaintances.”

“Actually, it is Miss Hunter now,” interrupted the tall man. Silas Hunter. “We happily contracted nuptials a few days ago, such a shame the king didn’t let us have many guests.”

So that is what had happened. Orya’s father had pulled her out of school for her to get married to the man who had r***d her all those years ago.

Skarlova’s smile was still across her face, however Eisdrache knew she wasn’t happy with his comment. Eisdrache saw the was the corner of her lips twitched. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry Mr Silas, I didn’t happen to know about your recent wedding. I hope you and your bride are very much happy and fortunate in marriage,” Skarlova’s eyes then fixed on Orya. “Miss Lukova, I was such a great please to see you… I hope you know that as a friend of my son’s, you will be always welcome to my family’s home.”

Silas Hunter passed his hand around Orya’s waist, and Eisdrache just wanted to punch him, “My wife and I are very much grateful for your invitation.”

“Of course,” Skarlova nodded. “Now if you excuse us.”

Eisdrache nodded at the two, and grabbed Orya’s hand to kiss it, making sure he applied enough pressure with his hand to make her know he was still there for her.

With a last look, mother and son went back to their former conversation. Luther was talking with Aftan about business and Hyatt Lynch intervened a few times. So, Skarlova decided to make her evening entertained by speaking to the Leightons.

“Will you be here all night?” she asked with her best smile, arm laced with her son’s.

“Would be a pleasure, ma’am,” said Dean Leighton trying to make some kind of curtsy with his head, Eisdrache contained his mocking sneer, “but our schedule for tomorrow is a bit agitated, my wife and I have work first hour in the morning.”

“Oh,” Skarlova said, almost taken aback the wife worked. “Such a shame then you can’t be here for the announcement my family and I will be making.”

Announcement?

What announcement?

“Darling, I am sure we can call a day off,” said Jane to her husband. “If Miss Vailant is asking us to extend our stay, we sure can enjoy ourselves a bit more… Remember we barely go out.”

And Eisdrache new his mother had never asked them to stay further, she had just been polite, however he also knew that laughing his arse off would be highly inappropriate.

“Oh, I…” Dean cleared his throat. “Sure, darling, we could stay a few more hours.”

This extremely disappointed Eisdrache.

Skarlova nodded once, still smiling. “And I must say, Miss Leighton, that your pearls are exquisite, very… fashionable.”

“Thank you so much!” smiled Jane reaching her necklace with her hand. “Your clothes are also magnificent.”

“Thank you,” and Eisdrache just wanted to laugh. “Do enjoy… yourselves,” she gave them a last smile and the Unpure family went on their way after saying their goodbyes.

Eisdrache could hear Harlee’s mother talking about him and how handsome he was, and did you see that woman? His mother? Oh she was so gorgeous!

He just rolled his eyes.

Pfft.

“Pretty dress,” his mother said. “Though the daughter, what was her name? Oh, doesn’t matter — certainly doesn’t know how to dress for a formal occasion like this.” Eisdrache chuckled.

His eyes divagate around the ballroom once more, this time looking for someone else.

“Are you looking for someone, Eisdrache?” his father asked curiously, provoking him to give a small jump.

“No,” he answered immediately. “I was… I was only watching,” his father looked at him for a second, then nodded and sat in his respective place to continue his talk with Aftan. Eisdrache was grateful that he hadn’t asked any more questions. Or he wouldn’t know how to answer them. He himself hadn’t had the slightest idea of what the f*****g hell was happening to him.

“Ah, here they are.”

His mother’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

His eyes went to a family of three arriving at the ball.

Oh, f**k.