Seanni froze with silver locks falling through her fingers. The voice of her mistress smacked her like a burning whip. Why would she even ask? To keep the illusion? No. There was no point in her asking. As an oracle, such small talk could be nothing more than an act of kindness or cruelty towards her servant.
“Come this evening, twenty springs shall pass since you took me in.” Seanni spoke with more freedom than her status allowed her. Over the years she and the oracle grew in familiarity.
“Is that so? How old were you? Nine perhaps?”
The oracle continued. Her soft slithering voice no different than a susurrus of the falling leaves. She already knew all the answers, yet she asked. Was that meant to unnerve her servant?
“Yes. I was no more than a child of the street before you took me.”
At that the oracle turned her head, ever so slightly. Taking long deep breath she spoke once more.
“You are aware I have a custom of sending away all the servants beyond the age three cycles?”
That she knew. Whenever one of the temple girls reached the age of thirty, she would be cast away and never return. Exactly in a year, come next spring, same fate would befall her. Her one and only love in her life would cast her away.
“Do you truly believe that? Your lips have never spoken of your heart’s desire. Do you truly feel that way, knowing what I am? Would you let me sate my hunger?”
Mother of all shivers and father of fear shook the girls body. She served the oracle long enough to know the nature of her thirst yet, all those years…
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“O ancient one, do not torture me. My heart and mind content is but an open book before your eyes.”
She undid her robe, exposing her slender neck
“I trust you with all I am.”
“That you do.”
The oracle finely spoked. Would her eyes be opened, her servant would see an endless sadness deep within them. But no one saw her eyes. She kept them closed around mortals and their tender souls.
With one push of her tail, she coiled herself around the girl, pressing her chest against the servant’s back. Bringing her lips to the side of the Seanni’s neck, she planted a kiss, finding a vein and letting her venom numb the girl’s flesh before her fangs punctured the skin.
Careful as not to nick the pulsating aorta, she let the blood slowly fill her mouth as she drank, listening to the servant’s heart.
You see my dear love, she pondered while mana infused blood past her throat sending undescribed pleasure through her body. It is not that I want to send away all those maidens, so deeply infatuated in me. It is that I must, her mind once again tried to justify what she did. Her glamour could twist the heart of anyone and there was no sweeter meal then the blood of a maiden in love.
Unconscious, the body hung lip in her grasp. The girl’s heart fluttered. Should she lose a drop more of her blood and it would stop.
Nahira withdrew her fangs yet kept her lips pressed against the girl’s neck until the wounds she opened, were healed by her magic. A trick she learned for a hefty price. That and a way to clear the memory of those that offered her their love.
“Sleep, sleep my love. Rest. You shall need strength in your new life.”
One far away from this temple and far away from her.
She fastened her leather mask over her eyes and slid out of the warm bed, leaving the girl behind.
Sailing over the cold marble floor, she hoped no one would see her glittering tears, dripping down from under the mask. She would not brush them away nor would she admit that her heart shattered forevermore.
Now, there was no time for such frivolous things as sadness. She urged her tail to move faster. The guests were coming. The spirit soon would arrive.
A shiver went down her spine.
Blood. Blood everywhere.
Amongst all the tortured souls, on a throne of blood and bone, a woman sat.
Strain her eyes for as long she might, Nahira could not see the woman’s face.
Even without that, one she was sure.
None of her visions went past the point of coming of the one clad in blood.