Falling Skies

Thirty One

The night before is on constant repeat, December unable to block out the sound of Wren's muffled cries nearly a day later. The sound embedding itself into his being, wrapping around each bone and poisoning his blood until it's all he can hear, all he can think about until it's his only all consuming thought. He had been awake for half the night, every time he dared to shut his eyes the picture of Wren trembling beneath his coat haunted his mind.

It plays alongside the questions that still gnaw away at his mind. At the fact that Wren had warned him of this moment though he had nothing to gain from the action. He had warned him out of kindness, and asked for December's involvement seemingly to protect him. But why...

"You good over there?" Abrahm snickers, hand clasping around December's shoulder before vigorously shaking him against his seat.

He had been so lost in his mind that he hadn't noticed Abrahm and Ryder taking a seat on either side of him. The trio had been called to the conference room in the early morning, sleep still crusted in Ryder's eyes and Abrahm periodically letting out a yawn. He's still dressed in his Haven clothes, ragged and torn from their time traveling in the woods. His hair  hands loose across his face as it falls into his hands, cheek cradled in his palm with another yawn. Ryder follows suit, hands balled into the sleeves of his blue-silk robes and head resting on the table ahead of them.

The table is carved from white jasper, the slab wrapping around the perimeter of the room leaving a rectangular space in the middle. The center appears to be draped in red velvet leading to three slim stairs, a row of chairs placed on the slightly elevated surface. The chairs themselves are carved from an unknown gemstone, only the center of the back and seat covered in a softened fabric of sorts. Their own seats pale in comparison, simple tall-backed wooden chairs that could be found anywhere within the castle.

"What are we even here for? We haven't even had breakfast." Ryder mumbles, eyes shut tight against the light reflecting off the milky table.

So Wren didn't tell him... It's the only thought that comes to mind, brows furrowing slightly as he attempts to dissect the meaning behind it all. Maybe it's because Ryder was never in any danger of being found out, he was nice to Wren from the beginning so his memories are sure to reflect that. Yet December can't help but undermine his own reasoning, a thousand scenarios beginning to bubble within him until they're hastily extinguished by the sound of an opening door nearby.

A mass of bodies flood the room, each draped in varying dresses and robes that flow behind them as they walk around the milky table in search of a seat. From the crowd Sasha can be spotted with Celeste at his side, his slender body hovering near the opened door though he seems uneasy, weight shifting foot to foot and hands wringing away at one another.

In seconds, each chair of the jasper table is filled, the crowd murmuring to one another as their eyes fall upon the trio then back to one another in gossip. December shakes away the sensation though their presence can still be felt, the gaze of a hunter locked on their prey not one to soon let go.

The door opens once more, the hunter's gaze dissolving with the entrance of Wren. From across the room he smiles in their direction, eyes soft as he stands in the doorway with Sasha by his side. He appears nervous, eyes shifting across the room and nails digging into the center of his palm to distract himself from the crowd. With a nudge, he's walking towards the red velvet center of the room, sheer blue robe dragging behind him as he takes a seat on his knees before the slender steps. 

There's a slight tap from Ryder but December ignores the motion, mind already threatening to slip away to the events of the night before. The same question eats away at him, intensified by the presence of Wren kneeled against the velvet floor before him. Why was he warned of this meeting? Why was Ryder not informed about this? He's supposed to be Wren's partner yet he wasn't warned of a meeting deciding their fates?

Something is wrong here, suspicion crawling it's way up his spine until it leaves his entire body chill. He's on high alert, eyes darting from one cloaked figure to the next until it falls upon the gemstone chairs now filled with bodies, their presence silent enough that they slipped into the room undetected.

The cloaked figure in the central chair stands, his face camouflaged by his hood's shadow though his aura silences the room, only his ragged breaths audible as he raises a grey hand to the crowd. "We shall begin this meeting with a simple roll call to ensure each figure is present." His voice is unnerving, an audible representation of nails scratching against chalkboard. It's the type of voice that crawls throughout the night and lurks within the shadows, draining the blood from one's body the instant it's heard.

Wren briefly stands from his place on the floor, head bowed towards the cloaked figure before addressing himself. "Wren, the current reigning bėlä and king of fae."

A body stands at the jasper table, tattooed hand pulling back his cloak to reveal bronze skin and messy black hair. "Jax, Alpha Amir of the seven tribes and ruler of the Deadlands."

Ryder scoffs under his breath at the introduction, December only catching the end of his eye roll before turning back to the crowd. A few introductions pass by before a trio of women stand in unison at the end of the table. Their white-blonde hair falls past their breasts in thick braids adored with blue and green trinkets. They have the same red eyes as Sasha, gaze fierce as the older of the three introduces the group.

"I am Anastasia, and my sisters, Dasha and Katarina." She introduces the two beside her with a thick accent too difficult to pinpoint. "We are the first vampires and are kin on the paternal side of the current reigning bėlä." There's a hint of malice in the way she speaks, her tongue sharp but her ruby gaze sharper.

"Sasha, first vampire and kin on the paternal side of current reigning bėlä. I am the current regent of this kingdom in the bėlä's absence."

As Sasha takes his seat there's another tap on December's arm, this time a mouth coming up to whisper in his ear. "Sasha is Wren's uncle?" Ryder mouths, drawing back with brows furrowed in confusion.

December only shrugs as an answer, the horrific voice of the cloaked figure cutting through the crowd with the force of a blade.

"We are Īlöt, The Priestly Order. We have been summoned to review the memories of Wren, the Blood Fae, in order to determine whether he is fit to reclaim the throne from his regent. We will be examining his memories to determine if the human, Ryder, is capable of joining the Īlöt as a cävīl. Furthermore, these memories will be analyzed to determine the fates of the human, December, and the human, Abrahm. Do you consent to these conditions, Blood Fae?"

"I consent." His voice shakes in the slightest but he bows his head to conceal the action before taking his position kneeled upon the velvet floor.

"You will relive these memories not only emotionally but physically as well. Everything that you have endured, you will be forced to withstand once more. Do you consent?"

"I consent." He doesn't seem as sure now, his shoulders rising too quickly, giving away his fears though he buries his features in the depths of the red floor.

"Then let us begin, bėlä."