From the private journals of Dragomir, last of the Carpathian line
**
I think it through.
The wind realm, If that is a real thing. That is where they are going. The children are not disappearing—they are being taken. Pulled into somewhere else. Somewhere I cannot sense. Why can i not sense it, it seems to be some sort of domain. Mages , Deities and Devils can make domains. I sure hope its a mage, anything above that is going to be troublesome. Do they exist, why am i feeling this … Fear… deities and devils don't exist. I don't reckon they do at least, i have lived for millennia, its all simply buffonery.
What nonsense am I blabbing mid air, i should get into this domain as soon as possible.
I dive in with the girl, loosen my grounding, let the wind take us both, I will enter that realm. The children are there. Hiding. Scared.
Maybe Toure is there too.
I think for a moment longer. Then I decide.
I dive.
The wind swallows us. For a moment, there is only rushing and cold. Then I see them. An entire group of children, sitting in silence, their faces pale with fear. They stare at me like I am a monster. Toure is not there, but i smell Koffi, I am sure Toure is nearby.
I am.
Before I can land , something hits me.
A rock spirit. A golem with granite for fists. Its fist connects with my face. My head twists backward. My neck twists with it—crunch. Blood sprays. I am flying backward, fast, as if I am an arrow launched from a crossbow, out of the realm, out of the wind, tumbling through the air until I crash against a tree.
The rough bark tears my expensive suit and back,its painful, I can hear my soft pale flesh tear like leather, a sound that is hard to explain but understandable when felt. It still chills me , my pale skin tearing like wet leather .
Damn. That is painful.
I touch my face. Blood covers my hands. My neck screams. But the wind is gone. The spirit is gone.
I sit there, trying to understand. I quickly twist my head back in place, the neck follows like a shadow.
Why would a spirit punch me? Is it stronger than me?—I felt that much. But spirits do not attack unprovoked. They mind their own business. They do not save children. They do not work for anyone. Might that have been a devil in disguise, no those are pure evil, Deities are unbothered, nothing seemed special about these batch of kids why would a devil or deity dare save them. Or did that girl's prayers work.
I am fooling around.
It must be a Mage nearby.
Who the hell are these spirits really working for?
Before I can think further, my nose begins to bleed, i guess twisting my neck back in place ruptured a vein, a very high pressure one.
The blood is not a trickle. A stream. A flood. Blood pours from my nostrils like water from a spring. It fills the ground around me, pooling in the dirt, spreading across the leaves. I cannot stop it. I cannot slow it. My blood worth pounds over pounds of gold pouring to the ground. I will grow an apple tree here , its fruits i will charge extra.
My hunters hear the commotion. They rush to the clearing. They see me on the ground, covered in blood, apparently unconscious. They stop. They stare.
I feel their thoughts through the blood. They want to drink. My blood. It would make them stronger. So much stronger.
But they hesitate. They know the risk. The transformation is painful. Burning. Many do not survive it.
They cannot bear the thought. But one moves closer.
"Master looks unconscious," he whispers. "Just a sip."
He steps closer. Leans down.
My hand moves faster than his eyes. It punches through his face—through his skull—and out the back. He crumples. I drag him down by his ruined head and sink my teeth into his neck. His blood fills my mouth. Warm. But not salty like a human's blood.
I stand. No support. No stagger. Like a banshee rising from the grave. Straight up .
The other hunters gasp. They step back.
I look at them, blood dripping from my chin.
"Who else wants a taste of my blood?"
One hunter does not move. I hear his thoughts. If it were me, I would have drained him before he could punch. I would have—
I interrupt his thoughts
My blood and consciousness flow through him. I am in his mind. I hear everything.
"I would love to see you try that?" I say aloud.
His eyes go wide. He turns to run. He has powerful legs and in his first spring before sprint his right foot _ engraves an inch deep print on the ground.
I smirk.
I am faster. I pin him to the ground before he gets near the trees to vanish .
"Please—" he starts.
I punch through his head, to prove he wouldn't be able to outrun my punch even if he wanted.
Another turns in fear. Runs not as fast as the first one but his speed is commendable.
I wonder how they failed to catch the moor over and over , should i threaten them before hunts to keep their speeds up .
I grab his heel. Lift. Rise into the air, higher and higher, until the forest is a speck below us, until the curve of the sphere becomes visible against the blackness of space.
He begs. I watch him beg. Then I drop him.
Half bloods can't levitate, they are agile to hop higher than the tallest trees or buildings you can think of but they cannot fly, and their landing is painful, good thing I am not a half disgrace half weakling .
He falls. Screaming. Flailing. I follow, diving after him. When he is close to the ground—close enough to feel hope—I catch him by his left foot.
The momentum does not stop. His body keeps going. His leg detaches tearing from the rest of the body, how sickening.
His bones collapse. Every limb breaks. He is alive. Screaming. Twisting on the ground like a thing without shape. I am still levitating holding his leg as his body sprays blood upwards, i throw it back down.
I land beside him. The others watch. They cannot run . Cannot try. Cannot fight.
I drain him. I then eat him his flesh gnaw on his bones and slurp his muscle fibres. They watch all of it helplessly, they all think of apologies, they know I can read their thoughts,they cant stop me they can however control their thoughts and think good stuff.
When I am done, I stand. Look at each of them in turn.
"Before any of you dares cross me, remember this: I do not forgive. I do not forget."
Some spit sprays out of my lips to the ground. My body has betrayed me, embarrassing me when I should be scary.
So embarrassing. The can't dare laugh.