EIGHTH BLOOD

Chapter 62: Choice

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"What is the meaning of this?"

The Great Hall was full of corpses, and the floor was drenched in blood. Sesshoumaru ignored Kanetsugu's question and walked around the bodies towards the dais. Blood ran down the steps in rivulets, creating splatters of red on his boots. The source of the blood was a decapitated head that had been laid on top of a cushion. Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed as he realised that the head belonged to Eita, one of his finest generals. The boar youkai's tusks had been removed and shoved into his eyes, whilst his ears were covered in bite marks, implying that he'd been tortured first.

"My lord," uttered the guard to his left. "Look."

Sesshoumaru followed the guard's gaze to the wall above Eita's head, which contained a message.

Ignore this and more will die.

It was written in blood. The mixture of scents suggested that it had been gleaned from multiple people – most likely the ones that were dead on the ground behind him. Sesshoumaru's eyes turned red, and his fangs grew until they could no longer fit inside his mouth.

"How did this happen?"

"We don't know, my lord," one of the guards answered quietly. "The victims were all members of the household, but none of them had any business being here so late at night. We don't even know how they got in; never mind how they were killed. None of us saw or heard anything."

Sesshoumaru turned away from the message and studied the collection of fresh corpses.

"Could this be connected to the dead horse?" asked Kanetsugu.

"Possibly," replied Sesshoumaru. "Both incidents seem to be ploys for attention rather than acts of mindless violence. We'll know more after questioning the victims."

Kanetsugu's brow crinkled. "How are we going to do that? They're all dead."

Sesshoumaru slipped the Tenseiga out of its sheath and pointed it at the sea of bodies before him. Eita was beyond his reach, but he could still save the others.

The minions of the Underworld scurried about the room like maggots. Lifting his sword, he eradicated them all with a single swing, freeing their victims from the clutches of death. The guards gasped as every corpse in the room suddenly opened their eyes and suffered a violent coughing fit. Their breathing soon returned to normal, but their panicked expressions remained.

Sesshoumaru returned the Tenseiga to its sheath and marched down the dais steps. He crouched in front of a scullery maid and waited for her to come to terms with her recent resurrection. She patted her stomach desperately, searching for the wound that had killed her, but it was no longer there. Tears streamed down her face as she attempted to scrub the blood from her hands.

"Who did this to you?" he asked once her sobs had quietened.

She looked over his shoulder and screamed in terror. Several others did the same.

Sesshoumaru locked eyes with Kanetsugu, who looked as confused as he was, before trying to discern the cause of their distress. No one else had reacted like this after being revived by the Tenseiga. Had he done something wrong? Saved too many at once? Impossible. The sword had been made to save lives. So, what were they afraid of?

"Stay away!" the maid screeched, covering her face with her hands. "Please! Don't touch me!"

"We're not going to hurt you," Kanetsugu reassured her.

"Try telling them that!" yelled a stableboy, baring his teeth at a guard.

Sesshoumaru's gaze turned cold. "Explain yourself, boy."

"They're the ones who brought us here! They told us you wanted to see us, Sesshoumaru-sama, but then they closed the doors and we saw the head—" He choked on a sob. "A spear went through my chest! I should be dead! Why aren't we dead!"

Sesshoumaru whirled on the nearest guard and captured him by the throat. "Is this true?" he snarled.

"No, my lord! I swear it! The boy is lying—"

"Then why didn't you see anything?"

"I don't know! Please, it wasn't us!"

Sesshoumaru traced the guard's throat with his claws. His irises were now fully blue, and the marks on his cheeks were like shards of broken glass. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"N-No," the guard whimpered, struggling to breathe in his crushing grip.

"Yet you still treat me like one."

"Wait!" cried one of the nobles. "Sesshoumaru-sama, wait . . ."

The Daiyoukai tilted his head to meet the man's stare.

"Well? What is it?" Kanetsugu growled.

"It was them," the noble started. "But they looked different before. Their eyes were black."

Sesshoumaru's crimson eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

The man nodded weakly. "You don't forget a sight like that, my lord."

Sesshoumaru diverted his attention to the guard and tightened his hold on his neck. He could feel the man's pulse battering against his palm. Sesshoumaru's eyes strayed to the message on the wall, then Eita's decapitated head, before settling once more on the guard's terrified face.

It wouldn't be the first time that a shadow had infiltrated the stronghold.

"Where is my ward?"

"Asleep, I presume," replied Kanetsugu.

Sesshoumaru released the guard's neck and stormed towards the exit.

"What are you doing?" Kanetsugu asked.

"I must go to her at once."

"But what about the guards?"

"Puppets on strings," he said, remembering Lady Chiyo's inky black eyes. "The real killers are loose in the castle. Ensure that no one leaves their rooms until I deem it safe to do so."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

Sesshoumaru paused in the doorway. The room had fallen silent, awaiting his response. Normally, he would have called Kanetsugu out for his impudence, but the seriousness of the situation put things into perspective for him. His relationships with Kanetsugu and Kannika had been strained since the moment his father made them his wards, but the bat youkai weren't to blame for it. Sesshoumaru had never considered them his siblings, despite his father's insistence that he treat them as such. He'd always known they were beneath him, so he'd pushed them away, not wishing to associate with weaklings. Perhaps if he hadn't been such a brat, they might not loathe him now.

"These creatures are dangerous," he said without turning around. "I suggest that you find your sister before they decide to make her their new puppet. The Tenseiga can't always harm them when they're possessing someone."

Kanetsugu opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"What are they?" asked a guard.

"Do you fear the dark?" Sesshoumaru asked quietly. "Because they're what's in it."

He left before anyone could respond and headed for Rin's chambers.

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Octavia sat by her window with her knees pulled into her chest. The barrier around her room prevented her from escaping through it, but she could still see the stars.

It suddenly occurred to her that no one would know what had become of her if she died here. She'd already disappeared once. The Higurashis were probably still under scrutiny from the police because of the strange circumstances of her disappearance. At least they didn't think she'd betrayed them by joining an evil cult. She just wanted Sesshoumaru and the others to know the truth, even if it didn't ultimately come from her. She wasn't naive enough to believe that anyone would find her. The only way she was getting out of here was in a casket.

She'd never believed in heartache, but that was exactly what she was experiencing now. Her chest felt cold and empty. That wasn't anything new, though. Before she'd gotten on that plane to Japan, it had always been that way. But then she'd met Rin, Jaken, Ah-Un and Sesshoumaru, who – despite their flaws – had wormed their way into her frozen heart, melting it from within.

They were her real family. Not Augustus. And she was never going to see them again.

Another round of tears blurred her vision. She was baffled that she even had any left. They tumbled down her cheeks and landed on her kneecaps. I don't want to die. She didn't know if anyone could hear her, but if by some miracle they could, maybe they'd take pity on her.

Something tickled the top of her right foot. Lifting her head, she saw a dream butterfly perched comfortably on her skin. Its pink and purple wings glittered in the darkness. She scrubbed the tears from her eyes and carefully lowered her hand, positioning it in front of the butterfly.

The butterfly fluttered its wings a few times before hopping onto her finger. She watched it crawl across her knuckles before finally settling on top of her wrist. Its magic flowed into her, filling her with the warmth of a billion different dreams.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the wonderful feeling. "Do you ever give them back?" she whispered. "Memories, I mean."

A second butterfly appeared on the windowsill beside her. Her eyes widened slightly as the first one flapped its wings and flew in a circle around her head. She giggled as the second one did the same, waving them away.

"Still hungry, eh? Greedy bastards. Were four years not enough?"

They landed on her shoulders and closed their wings to rest. Her brow pinched. If they weren't here to eat her memories, what did they want?

Two more flew in through the window, bringing the total up to four. The barrier might as well have been imaginary, because it didn't hinder them in any way.

Soon, the room was full of them. The ceiling was utterly covered, and the windowsill had become rather crowded. Octavia was lost for words. She wasn't entirely sure how many had chosen her as their perch. They were everywhere she looked. Not even her toes were off-limits.

"Did you come to cheer me up?" she asked softly, thinking of Orihime's magpies.

The closest thing to an answer she got was a quick tap on the door. Rising from her seat by the window, she crept towards the door apprehensively. She didn't turn the handle right away. Augustus would've come in by now, and the servants didn't work after sundown, so who was it?

"Hurry up," a voice on the other side snapped. "I haven't got all night."

Octavia opened the door and met the Dressmaker's impatient stare.

"Um . . . What do you want?"

"I need to take your measurements."

"At this time?"

"The ball is only a few days away and I haven't even started on your dress yet."

"Ball?" she repeated, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

The Dressmaker sighed. "That man's secretive nature is really starting to annoy me."

Octavia gasped as the Dressmaker pulled out her hairpin and tapped the barrier with it. A person-sized hole opened up in front of her, allowing her to enter. She didn't seem to worry when it closed behind her. Her mouth curved into a frown when she saw the horde of dream butterflies, but she kept her thoughts to herself and glided over to the centre of the room.

Octavia followed her wordlessly, noting that she wasn't wearing her signature hood.

"Aren't you angry with me?" the Dressmaker asked, pulling out a roll of measuring tape.

"Why would I be angry?"

"I told your brother about the dagger."

Its absence was like a missing limb.

"Your allegiance is to him, not me," Octavia said with a shrug.

"My allegiance is to no one."

"Then why are you here?"

"I promised Mi-chan."

She pulled the tape tight around Octavia's waist. "How did you know her?"

"We grew up together. Her father found my cocoon in the forest. His mortal friend wanted a baby, but she couldn't get pregnant, so Kyūseishu gave me to her to raise as her own."

"Your cocoon?"

The Dressmaker paused. "I thought you knew what hatchlings were already."

Octavia shook her head.

The Dressmaker loosened the tape and used it to measure her height. "A hatchling is born when a star dies. When a star falls out of the sky, the soil it touches gains magical properties. A cocoon grows in the crater, and from it hatches a human-like creature known as a hatchling. Sometimes they're babies, sometimes they're fully-formed adults."

"And that's what you are?"

"Yes."

Octavia chewed on her lip. "Did you know Rayna?"

The Dressmaker's eyes flashed. "Ryukotsusei's concubine? Oh, yes. She was a valued customer. She stopped commissioning me after his defeat, though."

"Why?"

"There was a rumour that she was with child. Some believe she was killed, but others believe she fled and gave birth to a hanyou. Either way, she's long gone now."

Octavia let the Dressmaker spin her around to measure the length of her shoulders. "Are hatchlings not immortal?"

"No."

"But you—"

"I'm the exception, not the rule."

Octavia's heart pounded. "Am I immortal?"

The Dressmaker smirked. "Do you want to be?"

Octavia shifted her gaze to the dream butterflies, which were glowing faintly. "You tell me," she murmured. "Do you ever wish you weren't?"

"All the time. But I made my choice. It was the only way I could keep our promise."

"What was the promise?"

The Dressmaker's usually languished expression faltered. "Duty before love," she whispered.

Octavia waited for her to take the final measurements before saying, "Isn't love a form of duty, too?"

"How so?"

Love isn't a counterspell. It's a promise.

"I just meant . . . Never mind."

The Dressmaker rolled up her tape and tucked it back into her robes. Her puce eyes glinted ominously as she stepped closer. Octavia swallowed as she reached out and ran her slender fingers down her cheek. "What an unexpected development," she muttered, almost too low to hear. "You usually despise each other. I wonder what's changed."

Octavia shot her a puzzled look.

The Dressmaker smiled and lowered her hand.

"I think an A-Line cut would suit your figure best," she said. "It's a shame that it has to be gold, but I'll make it work. Black would look so much better with your skin tone, though."

"You still haven't told me what this ball is for."

"The Church throws a ball every year to celebrate the Radiant One. It's custom for the guests to wear masks, since they're in the presence of Erem's Vessel. The Church is international now, so the turnout is pretty huge, meaning it's easy to get lost, if you know what I'm saying."

Octavia laughed bitterly. "My brother won't even let me leave my own room. Somehow I doubt he's gonna let me wander off at a Great Gatsby-scale party."

"You're more powerful than you think, Octavia."

"He's going to kill me."

"So, kill him first."

"I can't. My magic makes hurting him impossible—"

"Fuck your magic. It doesn't control you. You control it."

Octavia's lips parted in surprise.

The Dressmaker smiled wider. Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she reached inside her robes and pulled out something small and shiny. It was a silver locket with a sparkling yellow gem.

"Here," she said, offering it to Octavia. "This belongs to you."

"What is it?"

"It's called a Prophecy-Breaker. It was in the box you stole."

"Won't Augustus notice?"

"Not if you keep it hidden. I swapped it with a decoy, so he won't know until it's too late. You'll be needing it soon. It only works once, though, so choose wisely."

The Dressmaker reached behind Octavia's neck and fastened the clasp. The metal was cold against her skin. "Why are you giving this to me?" she breathed.

"Mi-chan would have wanted me to."

A dream butterfly landed on the Dressmaker's head, much to her annoyance. She flicked it away and headed for the door. Octavia watched as she slid her hairpin free and touched the barrier with it. Before she could pass through the hole that appeared, Octavia stopped her with a question.

"What's your name?"

". . . I don't know," she answered after a pause. "It was stolen from me."

"Oh."

"I'll get it back, though. The thousand years are almost done."

She left Octavia to mull over her words with nothing but a locket and a room full of butterflies.

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Apparently, Rin had taken to sleeping in Octavia's chambers instead of her own. Technically, they were his mother's, but her scent had vanished from them a long time ago. Sesshoumaru's nose burned as he entered the room he'd been avoiding since Octavia's disappearance.

Her scent was everywhere.

Rin was fast asleep in the bed with the curtains drawn shut around her. He checked underneath the bed and in the adjoining rooms before making his way onto the engawa. The Tenseiga was silent throughout, and he detected no malice in the air. Satisfied, he headed back inside. He was reluctant to leave Rin alone with a killer on the loose, but if he stayed, more blood would be shed before the night was over. The message on the wall had made that abundantly clear.

Ignore this and more will die.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to simply walk away.

A stack of papers beneath the vanity caught his attention. He crouched in front of the vanity and reached in to pull it out. The papers weren't bound, so they tumbled onto the floor like a small tsunami. He was surprised to find that they were all pictures of him. He thumbed through the pile, examining them appreciatively. Her talent was exceptional. She had a way with a brush that even his mother would envy, but the most impressive part was how each piece conveyed a powerful feeling. She must have been angry when she'd painted them. The smudges and frantic brushstrokes all but confirmed it.

Pride warmed his chest as he continued to study them.

Her rage aside, she'd drawn the real him. Not the image he maintained for hers and Rin's sakes. She'd known who he was all along, and she hadn't turned away. Maybe that was why he couldn't give up on her. He didn't want her to think that she was worthless in his eyes. Words had never been his forte, but he wanted to tell her how much he admired her, and how he couldn't rest unless he knew she was safe. But the thing he wanted most was to see her again.

"I can grant your wish," Rin murmured from the bed.

His head whipped sideways to look at her through the wall of silk that separated them. Her steady breathing told him that she was still asleep. It wasn't uncommon for humans to talk in their sleep, but the timing of her speech unnerved him slightly.

He rose from the floor and walked towards the bed, resting his hand on the Tenseiga's hilt.

A butterfly was perched on Rin's brow. Sesshoumaru wasn't familiar with what species it was, but it looked harmless enough. He parted the curtains slowly and watched as the butterfly methodically opened and closed its wings. Rin's eyelids flickered whilst she slept.

"A star weeps in a cage without a key," she said, her voice as clear as a summer sky.

His eyes darkened. "You're not Rin."

"We can show you the way."

The butterfly's wings glinted like crystals.

"What are you?" he asked.

"Dreamcatchers," it answered. "Fear not. The nightmares can't touch her while she's under our protection. They're watching you, Lord Sesshoumaru. They want revenge for Namida."

"You know about the shadows?"

More butterflies appeared on the pillow next to Rin. The Tenseiga hummed faintly, but it didn't feel like a warning. One butterfly flapped its wings hard and flew to the top of his pelt.

"There are forces beyond even your understanding."

He glared at the infernal butterflies and reached for the Bakusaiga, only to pause when he saw Rin's peaceful expression. How long had it been since he'd seen her look like that?

He lowered his hand and said, "If anything happens to her—"

"Save your threats. We know your methods. The girl is safe with us."

He hoped that was the case. For their sake, not his.

"Where is Octavia?"

A few of the butterflies abandoned their perch on the pillow and flew towards the engawa doors. Rin's fingers twitched as the one on her brow hopped onto the quilt and closed its wings to rest. Conflicted, Sesshoumaru lingered for a moment before turning on his heel and following the butterflies outside. If the shadows were inside the castle, he'd need the Reikon Blade to chase them off. The Tenseiga pulsed in agreement as he gazed up at the moon silently.

Without warning, the butterflies took flight. Sesshoumaru ascended from the balcony and soared after them with his pelt billowing behind him like the tail of a shooting star.

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