Night has dropped blankets of stifling darkness across the lands. It pairs ominously with the unnatural silence of the Sleeping Forest. Though Trivask is rarely frightened of anything, this forest, when illuminated by the moon’s light, always causes the hair on her neck to stand to attention. It makes every cell in her body vibrate.

The discomfort doesn’t stop her travels though.

For some reason, Lord Alijah insists that the Sleeping Forest is the only place where tonight’s ritual can take place, and while Trivask makes it a habit to drag her feet when it comes to her Lord, she knows that tonight is not an appropriate time. The bundle in her arms begins to wriggle, so she picks up her pace.

What tonight has in store for her, she does not know, but she’s looking forward to unraveling some of the mysteries that have been floating around Lord Alijah for some time now. This is the first of his rituals that she has been allowed to attend. The rest she was made to prepare, but never question.

Finally, she breaks through into the prepared clearing and sees that the Lord isn’t the only man present tonight. With him stand two familiar faces, and two new ones. The men that she has not met follow her movements closely as she approaches. 

Trivask dips her chin in acknowledgment as she pulls down the hood of her cloak. “Tiibawtaw,” she greets Lord Alijah. 

The man turns from where he was previously stoking the dull orange fire and faces her. The corner of his lips turn up just the slightest bit. Trivask cannot help but return his look with a small smile of her own. 

Eyes traveling up the length of the man, she also can’t help but think that he looks marvelous tonight. Alijah looks like royalty every day, likely due to the Faerie blood running through his veins, but there is something different about him tonight.

His hair, normally neat and tamed by oil has been left alone. His dark brown locks flow in response to the wind’s whispers. His normal fox fur cloak has been misplaced along with his usual green and brown vest. Tonight, the Lord stands before her in nothing but a loose linen tunic and brown breeches. 

Standing before the fire, his figure is both intimidating and regal. Had she been another woman, Trivask might have fallen to her knees at the sight of him. Fortunately, she is not so weak-willed, though there were times when she wished she were. Lifting her head, she ignores the sound of the slight intake of breath that comes from the unknown men when they see her face.

Most inhabitants of these lands have heard of her, as she is the Lord’s most prized treasure, but even then, it seems the rumors do not prepare them enough for what they see when they look upon her.

Trivask has a beauty that most would call otherworldly. There is something about the shape of her full red lips and the curve of her jaw that drives all manner of people mad with envy and longing. There’s also something in the gleam of her eyes that warns them to stay away.

Most, when they look upon her for the first time, don’t even notice the hundreds of tiny flesh colored words written in a language unknown to them. The delicate chains hanging from her nose and wrapping around her ears typically distracts them from the script staining her skin.

But when they do notice it, a look of relief seems to pass over them. They seem thankful that something has marred her beauty, as nothing in the world should be as flawless as she is.

The Lord walks towards her and rubs his knuckles against her cheek. Had he been anyone else, that offense alone would have been enough to cause her to explode. Instead, it sends a rush of warmth down the length of her spine. “Thank you for coming. You have met Yulon.” The tall sorcerer bows his head when the Lord points to him. “Tonight, we welcome Hunter and Regon into our family.” His finger quickly moves over his son to point out the two newcomers. “Hunter and Regon, may I present to you, the most precious of all my family, Trivask.” 

They too, bow their heads, but Trivask can see the hesitance in them. She stares at them as she lowers the bundle in her arms and releases the button holding her cloak closed. It falls to the ground in a heavy puddle as she holds out her hands, one for each of them. They stare at them, unsure of what to do.

She drops them as the Lord walks until he is standing behind the pair. “You do remember that I said your loyalty is to be tested, correct?” They nod and gulp. Waves of something, thick and somber, roll into Trivask. She plants her feet firmly into the ground, already knowing what the outcome of this test will be.

She can taste the answers lingering in the air. 

She can smell someone’s fear.

“Well, meet your proctor.” Before either has the chance to attempt to back out, Alijah is whispering something into each of their ears. Grunts leave their mouths as their veins begin to bulge underneath their skin. “Finger.” Alijah whispers into the air. 

Their hands begin to leak droplets of blood. Trivask can see the fight in their eyes, but they are no match for Alijah’s control over blood. Not many people are. He cups their fingers in his hand, letting small pools of blood form in his palms before stepping back up to Trivask. 

Already knowing what to do, Trivask tilts her head back and opens her mouth. When the first warm drops of blood hit her tongue, all of his secrets flood through her skin. The Lord comes to whisper in her ear. “Tell me, what has he hidden from me, little one?”

Trivask’s mouth closes as she looks to the man whose blood is now sitting on her tongue. He tastes young. There’s something bitter about him as well. His memories threaten to barge into places where they don’t belong, but her years of experience make taming them child’s play. She stares into his eyes as she speaks. “He has not lied to you about much. Just his motivation behind coming here. His brother was killed when they were children by a… night walker. That is why he wishes to join you. So that he might avenge him.”

She rolls her tongue, savoring the taste. She hasn’t had a true meal in days, so this is like sweet torture melting in her mouth. She turns to her Lord so that she might whisper the last part. “Should you allow him his revenge, he will be yours forever, my Lord.” His smile grows as he nods. 

“Wonderful,” is his response. He rubs his thumb around in his palm, spreading the blood as he says something again, in his chanting tongue. The man folds like the petals of a dying flower, in response to the Lord’s power. “Pull him aside, Aldon. He is loyal.” Trivask readies herself. She practically licks the blood off of her Lords hand, the anticipation forcing her to act before she thinks. 

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Her smile turns feral as soon as she tastes exactly what she was expecting. The man standing before her tenses as their eyes meet. “What do you see, Trivask?” The infamous gleam sparks in her eyes, and that is all the answer that her Lord needs. He takes a step back, with a sigh and a shake of his head. 

“I see… a liar.”

She takes a step towards the man. In his blood, she tasted sour hatred and loathing. In his mind, she sees the exact way in which he wants to dispose of Lord Alijah; the way he wishes to dispose of all the Lords and Ladys. “I suspected, as he was all too eager to meet tonight, but I had hoped I was wrong.” The Lord mutters to himself. “Do make this quick, I would like to finish tonight’s activities before the servants rise.”

Trivask nods, all but tuning him out.

She hasn’t eaten in days, hunger gnaws at her. She wants to enjoy her meal. She wants to take her time, but the burning around her throat forces her to comply to her tiibawtaw’s wishes. 

Eyes locking with the man in front of her, she extends her arm towards him. Hunter, of course attempts to dodge her, not knowing that she can hear every thought he’s thinking. She can see every move before he makes it, so it’s no surprise that when he fakes left, she goes right. 

Her hands grasp onto his shoulders and the man screams when talons that he hadn’t noticed rip into his muscles. He twists as he falls back, landing on his stomach. And before the man can make another sound, Trivask saddles him and rips her talons through the skin of his neck. He gurgles, but ultimately stops fighting her. 

The sigh that leaves her is a soft melody. She looks up to the group that’s watching her. “I love that sound,” she sings in her syrupy voice. “It reminds me of home.” She turns away from them, as shudders force their way through their bodies. Most of Lord Alijah’s family will never admit it, but they fear her more than death itself. And that is the way that she likes it.

Wasting no more time, Trivask pulls out teeḧaa s mireeka, her favorite dagger. Then she shreds through the top of the man’s head and removes his brain. It doesn’t take her long to finish eating it, but when she does, she feels some of the tension in her head has left her. She smiles as she licks her fingers. “Ready?” Her Lord asks.

Trivask nods, standing. 

She hopes that she is allowed to take what is left of Hunter home. There is so much more that she could get out of him before his body begins to decay. “Great, did you bring what I asked?” Trivask nods and picks up the bundle that she had previously discarded.

She looks inside cautiously before her hand flies out and snatches up the occupant of the bundle. It hisses in response. The sorcerer takes a step back causing a smile to curl on the edges of the woman’s lips. “What exactly is the use of this?” Trivask asks as Lord Alijah walks to Regon’s slumped figure.

He whispers into his ear, and moments later, the man’s eyes slowly peel themselves open. Trivask often finds herself wondering just how far her Lord’s power extends. From what she has gathered from her many lessons about the history of the Khunese Empire, there are five major families. There is the Louvoe family, consisting of natural faeries. Their capabilities are directly connected to the realm itself usually manifesting in elemental waves. 

The Enarar family is home of the materialistic faeries. They are of special interest to Trivask because of their ability to pull from and travel to other realms. The Jaetrer family is a long line of brute and warrior faeries, renown for their startling strength and tracking abilities. The Maekravri family is by far one of the most mysterious ones. 

From what Trivask has gathered, they were usually employed as mercenaries and assassins of the crown. The final family is the royal one. They have ruled for centuries. The blood of a true Toanc is said to be able to control a person’s mind. Trivask shivers at the thought of such power.

She wonders what she might give for just a small taste of it.

Alijah hails from the Maekravri blood line. He’s a first generation magi, something Faerie Lords and Ladys won’t let him forget when they convene during the spring equinox.

If he had been from any other family, Trivask might very well be able to track his familial line and potentially learn the extent of his capabilities. But given that the Maekravri line is so secretive and that his Faerie blood has been mixed with mortal blood, it would be of no use going down that route.

Still, curiosity eats at her.

“You will see. Rise, Regon.” The man slowly comes to his senses, and when he does, he fights to scramble up. His legs shake as he looks at those that are still standing. Trivask notices the exact moment that he sees the body of the second recruit. 

His eyes widen just a fraction and dart to her, where he seems to notice the smidgen of blood dotting the corner of her mouth. Before the Lord can speak, he asks, “Are you going to kill me?” The woman’s dark brows furrow and the delicate links of the chain extending from her nose clink together. 

“Why would I do that?” She questions, her head tilting to the left. It is true that she isn’t completely satisfied with her meal, but she has plenty of leftovers laying on the ground a few feet away. Besides… She sniffs the air. His blood doesn’t smell nearly as sweet at the other man’s.

There is something about blood tainted by anguish and hatred that makes her toes curl within her slippers.

Lord Alijah puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She won’t harm you,” He starts. “You are a part of my family now. And Trivask protects those in my family.” This isn’t a lie. Trivask does protect those in Alijah’s family.

Until he decides that they are no longer worth her protection.

“Sit in front of the fire, Regon, tonight, you must be cleansed and reborn.” Not knowing what else to do, Regon drops to the ground before the fire, his eyes losing focus. He can't truly complain about the situation, as this is what he wished for. The Lord nods to his son, causing Aldon to step behind the man. The young boy kneels then places his hands on each of Regon’s shoulders firmly.

Alijah signals for Yulon to step forward, and he does. He positions himself behind Aldon, his hands wrapping loosely around the boy’s neck. Trivask watches, wondering what will happen next. “Come, little one.” She does. 

With the poisonous snake still writhing in her hand, she steps before Lord Alijah. Not wasting another second, the man pulls a dagger from the sheath on his waist and slices into the skin of his non-dominate arm. Lifting his bleeding arm over the fire, he chants.

It responds to him, its flames twisting and dancing and shrieking.

Quicker than Trivask has ever seen him move before, he twists towards her and slices the hissing snake right down the center of its body, then he drops to his knees and drinks from the dying animal.

Trivask watches, entranced as the blood that misses his mouth slides down the slope of his neck.

He takes the snake from her hands and tosses it into the fire, his chanting continuing. The flames roar as they fly two feet higher, their light casting shadows on everything around it. He stands then, and cuts Regon’s shirt open to reveal smooth and untouched skin. The man’s ribs expand as a shaky breath enters him.

Still speaking in a tongue that Trivask does not understand, the Lord shoves the blade of his dagger into the fire, not removing it until the surface of the metal is red with heat. Then he slices into his dominate arm, and forces the recruit to drink the blood that bubbles from his hissing wound.

In his eyes, Trivask sees his soul. 

He wants power, he wants strength, and he will do anything to get it. She stares into his dampening eyes even as they crinkle in pain. Alijah drags his heated blade across the skin of his stomach, right above his belly button. Flesh sears as Alijah brands him. Though the symbol is not one that the woman recognizes, she knows that there is dark power hidden within the sharp lines. Trivask’s eyes then go back to the Lord, just as he utter his last words.

Words that the sorcerer and the Lord’s son repeat back. Screams rip from each of the men’s mouths just as the flames of the fire are extinguished. 

Then they drop the the ground, as silent as the Sleeping Forest that surrounds them.