Dark Prince & the Doe

Chapter 82: Getting Ahead

Chapter 82: Getting Ahead

Content Warning: There will be violence and some mild gore in this chapter. (I mean, it is Larken, after all!) If anyone finds this chapter too intense at any point, I've included a short summary of this chapter's events at the very end of the chapter.

Larken

The three support units were small shadows, speckled in front of the full moon on their tinderhorses. Carine had shouted at him to slow down but Larken didn't have time to waste waiting for them. The chill night air, petrichor scented, filled his enchanted wings, fully stretching the membranes. The moonlight made the transparent flesh glow with a pinkish hue.

Hideous pain burned down his back, through his wings, buzzing all the way to his fingertips and toes. The pain was merely pain – a small price to pay for flight. The wind changed, and he cupped it with his right wing, gliding with the wind instead of fighting it. The Wind Aria was with him tonight. It'd deliver him right to the Hawkmaster's door.

Unfortunately, with the full moon high in the sky, the True Remnants would see him coming if he flew right to the ramparts of the Banam family castle. Everyone in Remeria knew about his preset wing enchants and his enemies would be ready to receive him with a hail of silvre-tipped arrows. With a few swift flaps, he rose into the low-lying rain clouds. Normally, he'd bemoan the spring rain showers for ruining such a nice night, but the Storm Aria truly did love him. Poor Camus would never see him coming till he was at his throat.

He'd greet them with force. He hummed the Wind Aria, then began to enchant. The wind was already strong tonight and, with every verse, he strengthened it around him. He sung loudly and the wind eagerly grabbed him with a roar, carrying him through the night. The wind whipped the lazy rain clouds into a frenzy, lashing them with icy gusts as he passed. The wind grew in a surge and Larken rode it. The clouds were herded along with him and his chanting in a roiling stampede that grew stronger and larger as the ground flashed by, disappearing beneath him.

Clouds obscured his vision; cold moisture slicked his hypersensitive skin. A quarter of the verses on his back were of the Blue Flame Aria. The water conflicted with the flames. Condensation formed on the delicate wing membranes and he wanted to flick the droplets off in annoyance but couldn't while in flight. Despite his discomfort, he kept enchanting. The tinderhorses far behind him were going to enjoy the rain even less than the fire in his chest.

Larken hissed through his teeth. Pity he would not have time to make a message of Camus and whatever True Remnant ilk he'd dragged with him. A quick death for his enemies tonight would not be a mercy, it was a necessity. Necessary. He'd take that bastard's head before he had a chance to even speak. He had no intention of leaving his brothers to the whims of the Labyrinth lords for too long. If the True Remnants and the Labyrinth were working together, then the Labyrinth would make a play. Their mother alluded to trouble, but her vague warnings were too little too late.

Kiren would distract them for as long as he could. No one was as obnoxious and distracting as Kiren. He could handle it. Larken had to believe that. He had to trust his brothers. If he lost any of them...he snarled. If the Labyrinth was working with the True Remnants, he'd remind each and every one of them why he was owed respect.

Straining his wings, he beat them faster with the wind. Faster! Pain burned through him. The Arias he channeled through the preset wing enchants on his back wore into his flesh. The words ate into his muscles like carnivores with venomous teeth. The longer he kept the wings activated, the deeper the enchantments dug. Blood and rain melded together all over his back.

The Banam estate rose before him in the distance through wavering gaps in the mists and rain clouds, glittering silvery blue in the enchanted moonlight. Larken had been to the Banam family home on many occasions. The castle was simple in its extravagance, much like the Castle of the King – a functional stronghold, above all else. The fact that the True Remnants had taken it meant they'd used some form of trickery.