Chapter 25 Killian
twenty-five
Killian
Diarom was almost equidistant from Zentroa and Clerlet, with the latter being a slightly further distance. The journey could be made quicker if Killian pushed his car a little harder. The engine growled as he stomped on the accelerator.
His Sire demanded a status report, and Killian put off delivering it for as long as he could. But when one of Drachen’s lackeys from the Council arrived at Killian’s apartment to formally summon him to Drachen’s abode in Clerlet, he knew he could no longer escape it.
Killian spent the duration of the journey planning what to say to his Sire but was still at a loss when he pulled into the driveway of the house. Killian slid out from behind the wheel of his car and slowly made his way to the large front door.
Before he was granted the freedom of his Diarom apartment, Killian had called this house his home for almost a century.
But it didn’t feel welcoming or inviting as he stepped inside the cold entranceway.
His footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he walked down the hall towards the back of the house where the sitting room stood.
It was the only room in the house to have a fireplace, but it was purely for aesthetics.
It was powered by magical flame, which imitated real fire but was harmless to Vampires and did nothing to warm the house.
A pair of high-backed, plush chairs sat near a large arched window on the adjoining wall.
The window was inlaid with stained glass, but their colours were indistinct in the darkness of Noctis.
The window offered an unremarkable view of the rear of the property.
But the feature of this room was arranged along the wall opposite the fireplace—it was the showcase of Drachen’s most prized possessions.
As a Vampire obsessed with proving his worth to the wider community, Drachen believed the most effective way to show his elevated status was by amassing a collection of rare curios and collectibles.
Items imported from all over Iavus were housed in a matching pair of glass cabinets, ranging from a substantial specimen of Lacylian Quartz from Cevoria, to a chunk of the stone foundation of the Odessa Ruins—the oldest known structure in all of Noctis.
A rug made of a Werewolf’s pelt decorated the floor before the cabinets, but nestled between them was the centrepiece of the collection: a statue.
The statue was hewn from a beige-coloured marble with gold striations.
It depicted a Humanoid form on its knees, but it was taller and more slender than a Human.
The figure’s facial features were contorted into an expression of suffering, and it was reaching upward, as though it were trying to grasp something out of reach.
The haunting fact of this collectible was that it was not a statue at all—it was actually a living creature. It was known as a Marmore, a Humanoid race native to Cevoria. The Marmore were made entirely of marble-like stone, but a unique punishment known as the Entombment rendered them immobile.
Extremely rare and reserved for oath breakers and other atrocities, the Entombment was a dark rite that froze the Marmore in place permanently.
Although the trading of Entombed Marmore was an illegal practice, there were several ‘statues’ found in museums, historical sites and private collections such as Drachen’s.
These collectibles were highly sought after within Noctis, due to the impossibility of travelling to Cevoria for any of Noctis’s creatures.
It was this statue that held Drachen’s focus as Killian entered the room. He was seated at one of the high-backed chairs and he spoke without looking at his Broodling.
“How goes the hunt, Killian?”
“Slowly.”
“What is keeping you?”
“They have secured her within the walls of Veldmoor. I can’t get to her.”
Killian returned to his hideout across from Veldmoor numerous times over the last three weeks to observe the goings-on within the mansion.
Leseldh had imposed yet another lockdown—the red sedan that delivered Ivy’s meals was enough proof for Killian.
The other Vampires came and went as they pleased, but at least one of them remained on the property with her at all times.
It made access to her impossible, much to his frustration.
“You waited too long.” A threatening edge crept into Drachen’s tone, and Killian knew the time for placating him was rapidly approaching.
“We aren’t out of time, yet.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I’ll disrupt the Ascension,” Killian’s feigned conviction drew his Sire’s gaze. Drachen’s eyes sparked with curiosity.
“If you interrupt the Ascension, it will not succeed. She will remain in a Fledgling state permanently.”
“Giving us all the time in the world to strike,” Killian added, even though the words made his stomach twist.
“Do you know where the Ascension will take place?”
“It would only make sense for it to occur on the grounds of the estate. They’ll believe she’s safe there.”
“And how long do we have left?”
“A month, give or take.”
Drachen rose from his seat, a small smile playing upon his lips as he walked towards the Entombed Marmore.
Killian watched the way his Sire stared at the statue, and an unbidden thought of Eryn pushed into his mind—although her manner of entombment was different, the result was the same.
Although he didn’t know what act the Marmore had committed to receive such a punishment, he was sure that it was a crime more deserving than that of Eryn’s.
Her only offence was her connection to Killian.
“Do you feel confident that you will succeed?”
“Yes.” No.
“Good. Failure is not an option. We must ensure Leseldh’s destruction.” Drachen turned his back to Killian, returning to his seat. Killian took it as a dismissal.
Killian headed for the front door, but turned just before he reached it, and opened a door to the left of the hallway. The door opened onto a darkened stairwell that carried him into the basement.
Killian knew something was wrong even before his eyes adjusted to the heavy darkness. He stepped into the large space and a feeling of dread pressed down on him. The wooden coffin that usually sat atop the bier was missing.
The sound of footsteps drifted into the space from behind him, and he whirled to see Drachen standing in the doorway, his red eyes aglow.
“What have you done with her?” Killian’s undiluted hatred spilled into his words.
“I feel as though you are not dedicated to this task, Killian. I thought you might need some additional incentive,” Drachen responded haughtily. It made Killian’s hands clench into fists so hard his fingernails cut into his palms.
“Where is she?”
“Don’t worry about that. If you do as I have asked, I will release her as we agreed.”
“And if I don’t?” The rebellious question might have been foolish, but Killian’s rage clouded his judgement.
He’d maintained a pretence of working towards achieving Drachen’s goal over the last year, but this cunning act unleashed a defiance burning within Killian that he believed died when Eryn was thrown into the coffin over a century ago.
Killian already knew the answer to his question but needed to hear it from Drachen’s lips anyway.
“You can kiss your darling sister’s freedom goodbye.”