Everything was dead.
The trees, the leaves, the grass, the animals-everything.
Her tomb laid in the middle of the destruction.
The centre of the plague, the source of his madness.
Her mind was reeling, trapped inside her weak body.
She had no co...
Alexander was at his weakest. He wasn't this weak even when he was human. The distance between his mate (or her stolen corpse) was killing him.
But he felt so strange. He expected Thanatos to explode and rage on the world until he found her, but he remained calm.
The were both weak, but he didn't seem to mourn her death, only the fact that she wasn't with him. He was sad.
He was the first to notice anything, the first being the scent of mermaid blood that seemed to waft through the air. He ran into the balcony and saw his formerly green lake tinted dark red. There were bodies floating on the surface, ripped apart completely.
It was one of the rare moments he felt true fear. Whoever did this had to have come for only one thing, Dahlia.
Her body was like a beacon for all magic-related creatures. She was the perfect source of power, a battery that couldn't die in a lifetime.
He jumped from the balcony and ran straight to her tomb, only to find it empty.
The utter despair he felt would have driven any human crazy, but it made him more focused than ever. He would find her, if it was the last thing he would do.
Alexander looked day and night for a spell that would locate a dead person, but he couldn't find any. All of them required DNA and a soul to locate, but he had only one of those things.
He thought that maybe he could locate her as if she was truly a source of magic, but whoever took her was smart enough to protect her against such a spell.
But, something unexpected happened., Arnold may have found a clue.
Supposedly, a warlock who created his own magic and was one of the most wanted men in the world was killed. But, that is not the interesting part, the way he was killed is what matters.
A sigil was burned into the man's neck. A very ancient sigil that no living creature except for Alexander and the gods themselves could have used.
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He couldn't believe it. This had to have been the work of Dahlia herself (but as a magically enhanced undead creature runaway for whatever reason) or whoever took her body, because he knew that the kill itself wasn't in the gods' style. The man's eyes were gouged out with arrows, they suspected. The gods would have never used weapons and certainly not poisoned arrows. They thought of themselves as being above weapons and anything related to mankind and far more ethereal than hands-on combat.
He travelled there as soon as he could, and thankfully it wasn't too far away.
He was sure that it was her magic as soon as he stepped into the house, it was filled with it. There was an overwhelming aura of power surrounding him. He neared the living room where the body was and as expected, the sigil was authentic. It wasn't burned or cut into the man's flesh by a tool, but by magic itself.
Alexander looked at the kitchen table and only then he noticed the men and women sprawled all over it.
"What happened here?" He asked, gesturing to the mess.
"The man was mid ritual, we assume. Whoever did this must have been fearless to attack when Hillian was at his strongest. The man may be brave but I'd rather say stupid." A vampire agent answered him, not knowing that the man in front of him was The King.
Alexander was enraged. He would have brushed it off had this happened when he was stable, but anything that even slightly insulted Dahlia set him off the edge, farther than he ever was.
His whole eyes bled red, not just the irises anymore. Veins protruded from his eyes down to his cheekbones.
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(A/n Yes, those are totally Crowley's eyes.)
"Say it again." He turned to the agent, who only now realised the shift.
The man was shocked into silence, he went completely mute.
Thanatos growled and ripped the man's heart out, the organ still warm and beating in his hand. Blood was still spurting from it and dripping onto the already bloody floor. He threw it against the wall, resulting in a firework of blood and tissue.
He walked back to the headless body and asked another agent, who only now entered the room, how they knew the warlock's eyes were gouged out with arrows.
He lead him to the fireplace, where a burnt skull was covered in ashes.
"We put out the fire as soon as we arrived, but it already burned off most of the flesh. But if you look closely, you can see marks around the skull where the eyes were. We tested the area and it came back positive for curare, an arrow poison that paralyses the victim and can even lead to death due to the paralysation of the diaphragm, causing asphyxiation. The marks also matched to arrow heads." The agent explained professionally, ignoring The King's bloody attire and the dead agent leaning against the wall.
The King saw something in him, a spark for war, something he hadn't seen since he recruited Isaac as a Lord.
"Do you have a family?" The King asked.
"No, sir. My mate died a long time ago." He answered with a stone cold face.
"Would you like to be promoted?"
"Yes, sir."
"If I told you that you would have to kill, no matter if the victim was a child or an old hag, would you do it?" The King asked a trick question.
"If I had a valid reason, yes."
Bingo.
"Good job. You will be living in the castle from now on. Pack your things and go there. Once you arrive, ask for Arnold. He will explain." The King stood from his croutching position and walked to the kitchen where he washed his hands and cleaned himself up a bit.
The King had no leverage to hold against the man, but Alexander knew he could trust him. Maybe not with his life, but definitely as a trusted soldier.
He walked out of the house and into his car, speeding off to find the nearest places that sell curare and arrows.
