Page 9 of Blood Lord

No, the feeling of the wind beating around me is awakening parts of me that have been dormant for so long, I thought they were gone entirely. I don't know what to make of the adrenaline pumping through my veins or the excitement in my core.

Other things come flitting forward in jolts, hitting me hard in my chest, and it's been centuries since I even knew the name for them. Some of them I can't even place, and that, too, excites me, not to know everything.

The day that I lost the sense of discovery was the day I was a dead man walking.

And now, I have been resurrected.

I crest the shore of the island, but I'm not ready to land. Instead, I dart between the trees, giving my wings a break as my feet slam into the ground.

A cry escapes me as I tear between the trunks, ducking under limbs and leaping over logs. I haven't ran in even longer than I've flown, and using my reflexes like this, to move out of the way before I even notice the danger, makes me feel like myself again.

I push myself until I'm gasping for breath—a hard thing to make a vrakken do—and I skitter to a stop at the edge of the tree line. From the top of this hill, I see the lights of the city more clearly, the nightlife in full swing.

Emotions and physical cues that I don't know wash over me, and I welcome them, throwing my arms out and tipping my back. I want to scream out with joy, and I realize in this moment that I can't go back to being an underground creature.

The Council is expecting me back in a week's time, but I'm sure I can push it a little longer if I want to—and there has never been anything I've wanted more. Maybe I'll find a reason to stay here, to escape the vrakken and all that I loathe of the underground.

My body starts to calm down, no longer pushed to the brink of excursion or overflowing with adrenaline, and I finally get a clear head. I remember my purpose, and I beat my wings to help me float up, just a little.

I already have a good vantage point from this hill that overlooks the city, but I can see more as I fly up above the trees.

From the ground, I could make out the edge of the city, but as I fly, I catch a scent of excitement—and it's not my own. I follow it, feeding more and more off the wind as it tells me of what I'm approaching. There's eagerness and amusement, and I'm pretty that just outside of the city, I can make out lights where all of this is coming from.

There appears to be a big gathering there, and then I'm hit with something painfully familiar. It's an old smell, almost triggering a memory of the days before I was Made, and curiosity pulls me in closer.

"What is that?" I murmur, stalking closer.

The lights turn out to be massive tents, and I land on the limb of a massive tree up above it. I don't understand what I'm staring down at; it's not something I've seen as a vrakken. But a word comes to me, something so distant that I nearly think it's from Earth—but I can't possibly remember anything from then. The Change made me forget nearly all I was before.

But there's the word, nagging at the edge of my mind:circus.

As the wind blows by, the familiar scent grows stronger, pulling at me. It's enticing, making me want to come closer, and I am desperate to know why I feel compelled to find its source.

The more I lean into it, the more I feel it drawing to a deep, instinctual place. It's so strong that I'm almost concerned, and I remember what that one Council member said.

It's a trap set by the dark elves to capture the vrakken.

Could this be it? Could they be luring me out here?

I can smell them here, too, and loathing battles for my attention against that deep need to find the source of the scent. I want nothing more than to ript through that tent, slaughtering as many dark elves as I can before stealing away whatever calls to me.

But I restrain myself. I'm already feeling overwhelmed with all the sights and sounds and smells from this high up. If I dive in there, my brain will be overwhelmed, my senses useless.

Instead, I try to focus on one thing: identifying that alluring scent. But I have a hard time picking through all the sensory input to isolate it.

That is until a soft instrumental reaches my ears. I cock my head, listening intensely, and a soft voice joins in. It's so melodical, so soft as it weaves a haunting tale through song, and it clears my mind.

I am shaken to my core by the sound, forgetting what my purpose is here. I forget to stay far away, to take in the necessary information or to go into the city.

No, I am drawn by the song, and without thinking, I leap from treetop to treetop in a desperate attempt to find the source.

I finally realize that it is the biggest tent in the center that houses the music, and I land on a heavy branch, prowling out to its end to peer down into the tent.

It's a human.

She is like a star herself: dazzling, bright, and so pale. Her features are striking, and she's impossible to look away from as the light catches her from every angle.

I remember when we had humans, even a little of when I was one, and she is nothing like them or me. She is mesmerizing, captivating her crowd as she floats across the stage, seemingly oblivious to all that watch her.

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