Of Blood And War
Jarrah locked himself in his lab, deep in the bowels of his palace. Not only was it secluded, but no one knew of its existence, and that allowed him to practice powerful black magic.
He laid out the items before him. The vial of Renna’s blood he had procured from the dark fae princess. She had looked at him in utter disgust when he had approached her for it, but soon stuck out her arm and agreed. He only had to threaten her with twisting the truth about her previous visit to Drudora. Stating, he would tell her family she had come willingly to his bed as a peace offering between the two realms. It would have been enough to cast doubt among a few of her family and possibly her mate. Renna was now married, and a scandal was the last thing her family would want. They never need to know, and she would never tell them she had refused his advances, so he had taken what he wanted from her, anyway. The fire in her eyes as he forced her into submission that night many years ago had only fueled him further. To tame a dark fae as beautiful as Renna had been his best conquest to date.
Next, he laid a lock of his wife’s hair on the table. His beautiful mate, Layla, was a powerful fae. Her father, a Falock. Part fae and part warlock and his daughter had inherited his dark magic. He reached for the crystal bowl and placed it in front of him. The piece was carved from a single crystal mined from their mountains and had been gifted to him by his mother as a coronation present. It was said that a piece such as this would amplify the owner’s power tenfold.
A few more ingredients and he was ready to begin the most powerful spell of his life.
Picking up the lock of hair, he dropped it into the bowl. Step two, open the vial of blood and pour it over the hair until thoroughly saturated. Step three, a pouch of dirt that had been scooped from the base of the mountain using a silver utensil. He opened the velvet pouch and sprinkled the contents into the bowl. Tossing the pouch aside, he reached for the vial of water. This he had procured from the stream near the palace, and it was so clear he had to shake the vial to be certain there was anything in it. Pulling the stopper, he poured the liquid over the rest of the ingredients. Only one more thing was needed, so he grabbed the silver blade sitting on the table and sliced his wrist. The droplets of his blood dripped at a quick pace into the bowl before he healed.
If one looked at the concoction, they would question his ability at magic, as none of these items together seemed to make sense. To him, however, they were the perfect union. Dark fae were the opposite of his own species: the light fae. The god Vezrath created them, and they took their power from the night and the moon. The goddess of light, Itasis, created the light fae, and they took their power from nature. Combine the blood of the two, with the purest elements nature offered and the right spell and it would bear his creation.
He cupped the crystal bowl, noting both its coolness and its warmth, then began the spell.
“Uin dúr a uin galad. With nin blood a with cín blood, nin gúl combines na tolth- i raug na ceri- nin bidding.”
A dark mist formed over the bowl and swirled upward until it had turned into a thick column. His jaw tightened as a power darker than the night seized his fingertips, then snaked up his arms. He was frozen in place as the dark mist followed the same trail. It enveloped him. Squeezed until his lungs could no longer take in a breath. When he thought he might lose his life to whatever he had created, it moved downward. Across his torso, to his balls, which pulled tight until the pain would have sent him to his knees were he not locked in place. As a tear slipped from the corner of his eye, the mist moved down his legs and to his feet before it swirled away from him, and he could finally collapse to the floor. As he fought to catch his breath, he bore witness to what he had done.
The dark mass of fog swirled into a funnel and allowed him a small peek here and there at what formed inside it. He caught specks of gray-colored flesh. Large, pointed ears and a flash of white fangs. As the mist fell away, what it revealed made him gasp. Before him towered a creature that was certain to cause panic.
“Vampire,” he whispered.
The creature looked at him with wide-set blue eyes that matched Layla’s, but in color only. There was something evil that lurked inside them. This was a predator that studied him with a keen intelligence and searched for any flaw it might use against him.
Its long face lacked a protruding nose, but the wide opening was better adapted to taking in every scent for miles. There was no doubt this beast was already aware of the number of prey at its disposal. With a wide mouth of razor-sharp teeth and two sets of thick, long fangs, one set on top and one on the bottom, it would tear apart its meal in seconds.
Gray leathery skin would protect it from the elements, and the large hands and feet tipped with dark claws were simply one more thing to gut a fae in one swipe.
He slowly rose to his feet and quickly realized the vampire stood at least seven feet tall. The creature watched his every move like a fine-tuned predator. It was then his head began to ache and his mind filled with a high-pitched buzz before images filled his brain. It took him a minute to realize that the creature didn’t speak but was trying to communicate via telepathy. Jarrah relaxed and allowed the creature to access all his memories and after a few minutes they were linked. While it didn’t speak, it understood his words and Jarrah, the creature’s thoughts.
“You need a name. I will call you Jarlen.”
Need a mate and food.
“Of course.” He knew to grow his killing-machine army, Jarlen would need to reproduce and that required a female. He would figure that out while his creature fed. “Stay here. I will bring you fresh blood.” He turned and left the room, locking the door behind him.