Ascension - (Alarian Warriors)

Aveyon had woken a few moments ago to find herself in a large wooden carriage. It looked exactly as it sounded, like a cage on wheels. Vincent lay unconscious next to her, much more heavily drugged than she had been.

Looking him over, he had been badly hurt. His body was no longer healing on its own, probably due to the conflict in his blood. She wanted to slap herself for her stupidity, but her legs and arms were bound. Her mouth gagged, she couldn’t even scream for help, not that it would have mattered, they appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. She shivered, the cold breeze hitting her still-damp clothes as the mass of trees passed by them at a steady pass.

There were others in the cage with them, running over a bump in the road many groaned and struggled to stay upright. Their captivators sat up front, leading the horses, little words were spoken. But she did catch something about saving the white-haired one, she assumed that meant her, and the demon for the Chief. She dreaded the thought of what was to come, what awaited her and the others?

She’d been working on the ropes restraining her wrists for a while now. Using a splint in the wood behind her, she slowly wore down the thick bindings. Finally, the ropes broke open, she unbound her ankles next, then pulled the gag from her face. Stretching out her mouth and arms she saw many people’s eyes widen, she raised a finger to her lips making sure no one would give her away. They were all in the same boat here.

Kneeling over Vincent she bit into her wrist, something she found oddly difficult as she no longer had fangs. The changes in her body were astonishing. She winced at the sharp pain but continued tearing through the skin regardless. Blood pooled and overflowed as she placed it over his mouth. She half expected her blood to be a different colour now, but it remained the same rich red it had always been. She hoped this worked, ichor was something she wasn’t familiar with, but she had heard enough stories to get a rough idea of what she had to do to get Vincent healing again.

He was in a state that made him a slave to her blood. Feeding him more honestly wasn’t a good idea, they really needed to get it out of him somehow, but would that completely disconnect them? Maybe this would be his way out. Did she need him anymore if her body was changing into something else?

She watched the blood steadily drip into his mouth until her wrist healed on its own, she blinked staring at the bloodied smudge that remained. No scar, no soreness, her healing abilities had also increased it seemed.

What was she becoming? Licking her wrist clean she reached down to stroke his neck, coaxing him to swallow. It didn’t take long for the deep slice in his shoulder to be nothing more than a scratch. She sighed as her worry faded and his bleeding finally stopped. And the pain in her own body from his injuries subsided. If she hadn’t been through so much torture and pain in her lifetime, she doubted she would handle him getting wounded.

A feeling of guilt ate away at her stomach, what had her blood done to him? Would he accept this new side of himself, or curse her? Would he leave her? Could this be undone? Did she actually want to disconnect with him? She was finding that he was a type of anchor for her, his emotions and feelings helped to anchor her own. For her own sanity, it might be wise to stay connected to him.

She jumped slightly as he moaned and began to wake. She covered his mouth softly with her hand and motioned for him to be quiet. His eyes fluttered open, then widened when he remembered what had happened. Easily breaking the binds that held him, her eyes widened at the sudden display of strength. Had he always been able to do that?

He sat up forgetting that he had been injured and hugged her suddenly. “Thank the gods you’re okay” He whispered.

She stiffened from the sudden ambush; she pushed him off holding him at arm’s length. “For now, but are you okay?” she asked in a whisper of her own. Her eyes darted from his face to the blood dripping from his lips.

Relief spread across his face. “I’ll be fine, we’ll figure it out.” He concurred knowing what she meant, feeling her growing concern for him.

“He’s awake!” A voice boomed from behind them, their captors must have heard them.

Aveyon jolted forward as they came to a sudden halt. She fumbled with Vincent’s leg restraints, but he snapped them with ease.

Standing he pulled her to her feet and gently pushed her behind him as the cage door opened. He tried to fight them off but was overpowered by sheer numbers, they had long poles with ropes at the end that they used to subdue his movements. When he broke out of one set, another was ready. It was too disorientating for him. In the end, they managed to drag him out of the cage leaving Aveyon behind.

She felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck, she knew he had been stuck unconscious again. She sighed, at least she had managed to heal him, but now what? Left alone without her would he turn into a feral beast?

She slid to the floor, surrounded by slaves ready for purchase, but feeling utterly alone. Locked away from freedom once again. Without him there beside her, she sank deep within herself as darkness took hold. There was no escape. Not even tears came as the cage lunged forward again carrying her away.

Aveyon pulled her knees to her chest as laughter was heard from the front of the cage. She glared at the man. He blew her a kiss and winked at her. Her mind suddenly found clarity, before she was lost in a world of despair. She slammed her fists down to the ground; she had a sudden urge to rip his throat out as her disgust grew. She wouldn’t let them touch her; she wasn’t going through that again. She wouldn’t allow it, she couldn’t. She had come this far, and they were only human, she would get out of this kicking and screaming if she had to.

It took most of the day before they arrived at what seemed like a camp, large flags were flying high on posts at the entrance. Tents were posted in a small clearing, all facing inward to the centre, where a large bonfire lay. It hadn’t been lit yet, but she could see people gathering more wood for it.

“Look, look pretty one, your new owners will be here soon!” One of the men laughed. He wiggled his finger through the wooden bars at her in a teasing manner.

She lunged forward snapping her jaws, missing the finger by mere inches as he yanked it back.

“Feisty bitch! Just you wait.” He spat at her, and she flinched away.

They jerked to a stop in the centre of the camp. She did her best to take in the surroundings, she knew she would need to know the best escape roots if she had any chance of finding a way out. This wasn’t as bad a situation as with the warlock. These people had not shown any signs of being able to wield essence, which was good for her.

She scanned the area as the cage door swung open, making sure to note the pathways as best as she could. She was forced out of the cage, but not without resistance.

Four men surrounded her while two others held her in place. She managed to claw someone right across the face, but they soon had her in restraints again.

Someone yanked on the rope, her body lunged forward as she was forced to walk, if she didn’t comply, she would have fallen into the dirt and been dragged. Pulling her into one of the nearby tents she watched as the other slaves were thrown to the floor and water thrown over them.

She started to panic as they began ripping at her clothes, she scratched and bit at the men, tearing flesh and digging in deep with her nails anywhere she could reach.

Finally, they managed to strip her naked, but she was covered in blood, their blood. She spat out a piece of ear she had bitten off and the men cringed taking a few steps back. Her spirit wanted to break, but she wouldn’t let it.

They washed her off, throwing buckets of cold water at her from a distance. Lastly, they dragged her to the largest tent in the camp and chained her naked to a pole in the centre of it. Her arms were bound above her head and a chain was attached to a large shackle around her neck. She was a captive once again, a slave.

She stood there, her body against the ice-cold metal, her arms held high over her head, her head hung limply to one side dangling against the chains. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor.

Vincent was still unconscious and probably drugged with something by now, he couldn’t help her. She sighed, she needed to find a way to break the chains, but how do you break metal?

A light breeze tugged at the flap of the tent; Aveyon shivered as the coolness touched her skin.

My child, free yourself... A voice whispered on the wind.

At the sound of that voice, her body burst to life, her blood burning with a fire, she welcomed the tingling as it began to warm her up.

“How?” Aveyon muttered to the ceiling.

I can show you, allow me? The voice responded.

Aveyon nodded not sure what was happening. She could be going insane; it was only a matter of time for that to happen right?

She gasped as she felt, what seemed like hands, cup her shoulders. Glancing behind her, it made no sense, there was nothing there. In any other situation, those hands would repulse her, but the touch was warm and caring, somewhat motherly.

She felt a hand slide to the centre of her back, she didn’t stop it, she couldn’t even if she wanted to. The hand pushed on her back until her body arched forward away from the pole. The feeling faded like the hand had been removed only to be replaced by a mighty impact that took her breath away. At that exact moment she had been forced from her body, her spirit burst from her flesh separating completely.

She blinked down at her own ghostly appearance, she felt light as a feather. Spinning around she looked down to see her body slumped, half hanging limply in the center of the room. She drifted down to inspect the scene.

“Did I just die?” She questioned out loud.

No child, this is your astral body. A common ability of our kind.

Aveyon looked around, searching for the voice. The voice was correct, her body was still breathing, she just wasn’t in it.

“Where are you?” She asked.

I’m merely a part of you, connected by blood. Sense me through the ichor and come to me.

Focusing on the voice that was surrounding her, and the warm tingling sensation that filled her form, she felt a pull from somewhere, from someone else. It was like this person had a need to see her. She closed her eyes and allowed the sensation to guide her. Her ghostly form vanished from the realm, disappearing and leaving her body behind.