The Severaine

Chapter Seven The Seduction of Aimbria-3

“What are you?” she whispered. As he turned to face her, she once more felt the wave of dizziness, but as her vision once more sharpened it fell not upon the short bald man. Instead an overlapping image grew in solidity until the short man was no more. A tall slender figure stood before her, his hand brushed back a section of his long blond hair that had fallen forward over his shoulder as he had turned to look at her questioningly.

For a moment, the look she received implied confusion, as if there was something he couldn't quite understand. This was true, in all the time he had lived there were but a few people who could reject his control. He had known there was something different about her when she had arrived on the island. The woman this young lady knew as Zoe had sensed in her a potential, and he liked to recruit all with such talents. This island served a higher purpose and he could feel her energy had already aligned to it. She belonged here, like the others he had recruited. She would serve him well; the island had already accepted her. He saw the heat rise to her face as his eyes penetrated into her very core. He normally had no difficulty distinguishing a creature's race when they came to him, but she was different. He had not come across one of her before, whatever she was.

“It seems you're immune to my talent.” He smiled, and his appearance was not the only thing to change; his voice was now filled with honeyed richness, soothing and hypnotic as he spoke. “I cannot permit you to leave. You must feel it, you belong here, on this island, with me. But before then, I must claim just a part of you, so you, I, and this island can truly become one. Don't fight it. I promise, if you don't resist you'll find it most pleasurable.” The seductive words rolled from his tongue as Acha fought the urge to follow the alluring sound of his voice. She fought the desire to step closer to him as a burning warmth filled her cheeks. Something about him drew her to him. She yearned to be in his embrace, her body whispered of how appealing, how magnificent, it would be to surrender to him.

“My friends will notice I'm gone. They'll find me, they'll…” She struggled to force her voice above a whisper as he met her response with another smile. Most by now were unable to resist the urge to walk forward to his embrace, let alone find their voice to challenge him.

“They'll think whatever I tell them, just like Chrissie's guardian,” he whispered softly, beckoning for her to approach. She felt her breath hitch. “I could even have them forget you ever existed, if I wanted.”

“Then she is here,” Acha uttered weakly. She knew she was losing the battle. Something more primal was taking hold, and she realised she'd already taken her first steps towards him. She could smell his sweet aroma, a scent that made her want to think about nothing but the two of them, causing another flush of colour to her cheeks. She could almost taste him, her body yearned to be with him, to feel his touch, his embrace. He moved quickly to take her in his arms. Her legs weakened as his tender hand traced down the contours of her back. She felt herself becoming light, her weight now only supported by his gentle grip as he pulled her closer towards him.

“Of course, but you won't tell anyone. You won't even be remembered. It's not very often I meet someone who can challenge my power. It's perhaps wiser to offer you to him whole.” Acha looked up to see the fractures in the world around her, shadows from inside the other reality coiling around Fenris to accept his offering as she fed them both. Despite the horror of all she saw she felt peaceful, comfortable in his embrace. “You're feeling very tired,” he whispered seductively in her ear. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he pulled her body next to his, his voice danced within her mind.

She found herself powerless to move, but she didn't want to, not anymore. She was sure there was something important, a reason to resist him, but like her control, she felt all resistance slip away. The scent of him so close, the feeling of what they shared was beautiful. She felt his hand caress her through her clothing as he pulled her deeper into his embrace. She heard herself moan at his touch. She felt the warmth of his lips on hers, and the agonising pain of something else tearing through her at his touch, but she could no longer scream, no longer fight. She knew then she was going to die.

* * *

Night paced the room. Never, when he had envisioned the return of the final Grimoire, had he expected this. This, the final revenge gifted upon him by the Hoi Hepta Sophoi. Had they known he would retrieve them, had they known what would be returned to him if he succeeded in reclaiming that which they had stripped from him? He had wanted to be whole, complete, and now he felt anything but.

His judgement was clouded, thoughts that were once so clear now in disarray. He had doubts, he questioned himself, he felt guilt. He dwelt on such things, unable to push them aside to be forgotten. Should he be able to return to that moment he would prevent this curse, prevent this hindrance from being returned. How had he ever lived with such a burden before?

These emotions, these feelings, all the traits associated with the humanity he had long forgotten, had not been missed. He had relished their loss, but with the release of the Grimoire so too had things he himself had sealed been unleashed. What if this tome had been the first to cross his threshold, would he then have sought the release of the others, or would he have perhaps found solace in his daughter, would she have been enough to still his ambition? Perhaps, but he could not allow himself to entertain such foolish notions.

Elly knew him well. It would not have been long before she realised something was amiss. He had directed them towards a new task, ensuring they could not discover his secret, discover her. He had presented Hades with no time constraints to reach his decision, but he had done so quicker than had been anticipated. The ruler of the underworld, Lord of the Dead, was wise indeed, and had agreed to Night's request with little delay. It was torture in itself being granted what he desired. Now instead of the failing life-force of his daughter fading into non-existence in the underworld, she did so before his eyes.

There was only one place that could hope to delay the inevitable, and that was the very room he had stripped her of life. The heptagonal room, a convergence point of the oldest magic known. It was here she now lay sleeping, unaware of the music created as the finely crafted points of this room pierced dimensions. It soon became apparent even such primal magic could do nothing.

When Hades had claimed her, she had been a shell, barely a wisp of her own essence had remained, and all the magic in the universe seemed unable to restore what she had lost. He seemed fated to watch her die once more. A damp cloth rested lightly upon her forehead, kept cool in a vain attempt to reduce the fever that plagued her spirit, but he knew this was but an exercise in stalling the inevitable.

Hades had tried to warn him. Even he, who had seen so many shades pass into his world, had never seen one as frail as her. Persephone had watched over her, donning her in robes infused by her own powers, but there had been no alteration. Regardless of the warnings Night had decided to take her, in hope that he may somehow succeed where Hades himself had failed. The Lord of the Underworld had so many to watch over, to care for, and he had just her.

He stroked her hair. She was the image of her mother except for her eyes, the one discernible feature she had inherited from him. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. But what parent did not think that of their own child? He watched for endless hours, his vision fixed on the rise and fall of her chest as she took shallow breaths. Each exhale brought fear until her chest rose once more. He had lost time beyond measure seated beside her. What good were his reclaimed powers if he could not use them to save the only one who mattered?

The situation was grave. Although her life-force had grown stronger, she was weakened, unable to gather the spiritual energy she needed to wake. Originally he had shared Hades' theory, that this was a result of her life-force being divided and slowly absorbed when Marise came into being. But now he had his own theory, after all, Marise was still whole without her, and he was certain the blame lay with him. He had worked so hard to ensure things fell into place, that events occurred in order to break her spirit. Then to deepen the wound he had informed her of her mother's death, implying that she was to blame.

“Zoella, I am sorry,” he whispered. He knelt beside her as she lay on the cool floor, and he brushed his hand gently through her hair once more. “It wasn't your fault.”

He had chosen to revive the world, to punish those who r***d it, but in order to achieve this the sacrifice of his daughter had been required. He foolishly had paid the price willingly. Had he refused Gaea would have died, and the world too would perish. But he questioned the meaning of a world where the only people worthy of redemption had already been lost.

He looked at his reflection in the glass, looking at what he had become. There was a time when all that concerned him was the safety of his family, nothing else had mattered. He had once arranged for Blackwood to protect his daughter, and for Elly, who was in his care, to train her. All this in the hope that she could protect her mother when the assassins returned. He had known all about them, he had, after all, rescued Kezia from them once before. Her family had once protected a great secret, one passed from mother to daughter. There were few who knew of its existence and those who did wanted it for their own. It was a secret almost as old as the sun, but with it came a curse of death.

“If anyone failed to protect her… it was me.” He sighed again; there were so many doubts, things that haunted him, and with each doubt came a valid response.

'What if the Hoi Hepta Sophoi hadn't taken his powers? What if he hadn't gathered them? What if he had silenced Eryx instead of leaving?' To each doubt his mind returned to an answer concerning the prophecy. If the Hoi Hepta Sophoi never were, then the prophecy could never be. If Eryx had been silenced then he could not have completed his role in the events that would occur. Each looped around to the death of his closest friend Gaea and the death of her star. Yet all was not as it should be. Since Marise's return he had been gifted with another prophecy, one which troubled him greatly, an event that could not be allowed to come to pass. Despite the prophecy of his daughter's death being fulfilled, the future still seemed to be in jeopardy.

He moved once more to stand beside her. There were things he had yet to do. He had promised Gaea he would visit to see how she fared against the Severaine. She grew tired trying to create dominance over the wild power, perhaps there was a chance she never could.

“Until you wake, sweet dreams.” He knelt down, kissing her forehead tenderly. Realising his own words, he smiled for the first time in what seemed to be a very long time.