Minvávriel stepped quickly through the pitifully formed chunks of stones, that the savages liked to call a city. Even in this moonless, cold night, it was far hardly any better. It was disgusting. Those filthy streets covered in dirt and mud, and those disgusting creatures were reeking almost as bad as a horde of orcs. When a city guard stepped out of a side street, with a face like a crippled apple, wrath lines showed on her face.

She drew both of her short sword and cleaved the man to pieces. Her blades found every nook and cranny in the armor, cutting apart both joints and tendons with a few small hand movements. Then she finished her work with a quick slash to his vocal cords, so she would no longer have to listen to his screams in that rape of a language. The man stared at her with painful expression.

Minvávriel saw the wish of death shimmering in his eyes. She did not grant his favour. Another deep cut destroyed his eyes and made the black armor of the Albae the last thing this pathetic savage would ever see.

It was not in her nature to leave someone alive. But who would tell the other savages to stay as far away from her as possible, is she cut all of them down before they got to spread the message?

Luckily the view improved a lot as she stepped through the gates to the inner fortress. Even though the stone building itself was as ugly as all the others in this human infested city, her lover Vanátorás had at least decorated with a few of his art pieces. Two large trees made of white bones, that reminded of a harsh winter improved the area alongside a few paintings that hung on the walls. Her lover had created them out of the skin and blood of those worthless savages, yet it looked like she was looking in a mirror, covered with the blood of her enemies.

His creativity and attention to detail to her beauty ignited her passion. She stepped into the room in which she usually worked with him and took off her dark Durássium helmet.

“Welcome back.” A dry voice croaked from the other side of the room. A wrath line shot over Minvávriel’s face and she let a dagger of pure, black Durássium fly towards the source.

The dagger crushed through the eye of the captured human, that was chained to the wall and created silence. Minvávriel stripped off her black armor and dressed into a thin black gown, before she stepped towards her lover, that was staring down the balcony into the fighting arena below.

Vanátorás had a fascinated expression. Urgh. He was observing those filthy savages in the fights he had arranged again. Her left hand reached for his neck and her fingers slid up through his long, dark hair, that stood in extreme contrast to her own blond hair. “What do you see in those… animals?” Minvávriel asked exasperatedly.

“Only the one is interesting. The others much less. They will be stepping stones in letting him grow.” He turned away from the massaker and all his attention was focused on her. The short and perfect fingernails on his right hand reached for her thin throat and slid up gently while his right reached for her hip possessively. He stared into her deep, dark eyes. He was barely able to see the true color of her eyes.

Wrath lines slowly crept over his face as he stared towards the fire. His natural magic abilities let it die down slowly. Completely darkness remained. And yet, he was able to see all that he wanted within two meters clearly. His fingers stroked her cheek and he was finally able to spot her eyes. Green, sprinkled with darkness. A sight that was more intimate than anything else for an Alb.

Both Albae felt connected, as always when they loved each other. Their lips finally met. A rush of emotion overcame him as their tongues touched for a short dance and separated again. Minvávriel bit his lower lip playfully for a moment and pulled his body closer to her.

Vanátorás grabbed her throat and stroked upwards with his thumb to turn her head slightly. Then he kissed her neck. His soulmate shuddered from the anticipation of what was to come and her fingernails digged into his back. He pushed the thin, black gown from her shoulders, from where it fell to the ground silently.

Minvávriel shoved him away lovingly, and before his greedy eyes could even glance at her naked body, she had already turned away from him. She eyed him provocatively over her shoulders and raised a brow.

Immediately Vántorás skillfully pulled at the strings that kept his leather Jerkin on his body. Deftly it fell off his body with his leather trousers and he presented himself to his beloved in all of his glory. There was no hint of shyness in him. He was only confident. Her gaze fell on his erect manhood and before she could do more than to lick her lips in anticipation of what was to come, he was already behind her and blocked her sight.

He grabbed her small breasts from behind and kissed her neck, while her fingers clawed into his behind to pull him closer. Vanátorás right hand wandered lower, but before he could reach her nether regions his beloved jerked away from him and let herself fall to bed. He followed and straddled her legs greedily.

Minvávriel grabbed the hair of her beloved while his tongue caused pleasure as he licked her pussy. His hands scratched over her stomach lightly and searched for her small breasts, while wave after wave of pleasure shot through her body. It was almost unfair how well he was able to exploit her weak spots. It did not take long, before she could not take it any longer and she pulled him higher in anticipation. He entered her immediately.

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A long love night ensued as always when they decided to give in to their urges. It was as if they were sinking into each other. Melting into a single being. Only their own bodily exhaustion would be able to seperate them in the end. But the night was still young and it was already morning before Minvávriel fell asleep on the stomach of her beloved, as he lovingly flung the silk bed sheets over her naked body.

Then he also started to fall into a light slumber. The day would disappear in the blink of an eye, as the two lovers only woke for brief tenderness that they gave each other, before slumbering again. Time was a relative concept for the Albae. An hour, a day, a year. It was meaningless in the change of times.

They would have kept at this longer and maybe would have even started to make love to each other again, had a sharp metallic noise not ripped them out of their secludedness. Minvávriel moaned in annoyance. “My dagger?” She asked.

Vanátorás smiled, killed her neck and pulled her back to the soft silk pillow. “Yes. Do you want to go or should I?”

Minvávriel rose, with wrath lines creeping all over her face. The blond Alb quickly threw over her thin, black gown and gave her beloved one last look at her naked body, before she stepped into the room next door, where she picked up the black Durássium dagger from the bloody floor. She eyed the savage. The eye was already nearly healed.

Only seconds later it finished and both eyes focused on her. The human said nothing and closed his eyes though. Not enough to escape Minvávriel’s wrath this time. With a quick strike she severed his right arm, throwing it over the balcony. It would fall towards the nightmares, giving them a decent meal. They hardly ever felt real hunger since Vanátorás fed them with the leftovers fighters that barely survived the encounter. But the cursed unicorns always appreciated fresh meat.

But aside from inflicting a bit of pain to the ugly savage on her wall, it did little to kill him.

Alathiel, the immortal, eyed her out of calm, unconcerned eyes. Pain and regret were visible in his eyes, but that was always the case and he remained ever so silent. He raised a brow at her as he continued to bleed out on the floor. Disgusted, Minvávriel severed his head and nailed it to the wall before she thres the rest of him down towards her companions.

It would not incapacitate him forever, but it would take a while before he recovered. Why this human did not die, was still a mystery to her.

Vanátorás stepped into the room and eyed the blood soaked floor. In the beginning it had fascinated him, and he wanted to know how he did that. But since this savage reacted to every kind of pain inflicted to him with a shrug, there was no information to be gained by torturing him. And with that he was only a piece of self regenerating flesh. Nearly worthless. Would he have been compatible to the demonic-emerald, he would have at least fulfilled a purpose…

He grabbed Minvávriel from behind while she was watched as the nightmares ripped the bloody body into pieces. But the cursed unicorns were not what weighed on her black soul. “I don’t know what it is that you find so fascinating about this savage? He fights well, yes. But I don’t see the meaning behind this? Why is it giving you so much pleasure to watch him fight against hundreds of his own?”

Vanátorás hugged her and whispered in her ear. “You have seen him back when we attack the city of those savages. They are short lived, weak creatures. Yet sometimes, you can find rare ones, that are stronger. I want to see if it is possible to make him grow again. As he did back then.”

“What for?” Minvávriel did not like it when her beloved kept his plans to himself and did not share them with her. “Will you explain it to me? What you want with him after that? It is irritating.”

He grinned. “I thought of taking him with us to Dsôn. If he could be strong enough to fight against me, he can defeat Doélthar or someone else that we want to see humiliated. The indelible will not accept anyone, that was defeated by a mere human. It could make for good political leverage.”

Minvávriel frowned. “For that you wasted six parts of eternity? You could have helped me, or find a more useful preoccupation.” She eyed him thoughtfully.

“You would not have wanted my help anyway. And i can’t occupy myself with art the whole time. There is not that much beauty in this city, that would make for inspiration. Even though our little immortal friend would make for endless material.” He pointed at the lifeless head hanging from the wall. “The only thing that inspires me is you.” He sighed.

The blond Alb smiled. “Then let us eradicate the city. Clean it out completely. I just had a great idea.”

She turned around and left the room, Vanátorás followed slowly.

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Alathiel slowly regained consciousness. The pain was far away and distant, and he barely felt the need to open his eyes. It would be a pointless struggle anyway. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep and forget. Admittedly he could have found someone better to chain him up on a wall to achieve his goal of a peaceful rest, but those ageless beings might lose interest and lock him up for good eventually. Maybe in hope to find out his origins, or just to keep him in their collection.

But even those ageless beings would crumble away to dust before his eyes eventually. But unlike the other times when he had regained his limbs, he was not immediately strung up on the wall in chains this time. Had they lost interest? If so, he might be able to find a better spot to sleep, rather than this floor, covered in his own blood. Mildly curious he opened his eyes and spotted that his fellow inmate was gone.

Huh. Apparently they really had lost interest. Alathiel slowly got back on his feet, looking down from the balcony into the huge fighting arena that was located in the middle of the fortress. His two captors were walking around yelling orders to a large amount of frightened humans. Most of them were scared to death. Even the women and children were present. Apparently it was no call to war. Were the Albae going to slaughter them all?

Alathiel looked into the eyes of one very frightened child. Then he turned to walk towards the bed. A few days of comfortable sleep if he was lucky. The humans would turn to dust before long, and he did not feel like getting to know them before that happened. As he fell to the soft bed, a deep, dreamless slumber soon took him towards forgiving nothingness.

As always he only harboured one wish. To never wake up again. A wish that never happened.