Lylianna

Lylianna looked out over the balcony, the whispering wind ruffling her black feathery wings and white gown, hinting of the magic of the night. Far below her, below the cliffs the house overlooked, the ocean beat against the rocks and sand in a never-ending crescendo of gently crashing waves just barely audible at this height. Moonlight spilled across the night reflecting off the tides, the marble floor and pillars, the gold of her shackles and collar, even off her very eyes; bathing her in a soft eerie light.

She closed her eyes and gave her flings a flutter, letting this moment sink in as the bittersweet memories of wandering the astral planes and interacting with the gods and goddesses passed through her mind. With only the slightest tinge of regret she shoved those thoughts from her mind with a soft sigh. It was too late for that; far too late. The feel of the cold metal collar and shackles on her skin served as a reminder that her home was now the mortal realms of the prime plane.

“Not that I would go back even if I had a choice,” she thought to herself with slightly sad smile. Her heart would not let her.

With one last sigh she furled up her wings just as strong arms wrapped around her waist. She felt the chain which ran from her collar down through the cuffs on her wrists and ankles to a post inside the room behind her pull tight as a length of it was brushed aside by a foot. She felt cold lips brush up against her neck and inhaled sharply as she felt the twin tortures of pleasure and pain as fangs almost but didn’t quite penetrate the skin of her neck in a teasing manner before disappearing only to return nibbling her ear lobe.

“Second thoughts, my pet?” the whisper in her ear sent a shiver of fear and anticipation down her back. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t wish.”

But there was no choice. In her heart, she knew that, even as she turned to face him, dark eyes looking up into his pleadingly. “No master. No second thoughts. Only memories best remembered and forgotten, my love.”

His answering smile was at once warm and terrifying. She watched his eyes focusing on hers, felt the shiver of attraction knowing that it did not matter that she was immune to his thrall; she was still drawn to him by a force at once more biding and more fickle. She smiled and nodded, lowering her eyes submissively. “Yes, master.”

She let him guide her back into the room, bare except for two stone biers and three small tables with candelabras. Upon one of the biers lay a cloth of black and crimson velvet lined with rose petals of the same colors. A matching pillow lay atop at one end.

She did not resist at all as he untied the laces at her neck, shoulders, and both sides of the skirt allowing the dress to fall away from her in two pieces without having to remove the chains that held her bound. She smiled softly as he gently lifted her on to the bier and laid her out upon it. She watched in anticipation as he climbed up beside her. She moaned and threw her arms around him as he cradled her back and head in his arms tilting her head so she faced the far wall, opposed of the balcony.

Four points of ecstasy and pain sank deep into her neck, throbbing bringing her to subspace and beyond as he master began feeding off of her as he had countless times before. But tonight was no ordinary feeding. This time she knew, as a smile reached her lips, it would not be complete until he drank all of her blood. Seconds ticked past, followed by minutes as each throb, each swallow drained more blood from her angelic form.

Slowly at first, then more quickly, her awareness of the world began to dim. So it was with a second of confusion she regarded the mist that began creeping into the room from under the door. Too late, as she felt the last of her blood drain away, did she realize the mist was coalescing into a solid form, that of a man. She tried to squeeze her master’s arms, to make a noise to warn him, but she had no strength left; her life fleeting away.

So her master was unaware of the figure behind him unlocking the door as he drew his dagger across his wrist. He was likewise unaware of the other forms that began to materialize near the first. Even as he placed his wrist across her lips, even as instinct kicked in and she bit down unable to control the sudden overwhelming urge to feed upon his blood, she struggled in vain to force her arm to squeeze, her eyes widening just ever so slightly in alarm.

Too late, he heard the lock click and the door swing open. He never had time to turn around before the first vampire raised a crossbow and fired a wooden bolt into his back. The aim was perfect, striking him through the heart.

It didn’t kill him. He was far too strong for that, but it did weaken him, slow him down just enough that he could not escape the next attack.

Unable to look away, to scream, or even move, Lylianna watched in horror as the elderly paladin from the hunters guild—the one whose son was rumored to have been kidnapped by the members of the vampire clan just nights before—cast his spell calling forth a pillar of fire and divine energy that incinerated her master in her very arms. Though her body refused her command, every fiber of her soul cried out in agony and pain as her master, her lover, turned into a billion specks of ash and dust that exploded in a million different directions.

Even as her head fell back onto the pillow she saw one of the vampires shove a young boy forward into the paladin’s arms. The boy stumbled and fell into his father only to explode in a similar manner as his forehead came in contact with the holy symbol that hung from the paladin’s neck; his turning to recent for him to have built up any resistance to the holy magic stored in the amulet.

The last thing she saw as darkness claimed her were the streams of healing magic spewed forth in anger by the paladin that engulfed the vampires even as they tried to raise daggers and crossbows.

She did not see the paladin prevail against the vampires that had so underestimated him, did not see him cut them down with the raw fury born out of his hatred of their betrayal and the murder of his son. Nor did she see him stagger toward the bier she lay on, his steps a bit unsteady as he bled from a dozen life-threatening wounds. She neither saw nor heard his sad sigh as he drew his own dagger across his wrist allowing the blood to fall between her lips before beginning the words and motions to a powerful spell, one few paladins—and even few clerics—could master.

It had been midnight when the vampires had charged into her master’s room. It was nearly two hours later she awoke. Her screams could be heard for miles and lasted until dawns rays seared her throat and silenced her ability to scream. Through it all the dying paladin held her. After she quieted he dragged her into the shadows where the sun could not touch her, and where her body slowly began to heal.

With the last of his strength, he brushed the tears from her eyes. Falling across her, he whispered “We were both robbed of the ones we loved this night, fallen one of the heavens, and it is up to you to end the evil and pain those that stole them from us bring to the world.”

As dusk, she shoved his cold body off of him. She picked up his sword and used it to break the chain. Detouring only long enough to scoop up her dress, she left the room. A short time later she left the house, dressed in breeches, a thick belt with the sword tucked loosely inside, boots, a loose blouse, and a heavy cloak. In the bag upon her back were the dress, a few keepsakes, and whatever provisions for a journey she could scavenge from the house. Dark cold crimson eyes gave the manor a final once-over, burning the image into her mind, before she turned and walked away, never once looking back.