A/N
Well, I will start off with the standard "I don't own this" thing. I'll also mention that this probably isn't that new of a concept, but... my idea of explaining the phenomenon will probably be a bit... different. Which is what I go for. Also... bear in mind that this is rated 'T' because there will be some light swearing, themes of death, violence, reincarnation, and, the thing everyone loves, kissing and romance. No PwoP though. Sorry... can't bring myself to read it, let alone write it. Anywho... enjoy.
"Go! Go! To the altar!" Cassandra commanded. She turned at the entrance of the wooded copse and erected a Black shield. It held - barely - under the barrage of Red, Sapphire, and Grey spells that the enemy Warlord Princes were sending her way.
Her charges were all natives of Amarzyliis, the new Realm that lay on the other side of the Darkness. Just how she'd found herself reincarnated in this Realm, Cassandra did not know.
'Nor do I need to know,' she thought angrily to herself. When you have seven dark Jeweled Warlord Princes on your ass, it's a good idea to focus on other things. Like the shield!
The young Prince that she'd grabbed appeared suddenly at her side. He raised his Sapphire Jewel and, in a weak attempt, managed to send a spell through her barrier to strike a Green Warlord Prince. The man flew backwards a few steps, but was unharmed.
"Not now! You don't know what you're doing!" Cassandra yelled, grabbing the Prince's arm. "Come along. Do you have the candles set up?" She demanded.
The trio of females looked frightened as she approached. Their psychic scents flowed with anxiety.
"Y-yes," stammered the tallest female. She was a Sapphire Jeweled Queen . . . and apparently had some skills as a Priestess. Cassandra raised an eyebrow. The black candles she'd left in the girl's charge (Darkness! It would be easier if she'd gotten their names!) were arrayed in the standard triangle pattern one used to activate the Gates between Realms.
No time to dwell on the convenience of that at the moment. Calling in a small knife, Cassandra slit open her palm and allowed the blood to flow onto the altar. The young women looked sick, especially the Blood Opal Jeweled Black Widow.
"I need a light. Does anyone have one?" Cassandra demanded. Dutifully, the Prince pulled a book of matches from his pocket.
Snatching them from him, Cassandra wiped a bit of sweat from her brow. Those damn Warlord Princes weren't letting up, and she could feel the energy of her Black Jewel depleting at an alarming rate.
"You! Watch closely. Memorize the way I am lighting them. The order is important!" Cassandra growled, gripping the Priestess/Queen with her bleeding left hand. Blood stained the girl's pink blouse, and she cringed.
The match hovered over the center candle, then progressed to the peak of the triangle, angled to light the right candle, and ended at the left. The crimson gate irised open and began to rotate slightly.
Sweat continued to bead on her forehead. It wouldn't belong before those Warlord Princes broke through her shield.
"All of you, come here!" She ordered. The third girl, a dark-haired Queen was closest to the gate. Gripping the girl's arm, Cassandra used her blood to trace a 'C' on the girl's forehead. "You'll need that where you're going." She said. The other two received the same mark. She reflected a moment on how odd this cluster of Amarzylians actually was. A Queen, a Black Widow, a witch and a Prince. For a culture that just discovered itself to be Blood a few scant weeks ago . . .
She shook her head. "Go through now! Hurry!"
The girls whimpered, but did as they were told and leapt into the gate. The shield buckled slightly as Cassandra turned to the male, and the two of them had to duck as a grey spell shattered an overhead pine bough.
"I can stay and help you fight!" The boy said.
Cassandra tried hard not to smile. How very male of him.
"No! You have to go too! Protect the Females. Do as you are told." She ordered, tracing a 'C' on his forehead. In one swift motion, she shoved him into the gate and destroyed the candles.
"Wai–!" his cry was cut off as the gate closed.
Shrinking to the ground, Cassandra dropped the Black shield and descended deep within herself. She'd use all of her power, and it would probably be fatal. Reaching the edge of the abyss, she began her rapid ascent. Moments before she released her death-spell, she reflected on the slight oddity she'd detected in the Prince's psychic scent. Then, once again, Cassandra returned to the Darkness . . .
There were several things that Saetan Daemon SaDiablo had become accustomed to since he'd made the move from SaDiablo Hall to the Keep of Ebon Askavi. Being interrupted by messengers whilst showering was not among them.
Hell's fire! He frantically reached for a towel that had been inconveniently placed just out of reach as a young witch came flying into the room.
"High Lord!" She cried. Noting his dripping body, she angled her vision toward his face and spoke. "There's something going on by the gate. I was sent to inform you."
Saetan nodded. "Thank you, Lady. Tell Draca I'll be there in a moment.
The hearth witch bowed deeply, though whether it was out of respect or an attempt to sneak a peak, Saetan didn't know. The Gate? It wasn't that unusual for travelers from Hell to visit the Keep. Why did Draca want him there?
Toweling rapidly, he gripped a fresh pair of trousers and a blouse. He used a quick drying spell to dry his hair, and called in his shoes. Hopping down the hallway, he attempted to kill two birds with one stone by moving toward his destination and put on the tight leather shoes. After nearly falling over the third time, he decided that getting the shoes on first would be better than falling down the several flights of stairs that lay ahead of him.
Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he made his way to the Gate room. The psychic vibrations of Draca's shield thrummed into the hallway, and Saetan prepared himself inwardly for a fight. What he found in the room was . . . not what he expected.
The quartet of dirty young adults gave him pause a moment. Who are they? Why was there a 'C' written in blood on their foreheads?
Whoever they were, they were very frightened. The females had huddled behind the male, a Prince, by his psychic scent, and he was projecting a crudely made Sapphire shield. Saetan's eyes narrowed. There was something odd about that Prince . . .
He glanced over to Draca. As usual, the seneschal was her quiet self.
"Who are they?" he asked.
"I do not know. They claim they are from a place called Amarzyliis, but I do not know of any such place," came the reply.
Saetan ran a quick scan of the females. All three were different classes and powers, but it seemed that the Queen was the same Jewel as the Prince.
He took a step forward . . . and barely brought up a Red shield in time to fend off an attack. Feisty ones, these strangers were.
"Stay back! I don't know who you are, but stay away and leave us alone!" the Prince demanded.
Saetan raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you're in any place to make demands, Prince. Remember your place," he said coolly.
The boy didn't budge. "My place is between you and my friends. Back off!"
Saetan raised a hand. Better calm this one down before it gets ugly. "All right. Let's all take a breath. Who are you?"
"I think I'd like to know who you are," came the snappy reply.
Nice kid, where'd you find him? Saetan sent a Black spear thread to Draca. The corners of her mouth quirked in amusement. "Are you always this . . . " He trailed off. Something wasn't quite right. Why weren't the females speaking? Wasn't one of them a young Queen?
He decided to take a slightly less direct approach. "I am Saetan Daemon SaDiablo. High Lord of Hell."
The boy blinked, and the girls' psychic scents took on an air of confusion.
"Where did you say you were from?" he asked.
The boy's blue eyes shifted toward deep cerulean. "Greater Amaryllis. Which I'll assume isn't where we are."
Again with the strange name. "No. You are in the Keep of Ebon Askavi in Kaeleer. Does that mean anything to you?"
The boy shook his head, as did the girls.
Saetan took a step to the right. "Can you tell me a little about yourselves?" he asked, directing his question at the fair-haired Queen. The Prince again stepped between him and the females.
Saetan sighed. This was going nowhere fast. "Would you let me into your thoughts so I can at least get a general idea of what is going on?"
"You can do that!? Er, never mind. How would I do that?"
Saetan took a mental step back. What did he mean, how? He was using Craft! How could he . . . never the matter. "I'm going to assume you have no idea what is going on, so I'll walk you through it. Unless one of the Ladies-" a dangerous look shot into the boy's eyes. "Ok, I'll walk you through it."
Preparing himself, Saetan took a quick moment to examine the trio of females the Prince was so diligently defending. Two were fairly darkly Jeweled, and the Black Widow definitely would have some power behind her when she made her Offering. Assuming she hadn't already.
Saetan took a moment to center himself, then drifted into the boy's mind. With surprising ease, the inner barrier's parted, allowing Saetan access to answers to questions he hadn't even formed yet. There was an odd sense of familiarity to the young Prince's inner workings, but Saetan withdrew before he could pin it down. In doing so, he discovered the beginnings of a very nasty migraine.
Darkness these kids had a story! And the Black Queen, Cassandra . . . how?
Was it helpful? Draca's inquiry allowed for a moment of refocus.
"Yes," Saetan said aloud. "Cassandra sent them through. Hence the 'C' on their heads."
Draca hissed, causing the Amarzylians to flinch visibly. "But how? She was sacrificed when Jaenelle . . . " She began to turn toward the quartet before them.
"They know nothing more than we know. I know Cassandra well enough. This is some sort of message, but only we are meant to understand it." Saetan waved a hand toward the young adults. "Even as messengers, they are in the dark as to what she was trying to warn us about."
Draca frowned, then nodded thoughtfully. The Prince took a moment to speak up.
"Not to be a bother," he started, his tone slightly more humble than it had been initially. "But have we done something wrong?" He shifted uncomfortably, but continued to stand well in front of the females. "I mean . . . "
Saetan smiled warmly. "No, you have not. However, it is a mystery to me just how exactly you four received your Jewels. What I saw in your mind, Tristin," he started, calling the Prince by his name (which he'd learned during his time in the boy's mind) for the first time, "Doesn't make any sense to me."
"Our Jewels just appeared about a month ago."
Saetan and, for that matter, Draca's attentions turned toward the young hearth witch who'd spoken up for the first time. The sudden amount of attention frightened her, and she paled slightly.
"It's all right, Lady, speak up." Saetan said.
Tristin held out his arm, and with shaking hands, the witch took it. "Um, I said that our Jewels just appeared one day." She said softly, fingering the small Green pendant around her neck. "They're very pretty, but . . . we can't do anything like what the Black Lady did."
Tristin made a slight miffed sound, but said nothing.
Saetan turned to Draca. "I'm getting the impression that they haven't had anything like Craft for many years."
Draca nodded in agreement. "I am surprised that none of the Black Widows foresaw this," she said, syllables hissing slightly. The Amaryllians again flinched at her voice.
"No offense, but what are you?" Tristin asked. The trio of females sent him very nasty looks, which he either didn't notice or chose to ignore. "Because you aren't quite human."
Draca shook her scaled head. "I am dragonkin." She stated simply.
Saetan felt the corners of his mouth quirk upward in a smile as the young Blood in front of him simultaneously took on the same expression. The unspoken question echoed among the four of them.
"Dragonkin? Like, a descendant of a dragon? I thought they didn't exist!" The auburn haired Black Widow spoke up. She stepped beside Tristin. "Where are we?"
Saetan held up a questing quelling hand. "In due time, Lady. How about we start off with something simple, like names, for example."
The Black Widow blushed slightly. "Oh. My name is Beth." She said, inclining her head slightly.
Saetan bowed. "Welcome. I'll apologize for not having a more formal introduction, but I figure that any ceremony will probably be foreign to you. Again, I am Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, High Lord of Hell and former Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. My companion here is Draca, seneschal of the Keep." Draca inclined her head slightly, and remained silent. "And who are your other companions?"
The fair-haired Queen found her courage and stepped out next to the Green Jeweled witch. "Um . . . my name is Hannah." She said, awkwardly half curtsying, half bowing.
Saetan gave himself a moment to collect himself before he replied. Darkness be merciful. She was a Sapphire too! There hadn't been that many Blood whose Jewels had been so dark, and if this was just a small sampling of the Amaryllis populace . . .
... Well, time to worry about that later. "Welcome, young Queen."
The girl made a rather interesting noise through her nose. "Queen? I think you are mistaken."
"Why shouldn't you be a Queen?" The witch asked.
Saetan's migraine flared slightly. Obviously there was going to be more explaining about the customs of Kaeleer than he'd feared.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Saetan attempted to head off an argument. "I'll explain what I meant by that later. And seeing as you are the last one for us to know, Lady, what is your name?" He asked.
The young witch's lips formed an 'O.' Running a finger through her dark hair, she said: "I'm Saffron, sir."
Saetan nodded to her, then took in the general panorama of the room. A Prince, a Queen, a Black Widow, and a witch. All very strange visitors. All definitely had a tale to tell.
'And just wait until you get Jaenelle and Daemon involved in this. They'll definitely want to know,' a little voice nagged at the back of his brain. As a response, the migraine made itself aware that it was still there.
Tristin's mind was still reeling as he and his friends consented to be led deeper into the Keep. Things would be so much less distracting if that damn extra sense hadn't appeared with his Jewel! The misty, nebulous feelings and other unfamiliar things that he was feeling from the others who were with him were a terrible distraction. His soul seemed to know things about the Jewels that his mind hadn't quite figured out yet.
'Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't've made that shield,' he thought to himself. Sighing, he contented himself to hover protectively between their two . . . protectors? He wasn't quite sure what to make of them. The dragon lady seemed all right, but there was something about the Saetan character. What kind of name was Saetan, anyway? It had a sinister ring to it. And what was Hell? As far as he knew, it was just another four letter word that people used that really had lost its meaning. Sort of like the connotations behind the word 'boinking.'
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Tristin looked over his shoulder to check on the girls. Beth was her usual, semi-impulsive self, and had warily taken the lead. Saffron and Hannah, however, hung behind; bodily protected by Tristin. At least they were allowing him to protect them. Argh, Beth!
"I love the stone work, what are the walls made of?" Beth asked, running a palm over the smooth, black granite.
Saetan turned, and smiled his deceptively warm smile. "Ebon Askavi was carved from the black mountain."
Hannah let out a small gasp. "A mountain? We're inside one?" She quietly inquired.
Saetan nodded. "Yes. The Keep exists in all three Realms, Lady. Which, in due time, will be explained."
'In due time indeed.' Tristin thought to himself. He couldn't place it, but there was something familiar and slightly annoying about the so called Warlord Prince of something. Why did he feel like he'd met the man once before!? He continued to puzzle over the feelings that he had. He was trapped, so far as he knew, in an unknown place controlled by unknown people with unsaid intentions. He was crackling on the inside with nervous energy, and felt ready to leap into any kind of defense possible.
To say that he was disoriented and afraid was definitely what he'd call an understatement.
A sudden, soft sensation on his right hand distracted him from any further thoughts. Hannah's slight grip got his attention, and she whispered into his ear. "Do you think we're safe here? Or should we try to get away?" She asked, her warm breath making him shiver slightly.
He swallowed quietly as he analyzed the way he was reacting to her close proximity, and found himself to be slightly annoyed because he liked it. Why did her presence suddenly banish the fear and add some slightly more defensive element to his emotions? Between smelling her physically and the psychic. . . for lack of a better word, scent she had. . . ugh! What was it?!
Tristin shook himself and turned toward to her to reply. She turned her head slightly, and delicately brushed her hair behind her ear.
Leaning in close, he whispered his reply. "I don't know yet. I'll think of something, don't worry. Just stick close to me and Saffron, ok?" He asked, pleading in both voice and eyes.
Hannah met his eyes, and nodded in agreement. The pleasant sensation of her hand left his as she fell back and joined Saffron. The two girls started their whispered conversation anew, but Tristin found he couldn't pay attention to them. Saetan had looked back at him the moment Hannah left his side, and for the first time, Tristin noticed that the man's eyes were an unusual gold colour. A colour, come to think of it, he'd noticed creeping into Hannah's normally blue irises.
Whether or not Saetan had caught their conversation, he made no mention of it. At the end of the long hallway he'd been leading them down, was a door to a large room.
"I apologize for the walk, but the Gate Room is quite a distance within the Keep from the Great Hall." He explain, opening the door. "I'll also apologize for serving you a meal in your present states, and that it seems rather small. However, Jaenelle," Saetan paused, correcting himself. "ahem, Lady Angeline thought it would be best if you all had full stomachs when she and the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan arrived."
'Lady who?' Tristin thought. His eyes bugged. Holy! This is what they prepare on short notice?! A large amount of breads, fruits, and vegetables were arrayed on the table in the hall. Without hesitation, Beth curtsied to Saetan.
"I'm sure it will be fine, um. . . Should I call you sir, or something else?" She asked.
Saetan inclined his head. "High Lord would be just fine, Lady."
'Sure it would,' Tristin thought. 'Remind us that you are superior and we know next to nothing about you. I just hope he didn't poison the food...'
"If you all would please be seated, one of the servants will bring in some water to wash your hands with. If there is still time before the Lady and Prince of Dhemlan arrive, I'll have them show you to the baths and provide you with some clean garments." Saetan explained. Turning toward the door, he paused. "Oh, and Tristin." He said.
Oh great. "Yes?"
"If I were you, I'd learn to keep your conversations quiet. Some of us have excellent hearing, despite our advanced ages."
So he was listening! Tristin nodded silently, and the hall's door closed behind the High Lord. Great, well, maybe the escape planning won't be part of dinner...
With his 'guests' situated and presumably eating in the great hall, Saetan found himself in the Keep's Library. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he called in his spectacles as Geoffrey, the ancient Librarian of the Keep, offered him a glass of warmed Yarbarah.
"So there's nothing in the old books or maps that speaks of this Realm I saw in the boy's mind?" He asked.
Geoffrey shook his head, sipping his own glass. "I've never found anything quite like that. We know what it is not, seeing as all memory of that place was lost years ago."
Saetan winced slightly at the not so subtle hint at Zuulman. "No. Of course not. The place I saw was very... different from either of the two Realms we know." Rubbing his temples in irritation, he shook himself. "Even their society seemed slightly off. If my impressions that the Prince had are correct, they seem to be patriarchal."
Geoffrey shrugged. "Is that necessarily uncommon? If I recall correctly, Lady Karla faced a political movement," he coughed slightly at his sarcasm, then continued. "that wanted a Male dominated society to take control of Glacia."
"Yes, but this didn't seem like an upstart rebellion that Karla's uncle provoked. Rather it had been a staple of their society for some time!"
Geoffrey, for the first time since Saetan had known him, looked slightly ruffled. "How peculiar. It's a wonder that they survived at all." He dead panned.
Saetan chuckled slightly. "I believe it worked for them because they only became recently aware of their Blood heritage."
This caused a raised eyebrow. "Only recently? That may explain the lack of records..."
"I think there's more to it than that, Geoffrey. I'm beginning to wonder if they have actually come from a fourth Realm. Perhaps the Jewels they wear are actually from the Blood in this Realm who have returned to the Darkness?"
Geoffrey took on a pensive look. "I'll have to check some things. If there is another Realm, I should like to ask Lorn about it. The dragons may know something-"
"Draca knows nothing of it." Saetan interrupted. "And, by extension, I doubt that Lorn does either. She seemed," Saetan paused a moment, remembering that, despite his interactions with the Seneschal, he didn't really quite know how to read her perfectly. "Ahem, she looked like she was surprised when the young witch, Saffron, mentioned that they'd only recently received their Jewels."
Geoffrey nodded, then turned to face the bookshelves. Straightening his customary black shirt, he began to pace back and forth in front of the eldest of the books the Keep owned. "There must be something in there. Something that we're missing."
Saetan suddenly started. "Something we're missing! Yes!" Geoffrey turned at Saetan's sudden animation.
'Better explain myself.' Saetan thought. 'Can't have him thinking I'm losing it.'
"All four of our guests had a 'C' written in blood on their foreheads. I didn't know what it meant until I looked into the Prince's mind. Cassandra was the one who opened the Gate." He explained.
"Cassandra? Hmm." Geoffrey's reaction was significantly less animated that Draca's had been. Saetan tried to not look disappointed. "I wonder if... hmm." Geoffrey started to speak, then again looked thoughtful.
"You wonder what?" Saetan asked, setting down his glass to join Geoffrey at the bookshelves. The librarian's black eyes bored into him.
"I wonder if the Darkness indeed reincarnated Cassandra. There have been some texts that suggest that the Darkness, at times will bring back to life the soul of one who has returned to the Darkness." Geoffrey said.
Saetan raised a finger to disagree, then found it immediately forming a thinker's fist on his chin. Was it possible? He knew that the Darkness was a very mysterious place that allowed the Blood to exploit life's loopholes by allowing for Guardians and the demon-dead. Was it not also possible that sometimes, it would allow the Blood to exploit even death?
Following a sharp migraine spike, Saetan decided that he'd had enough thinking for one hour. "Look into it. I know we have books on the reincarnation of Blood souls by the Darkness. Maybe some answers lie there. In the meantime, I'm going to see to our guests until Jaenelle and Daemon arrive." He grimaced slightly. "Hopefully at that time our guests will tell their story."
Endnote: Apologies on the whole OC situation. If you read my profile, you'll know that it isn't uncommon for me to have them. And it helps my story. R&R please and thank you!