When Blood Runs Cold - Chapter 248

“This is Serena’s battle, but I know she can handle it,” Fangorn assures, patting my arm through a leather glove before wiping off the debris from his clothes. Forging weapons is a messy business, especially since half of those that you create are designed to kill your own kind. It makes me glad that Fangorn, as per his usual standard, decided to dress appropriately, for if he managed to acquire himself another silver scar Lilyana would surely have his head.

Sucking in my cheeks, I turn for a minute to gaze out onto the war camp that has become my kingdom, fiddling with my rings to aid the jitteriness of my nerves. It is almost bittersweet, my situation. To have united every other vampire and angel in a treaty of peace, aside from the very one that I truly wanted to unite with, the very woman that sparked all of this.

Languorously, I glance back towards my palace, towards that gleaming marble giant that glistens in the sparkles of the early morning sun, and towards the gardens were we once shared our more private talks.

A sigh escapes my lips.

Now the only reminder that I have of her presence is an empty seat beside my throne, and the aching tingle of a distant bond in the back of my mind, all but buried into non existence. It has been a while since I have felt so…  empty.

I bite the inside of my cheek as a wind blows up around. Out of sheer reflex, the wings on my back rustle with irritation.

It is at this point I realise I have been too hooked up in my own thoughts to even answer Fangorn.

“As ever,” I sigh longingly, “You are right Fangorn.” I allow myself a moment longer to reminisce on my wife, but it is a moment that passes far too quickly.

“When am I not?” he grins, jabbing me in the ribs with his elbow with a good natured wink in my direction. No doubt to lighten the mood. But such an atmosphere of foreboding has fallen over Sezeria now that even Fangorn’s jokes cannot lift the blanket of dread that has placed itself over us.

I resume my gaze to the city.

Watching the Folk, vampires and angels milling around Sezeria, testing weapons, armour, actually working together, is a sight I would never have thought myself to see in a million years further. But here we are, side by side, relentlessly testing and training each other with the tips and tricks of battle that have been stowed away in our respective clans for years prior. I suppose it is only natural that with such at stake, and people already being shaken to the notion of what Azrael plans to do to the world, that an unexpected collision would happen between our kind. Even if that is a rather awkward (but much needed) reunion, it will last us years to come.

“How are things at the forges?” I ask curiously, glancing over to Fangorn for more the need of idle talk. He gives a long shrug, shaking some metal chisels from his tool belt.

“So so. Mostly everyone has been getting along with enough decency, but there have been some-”

A lump of uncleaved metal goes flying down the other end of the street, sending food bowls from the dispensary clattering over the cobbled road. He winces.

“…Technical issues. Mostly we have trouble getting the vampires to learn the forging techniques. They are rather impatient.”

I bite my lip.

Of course, there is a manner of dubiousness amongst each species, there always will be. There are always some, the bravest of which like Ithuriel, who will manage to intermingle without question. But it’s been three days, and the memories of war and bitter resentment are still fresh in the minds of many. Expecting such raw emotions to fade overnight would be naive of me at best.

But the point is, they are trying, and that is all that counts.

“Did any more leave?” I ask nonchalantly to the vampire who lounges beside me, taking a well earned break from the neverending toils of the day. He wipes his brow, dousing away the sweat with his glove.

Although it always remains cold in Sezeria, the temporary forges we set up are certainly not.

“No, actually, we’ve gained,” he explains, smiling as a few armour clad vampires pass him by. He continues.

“Twenty vampires arrived from Lady Delina’s camps, and many more are said to follow. And a clan of dark elves have set up a food dispensary outside the borders of our city providing food and blood. I expect they are likely here for the profit but they have proven themselves to be amiable enough.”

Nodding slowly, I give my silent acknowledgement on the matter.

Growth of the alliance. That is better than I hoped.

A new name has begun to recently spring about the people of the alliance. Borderliners. That is what people have begun to call the members of the alliance. Borderliners. I suppose there are worse names to choose.

“I guess all we need now is to find the other soul,” I half groan inwardly, sliding my hands across my face with a sudden exasperation.  A few passing angels watch me warily as I do this, narrowly dodging the shards of darkness that expell from my form.

Fangorn nods gravely.

“Right.”

Suddenly, a gruff, gravely voice grumbles across the air between us, causing me to raise my eyes as I scan for the source.

“You said you were looking for another soul?” the man with metal wings pipes up, lumbering forward in his half torn rags and leather gauntlets shining with empowered forging stones. With a hulking huff, he heaves himself up a temporary stool, plonking himself down opposite us.

Looking us both over with chilling slate grey eyes, he cracks out his knuckles.

Elris- the legend of Illistae, had begun working in our forges on day zero, because in fact, he managed to build the forges himself, all thirty of them, from scratch. Despite his burly appearance and the blood soaked legends that cloud his name, the angel is rather docile in nature, aside from the fact he has little to no tolerance with people messing with his work- a fact I can largely relate to. For the better part of three days, he has been content to keep to himself, spitting out enchanted arrow heads by the dozen and crafting cleavers and swords for the vampires in my court without a weapon to hand. Occasionally he would fly over to taxi Lilyana back and forth from the angel camp, but the last I heard of his business is that he was set on making her a pair of enchanted wings to replace her own.

Yet from his idle lazing I would suppose he has done none of that today.

“Yes, we are looking for two souls, but that is largely classified, Elris, I’m sorry-” Fangorn starts before I promptly raise my hand, letting Fangorn fall silent. I give a small gesture for Elris to continue, which he takes with a grateful nod. He shuffles forward slightly.

“Perhaps if you shared more of this information with the people you would get a better result?” he suggests, choosing his words carefully.

“There is a wide arrange of knowledge to collect from the Folk, and I highly doubt all of that information will be getting to Azrael when he has his borders under enchanted lock and key,” Elris says slowly, fiddling with the sooty edge of his cuff and wiping away the excess soot on his goggles. Staying mutely silent, I lower my eyes at the hulking beast of a man.

“Perhaps, though Azrael’s eyes are also extensive. For now we are uncertain who he might have under his control, but it is a point worth noting.”

Elris gurgles his agreement. Plucking a silver arrow head from the basket of finished weaponry, he starts to draw unfamiliar lines in the air, tracing out shapes I can neither comprehend or decipher.

“There were whispers,” he says lowly, spiking upwards with his drawing. “Of a giant who could raise the earth from a mere click of his fingers, form buildings from the sheer power of his mind, breathe life into earth and make it move,” he murmurs, dropping the arrow head now as the lines marked in the air begin to glow and pulse. I see it then, a hazy drawing wavering into cognition, a palace of crystal and a mountain range under a blanket of blackened stars.

“I have no time for Folk tales, Elris,” I warn, but Elris quickly brushes me off.

“The only information I give is that of pure necessity, Scarlet King. This is a tale you might find of great use to you.”

Pursing my lips, I fall silent. Alright, I think inwardly, folding my arms. I will indulge him in his tale, perhaps it is of some use.

“There is a lady, one of starlight and moon shine who can account for this story. I believe she knew the giant first hand, in fact, I think they might have even been friends. She lives in the south in the land of night and stars in a palace made of crystal and starlight. Currently, her companion is a vampire- one of yours I believe. Xander or something.”

“Xavier,” I breathe, all at once becoming breathless. If I had a heart, it would surely be pounding. Turning to Fangorn, I clutch his hands intensely.

“Fangorn, I know where we must go.”