The Horrors Mekkor Inflicts

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Mekkor
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Wyrvaust was beside himself with rage and anxiety. He felt as if his heart would explode in his chest, and flames crackled and leapt from his form, his wings tearing through his shoulders as he threw his arms skyward and bellowed at the top of his lungs!! "BRING THE SWAN BACK!!!!!! SAMMAEL!!!! IN WHAT WAY HAVE WE WRONGED THE LORD OF ACHERON!!!??? WHY THIS??? WHY NOW????" He was furious and heart broken. Unless Marsol held him back physically, or by some other means, Wyrvaust would launch himself in flight and take off after her. After a shadow he could not even see. It did not take long for the dragon to pass into shadows of night and out of sight.

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Mekkor had received Sammael's message that he would be receiving a new 'guest.' The manor's wards would prevent anyone from leaving via a wall of force which only those who Mekkor selected could get past. Felix had returned from his little visit with Lavoy, and after raping him very cruelly, beating him black and blue, and shredding him with his claws, Mekkor threw him out on the streets with a demand for him not to return for a week. What did Mekkor hope to gain from this besides teaching Felix a lesson in obediance? His little progeny was now perfect bait for the empathetic Prince. Lavoy already knew Mekkor was the bad guy, but Mekkor had no designs on throwing Lavoy into his own path, rather the path of their cause. How? Because when and if Lavoy found Felix, mortals would be tormenting him. The formless ones would see to that. It would be another demon, rather a devil acolyte, who Lavoy and Felix both would fall in the way of. Mekkor was presently in the yard of his walled in manor, leaning against a great live oak tree. No one in the city would ever know a Shadow Dragon winged its way to his place, for those stealthy wyrms were sneaky that way. Had to admire them. All the dragons had their admirable qualities, didn't they? The only dragons Mekkor would like to have the hides of were those too-goodie bronze dragons. Regulators, blah. He hated the self-righteous. For that reason, the shadow dragon would make his drop and be off. If any dragon stayed too long in the citadel, out of human skin if they had one that is, a guardian dragon would drive them off, if not kill them. An angel... A pity she was a female. Mekkor's tastes ran along the lines of boys. Felix was second to his favorite flavor. His most favored had gotten away. Abraxas. He still obsessed over the one that got away. Female or not though, Mekkor would have his fun with Arilwen.

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What a shame one would think what with the little Swan being delievered into the hands of someone that wished terrible things for her, yet she would never be granted the bliss of death. Oh no, Arilwen was useless if she was dead. Had Sammael known of the extent of value Marsol had not just for Arilwne, but for this silly little fluff of a human Anna then well, the entire task might have changed to just being Anna and he might even have instructed Mekkor to send Marsol photos for christmas of the horrible acts Anna might or might not have been put through. Give or take Sammaels mood at the time. The shadow dragon's landing was all pretty like what with carrying Arilwen as if she were the new born babe instead of Anwaar. Anna unfortunately would remain in the grip of its hind right hand as it settled onto its hunches to present Mekkor with this sweet smelling female by laying her all gentle-like on the grass before him where he leaned against said tree. The rather "hellraiser" looking shadow dragon bowed its head not out of respect but, out of something akin to appreciating Mekkor's taste in women. Well, tastes in general. "Does it please thee to know of how foul a mood this will put the desert in? Or perhaps how little Marsol will seek vegence when he finds where this one has been taken, or should we say by whom?" The coal black lime green eyed dragon's voice was not as cold sounding to Mekkor as it had been to Arilwen and Anna. Perhaps that was because Mekkor knew of its kind and was not that flustered by a mouth of teeth as sharp as barnicals on a pier out in the sea leering at this or that? The beast's mawl lowered to the top of Arilwen and something about it not revealing any teeth to the Swan was a good sign not to move, least it want to taste this angel cake. It sniffed at her hair again, just like it had in the desert. There was a moment where its back hand shifted to bring what it had been carrying up to hold in its front left one. Just a head of red curls was visible in between its leather feeling black scaled fingers. It settled back on its haunches again as it lifted the human to rest her against its chest as its unfeeling brightly lit green eyes remained on Mekkor, waiting for his acknowledgement of his new 'guest' so that it could be off to feast upon the red head in numerous ways. Its wings rattled with the thick chains that had been wrapped around them, and also looped through burned out holes near the middles, close to its body they were pulled as it sat before Mekkor and for the moment, the fiend looked content with its new chew toy...

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When the dragon arrived with Arilwen, Mekkor strode out from beneath the darker shadows of the tree and into the open to meet the magnificent beast. He stroked the great wyrm's black scales and scratched beneath his chin as he lowered his head. "You are a wonder among wonders, Sgaithard. As beautiful and impressive as ever. The night bows to your darkness, my friend." He smiled and dropped his eyes on the little bird he lie on the ground to sniff before his great talon unclenched and lifted to release her. She was trembling madly and sobbing. Mekkor's laughter rose on the air to mingle with her weeping cries. "Does not her fear taste delicious, old friend? Sweet it is as honeysuckle." His black eyes shimmered with delight and he patted the dragon firmly that he could feel his show of affection. "I advise you take your snack north to your lair that no one interupt your meal. Do have her soul for desert won't you? How long has it been since you tasted a soul so honeyed with innocence?" He chuckled deeply. He gave the dragon's long supine neck a tight hug and then knelt down by Arilwen. "This one shall be a tasty treat too... A pity I cannot pick my teeth with her bones. You are the lucky one, Sgaithard. I will come soon to see you and bring your favorite wine," he grinned up at the dragon as he gripped Arilwen's wrist when she gathered her wits enough to try to scramble away from him. His grip on her was like a vice made of ice.

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The shadow born one was oddly affectionate for one that was a heartless being whose sole purpose in life was to take it away from everything and everyone until there was nothing in the world but Death itself and then, and only then could it rest. The scratching and itching was leaned in to. Sgaithard had a semi long but narrow snout with teeth that stuck out even when he had his mouth closed from the sides. Jagged as any sea creatures. It had been a long time since the black scaled one had had Mekkor's company and it had almost forgotten how saucey Mekkor really was. Those lime green reptilian eyes thinned on Arilwen a moment as the words taste and fear were utterd in the same sentence. Had Sgaithard had a little less self control he might have snapped Arilwen's left leg off already out of sheer hunger. "You will know the time in which I will take in devouring the childs soul... You, who are so like heaven yet where is this grace you are suppose to possess? This unyielding virtue in your darkest hour? If only you had been born in another time Angel Cake, you might never know that the last person this human will see is you and how you... do nothing." The shadow dragons voice was now laced with venom as It spoke but to both Arilwen and Mekkor, for it sort of delighted in making Mekkor laugh from its hateful antics. One last sniff was made at Arilwen before the top of its scarred head was nudged at Mekkor's left side, and if the dark one didn't stand his ground then Sgaithard might knock him over with the excitement that was about to ensue in its lair it now departed for in one quick haze of flapping its wings. Somehow the brute's grip had grown slack. So much that those thick goldish red lashes fluttered open for those pale blue eyes to see a man whom she remembered but only vaugely, upside down. Oh the pain hammered in her skull as she was shifted around to be held against the dragon's breast after a short time, for she heard nothing. She was deaf to the world now from how badly the creature had squeezed her chest and head. Her brains were so rattled that she barely recognized the air rushing underneath them but... hair. Brown. Blue. "...Arilwe...n?" It was whispered at first as she tried to focus the red vision on the Swan below as she felt she was being lifted again. The sight of Mekkor stung her something fierce and she twisted in the dragons hands. "...a ..ah ..ahh, ow! Y.. Arilwen!" Then the screaming set in. That gutt wrenching screaming resonated throughout the open space where Sgaithard had come to give Mekkor a treat. Funny how great a set of lungs humans tended to have. "Arilwen be not afraid," she shouted as the tree, the dark man who unnerved her, and the Swan started to fade below them, "Be strong my friend! They will come for you!" The screaming would not stop however as she felt something sharp pierce her stomach and white hot pain seered through her middle. And yet these screams were not ones of pain. Oh no, they were ones of fight. They those that Anna tried to give as a reassurence to Arilwen just before the dragon took her too high to be heard, that she shouldn't despair. How cute. She twisted over and over again in the shadow dragons hands but each time his grip would tighten until all she knew was red and blue spots and the roaring of blood in her ears that blocked out the whole world. Oh God.. help Arilwen...

It was madness was what the entire group would be thrown into as the amber eyed one felt no trace of Anna once Sgaithard took her, and then the same happened to Arilwen. His gaze became a glare that turned skyward as tiny Anwaar was then handed to one of his most trusted demon servants and ushered they and eight others into a gateway he called forth at a moments notice. He knew something had gotten Sammael's goat, it had to be. Why else or what else rather could come to the desert and snatch the women up so easily without any prior motive? Just as the eight guards gathered around the demon nurse who cradled Wryvaust and Arilwen's child as if it was the child of God Himself, Marsol's hands would catch hold of Wryvaust's shoulders and then coil the clan demon in his arms to keep him from taking flight. "Be still my brother," he said, knowing it would be difficult to calm Wryvaust seeing as how he had just been reunited with his son, let alone the desert itself. Marsol on the other hand was rapidly becoming numb to everything and one. He dare not even begin to contemplate the level of evil Sammael may have inflicted on him, or even buried inside of him when he gave him back that which he had taken to end a futile battle in the Barren Lands. He would not release Wryvaust until he either calmed, or he had to take him away from this place. While he vied for Wryvaust's peace, he was biding his kin, his fellow dragon clan to secure their home, and then the desert by any means necessary. However, he knew the foe lay not in the desert. They had already departed and were long gone. It pushed him to the edge so easily to tempt him into a murderous rage, one that would no doubt slay anyone, be they human or not. Over Wryvaust's shoulder Marsol watched as two people poured water over Niculaie's head to clean him, and declothed him right then and there to give him fresh robes and pants. It had to be linked he thought as he watched Niculaie's movements and the way the youth spoke. He had been honest when he had come back. For whatever reason, Niculaie was here again and that was all that mattered at the moment. "Death will not visit the female bird," he whispered as the fire was covered with sand by servents before they too sprinted into the giant gateway of swirling fire to return to their daily duties. This was no concern for common folk, and they knew it. Dare he ask? he thought to himself and he did. If Arilwen and Anna could be taken like this then... No, don't. His logical side told him to tackle one problem at a time and don't seek something that will kill you for good.

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Niculaie was for the moment in a state of shock. His eyes were unblinking as he sat there, his form covered in sand as he had been pulled out of the quickly sinking sands after he had been thrown from Anna, like a ragdoll he had been tossed, the young Abyssal reaver had no idea to the ends of treachery that were going on here, had he known his own maker was behind this, it could have drove him mad, why would anyone do this? Niculaie had spoken quickly, to Marsol to what had happened, not fearing the consequences of what he and Anna had been doing, the only thing he feared for was Anna and Arilwen, no doubt some evil had taken the female creatures from the desert. Young Niculaie glared hatefully down at the sands as he heaved breaths even as water was poured over him, was he cursed? He would not be uncooperative; he would disrobe and dress into the new garbs and snarled... "My lord, Marsol...! We must go now, time is short!" Nic said loudly as he looked to Marsol, the boy was very much hysterical it would seem and shook his head. and turned about to look into the distance as he reached down lifting his things up he then spun about and those eyes closed as he would soon be shitting himself off from anyone not here, he did not have it in him to talk to anyone, no there were more important matters to tend.

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Darkness tended to love darkness, only Mekkor was as incapable of actual love as Sgaithard was. Their affection was born of a common bond. They both hungered for souls and cherished corruption. Mekkor pulled Arilwen to her feet and wrapped his arms around her to pin her against himself as the dragon tormented her with his designs for Anna. He cackled beneath his breath so as not to interrupt his lovely illustration of Anna's near future. Arilwen started sobbing harder and Mekkor ticked his tongue. "Not polite to make such a fuss while someone is talking dear," he whispered in her ear, whereof his hand slid upward against her body and his fingers closed around her throat to choke her until she could not sob anymore. Only when she quieted did his fingers losen enough to let her breathe. "This nephalim child of an angel shall discover how much pain she can take. She underestimates the punishment she can survive I am willing to bet. She shall have the privlege of finding out," he smiled cool as a winter morning. Mekkor staggered a few long steps to catch himself with that nudge the dragon gave him to laugh with breathless amusement, taking Arilwen with him as he was thrown to the side. Dragons almost always forgot their own strength. "Fare thee well, Sgaithard. The darkness keep you well," he bid the dragon as he beat the air with his inky wings to take flight. He lifted Arilwen's hand to wave it at at the dragon, then snickered beneath his breath, gripped a fistful of her hair, and with his hand still coiled around her throat, he ushered her to the manor. She could wander as she liked (when she was able to stand) within the manor, for if she tried to leave, she would smack into a wall of force. Now, now. Mekkor had instigated this riot. He was simply doing his great and noble Lord's bidding. Mekkor was very loyal to his Lord and King. Was that not something Niculaie should admire in his maker? If he was loyal to a fault then so be it, but better to be loyal than to turn your back on blood at the first sign of trouble, yes? Indeed as Mekkor escorted the Nephalim inside the manor, his voice reached out to Niculaie. ~"Niculaie, my son...It is time you came home. You have played with your friends in the desert long enough, don't you think? You have explained to Marsol that you have returned to your clan, yes, and what your responsibilities are by now surely."~ If not, Niculaie would get to know how much agony and injury he could take as well.

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When Marsol caught Wyrvaust up and deadlocked him in his arms, the demon struggled against his hold. "He must go after her...He must...He will find her...He can feel her in his soul! Her pain... her dread... it is like a precious gift of poison..." he hissed acridly. He fought his master's embrace until Marsol squeezed him so tightly that he could not even breathe. The demon then slumped against Marsol, and twisted his head around to bury his cheek against his master's shoulder. "Why....Why would the beasts of hate take her?" He was clearly terrified for her, and had started refering to himself as he and I. "ARAHHHH!! LET IT GO!!!! Oh most Beloved Lord, PLEASE!! Let it find the white swan before her heart is taken from her... Before the unspeakable is done to her!!" hence his frantic struggles began all over again. Wyrvaust's insanity to Sammael was like a puzzle box he loved to play with to see if he could find just the right combination to see just how insane Wyrvaust could get. How else was he to discover the best use for the demon? It was simply a matter of trial and error and seeing where each peg fit the best yes? Well, taking Arilwen from him was a good way to see the depths of Wyrvaust's insanity. "It can find her... It can seek her in dark places and loathsome sewers... and in smooth walls and rough ones... Does not the only dragon he ever wanted to give itself to... trust its nose to find what it loves best next to him?" Marsol alone would be able to understand him at all soon.
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They the ones of darkness whose souls were black as night had so much in common, even if they had never met, Mekkor and Sgaithard would still have gotten along fantasticly over a table of cooked elves or even decapitated infants or some such gruesome display of brutility. His goodbye came in a huff and throw of his head before he took the girl-child up high over this well spread of a manor and turned northward with Anna neatly tucked against its breast so that she wouldn't die on him yet from the several trauma's to her head she had suffered already, let alone the broken ribs she surely had or the fact that everything she saw was red. The long tail flickered to and fro as it ducked under a low arch way, through one old pile of rock structure, curling its wings around itself as it did nose dive after nose dive just to scare the living day lights out of Anna. Yet Anna did not cry out in terror. She may have yelped in pain, but not out of fear. One had to distuingish the two and do it well if they were to take up the business of killing for sport. It spoke of chewing off her feet while dunking her into ice water, and it cooed smuggly when it got no response out of the red haired fluff of a thing for whom life had so ill prepared and whose choice of a parent and lover would be her demise. A sound like a screech none the likes Anna had ever heard was what it made as it swooped down over a flock of what looked like balls of white cotton in a field, and the beast tore two of the small animals in half and then proceeded in eating the hind quaters right in front of Anna. "Try it child, you might like the taste of another's blood more than your own... The horrid version of laugther it emitted was nearly as terrible as its screeching just before it either killed or destroyed something like an old windmill that it slammed its tail into to cause the mill to topple over onto the woman hanging clothes that couldn't get out of the way fast enough. Blood rained from the skies to make a hideous path of red where Sgaithard was taking Anna. Parts of animal fur and feather alike. Now that it was away from Mekkor and his manor, it would still not come out of being cloaked. Odd? Tactful. It would not be but a few hours flight that would get them to his lair where Anna would make all sorts of friends.

She did not cry when Arilwen was taken away from her, or that she was in the hands of this man Mekkor, she knew him and yet it was just a dream. Right? So many questions and they weighted in on her again but she shoved them aside just to witness a goat have its hind legs chewed off and its blood splattered her front head to toe. Those pale blue eyes went was wide as saucers of milk before that mouth opened to let out a blood curlding scream that got a snarl of satisfaction from Sgaithard to make him do it again, and again, and again until there were no more goats. Only hoof pieces to say that there had ever been a herd. She wanted to turn away, to look anywhere but at the gaping mawl of this black dragon fiend that ate animals as if they were not food, but fun. "Stop this! Stop this madnes-," and then that screaming was hushed by his fingers going around her head and she couldn't see or hear or even breath again. She choaked back the tears that threatened to come and if they did, well then this monster would have won wouldn't he? Yet how could she have known that the cold biting stone she was set down upon her feet by, and then released was not freedom, but damnation...? Through the marred vision of spots and hallucinations, the human saw something nobody should ever have to in their whole life. The entrance to the mouth of a cave that was big enough to fit ten of this black dragon type in, loomed at her like the mouth of a beast itself and just inside she could hear the cries of angish, of pain and agony that begged for a death they were being denied. "Why...?" she whispered as she felt a talon begin to creep around her left hip to settle against her stomach. "... why have you brought me here foul beast." She then immediantly regreted having said such as she wanted to crawl out of her own skin when she heard this cold soulless voice enter her mind and say, "For one so small, you seem so strong. Your meat must be extra sweet then." No more. She could not take it. With a shriek she would sprint to this opening of a cave for that was all there was because Sgaithard loomed like a tower of evil himself behind her, blocking out even the blessed moon light. "Help me! Someone help me, please!" Her screaming would echo into the cave as she disappeared into it, fleeing for a life she just didn't seem to realize she no longer had anymore. More than once she would trip, land hard on her side and tear flesh over her elbow or knees until one final time she landed in something quite sticky and most foul in its stench. "Oh God... Oh g-," she gagged as fire flared to life under what looked like a long grate of iron over a pit of fire with steps leading up to it. The room was then cast back from the shadows and into the light, but she wished it hadn't been. Within Sgaithards lair there was a giant pit of fire with iron bars over it to make it so none could fall in. Or was it to keep them in? Her gaze shifted downwards to the gore she had trampled into. Body parts. Arms. Half eaten legs. With a gasp of dismay and horror, she backed into the first of her "friends." A tart yelp was made when she felt something move behind her and she fell to the side, peering up through a few red curls she saw a woman naked and whipped missing all of her fingers and ears. Anna just could not believe what she was seeing but that didn't stop her eyes from wandering to the man next to her who was enormous in his weight but he had no limbs! Where were his arms and legs?! She wondered at the pieces of white crystal and cords or string looking things that were tied around the mans bloody stumps. She shrieked as she felt a damp hand slap her forehead from above and all but fainted as her head turned upwards to see a third person dangeling by their... ankels? No. It was the... the.. bones in their legs and... "Oh my God," she said as tears blurred her vision, backing away from this trio of torture that looked to this short pale red haired youth for the hope of a way out. Any way but this. This was a nightmare! It had to be she thought to herself as a pair of hands patted at her ankles. Her nerves froze as her eyes slowly lowered as she trembled uncontrolably to see... a child. Not more than three, sitting in a circle of glass naked as the other three unfortunate souls with a thick iron colar with a link of chain that went off somewhere into the cave. "Father," she whispered as those tears fell one at a time as she knelt to gather this bruise covered pale child whose sex anna couldn't determine because of some inhumane plate of metal over its private parts. What the heck happened here?! "Forgive me Father," she cooed to the child who had started to cry because when the fire was lit, it meant only one thing, and yet she tried to sooth the toddler as best she could, "I fear I have wandered into Hell." A finger stroked down over the child's nose as she smiled to it even in her blood soaked attire. Yet the child's eyes would grow wide and it would start screeching again as it squirmed to be free. Something hot and wet dripped onto her right shoulder, making Anna's head turn to see what looked like black tar with specks of red in it but in reality, it was drool. Shadow Dragon drool...

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Marsol could not help but feel it to be his own foolishness in thinking Sammael would have any shred of word. It just frosted his cookies to think that basturd might have orchestrated this or what was worse, who he had enlisted to do it for him. Special instructions had been given earlier to retreive these wayward siblings of Yorek's and to give them safe haven in the desert domain. They no doubt would be housed in the same vacinity as Wryvaust and Arilwen's child but he would not take any of his clan with him in this vendetta against whosoever had the fucking balls to come into their desert to grab the female bird and the human child. He would drag Wryvaust towards the darkening part of the sands as the last of the servents left through the gateway to leave no one but Wryvaust, Niculaie, and the Hell Raptors in the eerie silence the desert ensued. He himself was enraged that they dare take the Swan again, but Anna? What had the human to do with any of it? She did not belong anywhere but there, where she tended to the flock of lambs or other pets she collected. "We leave as soon as we have our wits about us," he told Wryvaust as he finally did release him but it was to spin the clever demon to sit in the sand so as Marsol knelt befo-re him where he could be eye level with him. "We will find her," he said, his tone turning as hard as steel and almost as cold as Sgaithard's, "My friend, my brother, the female bird will be brougth back to her Raven, but that black winged one need courage. Have courage, for her." He detested seeing bad things happen to good people, most of all if that person was Wryvaust or anyone of his tribe. It was truly getting out of hand and Marsol had had it up to fucking here with this lyrical bullshit Sammael had spoon fed him. And he had bought it! What a dope he felt to be as he took Wryvaust's head in his hands when he saw that there would be no hushing this one, to rest his mouth against the top of Wryvaust's head and he would remain in that position for several moments, or unless Wryvaust swatted him away, or one of the dragon's spoke. He could feel the out of control sensation cackle at the current situation. How it thrived on the pain of others. So unlike him.

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Niculaie fell to his knees hugging himself as his robes flared about his form, his form slouching ever so lazily as he did his damndest to keep everyone out of his head, but he should have known his maker was far to powerful to keep out of his mind, he would then let his thoughts go to the trouble at hand only to find his Maker's voice in his mind telling him to return, though Nic did not wish to disobey if he did obey he may as well cut his own heart out... Unlike Mekkor, Niculaie had emotions, he felt love, hate and a myriad of other emotions some one could not even put words to they were so strange. He gasped and shook his head. ~"I cannot return my lord, someone I love is in trouble I have to help them, forgive me, I beg!"~ Nic sent his maker, and then he breathed an exhale. ~"I have not had the chance yet, to speak with Lord Marsol." Niculaie said and for better or worse he would stay here with Marsol and go with them to retrieve Anna and the Swan. When Marsol said they would leave soon as they had their wits he stood up and looked to Marsol as he spoke with Wryvaust and nodded. He held those things of his still as he stood silently, Niculaie did not care what happened he would pay back whoever took them like this.

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Mekkor led Arilwen into that basement that bore deep into the ground beneath his home. Yes, Hawker's Fort was by the sea, but it was also on a high bluff with cliffs on the west side. The wharves were built against those cliffs. It was unusual really, for cliffs to take shape in a bay, much less a bay as large as Hawker's Bay. The sea had not worn these cliffs from the shore, but rather an earthquake had pushed the earth up and above the ocean many ages before memories could tell. The basement was neither dank, nor dark. It was well lit by large braziers which stood in rounded niches in the thick stone walls. The floor was smooth polished stone and woven patterns were carved into the stone crown molding. The architects which had built the place had blasted and chiseled the basement out of the bedrock itself. Mekkor had paid a mint for the manor for a reason. Mekkor hissed and slammed the false angel against a wall as he walked when Nic refused to come home. "That was not a request, Niculaie, that was the command of your, Sire. Say your goodbyes, and come home, NOW." There was no compromise in his tones. It was into a large chamber he led her by her hair and throat, and there that he shoved her down on a raised table of marble.

She was almost numb with fear by this time, but if she gave him any trouble, he would backhand her with force. He pushed, or wrestled her down against the table on her back, and clapped her wrists and ankles in steel shackles attached to the table by thick chains. Claws shot from his fingertips like so many switchblades and he proceeded to cut her clothing right off of her, snagging here, and giving a yank that sliced through the cloth, and hooking it there to shred more of her robes, until every strip of cloth was removed from her and tossed haplessly on the floor. His claws nicked her now and again as her body jerked or shuddered, but soon he would do a lot more than just nick the girl's flesh to draw winces and catches of breath from her. When her gaze braved on him and her lips parted to ask why... Mekkor smiled, and there was not an ounce of sympathy or warmth in the expression. "Every strength, every weakness, every flaw and quality you possess in that pretty little wrapper shall be divulged to you, to me, and to our Lord, by me, sweetness and cherry pie. And through you, Wyrvaust's soul shall also be revealed. Two birds in one net you see? He gets the see it all, the lucky deserter." he laughed and then his arm swung around, and angled over to plunge down with force and punch his claws, all five of them, through her stomach. Her screams were intoxicating to the demon. He twisted his hand while applying pressure until his claws were raking her back from the inside. "I could do this for months and it would not kill you," he grinned. The demon then removed his hand and after smiling down on her, he began to cut into her flesh with a single bloody claw, his index claw in fact. His precision, even while she shook and jerked was skilled, as he sliced only her skin and not her muscle. "Let's see how truly beautiful you are, Arilwen. Nothing is more splendid to the eyes than muscles revealed without the flesh. Oh, you may think it will kill you, and even wish for death before it is over, but I assure you, you shall recover. Most of us have been through this." He meant most Hellions. "It will come to an end, eventually." He cackled and continued his precision incisions. One from her throat, across her sternum, down her center to her navel, a circular cut around her genitals, and he was done. The rest would he would skin from her inside out, like pantyhose. Mekkor really did take pride in his work, and was a master of torture and skinning. He learned from the best... Scream Hammer. "Do you know you can survive being skinned of your flesh, muscles, and vitals to the bone? Actually regenerate all that? We immortals really are amazing things, aren't we?" He was clinical... Like a doctor teaching a student how to dismantle a cadaver, only Arilwen was the student, the guinea pig, and she was quite alive while she was being disected.

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Wyrvaust was full of enough chaos already, but when the visions slammed him... It was too much for him to take. A choked sob strangled in his throat at that very moment that Marsol released him, and he staggered three strides forward and then dropped suddenly to his knees. He began raking his own cheeks with his claws, and they were coming very close to his eyes. Words did not escape him, only garbled sounds, choking breaths, and tangled up sobs. Then something Marsol said cleared his mind a bit, at what time his breath caught, and then was released in a thin hiss as words slowly began to form. "Cur... Curs... cur... courage.... No...." he shook his head and then buried himself completely against Marsol, his arms shaking as they wrapped around him. "It has not courage.... The black one.... the foul fiend... he is taking the bird... her feathers... her heart... her eyes... her mind... No strength, no heart hath the Raven for this... Let him go seek the gentle one or he shall die... and lost the bird shall be... Fly away... fly too far away to catch it shall.... Oh hateful life... Hateful monsters... The world is dying... All around it dies..." No, Wyrvaust could not take it... He had only to suffer the unbearable. "It crossed us once... and got the dove this time... Let him kill it..." That last a menacing breath of murder.

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It had all happened too quickly. Being snatched away from her beloved Raven's side, flown through the air, dumped with this man, this KIDNAPPER, and seperated from her newly found friend. By the time the dragon left her with Mekkor and Arilwen had realized who he was, she was shaking uncontrollably. Why was this man demanding on having her? When the Swan was lain on the grass before Mekkor, her blue eyes had widened in terror when they found him hovering over her. No... she had seen that man before. In the desert! He had been the one to hold a blade to Wyrvaust's throat. Arilwen's sobbing grew more severe as the dragon toyed with Anna, explicitly releasing what he would do to her. And as her voice screamed forth to let her go, Arilwen felt the man's hand clamp down around her throat, cutting off her screams. Choking, she wheezed and kicked, finally going still in his hands. It was only when he released her throat that she managed to gasp for air, sucking the breaths in desperately. She had not been tortured like this since she was a child, and it was about to get alot worse. Without being able to argue, Arilwen was dragged up by a handful of her dark, wavy hair, the man's hand still around her throat, and her feet stumbled to keep up as he pulled her inside. Tears blurred her vision and she nearly fell twice, but gagged when Mekkor's hands hauled her neck up to keep her on her feet. It was a brightly lit basement that she was pulled into, and the swan was still gasping as she was thrown down on a marble table, the man tackling her and pinning her while she kicked, then began screaming. "NO!" The word ripped from her throat, but her thrashing did nothing. Her wrists and ankles were locked with cold steel, and her back arched as she fought the restraints. Blue eyes, so wide and damp with fear, lifted to the man, a whisper emitted asking him why... and the reasoning he gave made NO sense to her. Shrieking as one of the man's claws suddenly knicked her slender waist, ripping through her beautiful blue robes that Wyrvaust had given her, Arilwen's mind was SCREAMING for her to get free. The last time she had been tied down to a table, it had been to have her child cut from her womb. She was about to find out that there were worse things. Once the clothing was free, the angel trembled on the marble, her nude and sliced skin dripping blood down her flesh. Horror movies could not compare to this, and horror was exactly what her face contorted into when Mekkor suddenly plunged his claws into her stomach, Her body arched and her screams finally found open air, her head falling back to the table as her soft lips stretched wider to get all of the sound out. Fire ripped through her, and her screams turned to choking screeches as he began to disect her skin, cutting it carefully to peel it away from her bones. No... she would not eventually wish for death... she was now, for no matter of death could be this horrid. Her throat contracted and tried to vomit, but nothing came up. Her body dry heaved as it was being parted into sections, and her nails snapped off against the marble as she clawed at the table. Never could she wish this upon anyone... except, perhaps, the man doing this to her. And her sweet mind just could not understand. "I... I'm sorry..." Her raw throat managed to choke out, though extremely muffled. Who was she apologizing to? Whoever would listen, for if this punishment was being given, she had done something terribly wrong...

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Niculaie of course was NOT having a good time, he shook his head then as his maker spoke to him once more hissing commands Niculaie was between a rock and a hard place and would step backwards tripping and spilling over into the sands and let out a breath. "No... no, no. I can't, I cannot!" He shouted as he let his head hang, ragged breath past his lips and he looked to them, Wryvaust and Marsol... "Why is this?" He asked and then growled, "No I will NOT abandon my friends!" He bellowed, knowing Mekkor would hear his defiance, it had nothing to do with a lack of Loyalty to Mekkor but it had everything to do with his loyalty and love to his friends and he sat on his haunches in the sand as he spoke to him. "Why do you do this to me? I was going to tell you know... Is this punishment? I cannot bear it, I cannot do what you ask of me, Mekkor. I cannot abandon them." He said as he let a breath pass and shook his head then, was he a traitor to Marsol? deep fown he felt like he had tarnished their trust on some level... He just closed his eyes tightly clutching his things.

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Silly little humans and their silly little hopes and dreams. Poppycock! The long neck bent to watch the red head sprint away into the dark opening of the cave that had been its home for oh, four days now. Sgaithard moved so often that he really never did have a home, unless you called this one lone cave it. This place of rotting corpses it feasted upon even after the person had died weeks ago. The shadow dragon's taste for flesh was as broad as the colorful wardrobe Anna wore, which was pretty damn bright. It didn't matter if the person was dead or alive, he would do with them as he pleased all the same. The tail brushed over the two being bound by shackles to the wall as they thought they were slowly dying when in reality it was far from it. Its wings passed over the one dangeling from pin holes in the bones at the bottoms of its legs in its ankles, rattling the poor guy worst than he already was as its behemoth size came to sit behind Anna while he anticipated just what the girl would taste like, and how long winded she was for he did so very much enjoy the screamers. It sniffed at Anna's backside without the girl even knowing it and it would have continued to do so had the child not seen the big black ugly thing over the girl that had pickd them up by a shoulder and had a coniptionfit. Why had he kept that one again? Ahh yes, for the eyes. Those lips curled back to reveal all the crooked and veracious teeth as he snarled. The gust of hot putrid air that spewed from Sgaithards mouth was awful and it did spur the little lady into running with the child although that chain was stepped on by his right hind foot and it leered at Anna as it watched fear creep into her still crying blue eyes. Snapping that chain along the ground into its mouth, it jerked it to the left and out of Anna's arms that toddler would come flying as it wailed through the air to be come to a hault by this infernal link of metal connecting to the childs body hanging it over a low lying rock that jutted out of the cave wall, which was fine but the spot the kid now hung over was the pit of fire with the metal bars that crissed crossed this way and that. Oddly, these bars would start to swing open like a lid after a series of clicks but he would not give the fluffy little human time to register where he wished to put that fucking kid because it cried to damn much. "Run... Please run, it's so much better when they ruuuuun!" The whisper came as a slimy something or other as the dragon launched its large self at the girl, whom it thought was so cute as she appeared to do cartwheels out of its way. It's foreclaws slammed into the stone cave, making the entire place tremble. It would chase Anna and oh how it would chase her right on over to that pit that, when the cave had trembled it had jarred the child loose from where it had been tyring to get to the wall and now... It fell freely towards a fiery death with the loud scraping sound of all that link flicking sparks against the stone floor and metal rim of this deep, well-like pit. She eyed it wryly before her gaze traveled up as she fumbled to pick up the child again. Just seeing the Shadow dragon over her like this, with just its neck in view because it was so huge, brought a shriek from her as she took off towards the opening of the cave with that child in her arms. "Shhh, shhh, it will be o-no! NO!" From her arms the child was ripped and it sent her sprawled to the floor, tumbling down a short flight of stone stairs to which she had a hard time getting up from. Yet up she had to be to climb them and see where this foul creature had thrown the child. "You... You MONSTER!" It was tearing her apart inwardly. These people. This child. Arilwen. Niculaie.... Niculaie. Her heart ached for him so much that it choked her.

To the side she had to dive to avoid being crushed again by the thing's hands. The people in pain looked on in woeful silence at this red headed young thing try to jump for the child that was stuck on the wall, only to watch as it fell just barely out of her reach with the quaking of the cave. So much was happening so fast that the shock of it all couldn't be felt, and this enabled her to keep going. Down she went to the side of the pit after the child onto her knees, reaching for this chain but in grabbing it, her hands would blister and burn until she could not hold it any longer from this fire, this unholy fire the child had been plunged into. Her eyes, she so badly wanted to believe that they lied. They were not her own and this was not her body. This cave with these pieces of gore everywhere, none of it exsisted. None of it, but it did. "Annnnna...." Instantly she begun to cry as she turned to see this beast of evil, this creature of darkness leap at her again out of fun, no other reason but fun, and it would miss her again. Only because she threw herself down into the middle of those three poor souls that had had the rotten luck of being born into the wrong world. She looked up to the woman missing her fingers, her ears, and she cried even harder. Not the loud kind either but the mind breaking silent kind that racked your body until you really did want to die and be done with everything. A hand clasped over her mouth as she reached for the piece of rope that held the woman to a piece of rock, only to see nothing but red spray everywhere. Blood spurted from where the womans head had been, and where Sgaithard's mouth had abruptly clamped down to eat it. Never in her life had she known of such fear or horror as this as she crawled backwards to bump into what use to be the carcass of a horse. She could make it all stop he said. She only had to stop this by ending their suffering by her own hands. Up and up she was lifted by the dragons tail around her throat, choking her as it brought her to sit in between his feet where it sat back to eye its miniature trophies from different parts of the world. Anna felt like it was some sort of joke. It had to be right? Scrambling to her feet, she was then seized again and held in a death grip and made to watch as the shadow dragon took his time in picking apart the remaining two. Anna heard the words the fiend tore into her with as she felt the life being crushed out of her. "It is your fault these people have been suffering for so long." he hissed at her.

"No, no I.. irk... uh..." She couldn't even speak as he wove such tricky as to hold her body as still as stone in mid air and that she could not blink as he circled the remaining two, snapping at the large man until there was nothing left but the skin of his left elbow. "...please..." The sob was as ragged as her throat was raw. How could someone do this? Why? She didn't understand. It didn't make sense to her why evil exsisted and how true evil... always would.

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A look was thrown Niculaie's way and although Marsol thought it odd at first, now he wasn't so sure Niculaie was completely seperated from Mekkor, even in this distance. "See how our enemies use our children against us," Marsol said quietly as his left arm extended to point at Niculaie and then it came to rest on Wryvaust's head. It was heart breaking to see what only he saw, and others might have just viewed it as a drunken rambling when in fact, it was truth of many things. Past, present or future. He tugged at Wryvaust's robes, brushing off the sand from them as he said, "Yes, courage. You have still your word. Is that not everything? Lord Niculaie speaks not to us, but to another that means harm against our home." Well wasn't he just talkative tonight? His mood would then shift as he jerked Wryvaust to his feet and then eyed the abyss demon carefully. "Niculaie, with whom do you converse at a time like this?" he roared. It would appear, Marsol's patience with the situation had just run out.

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Wyrvaust started panting, feeling dizzy with all the agony and horror he saw and felt through Arilwen. He came away from Marsol abruptly enough to take his Lord off guard and stumbled back two paces to bump into Nic where he had stubbornly thrown himself down on his haunches to talk to Mekkor aloud. He stood for a moment with a confused look rumpling his face, then spun around on a dime as Nic spoke Mekkor's name. Wyrvaust then pounced on Nic like a cat, to pin his shoulders to the sand with two very strong arms as he rolled him onto his back, his legs straddling him. "Why does it talk to the fiend as a familiar?" The slits of his eyes lanced Nic's gaze as he asked him this. "The very fiend what cuts its precious life to pieces for sport and madness.... Tell me!" His claws gripped into Nic's shoulders to shake him against the ground. He hardly gave Nic a chance to answer did he? Wyrvaust cackled like a mad man and bounced on Nic's legs a few times before jarring him violently again. "Tell him where it dens, tell the dying raven now and no blood shall be spilt on sandy ground. Be quick and tell him where the monster hides!!" Looney, yes, but Wyrvaust was even more crafty and dangerous therein his lunacy than at any other time. Wyrvaust slammed his eyes shut for a moment as Mekkor rolled Arilwen's flesh in his fingers and jerked firmly to peel it back from her muscles.

"NnngnnnAHHHRAHHHHH!!!!!" His own roar of anguish echoed with those screams in his mind, as his beautiful angel was divested of her flesh... her soft pelt skinned from her like a glove before his mind's eye. That vision then hit Nick as well as Wyrvaust projected it back to Niculaie's mind. His gaze then lanced Niculaie, flames leaping into his pupils. "Tell it where its stinking lair is or its rage shall find it in younger demon's flesh!!!" he roared again, only at Niculaie this time, while he pounded him against the sand by those shoulders he gripped. The vision of her cutting into Arilwen's muscles to begin peeling them back as well to expose vitals and bone was just too much for him. It did not matter that Niculaie had told him what he had demanded him to tell. He was just mad with anguish and torment at the moment. Wyrvaust had begun to lunge for Nic's throat out of sheer frenzy and hate, not for Nic, but his sire, when Marsol grabbed him by his upper arms and hauled him off of Nic. The pecking order of strength had come into effect. Wyrvaust was stronger than Nic, and Marsol was stronger than Wyrvaust, and a good thing too. Marsol would find even HIS strength tested against Wyrvaust's fury. His body thrashed and arched while coiled like a fat spring as Marsol drug him back a safe distance from Nic, and when Wyrvaust whipped his head around to snap at Marsol's face, he stopped JUST short of biting him when his master's face filled his dark indigo eyes. Indeed his fangs and sharp teeth just barely scraped his skin before tears filled his eyes. He started rocking against Marsol and then turned around and embraced him to cover his throat with kisses before he whispered in his ear. "The pain.... it hurts, it hurts...." After a moment of Marsol calming him, the cloud of chaos in his mind parted enough to let his cleverness out, and he whispered to Marsol again. "Now its beloved master must take him to the city, for it knows how to end the fiend now... Its thoughts remember... It knows how to kill it and free the bird from its cage of horror..." Wyrvaust's lips then sealed Marsol's in a seering kiss of feirce passion, his tongue tangling with Marsol's, and his mouth capturing his master's muscle with lustfully provocative suckles. A gasp escaped the demon when he broke the kiss, then taking Marsol by the hand, he led him over to Nic. "It is sorry it... the Raven is sorry he tried to eat him... feast of Nic's flesh... Nic has done good... very good..." He was trying very hard to get his his mind to connect with his speech. He had to talk to people soon... and needed them to understand.

He took a moment to think, and to ward the area against interlopers... from sight and sound seekers, and to block Mekkor from his mind, which was no easy task. He let go of his hand and paced a circle around he and Nic until the walls were raised, whereof he returned to Marsol and hugged him from behind. "Who will accompany him... to... to the city... make sure... what it... he says... is understood by them who need to comprehend what he says? There is might more than the fiend has in the guardians of the Castlegard..." The name he remembered Hawker's Fort best as. "He remembers that... it is... unlawful... all these things the beast does... taking its mate by force to cut and horror... horror..." No, he was not stable yet, but it did not matter to him. He would end this thing forever. He would show the great mages of the walled in city what has been done... Let them see his own memory of it... and then Mekkor's wards would be torn down, and he would be arrested, then imprisoned in a warded cell, and then executed, destroyed by those who know how, for his crimes against an innocent in their place of many. "If we should take vengeance into our hands... our souls would turn black with the hate he would fill us with... His death on our hands would stain us with his evil..." he hissed. What did he mean by that? They would commit on Mekkor horrors beyond that which he even did to Arilwen, and by doing so, lower themselves to his level.

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Wyvaust.... Wyrvaust... her frenzied mind chanted for him, as if it would make her handsome demon appear from thin air. Arilwen's sweet scent throbbed in waves into the room as her body was being torn apart. Once a safe haven for her son and a gift to her lover, now being sliced apart. Her skin being fingered like a fine silk only to be yanked away from her muscles, the Swan fell into a state of hardly being concious, her eyes rolling back in her head and her body falling limp just as her organs were exposed. A tiny part of her mind was still present, but flooded in a lake of fire that licked and blistered her skin. Her fingers uncurled against the marble, stained with blood, and her hair stuck damply to the table for the same reason, and her lips were slightly parted, tiny wheezing gasps of air puffing in and out. Her body was temporarily shutting down from the unwelcome intrusion of so much pain. She had been so comfortable, so safe in her new life in the desert... and then this onslaught of terror.

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And Niculaie took that pounce without a blink and looked to the man atop him he would when give the chance confess of all that had happened, how he went to his clan and all that. Niculaie told them as he looked up at Wryvaust who pinned him there, he was a wild man, seething as far as Nic could tell... And when that vision was then forced upon him he let out a choked cry... "No, what the fuck... WHY?!" He cried as he shook his head, Arilwen was a good person, why then was his maker so cruel to her and Niculaie would close his fists and nodded to the demon when he demanded to know where he was. "Though know this, I do not tell you for the threat on my life, but I tell you because she does not deserve that and you are my friends, my family." He said and would indeed divulge where their home was. Nic though did not fight when the demon came at him again he would have let Wryvaust mangle him if only to let Wryvaust feel slightly better. Though Marsol intervened and it would be a moment later Niculaie sat up then and close his eyes as those visions were etched in his mind. "How could you..?" He dared ask aloud as Wryvaust went about doing some arcane trick, when he was told he did well, Nic just looked up a bit unsure of it all. "I will go with you, Wryvaust... And tell me, can you find Anna? Is she there as well?" He asked as he looked to the demon. Niculaie was quite broken.

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For a bitter moment this one whose eyes reflected sometimes Hell, and in rare moments Heaven, stiffened in the midst of bringing calm or trying to, to a mind that seemed to have snapped more profoundly than he had ever seen it before. Something was terribly wrong and it wasn't just the whole kidnapping of the girls either. His expression were harden into a scowl that brought out the darker shade in these red scales that framed his face around the hairline, the middle of his spine as well as the middle of his chest on down to God knew where. He hadn't been able to reach Arilwen nor Anna since their abduction, no amount of mind speak of anything was able to pierce whatever manner of trickery that had been used in taking them from their home in the first place. This however wasn't even the half of what made all those ruby tinged scales bristle and his gaze shift into that of a glare.

Wryvaust in all his grief could see his beloved through his innate abilities at looking through time and space itself, into that place where no mere mortal man could ever wish to reach unless they attain the kind of power humanity was never meant to have. With the exception of a few, of course. Call it the cold sinking feeling that never ceased to fail just before something catastrophic occured. Call it intuition. It had happened as Wryvaust and Arilwen were being netted like fish from the oasis waters to be dragged ashore by Mekkor and his henchemen. It only happened though when it was the worset thing imaginable that was to come over the horizon. Not being able to know anything of Anna was starting to take its toll on the tall dark and gruesome one who very much adored children and babies especially, except when they chewed at his eyebrows. He wished to ask Wryvaust if he could bend these horrible hallucinations, these images, these truths, to see how well the human child faired but he didn't. No more was to be put onto anothers shoulders if he could help it but it nagged at him still that cold feeling in his gut and it just would not go away. "We make for the city," he stated, abruptly standing as he turned away from Wryvaust to force that smoldering passageway of liquid-like flames into changing its current destination to that of the one that would bring justice to Mekkor who never ceased in getting under Marsol's skin the way Sammael had.

That glare would descend on Niculaie and for a horrible second, it looked as though the dragon cheiftan desired nothing more than to have the youthful demons head on a silver plater with his skull as an ash tray. But as quickly as that anger filled gaze at been on Nic, it moved away and off to the side. "Niculaie," came that cold as ice tone he got right before someone had their tongue cut out, "you may be of his blood, but your soul is of the sands. The desert, She will have blood spilt for pennence. Be it his, yours, or mine." At that the tanned and now faintly scaled Marsol would bring his hands together as that closing gap in the make of turning the gateway of fire towards this city that housed such animals and horrors as Mekkor and his basturd ilk in it. Still, he knew what they would find on the other side even with the aid and justice of the law swinging its axe will not quiet this overwhelming sense of doom...

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All. And none. The black colored giant that moved at speeds too swift for even most of the immortals to follow on account that it had spent most of its dispised life span in darkness to better know the difference between a leap of faith, and a step of tragedy. Brushing the ends of its wings over the tip top head of red curls, it was simply tickled pink at how every single time it drew near, the girl would never stop screaming. The noise would grow in voulmne until it felt so excited that for a split second it grew terribly sad at the simple fact that it had nor ever could take the shape of man. Had it this capability well, that was a horror story best left untold. In any case, the image of man disgusted Sgaithard almost as much as the idea of them. Bothersome pesky little things they were. Especially the men. Now the women, oh yes the shadow dragon was a big fan of the ladies. Unfortunately this meant that any male to cross its path would die instantly, save the two gentlemen in its lair but they had done something especially wrong to warrant that kind of treatment. The pricks thought they could save the kid on the chain. What a bunch of blithering idiots! It cackled something hideous as its bright lime green eyes narrowed on this girl-child and as it lowered its neck first and then its head to the cave floor, the smell of fear that radiated from her was so sweet, so delicious that it very much wished to share it with Mekkor but he was fairly sure that crafty fellow was already having a ball of his own with the delicious smelling Swan. A grunt was made when its day dreaming was ended at a rock being belted right into the crown of its head. It wasn't that it hurt, for he barely felt the damn thing but, it was that Anna even had the nerve to try escape when all was futile. "You reap what you sow little Anna pie." Then he jerked the girl up by her legs just so he could hold her upside down as that lengthy thin dark blue tongue slithered out from jagged teeth to flicker at Anna's face to further provoke shrieks of terror from her until she either fainted or grew deathly quiet again as she had when it ripped one of the cave prisoners apart and then built a sort of huge charm piece out of their internal organs to wear around his neck. "They take for granted the taste of fear. Fortunate for I, you child are ripe with it." That voice that made ice in ones veins snuck into the humans mind and crowded out all over thoughts she might have had to fill her fully with the kind of dread that might very well kill her before the creature holding her upside would...

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Mekkor had been correct. Arilwen was getting a twisted lesson in how much pain her body could handle, and how quickly it regenerated. No introductions before the Swan had been chained to the marble table, stripped and sliced. Mekkor had explained everything up until the angel blacked out. He was mildly suprised, as he had expected the bird to pass out sooner. Washing up, the tormenter had left the basement, leaving the angel alone in the cold room. Four hours later, after her body worked hard at regenerating muscle, the bird's fingertips, with their ragged nails now having grown back to the perfect length, twitched, causing the chains to shift slightly against the marble. A trembling breath was emitted, and those blue eyes, bloodshot and blurry, finally opened. It was so bright in the room that her eyes shut immediately, and her throat tried to wheeze out a sound of pain, but nothing came. She was doused in fire. She was in hell, she was certain of it. The dragon had been an angel of death, or a demon, and it had dragged her down into the bowls of hell. Her beautiful body was now bloody, her flesh trying to stitch back together over the exposed muscles that were so carefully exposed to the open air.

She was in pain, but finally became aware enough to realize that the man was not in the room with her. Had he taken a break, the dark demon that plagued her? Those thick lashes fluttered open again, almost afraid to, then looked around, squinting at the light. No, she was alone... Shifting her legs, the chains scraped across marble and she immediately froze, both from lightening bolts of pain shooting into her thighs and the sound. She didn't want to attract him to the possibility of more torture. The angel looked like an anatomy chart that showed a body with half muscle and half skin, and she closed her eyes as she began to weep. "Anna...." The girl's name was whispered into the thick air of the basement, tears running down the still intact cheeks of the bird. She had been taken by that demon from hell, flown off somewhere out of her reach, punished for some horrible sin that Arilwen herself had committed. "Oh God.." Her voice trembled, thick with agony, choking with sobs as she arched her face towards the ceiling. "Forgive me... forgive me... do not punish others for my wrong doing.." Her dry, cracked lips formed the words, and she began to sob more violently, the chains binding her wrists and ankles jerking and clanking against the marble table. "Please.... deliver Anna... deliver her from the demons that have snatched her from her home on my account. Deliver her punishment to my shoulders instead..." The words were choked and strained, and trailed off into her weeping, the tears mixing with blood and forming in rivulets on the marble table. Arilwen-
had now come to the understanding that she was not going to get out of this place, and her punishment was to be eternal. Snow White had been awoken, and she was a bloody mess.
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It took Wyrvaust nearly half an hour to come to the conclusion that the great mages of Hawkers Forte would need to be sought out and notified of what Mekkor was doing. Whether or not it was by Sammael's command, it was twisted and he had taken the Swan, not to mention Marsol's daughter. The wrath of the desert could be cruel when used correctly. Had Wyrvaust stopped for a moment, he would have realized how terrified he was to go to the city. The desert was his element, and EVERYTHING about Hawkers Forte made his mind collapse. No one understood him, and he felt terribly exposed. They could see his insanity. But his wife to be was trapped by a madman. His guts twisted into knots and he wanted to claw through his mind to those visions, to where Arilwen was, to grab the monster and destroy him, then take his desert princess in his arms and kiss away her blood and tears. But it was impossible, and not a bright way to go. Oh, and dear, sweet Anwarr. He was passed over to his father from Marsol, and the raven folded his tiny nymph into his arms and wept. Feeling his unrest, Anwarr began to wail, fists balled and tears flowing. The child was soon delivered home, to the servant of the household that Wyrvaust had accepted, and warned that she would need to try and feed him alternative food. Finally, at Marsol's side, he would step through that gate, numb with rage and desperation. It seemed as if no part of their lives would ever be safe.