"MOSHIRE!" there was a furious roar in the halls of darkness.
Willyr and Lianna retreated from the raw anger being displayed by the Prince of Dragons. They hadn't even explained the curse of Lathandrian before Selendrile interrupted them in a fury. The rest of the dragon counsel was in attendance, all except Aerend who was still out tracking Lallielle—to prevent her from being harmed further. Selendrile did not take well to the news of her being controlled by Lathandrian either.
After a few moments, the eldest of the magnificent seven entered the room. He had a face full of nonchalance as he approached the throne.
Selendrile grabbed him by his shirt and growled, "How could you have let the wretched, vile, sorceress live?"
Moshire had a nervousness reach his topaz eyes, "How do you kno—?"
Selendrile jerked his head back, indicating Lianna.
Moshire pushed out of Selendrile's grasp, "That's not your concern. Anyway I have lost her, I cannot find her."
"What?" Selendrile was livid—his eyes narrowed into slits—suspecting Moshire might have been lying to protect her.
Moshire saw Selendrile's scrutiny and explained, "I left her in the valley, but was then called to the Phoenix's den. She wasn't there when I returned. I do know not where she is."
Selendrile's amethyst stare was pure loathing at his eldest advisor. Moshire allowed her to live—the woman who had destroyed Sasinna, the woman who had almost destroyed all of them.
"Explain to me why she wanted to end you so eagerly, even though you gave her a blessing," Selendrile crossed his arms, reminded of the questions lingering in his mind from those last hours in the human world.
Moshire looked away and his voice dropped, "I destroyed her family, eons ago. She has lived only for revenge, to destroy me. She never knew she was blessed by be."
Selendrile knew that she was powerless in the Realm, due to Lathandrian's rules, and hoped some manner of beast had seen her to be a fit meal out in the wilderness. He still couldn't fathom to why Moshire wanted her alive if all she wanted to do was exact her revenge upon them. Moshire's mind was elsewhere, not giving them any clues to his thoughts
"Selendrile…" Willyr said calmly, trying to regain the Prince's attention.
"WHAT?!" Selendrile shouted, angry—angry at Lathandrian, angry at Moshire, and angry at anyone who was breathing at the moment.
"We have found the Book of Ages," Willyr held his hands out and Lianna placed the book in them. Selendrile seemed to stop breathing, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Moshire smirked, taking a step forward and grabbed it.
"That's where it went!"
Everyone stared at him for an explanation. Selendrile seemed ready to throttle him for keeping it a secret.
"I had found it at the old Parra burrow, near Alvale, when we went back. It was before I disguised myself as Lord Soleric and infiltrated court. I remembered the Parras spoke of it, how it contained all the history of Lathandrian's reign. It was left there and I took it, tried reading it but to no avail. So I left in the Imperial City Libraries until our return."
"Why did you not tell us this earlier, when Lallielle mentioned it?" Selendrile seethed with anger, jaw clenched.
"Because, there are passages in here only written in Parrain, and I needed her to read it before I told you about it."
Selendrile shouted a furious curse and transformed into his golden form, attacking Moshire. The book fell back, and skidded across the floor. Lianna snatched it up hastily before one of Selendrile's talons ruined it. Moshire became the brass dragon just as quickly, and they slammed into each other. Selendrile's teeth tore a part of Moshire's hide, and Moshire roared in pain.
"Stop them! Selendrile needs to know what Lallielle had read to us!" Lianna cried.
Willyr gave her a worried look, but transformed into the lunaric dragon and tried forcing himself in between the quarreling ones, for he knew she was right in her words. Telonge, who was there as well, also transformed to help him. Lianna watched as the four dragons roared, and bit at one another between thrashes.
"STOP IT!!!!!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, her shout bounced off the high ceiling and made it to their senses. They paused in mid quarrel and stared at her, as she never was one to scream like that.
Within the span of a moment, all of them were in their human form, disappearing in a sleek motion from dragon to man.
Selendrile grabbed Lianna's arm with a slight roughness, "How dare you try to command me. You should be wise to not interfere with dark fey conflict—"
Willyr firmly took a hold of Selendrile's wrist, "Your highness, please…"
Selendrile took a look at what he was becoming, just what Lathandrian wanted him to be—a foul tempered, blood-lusting warrior. He looked into Lianna's fearful eyes and took a few breaths—releasing her. Still he was furious with the dragon of the shining sun for all his acts of treachery.
"Lathandrian can be…he can be destroyed," Lianna spoke softly, looking at the ground. An eerie silence followed, that seemed to last forever.
She felt Selendrile's cupped hand under her chin, raising it gently, coaxing her to look at him—his stare was breathtaking, "What did you say?"
"He can be destroyed."
"It's true my liege," Willyr stepped forward, "Lallielle read us the curse of Lathandrian." He went onto explain what Lallielle had read.
Moshire stood away from them all, disinterested, and looking over a wound in his arm from their hasty fight—although it would heal quickly and wasn't too painful, it annoyed him. His disinterest continued until Willyr said, "He can be destroyed by a human that bears a wound from one of us."
Moshire whipped around, knowing that he was right in keeping Varisca alive despite her vengeance. He could feel that she would be important to him if not eons ago then now. He knew his symbol was writ in her skin forever.
Selendrile took all of the information in, but it still did not relieve him as he shared Willyr's concern in finding such a human, if one even existed.
"The sorceress, she bears a scar, just under her collar bone of mine. She was a fey worshipper long ago—the human forced to obey with fey inflicted flesh." Moshire stepped forward.
Selendrile's breath caught and a mix of emotion ran through his face—loathing, relief, anger, sadness—he all at once grabbed Moshire and said, "Find her, and bring her here."
He threw Moshire back, and Moshire considered Selendrile's command, "If I bring her here, will you destroy her?"
The Prince drug in a deep breath through his gnashing teeth with utter confliction, upon its release he replied, "No. How can I now that she is the only hope I have to reclaim Alys?"
Moshire gave him a deep nod and left them, to find Varisca. Selendrile all but collapsed at his throne with his head in his hand.
Upon Moshire's departure, Aerend returned to the hall of darkness with a small blackbird on his shoulder. They awaited his news.
"I caught up with her at the palace, and he didn't lay a finger on her—in fact he acted as though he had never harmed her despite her flinches whenever he came near her." Aerend had to pause to control his growing rage. "Nonetheless, she didn't utter a word about the book, and he called upon her to deliver a message to the entire Realm."
Aerend held out his finger and the blackbird hopped onto it from his shoulder, a piece of parchment rolled up and tied to its foot. He unraveled the gossamer string that kept it in place and opened the message.
"Greetings dear creations!
There will be a celebration tomorrow at my palace
A grand event of music and dancing!
Please join me and my human for the festivities
I highly recommend you attend.
Your Divine,
Lathandrian."
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Varisca was damp with perspiration as she piled yet another tower of rocks high. The Gryphon's amusement in feeling mighty did not wane one bit in all the hours since she had met him. Her arms and body ached, and she was getting sleepy.
"Please—"she breathed after he had swooped low to knock her newest tower to rubble, "let me rest."
The eagle head squawked and stomped his feline paws, not finished with his mightiness, but transformed to his sixteen-year-old self and nodded. She collapsed to the rocky, dusty terrain—just sitting still for an over joyous moment of rest.
"You did well at your first task. You are an excellent human to have," he said proudly, which she took he meant for a compliment. She hated how he made it sound like he owned her, as humans owned pets. She turned over, and little pieces of rock stuck into her shoulder blades, "Ow! Is there any water to drink here?" He only asked because she had been entertaining him for hours in the high heat.
"There's water in the valley below," he nodded downward. She peeked over the side of the cliff and got caught with slight vertigo. The colorful hills and mushroom trees blurred together and dizzied her parched mind. There was no way she could climb down the cliff face without killing herself. Her mouth felt dry and sticky, not even her saliva could cool it.
The Gryphon, despite his proud and imbecilic ways could see his human was suffering. He considered her for a moment and then said, "Follow me."
She pushed herself off the ground and staggered after him. He entered his cave, which didn't look very hospitable, only with a stone slab for sleeping. She heard water noises though, which caused her to frown at his back, thinking him a liar.
They came upon a liquid, falling down the cave walls, it was a dark mauve color and some of it was pooled into a cave spring.
"What is it?"
"It's one of the wine springs. They start in the mountains and flow toward the valleys," he could see that she badly wanted to end her thirst and before he could warn her she started drinking in handfuls.
"I should warn you that if you drink from the wine spring you will start to feel unconditionally happy and carefree—also when those effects wear off you will have a great deal of pain in your head."
Varisca didn't care, she had drunk wine before when at the Imperial Palace and it never rendered her intoxicated. However she didn't realize until afterwards that a wine spring of the Realm was far more potent and infected far more quickly.
She was satisfied after a few minutes drinking, her thirst melted away by the cool taste of fruit. She gave the Gryphon a wide smile and sat back to the ground. It was a warm evening, but there was moisture in the air—she could smell it and she feel it on her face as she stared at the amazing sky which was beginning to be covered by nightly clouds.
"It will rain soon," the Gryphon noted, seeing her curiosity toward the sky.
"Then I shall catch raindrops on my tongue," she laughed and opened her mouth as wide as her jaw would allow her although it wasn't even raining yet.
He took a place beside her and joined her in observing the sky.
"It's rather lonely up here," he said in all seriousness.
She turned her head slightly to see if he was being true, "Why?"
He turned to gaze at her, his head resting on his arm, "Lathandrian only created one gryphon—and that's me."
Varisca had all but forgotten about the powerful divine, her thoughts were more occupied with surviving in this Realm of madness. She remembered the Gryphon state that he should have informed Lathandrian of her presence but had not done so—to have her there to keep him company. She oddly felt for the poor thing, as she knew what it was like to be alone.
He grinned broadly and it reached his eyes, raindrops started falling from the sky the moment their attention wavered from it. She stood suddenly, becoming dizzy from the effect of the wine spring but started twirling as the cool water splashed onto them.
She held her arms out with a smile, tilted back her head and caught the raindrops on her tongue as she had promised. The rain was refreshing and there was no thunder nor lightning to startle them as it wasn't a storm.
"I used to leave my home and wander the forest when it rained," Varisca said, "It would be in the spring, and I would sing as I wandered."
"You should sing now," the Gryphon was happy with the anticipation of being entertained again. Varisca stopped twirling and obliged. She sang songs that her mother had taught her, about the pair of orphans who got lost in the woods and found a faerie. She also sang drinking songs she learned at taverns when she traveled with Luthor. The drinking songs were made up of more screams and shouts than actual harmonies and melodies. Nonetheless, Varisca found it fit to drink even more of the wine spring during these songs and convinced the Gryphon to partake in the activity as well. They were both bumbling, drunken, idiots the by the time she shouted out the seventh round.
She stumbled around the cave, wet and giggling furiously at the sight of the Gryphon who was laughing just as heartily as he tried dancing to her noisy shouts.
She bumped into him and he caught her stumble, his eyes catching the skin of her neck and gazing downward until he saw her scar.
He gasped and let her go; she fell as she was too wobbly to keep balance.
"What is it? We were having fun!" she cried, seeing the fun was over as he backed away from her.
"He will hurt me badly!"
"WHO?!"
"Moshire. You did not say you already belonged to him!"
She crossed her arms and said with a slur, "I do not belong to Moshire."
"You have a scar in his marking!"
She glanced down, but it was hard to see at an angle. Her fingers brushed the relief of tissue, her memories of that night trying to return but the wine spring was clouding it.
It was as if Moshire had heard his name, for at the loud sound of a dragon cry they both looked up to see the glittering topaz eyes of Moshire peering into the cave. With a roar of success he shrank into his human form, the form of Lord Soleric.
He approached the Gryphon with a frown, "So you are at fault for her disappearance, I should have realized sooner. I could hear your shouts from the valley below!"
The Gryphon returned the frown, "You shouldn't leave perfectly good humans about in the open by themselves. Do you have any idea what Lathandrian would do if he was to find her?"
"Gentlemen…" Varisca giggled before stepping in to dissipate their arguing as she was feeling light and unburdened by life, "Gentlebeasts…must you argue? I'm fine, you're all fine can't we just leave it at that?"
Moshire studied Varisca—her lackadaisical arm movements and funny speech patterns—and then grabbed the Gryphon by his vest threateningly, "What did you do to her?"
"The wine spring is to blame for that," the Gryphon whined and was let go.
"Come, we're leaving," Moshire approached Varisca.
"But he will be all alone if we go!" she protested and gestured toward the youth.
"That's not the issue at hand," he replied sternly and merely picked her up, hauling her over his shoulder. She cried out with surprise and then started laughing, "The world is upside-down! You are standing on the sky! Farewell Gryphon, thank you for the wine!"
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He flew until they were back in the valley. He stopped to find her food, as her stomach was empty and all she had in her was the wine spring—also she wasn't in any sort of condition to face Selendrile yet. She screamed in intoxicated delight as they cut through the rain, she felt like she was in a water fall.
"Solerrrric," she hiccupped and sang, as she lay in the yellow grass, trying to get his attention.
He sat next to her with a hand full of berries, "Soleric was a disguise, and you know I am Moshire. Eat these."
She picked one out of his hand and popped it into her mouth while shaking her head, "No. Moshire is a dragon. You were Moshire a few moments ago but Soleric is a man and right now you are a man, so therefore you are Soleric."
He sighed, thinking her logic ludicrous. She ate another berry and leaned against him. "Why did Soleric trick me so?"
Moshire didn't reply to her babbling. She finished off the berries and stood, albeit off balance. The rain was still at it, but coming down lightly. It dripped off her eyelashes and nose. She stared to the dragon-youth, noticing how handsome he was and remembering how he had made her feel. Instead of feeling bad for herself for being trapped in a strange land with beings she loathed, she licked her lips and started to dance. Her dance was one she had not danced in eons. Her waist arced out and her hips rolled as her footwork across the ground was as graceful as if she had been in a ballroom. She brushed her damp hair from her face and closed her eyes while moving.
Moshire's attention was captured fully, as it was his dance, the dance she had done so many years ago upon his altar. He was astounded she had remembered the steps and the movements even now, under the spell of the wine spring. She turned and turned about, breathing heavily but smiling for she felt light as a feather and all her hatred was replaced with blitheness.
Moshire stood and came nearer to her, his heart beating for the girl that inspired him, that had wanted to destroy him but there was no threat radiating from her. He took her waist and met his hands with hers to match her movements, dancing with her in the dark, in the rain. It was something he often imagined doing when he saw her dance long ago.
She pressed closer to him and he knew it was only because she thought he was Soleric, because her mind was confused while bathed in the sea of alcohol.
"Why does Soleric have to be Moshire?" she mumbled tiredly, smothering her face into his chest.
"Why does Varisca have to be the sorceress?" he replied.
She didn't answer but passed out in his arms, the wine spring finally ending its rampage of pleasant effects.
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A/N – This is a speedy update, and there shall be more speedy updates!