Dusk of the Realm

9

Eris had wondered for so long what a Fae would look like when they broke.

While she had always wanted to break them physically, she had to admit: the blatant, wretched despair that had made Tarin Wulf its host created quite a satisfying sight. Even as his shock became misery, as his rage became desperation, he dropped his sword to the ground. Eris listened to the clash of steel against stone without looking down. She could not look away from his face, from the lines in his features that spoke of a tale of sorrow, from the eyes that had seen so much, and yet had never looked like this. More than that, she did not want to look away. She did not want to miss a moment of this.

"Probably a smart move," she said to him. She could feel the stinging pain of the cut, but she ignored it. He was hurting far more than she, anyway.

Wulf's hands were trembling. His body could not seem to decide whether it wanted to pounce at her or remain frozen in place. His breath was coming steadily, but his breathing was such a forced motion that she knew almost all of his focus was going into controlling himself.

"What have you done," he replied, his voice like a sigh. He did not bother trying to sound intimidating anymore. She had won.

"I have ensured that we will make a bargain that will please me," Eris answered.

"You are a fool. You are a dead fool," Wulf snarled, animosity once more taking over his expression. He lunged, but Eris stepped aside and tugged at her magic. She felt the tingle of the force at work in her, changing her until she once more resembled this man's dear princess — just the kind of spell she had cast on the Eternal girl, lying heavily sedated on the floor.

"You wouldn't kill me," she said, flipping her black curls over a shoulder.

Wulf growled, and despite herself, Eris flinched at the animalistic sound. "Like hells I won't, you manipulative—"

Eris forced herself to stare at him with wide blue eyes. "You want to see the shedding of her blood?" she wondered calmly, drawing another dagger and swinging it like a pendulum in front of her. "You want to see what it would look like for her to die? How would you explain it to her, if you ever saw her again, that you had wrapped your hands around her neck, or drove a sword through her body? Do you really think that would not leave a scar on her mind?"

She had never seen somebody look so angry. He was cornered. The most feared warrior in all the lands, trapped as surely as the moon he so often hunted by would rise at dusk.

"Tell me where she is," he commanded. His voice was hoarse with the depth of his emotion.

Eris continued twirling the knife in her hands, aware that Wulf's eyes were following its trail closely. He knew that it was not really Serena in front of him now, but at the same time, he would never be able to hurt the image of her. The act would stick with him forever.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" she asked tauntingly, beginning to circle Wulf slowly. "A Fae cannot enter the mortal world. Nobody with magic can." She paused just behind him, watching the flames as she spoke next. "And you cannot kill me, not only because I am the only one who can ever bring the girl back to you, but because in killing me, you unleash her magic."

Eris smiled a nasty smile and came back around to Wulf's front, looking up into his eyes. "Tell me, Wulf: What will happen, if Princess Serena's magic is returned to her while she is in the mortal world?"

Wulf spoke with unfathomable hatred, the words being drawn out from between his clenched teeth. "It will try to escape the hostility of the world it is unwelcome in by taking refuge in her body, but without its power, it will suffocate her, and..."

"And she will die."

Oh, he wanted to kill her. He wanted it very badly. But her reasoning was sound; her plan was foolproof. He could not do it. She found herself laughing out loud; she could stand in front of a target and give him a handful of knives. She could urge him, beg him to end her life, and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not do it.

She had just made her biggest enemy her fiercest protector.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, his eyes flashing, though he did not move as she continued to circle him. "Just tell me what I have to do to get her back."

"Why in such a rush, Ta Ta?" she questioned softly. He stiffened as she used the name Serena had called him when she was nothing more than a babe. "She is perfectly safe, I assure you. Unless, of course, I give the order for her to be harmed."

"Tell me what you want," Wulf pleaded, finally breaking down. His hands had become fists, his face crumpled in agony. She breathed it all in, as if she lived off of this darkness, this utter misery.

"Oh, I want a lot of things," she began, amused at the furious impatience in the warrior's eyes beside her as she paced, "and I am not about to reveal all of them now. However, as a start, you can sign your allegiance over to me, rather than that tyrant Triana."

----------------------------

"What?"

"You heard me," Eris replied. Her voice belonged to Serena, but the undertones... his princess would never speak like that — not to anyone, but especially not to him.

"I am a Fae, and I serve my crown. I have for decades," he argued. Surely she would not expect him to do something so absurd. It would be against everything he had ever known and stood for.

"Well, in that case," Eris replied, settling down into an armchair that was much too large for Serena's form, "you are free to give up your magic, as Serena did. Then you will no longer be Fae."

"You are a lunatic," he simply said. Eris laughed.

"Perhaps. But I am giving you a choice, at least. Give me your magic, or give me your allegiance. Either way, I will agree to bring your princess back to the Realm."

Tarin did not know what to do. The Realm meant everything to him; his service to the crown defined him. However, Serena's birth had been the turning point of his entire existence. He had cared for her more often than her own mother, had watched her grow up with more affection in his heart than he ever knew he could feel. He was a piece of her spirit, her soul, as she was of his. A large piece, the most important piece. A piece he could not live without, and he knew it.

In that respect, this choice should be easy. But he was a Fae, a noble warrior. Neither of these options were good options, so how was he supposed to pick which one was right? This woman was torturing him, laughing at him, enjoying herself thoroughly as his life came crashing down around him.

It terrified him to realize it, but imagining Serena on the ground, thrashing as her magic struggled for survival inside of her, leeching her life away from her in a world where it was unknown and unwelcome, was more horrifying to him than imagining any other Fae experiencing similar fates.

He had become selfish, but in this case, it did not much matter. He was sure Triana would have answered Eris already, sure that she would do anything at all to keep her daughter alive, regardless of her faith and dedication to her kingdom. She would hate herself for it, would torment herself for it each day, would pray for forgiveness from the heavens, but she would go to her knees before allowing Serena to die. And he would do the same.

Just as he opened his mouth to voice his decision, however, the door slammed open, and he and Eris both turned to stare as the twins stormed into the room.

"Our sincerest apologies, Sir," Vice said.

His confusion and mental turmoil was so great at that point that he did not sense the attack until it was upon him; the first time in quite a long time he had been caught off-guard by a physical strike. Then Vex's and Vice's magic was inside of him, their combined power attempting to overwhelm his own.

The first thought that went through his mind once he registered the situation was that the two women were insane. They had succeeded in distracting him, sure, but they could not hope to overpower him in this way. He began to gather his magic...

And then crashed to the ground as something struck the back of his head, his falling eyelids acting like dark curtains to shield him from the horrors of the world.