Færaghul: Prologue

Prologue

Mordare’s bathwater was crimson.  The dark pool that covered her pallid frame was a precise 37 degrees Celsius, the average temperature for the blood of humans.  But it was rapidly cooling as Mordare’s own life-sustaining fluid seeped in and the Essence that it contained attempted to absorb as much energy as it could.  For Mordare was dying. And only through this ancient ritual could she hope to live again.

What she could call her mother stood over her, reciting the words of an enchantment over and over again.  Her ethereal voice was not dampened by the earthen walls, but echoed.  The words themselves seemed alive as they circled about the room, increasing with the speed of the mantra. The force of them was near tangible, and loose items were strewn wildly as the words swirled faster and faster.

The female creature speaking the incantation was lost deep within a trance. Her dark silver mane of tangled hair appeared to be caught in a storm as it blew about. Long, tendril-like fingers lightly gripped a thick leather-bound book of aged parchments. Spindly writing danced over the opened pages, moving away as each word was spoken.

The tub of cooling blood had now begun to boil. The thick liquid bubbled and frothed and tiny Mordare slipped silently beneath its surface, her near-lifeless body coming to rest on the bottom of the silver basin. The human blood flowed into her small, slit nostrils and agape mouth. It ran down her throat and coursed within her very being. Mordare’s fading Essence slowly drew the life from it. After only a few moments, the once warm, scarlet substance was now cold. And black. The bubbling in the tub subsided, and the enchantment was ceased.

For an eternal moment, there was absolute silence. Mordare’s mother stared into the black liquid with eyes of the same color. The things that had been blown about had settled, and the silver hair had come to rest unmoving once more upon the being’s back. Thin fingers slowly allowed the old book to close, as a mother sent silent prayers to the Devil himself.