Page 5 of Blood Lord

But Brinda still remains the only that knows me so well. She's the reason that I am here. No one else could have dragged me out of my cave like that.

I trust her judgment. And if she says something is interesting, it must be.

"Raziel."

I turn slowly, realizing that I had let my body start to relax into its mind-numbing state of pure detachment, when I hear Brinda's voice. I give her my best attempt at a smile, which is only met with her blank stare. "Brinda."

"And what is it that you think of the change of magic on the surface?"

It's clear now that this is what they were talking about, and she seems to be assuming I was listening. I pivot my whole body, tucking my hands behind my back as I stalk a few steps forward. My eyes are narrowed in on her.

"What of it? The dark elves have always had magic."

Irritation flickers through her gaze. "I know you felt the shift."

She's right. About a week ago—if we manage to keep time correctly down here—there was a huge ripple of magic that we felt. It seemed that only the oldest vrakken noticed it, but it pulsed through Protheka, starting on the surface and driving down to its core.

Whatever happened up there wasn't normal. It could have been the dark elves. Akeldama knows how they love to fuck around, and I have been secretly hoping they accidentally wiped out one of their own cities.

Or on purpose. Either is fine with me.

But it's clear that the Council thinks it was worth more.

I've heard the incessant tittering around the caverns. Some think it is the First returning, her power rippling across the planet. Others say it's Alkedama coming to bring his people back to the surface and restore us to our full glory.

There are those that are hopeful like me, thinking the dark elves have waged war against each other or even one of those bestial species they created. I remember when we first were driven underground, and we'd send scouts up to the surface just to see if it was safe to return.

They rarely made it back. The dark elves liked to capture our people, exposing them in the sun and starving them until they were shriveled up into a helpless, demented, unrecognizable creature. They are as good as dead, wherever they are, awaiting for a true deity to wipe them out.

Unfortunately, we have to have the blessings of the gods to leave this life.

But the ones who did make it back, blistered and thin, brought with them news we hadn't anticipated. The dark elves, without an opponent to stop them, had turned to tormenting the animals of the planets.

They had used their magic to twist them until they were unrecognizable. There were green monstrosities that stalked the forests and odd, taura-like beasts that were sentient.

At least one thing held true among every species they created.

They all hated their makers.

Even without us on the surface, the dark elves have nothing but enemies, and that brought about a feeling of victory in a way. They'd endlessly be trapped in wars and trade while we could live down here in relative peace.

And prison.

"Raziel," Brinda snaps, and I blink, forgetting that I am to answer her. I so rarely interact with others that I forget how easily I slip into my own mind. "You are one of the few that has lived on the surface. What do you think has happened?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe those dark skinned bastards are killing themselves."

One of the Council members next to Brinda snorts. "That's a fool's dream. They have set a trap, and here we are, falling right into it as we contemplate going to the surface."

I perk up at that, even as Brinda reprimands the Council member for speaking out of turn. "Going to the surface?" I ask. My heart thrums with excitement, and I gasp out at the feeling, something foreign to me over the last hundred years.

Brinda turns back to me with a look of exasperation. "Yes. We were hoping to put an end to the useless postulating. We have approved one Elder to go to the surface and with your expertise in the war and your wings–"

"And the lack of family to miss you when you are kidnapped," the Council member sighs.

Brinda slams her hand down against the desk, and it groans under her power. Her whole body is starting to vibrate, and a ghost of a grin touches my lips. No one dares to counter the Matriarch, especially not publicly.

"Remove her," Brinda grounds out. "Two weeks without feeding will remind you of your place in our structure."

---