The Vampire's Edenian Inamorata

Her Tower’s Encroaching Pariah

Evæt į sümeër` vâ kęwž xīltÿ ó påcæü`

(Even in sleep, she knows little of peace.)

Shadows grazed the marble walls within Tôpęshnå’s chamber. The outer shutters rattled, and the breeze swept in. Chills bubbled on her skin, and the hairs stretched toward the heavens. Not even the furs could keep her flesh warm.

Lurking in the corner, eyes bright and crimson, Sövœk watched her body contort and twist under the hides.

Glistening beads formed along her forehead and trickled through her unruly mane.

Staying within the depths of Lebab proved difficult. He so craved more of her life essence. Cursing under his breath, Sövœk shifted between the shadows and sat at the end of her bed.

Gulping hard, he leaned in.

Her breasts, decadent sponges of gold and roses, splayed before him. He climbed atop her, gliding his wet tongue across his sharp canines.

The heat from her chest sent butterflies through his stomach. Her cheeks blushed, and subtle moans escaped her.

“If only I could wander through dreams,” he whispered, brushing his fingers through her hair. “I might find yours rather dark. Erotic.” He pressed his lips unto Tôpęshnå’s, savoring her.

To his surprise, she bit down on his lip, drawing a river of black from his vermilion border. He chuckled as he pulled back, gazing into her piercing orbs. “Have you forgotten so soon, Little Dove?”

“Blessings from the river of Aüstøsæ were to keep you—”

“You know little of the world, mortal. My veins coveted Aüstøsæ gold for many moons. It does not keep me from you.”

Contempt glazed her eyes as she erected from beneath her ox hide. Huffing, her nose pressed against his, she hissed, “The world was blessed with us in mind. Lest you forget the harrowing spells my people endured for the sake of your ill-begotten creatures.”

Invisible sparks rippled down Sövœk’s spine, and her scent invaded his nostrils. His lips curled into a wicked smile. “My creatures concern you not, Little Dove.” He gripped her throat, then growled in her ear, “There are far worse anomalies than shadow feeders. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The tip of his tongue danced along the edge of her earlobe, inviting tints of scarlet to surface on her flesh.

“N-no,” she mustered. “None are ghastlier than their thirst for mortal blood. They are a part of you, which makes you no better than spikes on a rose.”

“A rose?” He chuckled, releasing her. “Flowers are delicate. Fragile. It tempts fingers to pluck its velvet petals until it is raw and headless, my dear. But it will bloom once again, brighter and grander than the last. You think me a beautiful rose?”

Cupping her neck, Tôpęshnå heaved. She looked up at his towering figure, a glint of fear scattered in her irises. “Speculate—not—my tongue, Devil!”

“T’was your words that spoke justly… The yarn of a sinner’s heart.”

Not long after, her cheeks flushed, and Sövœk dissipated to nothing more than granular specks of ash. Within his dust, twinkles of glittering gold shards appeared, thrusting themselves through the open sill of her window.

Glancing behind, he chuckled, then clung to the marbled exterior. Peering from the corner, he studied Tôpęshnå’s still frame. Like her temple, she was a statue. Every curve—from her shoulders to her hips—was carved to perfection. No blemish to behold.

She rose from the hides and stood before the flickering spit; a freshly-caught roasting duck that her gut-filled worshipper gifted, no doubt.

Her hand reached out for the metal end, but she sibilated as her fingers grazed its heated surface. Cursing under her breath, she strode toward a wicker basket and withdrew a clay vase and small cloth, then sat beside her in-ground bath.

He returned, steadily trickling through the cracks within the sill, and shifted under the hides, clinging to the straw matting that kept her above the ground. As he awaited her return, Sövœk watched as her covering fell from her figure and kissed the floor. Sövœk’s loose form vibrated, his hunger unwaning.

And the cloth she held was drenched in a red liquid. Not like that of crimson or carmine, but of dark cherry and burgundy. Though concentrated on her slender fingers, she massaged the cloth down her arms until they reached her collar bone.

Just as the paintings he had once admired from the villages he ravaged, the red liquid dripped like candle wax over Tôpęshnå’s breasts and down her belly. A hue of marigold glistened on the substance from the growing fire under the browning duck.

Truly spectacular and glorious, he thought, recalling the night of her induction in Babel…

XXX

Before the rise of Ęrêmø’s light, Jäcûlę sent forth the Seven Sisters to retrieve him. Each brought a trinket from their dwellings: Jealousy bestowed a golden crown woven with deep red roses; Deception, akin to Jealousy, blessed him with rings of silver that were dipped in cherry wine; Strife beseeched him with a golden apple; Klothod brought forth a blood totem, laced with the river of Aüstøsæ; Power strode forward and gifted him twelve crates of sapphire, topaz, emerald, and jacinth; Error approached and knelt before him, kissing his feet before returning to her sisters; finally, The Worst wrapped him in perfume, wreaking of death, that subtly warmed his chest.

The last gift displeased him. And though he profusely refused their auspicious gathering of the Gods and Angels, thereafter, his curiosity bested him.

From the Chariots of Fire, they breached Helix. The blazing orb which loomed behind sullen cotton, requested by Jäcûlę, appeased Sövœk. Aware of Ęrêmø’s tendencies to tarnish those who opposed Him, Sövœk would have ceased to exist upon arriving at his humble palace.

In awe of the brilliant kaleidoscope pillars that were erected from the base of calypso coral clouds, Sövœk gawked at the mural of Terra held up by them. The memories of every stroke tightened his chest, but he froze at the sight of the woman he had diminished many moons ago. A halo of gold was braided into her curls, her eyes closed, while she carried a small homunculus—the still child he drained. Clenching his jaw, he turned away and followed the others into a rather large forum.

The center overlooked the distant ball of sea and land, which mortals called Terra. From Helix, it looked magnificent and calm. Far from what could be proclaimed from the grounds of that pitiful planet. Suddenly, a bolt of light sprung from Terra’s atmosphere and erupted within Helix.

Gods and Angels gazed at the brilliant light hovering above them. Ęrêmø, smirking at His subjects, stepped down from His invisible ladder, holding a babe of similar size to the one Sövœk had first consumed.

“Kindred of this realm,” Ęrêmø boomed. “Look upon me—for I grant you salvation through her!”

Some of the Angels, frail and trembling, kneeled before Him, their thousand pearly eyes glued to the crystalized floor. They whispered amongst themselves, joyful for the gleaming infant in Ęrêmø’s clutches.

Clinging to the shadows, Sövœk crept past unfamiliar gods in garish fashions and traipsed to an opening behind a golden curtain. As though he had forgotten to breathe, he gasped, his irises pulsating.

Jäcûlę appeared beside him, grasping his hand. Squeezing it gently. Her pity spread across her pursed smile, her eyes darting away toward the stars. “She is beautiful, no?” she asked him.

“I have seen mortals more beautiful than she. Alas, none were ever meant to last in my presence.” He broke away from her and glanced through the flapping curtain.

She was, indeed, fair and innocent. All things that he reminisced about and dreamt. The babe was wrapped in milky wool, with swirls of dark bronze atop her head propped on Ęrêmø’s upper arm.

And as He turned toward the curtain, Sövœk gripped the fabric, his lips parting.

The infant stared at him, eyes wide and sparkling. Those eyes of amethyst and sapphire which bore into his, sent palpitations coursing through his chest.

So precious a gift was held before Sövœk, he could not bear her gaze. Could not look upon her without the memories of his past conjuring in his mind.

“Come, Spirit,” Ęrêmø jeered. “See what I have created.”

And Sövœk did, composed and void of emotion.

Amused, Ęrêmø strode toward Sövœk, his smile spitefully crooked. “Come to pay your respects, or do I sense longing to receive forgiveness?”

“Strange. It is naught for me to miss a thorn in my crown nor a pebble in my thong. It was Jäcûlę—her messengers’ will—who brought me to this forsaken realm.”

Gritting his teeth, Ęrêmø conjured from His belly an egregious chuckle. “Her name slips from your lips like butter. Tell me, Vampire, why adorn yourself in prominence, when the one before you is designed to unravel your nest within moments.”

Sövœk smiled and bowed, glancing at the babe before ushering himself away in search of the Seven Sisters. Êyį vøl, if she lives past maturity, he thought to himself, it will be of my will alone that I destroy everything precious to Him.

XXX

She climbed into her bath and submerged herself, washing away the residue of the mysterious liquid she cleansed herself with. During this time, Sövœk surfaced from the hides and meshed with the ground, hoping he could surprise her as she rose from the water. However, the door leading to the steps outside opened. And so, he returned to his place of hiding.

Įyúlö stepped forth into the sacred room, sniffing the air like that of a hound and twisting around in search of something. She eyed the bed and stormed across. Before she could set her hands on the ox hide, Tôpęshnå stood behind her and asked, “Is something the matter, Węlnœ?”

Startled, Įyúlö wobbled back, clutching her chest.

Her wild display tempted Sövœk’s silent chortles as if begging to expose him. At a glance, the hag’s frame mirrored that of Tôpęshnå—slender and refined, with a soft glow to her olive skin. The wrinkles beside her sagging eyes, however, held secrets within their folds.

“Êyį vøl!” Įyúlö cried. “Do you wish me death, child?”

“Never that,” Tôpęshnå replied. “Please, rest by the fire. I will fetch you some water and linen.”

“Bah!” Įyúlö adjusted herself, still eyeing the hide. “You must come with me. I sense a darkness… Come. Come!”

“Worry not, Węlnœ. It is only rest that I need.” Kissing Įyúlö’s forehead, Tôpęshnå slid under the ox hide, resting her head against a stack of cotton. “The moon is high above the horizon. Return come morrow. I shall wait for you at the steps below—”

So fast was Įyúlö to grasp Tôpęshnå’s wrist, inhaling the scent from her locks. “Have you cleansed?”

Shocked, Tôpęshnå nodded, her lips refusing to answer.

Without uttering another word, Įyúlö left the chamber. The door slammed, vibrating the walls.

Unleashing a ball of air, Tôpęshnå scurried from the covers and approached the fire once more. Her eyes glared into the flickering embers. The hues glowed and meshed within her irises. Wicked and bright. Tears rolled off her cheeks as she glided toward the open window. The milky orb that loomed above the temple gleamed against the rolling clouds. Stars twinkled around it, with streaks of stardust gracing the violet sky.

The surrounding trees swayed, with invisible creatures calling out to one another.

“Løma ün`Węlnœ,” she called out, “Bring silence and peace this twilight. Giveth unto me blissful slumber, for I cannot bear this task with a heavy heart. I…” Her lips tremble as her glistening eyes gaze at the moon. “My people are burdened by a great evil, and something pulls me toward it; like an undying flame that kindles my breasts with warmth. Grant me visions to overcome the beasts that dwell in the earth’s bottomless cavern. Let me serve Him well—”

Įyúlö burst through the door, with cloaked maidens fashioned in rose and lavender regalia at her side. “The time for your cleansing has come,” she proclaimed. “He has spoken to me in thought. We are to deliver you to the mouth of Aüstøsæ.”

Gulping hard, Tôpęshnå nodded and ambled her way to the lot. She graced the maidens with a smile, then draped herself in fine spider silk linen.

After they left, Sövœk seeped out into a pile of sand beside the stack of hay and swirled into his mortal figure. He pondered by the fiery spit, thinking of this and that. A summoning from Ęrêmø, deemed an omen by his fledglings, meant something far worse than Tôpęshnå’s unknown prowess.

He abandoned her temple and fled to his nest in Lebab, tasking subjects he found along the way to impede the women’s travel. It was time he sought the Seven Sisters’ council for what he bore witness to in Babel.