Blood Music

“I am the shadow that encompasses a dream
I am the gust, the brashness of whim
I am that shard of glass in your eye
I’m the silence of the starry night sky

I’m the searing heat of the coal black sun
I’m the raging fury of the blood red moon
I am everything you aren’t, you aren’t
Yet --

Alas, I’m in you...
I am you.”

- Anonymous

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Chapter I

She fled.

Racing across the desert on her raw and bloody bare feet, she was a frightful sight. Her entity was an embodiment of grotesque fear, exhaustion and dehydration. All that was audible to her was her heart pounding in her head and her desperate gulps of air, like fish out of water. And then, tripping herself, she fell facedown. She stretched both her arms out in a violent fashion, desperately attempting to balance herself. Her sorry efforts were in vain. She lay where she fell, refusing to rise. Lying on her side, she slouched into fetal position and began to sob. No tears came. A warm breeze blew in rolling gusts of dust. The sun glared in all its fury, scorching her limp body. All of a sudden, she caught a glimpse of an eagle flying overhead, creating a silhouette against the merciless morning star. She found herself inadvertently calling to it.

Dear eagle in flight, save me from my plight
Whisk me away from here, hearken to my prayer…

She watched as the bird flew out of sight, into the sun. She turned away, dejected. The growing intensity of the desert heat was unbearable. In her head, the unnerving chimes of a music box began to play a disturbing melody.

Twinkle, twinkle little star…
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky…

She smiled. Her eyeballs rolling upwards, she was gently ushered into the dark. The realm of the comatose.

Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are ….

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Chapter II

He saw her fall.

Swearing, he tilted his body and outstretched wings, to make the graceful turn in mid-flight. Flapping his regal wings to gain velocity, he swiftly cut through the desert air looking for the girl. Spotting her, he flew down, and landed in a poised disposition. His knees were slightly bent, his arms were elegantly spread open, and his wings in full span. He looked majestic. His wings folded in neatly and tucked itself away in a steel backpack that he carried. Looking down at his shoes, he swore again. The better part of his brand new pair of Adidas’ footwear was now covered in dust. He brushed the dust off, irritated. “This had better be good.” He approached the immobile body. “Unconscious. Expected as much,” he thought, as if amused by what he saw. He squatted by her to have a closer look. Her face was plastered in dried blood. Then, twisting a steel mechanism on his wrist, he projected a holographic screen. Pushing on a combination of semi-visible buttons, his steel backpack produced a small bottle of water and a first aid kit. “First things first…” he told himself and began to clean and bandage the girl’s bleeding wounds. As he did so, he sang in the most morbid sarcasm imaginable.

The sun will come out
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that
Tomorrow
There’ll be sun

Just thinking about…

He stopped singing when he caught a glimpse of a crude marking on the girl’s upper arm. His eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” he found himself asking the girl. He gazed down the trail she had taken. “You’d never survive...”

Deciding to take her with him, he kept away his things, hauled the girl up, and carried her. She might as well have been a corpse. His wings unfurled and he broke into a steady run. The rhythm of the desert, the music of death, had begun ringing in his head. He heard it in the form of loud African percussion. His heartbeat was in sync to the pounding of the drums. He could feel the searing heat and the crunch of sand beneath his expensive footwear. He winced. “I knew I should’ve worn my old pair of shoes. Ah, the price of vanity!” he thought in rueful amusement, as he kicked sand behind him. His run soon quickened into a sprint and with all the strength he could muster, he began to flap his wings laboriously. An instant later, he was air-borne.

Leaving the malevolent and macabre blood music behind, he was homeward bound.

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Chapter III

Caffeine.

She took a deep breath. Her eyes flickered open almost instantaneously, realizing she was no longer in the desert. She stood up and in a fluid motion, somersaulted out of the bed she was in. She landed on her bruised feet, and winced. A moment later, she discovered that she had been stripped from her firearms. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” A young male voice behind her said. “Nice flip.”

She froze.

The voice chuckled. “Are you always this paranoid?” he asked. “Who are you?” she demanded, indignant. “It would help a lot if you turned around and faced me,” the voice answered. “Friend or foe?” she asked curtly, ignoring his suggestion. She felt naked without her weaponry. She could feel him smile as he answered, “Neither. I think the word to be used here is “savior”, seeing how I’ve just saved you from the clutches of the desert.” “Witty,” she thought, almost breaking into a smile. Nevertheless, his words bit into her pride. “I’m in your debt,” she thanked him reluctantly, making no effort to move. Awkward silence.

After awhile, the voice said, “Your energy guns are by the bed. Wash up and come down for breakfast when you’re ready. Questions later.” She nodded in submission, still not moving. She heard him leave, closing the door behind him. She undressed and cautiously stepped into the bathing chamber. And as she did, she gave a low whistle. The bathroom was like no other. It was intricately designed in the most elaborate manner. The tiles were in a kaleidoscope of colors. She stood, awed at the spectacle. Breaking away from her temporary fascination, she shook her head in amused disbelief, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh, isn’t this lovely? I’m standing in awe of the beauty of a bathroom,” she said, chuckling to herself, as she switched on the shower. The warm streams of water flowed from the crown of her head to the tip of her toes, cleansing the sand, dust and dried blood off her body. She winced as water flowed through her open, raw wounds. The soles of her feet were sore from burns acquired when traversing the blistering desert sands. She watched solemnly as blood, her blood, stream down her body in a soapy mix. She felt obligated to use every soap and shampoo available in the bathroom as it would be sordidly underutilized if she didn’t. She felt thoroughly clean and sanitized by the time she stepped out of the bathing chamber an hour later.

Her clothes were in disgusting condition, forcing her to resort to mining the cave of wardrobes for something clean to wear. She needn’t have worried. The wardrobes were decked with white clothes and attires of every style. This could have easily pleased a princess. “But you see, I’m not a princess. I’m a warrior,” she said to herself. Her fingers deftly ran through the outfits with distaste. As she came to the end of the first line, she eyed something. Inspecting it, she smiled in satisfaction. “Yes, this will do nicely.”

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Chapter IV

Staring at the hearty breakfast spread before him, he thought, and thought hard. She seemed harmless enough the first time. That’s because she was unconscious, you idiot, he laughingly chided himself. He lifted his gaze to the stairway leading to the girl’s room. She is smart, this one. Feisty, too. He wasn’t very surprised. The rough mark her arm bore was of the Vrephawn race, a long lineage of legendary warriors. They were born to be wary of strangers. They were born to fight. The only controversy here is that the Vrephawn race had disappeared decades ago. Could the lineage have somehow been preserved? Questions, questions. So many unanswered questions.

He thought in amusement about the way the girl had spoken to him, at dawn. She had stunk badly of rotten, dry blood. She would appreciate the bath and change in attire, I suppose. He also recognized her agility and strength. He remembered how she had skillfully somersaulted, head-over-heels, out of bed. He had been waiting for her to rise, and had taken a steaming cup of coffee upstairs to help him. He was quite sure it was the strong scent of caffeine that aroused her from her deep slumber. But never was he prepared to face the wakening lioness. He chuckled.

All of a sudden, he heard the growing sound of the steady clopping of a pair of boots. She descended the stairway, her left hand sliding gently down the mahogany banister. He gaped at her. She was clad in a long white trench coat, a pair of white pants and a pair of white boots - exactly what he was wearing. His heart raced, almost pounding into his head. “God, she’s beautiful…” There were over a million gowns and dresses in that wardrobe, and yet she chose the trench coat. He admired her elegant simplicity.

He rose from his seat as she approached the long breakfast table. She took a good look at him before taking a seat at his right hand. He had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands then. He began playing with his fork. She looked at him oddly. He quickly cleared his throat and attempted to begin a conversation. “How do you find your chambers?” “Excellent set up. I appreciate it,” she answered, in an uncomfortable smile. She paused a bit before continuing, “I apologize for the foul mood I was in. I can get edgy at times.” “Don’t worry about it. You’re justified. Though, I didn’t expect a reaction quite as violent as yours,” he joked. She gave a weak smile, but didn’t laugh.

He felt sheepish then, and had every intention of kicking himself for making that insensitive remark, when he realized that the girl was staring at him. “What?” he asked. “Who are you? Why did you save me?” the girl asked in earnest. Ah, the enquiry had begun! He leaned back into his chair and began to explain. He was a descendant of the Apocryphal Knights and he had witnessed her fainting into oblivion in mid-flight. He had inherited the manor from his parents as he was of royal blood, the Crown Prince of Arias. She listened, astounded. “My lord,” she knelt, embarrassed. “I did not know. Forgive thy servant, my prince.” Oh, no! He thought. Anything, but the high language. Anything. He rose and pulled her up. “No, no. Please, just call me Demetrius.”

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Chapter V

She was about to protest when Demetrius cut in, asking, “How about you? Are you really a descendant of the Vrephawn race?” “H-H-How did you know?” the girl stammered. Demetrius indicated that he had seen the marking on her arm before. “How is it that there are still descendants of your lineage?” he pressed on. “I am the last of my race.” She stared into blank space, eyes moist. He could see that she was trying her level best to stop herself from weeping.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “When the Vrephawnians subdued the Vices of the East in World War III, fear spread to the Eastern continents. They began to spread phony propagandas, claiming we were out to take over the world. The strength of the Vrephawn race was seen as a major threat to the world instead of being celebrated for their heroism. Governments turned against us, no allies aided us. We stood alone against the onslaught of the world. I was 8 years old; I couldn’t comprehend the world’s hatred towards us. One night, my mother sent me away to live with Tarsus, a dear family friend. It was hard to say goodbye to her, but she said I had to. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to…..” Her voice trailed off.

Demetrius remained quiet. Clenching her fists, she proceeded, “I never saw her again. The Leviathans spread an outbreak of Maiahala, a fatal disease, in the town Zeigi, where all Vrephawnians resided. In just little over a month, the Vrephawn warriors were completely wiped out. Tarsus passed on of old age just a month ago.”

“And you’re,” the Apocryphan prince murmured distractedly, “left all alone…”

She looked at him queerly. “Yes,” she said, in almost a whisper. But why do you care? Looking out the window, she said, “The neighboring towns have somehow been told of my true identity. They’re hunting me down like….like an animal.” Looking away from the opening in the wall, she turned to Demetrius. He held her gaze, reluctant to let go. He was willing her hurt, her pain, her wounds to be transferred on to him. He yearned to tell her it would be all right. “Indeed, with the power invested it me, I pledge to protect you with my very life.” He silently made a solemn covenant, unknown to the Vrephawnian. His eyes were intense, searching wildly into the deepest crannies of her soul. She broke off his gaze, defeated by his intensity.

Sobering all of a sudden, his eyes widened as the pricking realization of his oath seeped in. He cursed under his breath. He hardly knew her. What, in Arias’ name, caused me to profess such a vow? He questioned himself, not being entirely sure if he really wanted to know the reason.

While the prince waged war against himself, the Vrephawnian girl observed his every move. She too, was plagued with a million unanswered queries. Why was Demetrius not threatened by her existence? Why did her pulse quicken at his every word? Why was he capable of making her feel horribly uncomfortable yet safe all at once? Her thoughts, once lucid, were now in a befuddled heap.

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Chapter VI

“Self battles, as I recall, never were very beneficial to me,” Demetrius sighed, after the bombardment of interrogative questions from his own subconscious had died down to a calm surrender. He turned to look at the girl, who seemed drowned in her own thoughts as well. She had hardly eaten. Cook would be very displeased.

“Surely breakfast is far more important than clamorous thoughts,” the grinning prince hinted suggestively, snapping the girl back into reality. “Besides, my cook would not be so contented to see her breakfast go unappreciated.” “Forgive thy servant, my prince. She is not herself this morning,” came the quick, automated reply. He glanced at the Vrephawnian scathingly. “Oops, sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I was daydreaming,” she continued, deciding to loosen up a little.

Demetrius raised an eyebrow. She laughed. Oh, okay. She chuckled. Close enough. He couldn’t help but smile. He found himself yearning to hear her laugh again. “Ah, the lady laughs,” he said, smirking. She laughed again. His heart almost exploded then. Her laugh reminded him of his favorite flute piece. All of a sudden, he exclaimed, “I can’t believe this!” She had jerked at his unexpected exclamation. She looked at him questioningly. He laughed. “We’re already halfway through breakfast, and I still don’t know your name,” he explained, smiling. Both burst into laughter. Their hilarity resounded down the empty hallways. “Well?” he asked, expectantly. “Lystra. Avea Lystra,” she replied.

“Avea Lystra?” he asked, trying to capture the correct pronunciation of her name. Smiling, she nodded. She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. Accurate.

After the hearty breakfast, he showed her around his manor. No doubt, she was very impressed. However, she seemed very distracted throughout the whole tour. He could almost see the sadness etched behind her translucent smile. He wanted to get her mind off her depression. Pondering awhile, a brilliant idea donned on him.

“Avea?” he asked. “Shall we fly?”

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Chapter VII

He whisked her away, past the imperial mountain peaks, way beyond the magnificent sea of clouds, gliding swiftly, proficiently straight into the horizon. Avea loved every moment of it. She was finding it hard to breathe it all in at once. The view was breathtaking. The majesty of the earth’s crowning glory just blew her away. The winds gushed into her face, running through her hair. The sound was deafening yet inexplicably wonderful. They flew past islands and vast areas of vegetation. They soared alongside a flock of swans heading south for the winter. It was the most awesome experience Avea had ever had.

At some point of their flight, Demetrius begin smiling mischievously. Avea was highly suspicious of this. He looked at her and yelled, “Hold on tight!” Before she had a chance to reply, he ducked and began flying downwards at insane rapidity. He heard Avea gasp, as she clung on to him for dear life. He gradually slowed down his speed. “Where are you taking me?” she yelled, competing with the howling winds. “You’ll see,” he replied, just as loud.

They approached a beautiful valley, with lush forests and a stream running between its solid crevices. He took her a little further up and a moment later, they landed on the highest cliff he could find. She felt like she could see the whole world from that lofty cliff. They stood side by side on the edge of the earth, trying to grasp everything in its entirety. The sun looked spent, tired. “The sun is weary,” Avea observed. Demetrius nodded in agreement. “She’ll be setting soon,” he added. “She’s so beautiful,” Avea murmured, as she watched the sun gradually set. “Yes, she is,” Demetrius whispered his reply, his eyes fixed on the Vrephawnian. She met his gaze, one eyebrow raised. “You do know I meant the sun when I said that, right?” she teased. “Yes. And that makes things a little complicated, seeing now you’ve become my sun, my moon, the core-essence of my world AND the very air I breathe,” he answered, laughing lightly. He reached for her hand and gently held it. “I guess that means I must've fallen in love with you,” he concluded, chuckling. Avea laughed and returning the humor, replied, “What a coincidence, I think I must have too.”

As the sun met the horizon, her lips met his in a fantastic marriage of color, the bluing firmaments to the amber-splashed earth. The warmly welcomed night began to blanket the sky with splatters of glittering stars. Gazing at the constellations, Avea heard her mother’s evening-serenade, distant yet still audible.

Starlight, star bright
The first star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Count the stars I see tonight…

And as the song melted into the silence of the arriving night...

“Avea?” Demetrius asked. “Shall we fly?”