His dreams were filled with fire consuming his flesh, torn skin burning til it became black. the smell of boiling was making him drown in horrors of his own body, changing into dark bleeding pulp, shadowed remains.
When he was waking up, though, it wasn’t better, there was no solace for him, other than bathing in his own darkness. Taking everything he wanted to take. And looking in fearing faces wherever he went.
He saved them. He saved them all. They should fear him.
The pain was coming and going, attacking him when he was not expecting it. No. He was expecting it. Oh, he was expecting it, as this was the price. A price for veins filled with liquid fire. As price for making them dream. Price for taking what he wanted. And not allowing for elders to swallow his soul, and by it, not allowing his court to be swallowed too. They slept with one eye open, and he drank from them, hungrily, taking what belonged to him.
They can’t wake up.
Dal’coler can’t perish, a beautiful nightmare which he dreamed in awake.
But the gifts of the elders, taken with violence, by force, weren’t free.
He learned that, but addiction was causing him return to them. Sipping with thirst equal to the elder’s power. A drug that he will never be able to put off.
Hazy, tasty, delicious. Best flesh he ever tasted. Best blood he ever drank.
A painful bliss of eternity which was digging holes in his veins, making him…
… b u r n . With wild, stunning, enchanted flame.
So good for him.
Yet so deadly.
[ yes, Lorian POV ] [ this is part of further chapter, which will appear after few more ]