You can reach the top but you can never last very long up there. People can mess up even the simplest things.
Felis was unusually quiet. He didn't roam around like a fool as he usually did, which caught my attention. When I looked up at him, the reason became clear. He looked guilty.
"Felis," I began, and he didn't protest at the use of his name.
"Yes, my Lord?" he responded cautiously.
"There, now you're being polite to me," I chuckled, causing his jaw to tense up.
"I'm alright," I assured him and he immediately looked down.
I sighed. "But seriously, I've survived torture far worse than this. How do you think hunters treat a mixed-blood if they manage to capture one?"
Well, not very nicely.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his guilt evident.
"You really have nothing to apologize for," I said, pulling up my socks. "If I wanted to, I'd have killed the bitch."
During our conversation, this was perhaps the statement that surprised him the most.
"It was a test," I explained.
"What test?" he frowned, now more curious than before.
"I was simply curious to see your reaction," I shrugged.
"What?" he exclaimed, clearly bewildered.
"Give me a stone," I instructed, and though he eyed me strangely, he fetched one from the garden through the balcony door and placed it in my hand.
"Listen closely, Felis," I said, tightening my grip. "Mixed-bloods are hated and called mongrels, but only because people are afraid of them."
As I opened my hand, I revealed its contents. A gentle breeze swept into the room, carrying away some of the sandy dust. Felis couldn't believe his eyes.
"How did you do that?!" he gasped.
"It's the power of a mixed-blood," I grinned. "I could have grabbed her throat and crushed it with a squeeze," I admitted nonchalantly, "but that wasn't necessary."
Standing up, I placed my hand on the mage's shoulder.
"At least now I understand why Mazen keeps you around," I remarked.
Felis closed his eyes. It was then that he truly understood the tight feeling in his chest whenever he was in Mazen's presence. He felt jealous and fearful that his master might no longer need him. He resented me because he was afraid of losing his place next to Mazen. Now he realized he didn't need to compete with me.
"You'll be late for breakfast," he muttered and quietly left the room.
I couldn't help but be amused. Humans were indeed very intriguing creatures.
Frankly, I was early for breakfast. Mazen was nowhere to be seen yet. I continued to sketch idly, occasionally glancing out at the garden through the windows. A bit later, the tranquility of the morning was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching once more.
This time, it was Mazen who entered the room with his usual air of calculated composure. His gaze flickered across the room, pausing momentarily on me before settling on the desk.
"I trust everything is in order," he stated more as a confirmation than a question, his tone giving away nothing.
He sat down.
"Of course," I replied casually, setting aside my sketch and meeting his gaze evenly.
He studied me for a moment, his piercing gaze seeming to search for something beneath the surface. Satisfied with whatever he found, he nodded once.
Mazen's servants quietly entered the room to set the table for breakfast. Among them was Felis, who moved with a newfound hesitation in his step. Mazen's keen perception would not miss the change in his demeanor, and I watched as he subtly assessed the situation.
Breakfast was served—a spread of fruits, breads, and delicate pastries.
We began our meal in the quiet elegance of the morning light filtering through the windows.
"You've noticed it too, haven't you?" Mazen finally spoke, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge of curiosity.
"Yes," I replied evenly, meeting his gaze. "Felis seems... different today."
Mazen nodded. "Indeed. It seems he's beginning to accept your presence."
I shrugged.
After a moment of silence, he looked at me thoughtfully. "In any case, today will be a busy day. We have preparations to make for the coronation."
I nodded, understanding the underlying message. "Including shopping," I replied, recalling his earlier plans.
Mazen inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Yes, including shopping," he confirmed. "I trust you'll be ready this afternoon?"
"Of course," I assured him with a nod.
"Good," he said simply, and we returned to our breakfast in comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts as the morning unfolded around us.
Mazen finally settled on the perfect coat of arms—a black panther. When I asked him why he chose it, he explained with conviction, "Panthers are proud, noble creatures, and deadly. They embody the qualities I wish to project."
I didn't share with him that his efforts were in vain, and I had no intention of surrendering my throne.
Mazen decided to bring Felis and me along. To be honest, I wasn't much help. We wandered into Pitou's emporium, a place reminiscent of a supermarket but filled with dark enchantments, cursed books, and glass jars of potion ingredients. Mazen, however, was focused solely on finding his coronation attire and paid no heed to the arcane items surrounding us.
He spent three hours meticulously examining the fabrics before he found one that met his standards.
"Maaaazen," I began, interrupting his concentration, "why is this so important?"
He shot me a piercing look, clearly annoyed at the interruption, before answering, "The coronation attire is crucial. It must reflect a person's heritage, affiliations, and ideals. Vampires, fae, and other races wear their traditional garments to express their identity and principles."
"Boring," I sighed.
He cracked a small smile but resumed his negotiation with the shopkeeper. The poor mage had tears in her eyes for the third time as Mazen lectured her on the nuances of different shades. It seems selecting ceremonial attire was second nature to Mazen, akin to choosing a piece of jewelry for a special occasion. After much deliberation, Mazen settled on midnight blue.
To my surprise, Mazen turned to me with a contemplative expression. "You'll need attire as well," he declared, his tone firm yet thoughtful.
I blinked in astonishment. "What? Why?"
"You will accompany me to the coronation," Mazen stated matter-of-factly. "It's customary for the ruler's closest confidant to be present."
I was taken aback by Mazen's unexpected gesture. The idea of attending his coronation as his confidant puzzled me. It was a role I hadn't anticipated.
Mazen turned back to the shopkeeper, dismissing any further questions on the matter. He scanned the racks of garments with renewed focus, occasionally pulling out a robe or tunic to inspect its fabric and craftsmanship.
After some deliberation, Mazen selected a deep blue robe embellished with gold-threaded patterns that shimmered like sunlight filtering through leaves. It was elegant yet understated, a stark contrast to his own elaborate attire.
"There," Mazen said, handing the garment to me. "This should suffice."
I accepted it cautiously, still processing Mazen's unexpected decision. It was a subtle acknowledgment of my role in his plans, a gesture that carried more weight than words could express.
As we left Pitou's emporium, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Mazen's expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes—a rare glimpse of vulnerability beneath his composed facade.
Later that evening, in the quiet of my chambers, I examined the tunic Mazen had chosen for me. Its rich blue hue reminded me of the sky. Holding the fabric in my hands, I couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of confusion and conflict.
Tomorrow, the game would reach its conclusion, one way or another.
That night, after Mazen had fallen into a deep slumber, I slipped away from my chambers and made my way stealthily through the dimly lit corridors of the castle. The air was heavy with the stillness of night, broken only by the faint echoes of distant footsteps.
With each step, my heart pounded in anticipation and apprehension. The runes, etched with meticulous precision, glowed faintly with arcane power as I approached them. They were meant to safeguard Mazen's inner sanctum, a labyrinth of secrets and defenses designed to shield his most prized possessions.
I knew erasing even a few of these runes would not be easy. They were infused with ancient magic, woven into the very fabric of the building's structure. As I reached out to touch the first rune, a surge of raw energy shot through my fingertips, sending a jolt of searing pain up my arm.
I gritted my teeth against the agony, my muscles tensing involuntarily. Sweat beaded on my brow as I fought to maintain my focus, pushing past the burning sensation that threatened to overwhelm me. With each rune I erased, the pain intensified, as if the building itself resisted my intrusion, fighting to protect its master's secrets.
Yet, I persisted. The runes flickered and dimmed under my claws, their arcane symbols fading into nothingness like whispers lost in the wind. Each erasure was a battle of wills, a test of endurance against forces unseen but keenly felt.
By the time I had erased a handful of runes, my entire body throbbed with exhaustion. Every breath was a struggle, every movement an exertion of willpower over physical torment. I staggered back from the last remaining rune, my vision swimming with fatigue and pain.
Collapsing against the cool stone wall, I closed my eyes and focused on regulating my breathing. The residual echoes of magic lingered in the air, a testament to the power I had just challenged. The building seemed to sigh around me, its ancient walls whispering secrets that only Mazen was privy to.
As I gathered my strength, I knew there would be consequences to my actions. The pain would linger, a reminder of the boundaries I had dared to cross. But I also knew that Lil, with her cunning and expertise, would seize this opportunity to breach Mazen's defenses.
With a deep breath, I pushed myself upright and steadied my trembling limbs. The night was far from over. But for now, I had fulfilled my part.
Turning away from the runes, I retraced my steps through the silent corridors, back to the sanctuary of my room. The weight of what I had done settled upon me like a cloak, heavy and inscrutable.
As I slipped back into bed, the pain slowly ebbed into the background, replaced by a sense of grim satisfaction. The game was set, the pieces in motion. And in the heart of the castle, Mazen slept on, unaware of the storm brewing just beyond his defenses.
(...)
Simon came in the middle of the night.
"We are coming."
That was all he said. Memories say more than a thousand words.
Although Willingham seemed to be their ally in the fight against Mazen, Rolo, and Alex visited Babel's secret chamber almost every day to observe his movements. Upon their return home, they found the others gathered in the kitchen, including Luna.
The atmosphere was tense, signaling that this would be the final war council before the impending battle.
"The protective spells have weakened drastically," Lilinette declared as soon as Rolo and Alex entered. "I suspect Shay is behind this."
"Can you get us inside?" the familiar unfamiliar hunter asked.
"No problem," the woman replied confidently. "Let's strategize our next move."
"Our goal is total annihilation," the hunter insisted vehemently. Why does his tone sound familiar? "We must eliminate them all!"
"I concur," Lilinette agreed. "If we don't strike now, they'll retaliate with even greater force."
"Then it's settled," nodded Mica.
"Since I have studied the enemy extensively, I'll outline the strategy," Lilinette asserted, taking full command of the meeting. With no objections raised, she proceeded.
"Moses and Luna's skills will be invaluable for securing the mansion from the outside," Lilinette continued. "This is crucial because the mages may attempt to flee before we can reach them. Dénes' men will be positioned strategically in the grand hall to intercept any escapees."
"They are not expendable," the hunter protested sternly. "I will not send them to certain death."
"Willingham will accompany them," Rolo interjected. "He has likely already secured the loyalty of some."
The man looked surprised, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"We've been monitoring him closely," Alex added. "He's been in contact with your men."
"I'll find out which traitors I need to deal with," the hunter growled under his breath. "I can't believe that Willingham could sway even one of my men!"
"Very well," Lilinette acknowledged. "Mazen spends most of his day in his study, so we'll strike there. We'll need additional reinforcements to guard the corridors and prevent his loyalists from interfering."
"I'll handle that," Coffee volunteered. "Will ten battle-hardened vampires suffice?"
"Make it fifteen," Lilinette agreed decisively. "Better safe than sorry."
"Then the rest of us," she gestured to the remaining group, "will confront Mazen directly."
They all nodded in agreement.
"But we must proceed cautiously," Lilinette cautioned, her gaze shifting to Alex's finger where a gleaming gold ring caught her eye. "If Mazen spots me, he might flee. I'll need to remain hidden, and I'll provide support from the rear."
"Is everyone clear on their roles?" Lilinette asked.
They nodded solemnly.
"One more thing," the woman added. "Shay may not recognize you."
The hunter tightened his grip on his sword, a grim determination etched on his face, and silently exited the kitchen.
The time had come. Lilinette cast a spell that transported them swiftly to the outskirts of Mazen's mansion. She surveyed each member of the team before casting another spell, causing them to vanish from sight. Only Luna and Moses remained behind.
Perched on Luna's shoulder was an unusual plush lion-like creature, while a white rabbit lay atop her head. In her hands, she held figurines of a cat and a dog.
"I'll need a strong magic circle," Moses declared, breaking the silence. Luna approached him with a sweet smile and took his hand gently. Her touch was delicate, causing Moses to blush slightly, distracted momentarily by the rabbit's sarcastic remarks.
Feeling nervous, Moses focused on the meditation techniques he had practiced with Lilinette, calming his racing heart and steadying his mind.
"Alright, now focus on each other and your energies," Luna instructed softly.
Mose closed his eyes, then began to murmur melodiously. When he opened his eyes again, the threads of magic slowly appeared before his eyes, almost one by one. Long, thread-thin strands snaked through the air around each of them. Mose's eyes widened, for the empaths were able to completely attune themselves to each other as if they were one person with immense magical power. The colour of their energies took on the lovely blue glow of Luna's as the threads intertwined. Her form was almost covered in the threads.
The colour of Mose's magic was a light orange, though he had only a few long strands that danced around his thin form in a slow, steady float. Then his threads slowly stretched out towards Luna, and when he pulled them towards himself, they became orange instead of blue.
Luna helped him a lot, giving him the magical energy in steady waves that adapted almost instantly to Moses' magic. The threads danced and merged, creating a complex web of magical power that enveloped them both.
With a final flourish, Moses pricked his fingertip with a needle, allowing a few drops of his blood to fall onto the ground as he completed the spell.
"Close the gates of magic, no enemy may escape," he commanded solemnly.
"What kind of ridiculously long incantation is that?" scoffed Dimitri, the rabbit on Luna's head.
"Didn't you notice, Dimitri?" Luna replied with a serene smile. "It's the most potent port inhibition spell I've encountered."
Indeed, a radiant orange dome materialized around Mazen's mansion, visible to all with its powerful aura of protection.
Meanwhile, Coffee dispatched another mage with a swift strike of her spear, observing that Lilinette's foresight was accurate. Many mages were converging towards Mazen's study, likely to either aid their leader or seek refuge under his protection. Despite the formidable force of fifteen battle-hardened vampires from her father's army, they faced a daunting challenge in holding off the mages.
Coffee estimated that not many more would arrive. After ten intense minutes, their numbers began to dwindle, leaving only scattered skirmishes to contend with.