Flying is definitely different from running. I am used to staying close to the ground, feeling my feet on the rough earth as it centres me and helps me push forward. I love the weight and power of my wolf, the scent of the forest in my breath as I run through it. It gives me confidence that I belong, that am a creature of the wild and the wilderness is me.

The sky is not the same. It’s vast, endless, fathomless. The height at which we are flying unnerves me. There is a chasm both above and below. To every side that I turn my tiny eyes to. I feel so insignificant, like an ant in an enormous desert. Everything is so disproportionately great it makes me feel miniscule.

My body is featherlight. It’s so insubstantial, a little breeze is enough to push me off my flight path. It’s also very weak. I can barely keep the height. It’s only Damien’s silver leash that keeps me tethered and stops me from falling to my death from thousands of feet.

I flap my wings, trying to build up a muscle I never had. Height. Space. The vast canyons underneath that make my head swirl if I so much as glance down. The empty space unnerves me. There is nothing to hold me, to guide me except for Damien’s tether and looming bat shape overhead as we follow him underneath.

I never followed anyone in my wolf form. Not under their shadow, not as a slave on a leash. I fought in my father’s army, as warrior under my brother’s command. Everyone was equal there; every soldier was respected for doing their bit for the pack.

Now that life is gone. Probably the wolf too is gone. It could only take so much humiliation. And Damien’s slave spell must have made sure it would never resurface.

I shiver, wondering if I have really lost my wolf. I do not want to speculate. It may still be there, sulking somewhere inside my subconscious. Or maybe Damien’s spell has subdued it so much, it deserted me forever. It is not unheard of. People in traumas sometimes lose their wolves. Sometimes they regain them back, but it’s all up to fate.

And my fate, as of now, is to be a bird. A little, cute, slave-bird that does her master’s bidding. He will fatten me and one day may decide to eat me. It’s all up to him. He has replaced the moon goddess and has become the master of my fate.

The night turns sooty; the starts fading into an unnatural darkness. I realize we have started losing height. In the east, the dawn breaks into an orange surprise. Ahead of us, a city looms, vast, and foreboding.

*****

The dawn breaks, but the land stays covered in grey smog. It’s a thin veil that covers the entire land like a shroud of some sinister spell. Beyond the veil, I can see vast domes. Imposing, tall towers and beautiful vistas.

As the city comes into sight, my eyes widen. It’s beautiful, but in a sad way. Tall buildings of white marble stand proud at every corner. Roads are paved with red stones, bordering with rare shrubs. There are fountains, statues, beautifully carved domes that I can only stare at. But everything has a dark aura, as if coated in misery.

The place oozes doom. The beauty is marred with a distinct deathly feel. I knew vampires as the richest of the species, but even their gold does not bring any joy to this gloom.

Or is it intentional? I do not know. It may be a statement, a stamp of death over life, of timeless gloom of despair over the fleeting, fickle beauty of hope. The vampirs can do that. Their very presence sucks a place of any hope.

We reach to the centre of the city where the others have landed and started shifting back. Damien circles the place once before choosing an empty spot for us to land.

“Shift.” his command sounds again and I find myself standing on my two feet. I scramble to cover myself, expecting to be naked, but I need not have worried. Unlike my wolf form, this form has a protection. We are back in the clothes we wore before.

“Will see you tonight, Damien.” Vasili’s deep voice rumbles from a distance. I peer over my shoulder to see his eyes trained on us. “Remember your promise. I need the proof tonight.”

*****

Everyone has dispersed to their own quarters. The city is a labyrinth of palaces, towers, tunnels, and turrets. We walk, trying to keep pace with Damien, who strides through the maze in a certain direction that only he knows. We turn left, then right, then climb a flight of a thousand steps before again turning right, then left, before crossing another maze of tall hedges and emerging on the other side after a hundred turns. Then we descend into tunnels that take us through another round of maze, this time underground, lit with flickering torches and full of beguiling aromas. We pass others who nod at Damien and ignore the slaves. I find some curious eyes on me, but no one stops to talk.

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After what seems like an eternity, we come across a dark river. A small boat awaits us, with a carving of leaves across its long hull and a majestic swan’s head roped on it.

I narrow my eyes. They are not leaves. On the hull, in the carving, is a worn-out figure of a swan. Its long, proud neck is upright. Its swathe of majestic wings is spread across the length of the hull as if the bird is in flight.

Swan. It was a sigil of First Elves. I wonder what it is doing here in this land of vampires.

“Let’s go.”

Damien gets on the boat, and we follow him. The Swan-head turns, and the boat slithers on the surface, taking us into the fog to the other side.

The river is quiet, the water barely making any sound. The wind blows in a mild breeze, bringing an ancient scent. It stirs something within, something deep in my core, but I cannot place it.

In a sudden gust of motion, my mind goes back to my home. Silver Forest, with his lush greenery, beautiful tall trees and bubbling streams. My home in that forest, my people and my family. My little world that has fallen far back. I am only here because I destroyed it. I killed my mother and ruined my family.

Hot tears trickle down my cheeks. I wipe them, holding my heart as the fog opens into a stream. We have entered a part of the river that takes us straight into a castle. I watch as the belly of teh castle opens, and we enter a small lake under the cover of a vast dome.

There are people waiting for us. It looks like a celebratory welcome. Inside, the dome is decorated with thousands of magnolias and lilies. Ornate oil torches are placed in every nook and crevice, illuminating the place with a golden haze.

“Master! Welcome!” A middle-aged man steps forward as the boat docks the shore and we descend. Next to the man is a woman of similar age and height, her dark hair tied back in a high bun, wearing dark blue robes with silver embroidered borders.

I watch in confusion as the duo bows to Damien and me, their faces plastered with wide smiles.

“Welcome home, My Lord, My Lady. So glad to see you finally.”

The lady comes forward with a flower garland and puts it around my neck. The man attempts the same on Damien when Damien shrugs him away.

“Thank you, Otto. Ophelia. Please take care of her. I need to rest.”

He turns and strides away, a bewildered Otto rushing after him. Ophelia’s face falls, but she forces a smile as she turns to me.

“My lady. You must be tired. Please follow me. Let me show you to your quarters.”

*****

They must be thinking we are mated. My mind warns. What if they know the truth? But then Damien did not say anything. Or rather he hasn't said anything, yet.

I exhale a nervous breath as I follow Ophelia. She leads me into the castle through a dimly lit corridor that takes us upstairs from the underground port. All the while she chitters excitedly as if I am some long lost friend. It seems she had waited long for me. She had pestered her master to bring me home, but he never listened.

“He is always busy. The King always needs him to look into this and that, and then the rebels keep him occupied. Honestly, he has been at it for a thousand years and you would think that’s long enough, but his troubles never cease.”

A thousand years of fighting with rebels. That does sound exhausting. I thought all vampires did was to drink blood and make merry with slaves, but this is new information.

“I never knew there were rebels in Shadow Lands!”

“Oh, there are!” Ophelia exclaims. “Pesky humans with the backing of black witches. They are always creating troubles. And our master must run around sorting it while the King sits on his…” She stops abruptly, choosing not to badmouth her king in front of me. I smile.

Clearly, Ophelia is in awe of her master. And equally, she is terrified of the king. It’s as if Vasili can hear her words. As if he is spying on us.

I shake my head at the thought.

We turn into a corridor on the third floor that is laid with a thick red carpet that muffles our footsteps. I switch my attention to my surroundings. The place is vast. Ancient. Beautiful tapestries cover the walls from top to bottom, depicting scenes of an unknown age. There are carved marble tables, each sporting a vase of fresh flowers and a water jug. Tall bay windows at regular intervals illuminate every corner with fresh morning light.

The feel here is not that of doom, but of some long-lost glory. My feet stop at a particularly beautiful painting that adorns the centre space between two large bay windows.

It’s a picture of three magnificent women, each with an ethereal beauty with silver hair and hazel eyes. On their head is a silver circlet of stars and flowers. Their ears are elongated, pointy, like only elves used to have.

“Ah. That is our master’s family.” Ophelia’s face turns poignant. “His mother, our late Lady Lestrange, and two sisters. They died in the Second Rising.”

“Second Rising?”

“The Second time the elves rebelled against the vampire rule. Master’s family was captured and killed. He was very young then. He only survived because he was… converted. But he hasn’t known a moment of peace since then.”

She falls quiet as we cover the rest of the distance. We climb another flight of sweeping stairs before coming across a set of majestic carved doors.

Here too the panels are decorated with beautiful swan motifs. The wood is ancient yet gleams with fresh polish.

“These are the quarters of the late lady Lestrange. I kept them ready for the past two years, but you never came. I am happy you are finally here, Lady Tamara. It’s nice to have the mistress of the house back.”

She gives me a sad smile and leads me in. I follow her in as a weird feeling sets in my heart.

***** *****