This is 2/2 of a double updateeeee!!!! If you haven’t read 14, make sure to do that first!!!

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Aiasthlyn

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He does not speak, and neither do I.

He only stares—it seems a habit—and I do the same. A contagious habit.

Strangely enough, he blinks. Vampires do not do this, not often. The biological need is not poignant for them, so it is unnecessary. But he does it. He blinks as if it is needed.

Time crawls by slowly.

I blink because I must, and so does he.

I am not speaking first.

I am not speaking at all. There is no chance of it. He is the one who has brought himself to me, and I am not going to converse with a slaver. No. And I will not risk showing my hand by doing so either, when I do not even know what he suspects is in it.

The trouble is, I should have known he was watching.

I should have sensed him, but I had been too preoccupied with Vasile, and I assumed, wrongfully, that he too was under the First’s control, so I had not noticed him slinking towards me in the shadows.

I placed a barrier around me and the deceased long before I had stepped back into my cage, so there is no chance that he has seen what I had done. But Vasile’s corpse did rest naked and exposed at my feet now. The question was, for how long was he watching, and what did he see?

I should have sensed him. Him…

I still do not have his name.

Our stare lingers.

He is more handsome up close. Unfortunately. I had hoped it was a trick of the light, but no, he is as devastating to witness in my flesh as Ythene’s light was.

His hair is cropped short, shorter than I am familiar with, with black hair that curls in on itself. Strangely, the texture differs in his eyebrows; those strands were sleek and perfectly framed over his wide eyes. Wide grey eyes— grey being the closest tone to moonstone petals in my realm. His eyes somehow found the shade and brought it to this one.

Then there’s the rest of him. His clothing frames the firm body composed of muscles, broad shoulders and strong legs. He is not small or thin, but sinewy and tall. Taller than me by a measure in this form, but if I were at my natural height…

“…and that is why it is best to keep him in the cage.”

Our stare is broken as we look upon Keys, who stands between us. Rambling. I forgot that he had appeared shortly after he had and was yet to leave.

Keys no longer looks as green as when he first glimpsed Vasile’s peeled figure at my feet, stacked atop whoever had tried to move me first, but the horror in his eyes has not left since. He has not looked at me either, and that is wise, because I have plans to kill him too, and I am far too volatile as it is.

The vampire before me— the slaver— looks confused for a moment before his expression crumples. He blinks again, faster this time. “What?”

His voice. Ythene… his voice.

Its deep cadence does something to me, but I quash the reaction as soon as it emerges. It is nonsensical and wholly illicit. No matter his appearance, he is still a slaver. A slaver who has purchased me.

“He is dangerous. Extremely so,” Keys explains, and he does not look directly at the slaver either. “The cage is the only thing that holds him.”

Greyed eyes flick back to me— sharp, knowing, intelligent. “Is that so…”

He saw then. Saw something he should not have but there was no way he saw through my barriers. At the very most, he saw the moment before I shrouded Vasile and me, which meant he saw me outside of the confines that I still stand in.

“Shocking works,” Keys informs, spitting the words out as if he wishes to demonstrate, but one glance at his former comrade rids him of the notion. “We have rods and—”

“I will not be shocking him,” the slaver snaps, though it’s moreso a hiss the way he says it with such indignation. As if the prospect of such a thing was abhorrent. As if he did not purchase me.

Keys steps back, dipping his head further. “I only meant that—”

“You should leave now.”

It is all he says, and all he needs to say. Keys disappears in a blur of movement, leaving us alone. When those astute eyes find mine again, they carry a complex apology within them.

His lips part, but he hesitates. They are full, plump as if all the life in him is stored there, waiting to be retrieved.

“I am sorry,” he starts, forcing my gaze higher. “This must all seem…” he stops. Thinks. “I will not hurt you.” A promise, then a step closer. “I am not like that, like them.”

I make a sound founded somewhere between disgust and humour, and it startles him. Shock claims his expression as if he did not think me capable of the sound, or a response. A moment later, he winces and shakes his head profusely.

“I know how that sounds, and how this looks, but I can explain,” he rattles with a play at anxiousness. “You see, I was sleeping and—”

“Malcolm, I’m leaving.”

For the second time this evening, I notice the presence of another too late.

I shift my gaze to the vampire that represents my Charge, but he is already retreating. He came only to dispense that comment, not to me but to—

I return my gaze to the man before me. He is named Malcolm.

It lingers in my mind for a moment before I shove him and his name from my thoughts. Instead, I focus on the one who had spoken the name in the first place.

The pale figure appears more skeletal in frame, and that is most likely because he is missing his outfit’s outer layer. A layer that is wrapped around the small figure in his arms. Kalem.

I turn in my cage, and the one called Malcolm startles again. I ignore him, focusing instead on my friend. He breaths softly with no sign of distress, despite the fact that he is being held by an unfamiliar man— by my Charge.

“We have to go too,” the slaver comments. “He is my ride. Our ride.”

He steps forward, paying no mind to the bodies beneath my confines as he takes hold of the back of the cage. My fingers twitch with the urge to kill him too, but then he is pushing me towards Kalem and the man carrying him, and that is where I wish to be.

I frown as I study them. They are somehow both connected to whatever I am here for. They are who I should be concerned with, not the one with me. He is not part of my mission, which makes him irrelevant, but it is clear he and Lincoln have some semblance of a relationship.

This must be how I am to stay close, but as a slave? Why would Ythene choose such a disgusting route?

My questions remain unanswered while I keep my eyes trained on the pair in front, until… until I spot open doorways and pass through them, into the night, into fresh air— into the world for the first time in what has felt like aeons.

I did not forget that life was not framed by a dingy set of walls and too-low ceilings. I was well aware of that, but what it felt like to be outside… that had faded some. Had to, because it feels now like I take my real first breath since the moment I was first brought here.

The air, which once felt stale on arrival in this wretched realm, now tastes pure, like the finest of waters that trickle across sun-kissed skin. I inhale it greedily, along with the rich, welcoming sense of nature that flocks to me like a measured friend.

It saturates my bones where my stored magic has not already, blessing me with power and then more to do with it as I please, and I take it all gratefully. This welcome is appreciated, though scorching, because it is just a little bit like home.

I have not allowed myself to think of home. Too risky, but now that I do, as I look up at the sky and see this moon, I think of our two moons. I think of their cool shine on one’s skin, and the way they linger in the skies even as our sun rises.

I think of Tuilë days spent beneath them and evenings admiring the way they coat the skies with my brood. My brood.

How long has it been since I have seen them? It feels like ages, but how long truly?

“Okay, how are we going to do this?”

I draw my attention back to the scene before me, the one that I must helm if I ever wish to return home, and watch as my Charge stops himself in front of one of this realm’s travelling machines. They keep to the grounds rather than the skies, and produce a set of fumes that seem to have no function other than to taint.

He props the back door open and settles Kalem inside. His expression is soft once more as he gently closes the door behind Kalem, but it evaporates the moment he turns and faces him.

Perhaps they are not well acquainted.

“Doing what?” He asks plainly, though he appears as if just speaking adds weight to the hollow bags beneath his eyes.

“Getting me home,” the man, Malcolm, replies quickly, eagerly. He looks to me. “With him, of course.”

My lip curls over my teeth as I press myself against the bars, and he crouches slightly. I struggle to hide my frown.

Before, when he had been watching me, he had appeared inquisitive and sharp. Now, he is but a coy, nervous figure who seems desperate for my favour. A strange tactic.

“A cage is not going to fit in my car, Malcolm,” the sickly vampire states plainly, as if we do not all have eyes.

“Obviously not, but we can figure something out,” he states, turning to face his companion once more. It exposes his neck to me. My fingers twitch again.

I could so easily end this, or haul him to me and demand answers from the one before him, but what answers? I did not even know what to ask, much less what to do.

I know nothing in fact, other than I am tired of being in the company of filthy animals.

“Come on, Lincoln,” he pleads. “I don’t know how to handle an elf.”

I am reaching before I can regulate the anger ‘handle’ evokes in me. It rises in an instant and explodes, and then, I have a fistful of coarse yet somehow soft hair in my grasp.

“Ow!” He shrieks as he jumps back, and I let him. I have to, because touching is not wise. His bright eyes flit to mine, startled— always so surprised— before they flit to the other. “Lincoln!”

He whines his name like a childling, and my lip curls higher, like Lincoln’s, who seems to reach his end with this situation, at least the one that pertains to me.

“Your elf. Your problem. Good luck.”

His gaze barely flits over me before he deposits himself in the vehicle with Kalem. Malcolm follows after him to bang against the windows. At first, I think he means to break it, but he does not apply nearly enough force, and why is he making such helpless sounds while he… begs? For help… to deal with me.

I watch him, more confused than I have felt possibly in my entire lifetime. Is he not supposed to be a ‘Master’? Meant to abuse me for his pleasure, and yet, he begs his friend, who is too busy speaking to Kalem to notice, for help.

I unfortunately notice, however, and I do not stop, even as I lend an ear to the conversation inside.

“…must’ve had something in mind. A name you’d given yourself in secret. Tell me. I won’t be mad.”

A trap. I witnessed it set many times for the brave ones who tried to withhold their name, that is, before they knew the price of it. They would ask, ‘What is your name?’ and any answer other than ‘slave’ would leave you with the whip.

I only had one name, and never discarded it for the likes of them.

“K-Kalem.” My magic is already poised under the car, ready to tear the man from limb to limb if he dares to raise a hand to—

“That’s a lovely name.”

I still, as Kalem does, not quite believing my ears, and yet, there it is.

Kalem, as susceptible to praise as a marigold is to sunlight, preens, smiling quickly. “Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t call me that!” He snaps, and my magic rises to dispel what’s left in him. “You don’t have to call me that.” It stills, waits… hesitating just as I do. “My name is Lincoln, that should do fine.”

I stare at them, confused, which seems to be what I am meant to be for the foreseeable future. And I can not act until I understand, which means… I must endure this. This situation and… him.

I look at him again, and he is still banging against the vehicle.

Dear Ythene…

The vehicle starts with a rumble before it finally shifts back, and through its glass confines, I catch Kalem’s gaze. The world seems to stop in that moment as he looks to me with some measure of the fear they’d held before we were taken from the cells.

But this time, he seems to believe in me, which is good because I have no intention of breaking my promises. We will see each other again.

When we alone are left, him and I, he allows his shoulders to slump before he hesitantly looks to me. I glare at him, and he immediately straightens, standing to attention like a warrior who has been called upon.

Our former silence returns, but he does not allow it to linger this time.

“So,” he begins carefully, “you are not out yet, so I am going to take that to mean that you are okay staying with me.”

I was not okay with anything about this foul situation, but yet again, it was out of my hands. Staying near to Kalem and my Charge through this man seems to be Ythene’s Will, and if this is her most favourable plan of action to see her goals accomplished, I do not wish to see what awaits if I were to step off her path.

“You do not have to. You know it is up to you, clearly,” he mumbles that last word and my lip curls in a snarl. “But! This must all be very terrible, nevertheless. You can stay with me for as long as you wish. I am a good host.”

He is an idiot.

I thought he was smart, at first, pensive, but that must have been the time he used trying to come up with a single thought. And this is time I lose having to be in his presence. It has to be so because there is no other explanation for his watchful fretting.

“I do not have a car yet. Which means, we will have to do this on foot, or I can push you the whole way, which is—” he laughs, his expression amused until he meets my stare. His face falls. “—What I will be doing.”

Wasting no more time, he retakes his position behind this infernal cage and begins to push. He actually does it. This man… a slaver and a so-called Master, exerts himself while I simply stare at him. There is nothing else to do, and I might as well try to uncover what is wrong with him.

He spoke as if he had morals and considered them, but his actions and mere presence proved otherwise. Yet, he babbled and spoke as if everything around him confused him. His mind was either endlessly active or terrifyingly empty.

His eyes flick up, meeting mine, and he tries for a smile. I harshen my glare until he looks down at the ground and keeps pushing.

He smells of grass.

Kalem smells sickly sweet with whatever they’d cleaned us with wafting from him as it does me, and the one who is with him smells like iron. But he smells like grass.

Wet grass, after a summer’s rain. Not heavy, but lasting long enough to adequately douse the blades and leave a scent. He smells like this.

I blink as the strange observation fades.

…Perhaps the was another party at play.

Some third party attempting to interfere with him, but if that were the case, surely Ythene would have made it as clear to me as she had not to annihilate the man who had taken Kalem.

I track them with a sliver of my magic, and I am pleased to find that I am heading in the same direction, though far, far slower.

“My name is Malcolm, by the way,” he says, risking a glance up to share the information. “What’s yours?”

He changes again. The instant he asks the question, the confusion and bumbling are suddenly packed away, as the creature I had first glimpsed surfaces with tangible curiosity.

His attention is gruelling, and as he fixes it upon me, his eyes shine.

It is not the moonlight or anything other than an internal intrigue that illuminates those wide eyes. They are alarmingly soft in nature, full, as if the world was to be held in them, and imbued with such naked trust.

My lips remain sealed. I will not speak to him.

He understands this belatedly and as he does, the light slowly sputters out of those glimmering eyes, stealing their shine and clamping steel around my chest in a response that I ignore.

This man was a slaver—nothing more, nothing less. I owed him nothing but death by my hands, and when Ythene provided the way, I would be sure to take it.

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Malcolm!!!!!! Oh my God he is soooo fucking cute, someone sedate me what the fuck!!!!!

Thoughts??????????????????????/

Thoughts on their first interraction??? First one-sided convo????  On Malcolm trying so damn hard and Aias being our angry alley cat lmfaoooooo

I reeally want to hear every single thought you guys have! What are you thinking! How are you feeling!!!!! I’m so glad we’re finally at this stage of the book, where we see their story outside of Kalem and Lincoln, like shit we neverrrr knew was going down AHHHHH

I’m sooo excited for what’s the come!

You guys can expect the next update sometime next week! In the meantime, I’ll be working on a chapter of Virion on Patreon – a short-story about Aias’ brother Virion that I will post for free to all platforms when it’s done!  

Well, that’s all for now! Remember to like if you enjoyed!!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeeee Humanssssssssss