Nothing More #2
I hadn’t made it up. There had been a spark between myself and Dommik. Why did it bother me so much that he wouldn’t admit it?
I shook out my hands at my sides, willing the insecurity out of my body and refused to look back at the dishonest Commander who was perched in the same bare spot as the day before in the Hall of Truths.
Oddo and I stood in front of a new massive tapestry. Its colors collided into an illustration containing multiple scenes of the Originals.
“What happened to the warlord? The one that abducted Ruelle,” I prompted the Master of Archives, determined to make a show of being an active listener and stellar student.
A satisfied smile lifted Oddo’s round cheeks. “Ruelle and her newly turned sisters sought out the encampment and eviscerated the warlord and his entire army.”
I didn’t know Ruelle, but I was proud of her. She accomplished a level of justice women could only dream about.
“While the original sisters killed most, dozens of vampires were accidentally born that night. The sisters didn’t understand the transformation they’d gone through or what they’d become.
They also didn’t know how to curb their cravings, hide their predatory form, or prevent the change from happening to others. We call this the First Swell.”
We approached the final scene of the tapestry. Shimmering threads depicted a golden sunrise and dozens of discarded bodies. Some figures maintained their human form, others were simply black masses, charred from the sun.
Oddo gestured to the scene. “The eldest sister, Lorana, recognized the danger in their new state and that of their accidental fledglings. So, following the First Swell was the First Culling.”
“Culling?” A term I’d only heard used regarding flocks and herds if a sickness spread on a farm. It was always an unfortunate loss.
Oddo’s expression hardened as he continued, “It’s population control. There’s only been a need for a handful of them when our numbers become too great too quickly. We can’t upset nature’s balance. It’s why we limit how many new fledglings can be approved each year.”
The idea that vampires took their role into a balanced ecosystem of Atoris into consideration gave me an entirely new respect for the Hive. “I didn’t realize there was such a strategy to it.”
Oddo chuckled. “Well, we’ve come a long way since those early days.”
I looked back to the intricately blended embroidery and concluded, “They killed the fledglings.”
“They let them die.” He exhaled heavily and folded his hands together. “The sisters returned to their village and found shelter before sunrise. The other fledglings did not.”
We’d reached the end of the masterpiece and a heaviness pressed around us, like I’d attended a funeral for the fledglings of the First Swell.
“We honor them every year during the Summer Solstice. The shortened night reminds us of our own weaknesses and fragility. And we learned much from them, despite their brevity as immortals.” Oddo exuded pride.
I assumed it wasn’t for the mass death but for the four original sisters and the preservation of their history.
I knew the feeling—the immeasurable pride. It consumed me when I’d looked down at Lydia, freshly born, squirming in a bundle of blankets. She was the small and perfect miracle my body had grown.
I cleared my throat and wiped my hands down the front of my dress. “Well. We know they were the first vampires born from the sisters but certainly not the last or else we wouldn’t be standing here.”
“Quite right.” Oddo flashed a knowing smile and ushered me to the next piece, an enormous mural of the sisters huddled together under a moonless, star-filled sky.
“The sisters became nomadic out of necessity. They learned they could feed on animal blood in the wild.”
I noticed a pile of pelts in the corner of the painting. The longer I looked, the more details unveiled themselves to me.
Ruelle, being the most beautiful of the four, was easy to pick out from her striking features. She had one sword sheathed on her back and one drawn as she kept a lookout.
Older and more developed than her sisters was Lorana. Sparks flew from two stones in her hands as she worked on a small fire in their makeshift camp.
The youngest girl—Isley, I believed—was holding a small bouquet of flowers. Thin purple lines streaked across the belled, yellow petals. I recognized the henbane immediately. It was known as the truth-flower. A fickle plant that was forbidden to be grown in Illica.
A frail arm was draped over Isley. The final sister must have been Aveen. A prominent shadow loomed behind her, but I didn’t interpret it as a menacing presence. It was a protective presence.
I ruminated on the hidden details of the illustration a moment longer before Oddo urged me forward.
“Those were their darkest days. Hiding and hunting. Feeding and fighting. But eventually they settled. The sisters very carefully and strategically began turning humans. It took over fifty years, but they slowly built what we know today to be the first Hive.” Four rectangular banners of equal size hung in front of us now.
“And as I said at the beginning, each of us is a descendant of those sisters.”
Oddo gestured to the emerald banner with a golden mountain peak woven at its center. “Lorana, the matriarchal sister. Her gifts are leadership, charisma, and a natural influence. Her descendants become our figureheads, like His Majesty.”
I suddenly understood Rhazien’s affinity for emerald clothing and decorations. It was a sign of his lineage.
“Truth seers descend from Isley.” He gestured to the white banner.
Blue threads wove into geometric shapes surrounding an open eye.
“Those made from her bloodline are scholars and judges.” The red banner featuring two clashing, golden-threaded swords needed no explanation.
“Leagues of fierce warriors have descended from Ruelle. The Warrior Queen. Her descendants are the most common among us.”
I immediately categorized Dommik and even Vaspar as descendants of Ruelle.
The final banner was black with interwoven gold and silver threads. The fabrics swirled together like a tendril of smoke. “Aveen was gifted with the ability to summon and shift. Our priestesses are the descendants of Aveen. They are the coveted few who can perform the binding ceremony.”
My body stiffened and my mouth went dry at the mention of the ceremony. I shifted my weight next to him, willing my mind to remember nothing needed to be decided yet. I wasn’t in danger, and could relax. A deep breath brought the smell of leather and pine.
“Are you well, my lady?” Dommik’s low voice rumbled behind me.
“Yes,” I rasped before clearing my throat and nodding over my shoulder to him. “Yes,” I said more clearly this time. “Thank you, Commander. Oddo, please continue.”
Dommik’s receding boots echoed through the hall. I licked my lips before forcing a permissive smile.
The young master blinked an assessing look at the Commander, then to me.
“Not all vampires are in complete harmony with their inherited gifts. Take Gorvin, for example. Based on your interactions with him, which Original would you guess he’s descended from?
” He folded his hands in front of his body and waited.