A Taste of Mortality

The portal closed over him, taking him in a tight and merciless embrace.

Qhal disappeared, Shadowlands; with its snow, dangerous beauty, cruel wind – it seemed to dissolve around him, like winter chill is dissolved by the touch of spring. Like the whole Ain’asel was removed from existence, leaving… not void. It didn’t feel like the last time. It wasn’t all consuming night that was taking him, forcing him, like a restless lover, stealing parts of his soul, replacing the and returning, all in the matter of seconds.

Tiyan felt the warm touch of non-existence sun. His eyes slowly adjusted to the reality the portal threw him in. The bright red sand, the crimson sky, and the distant mountains on the horizon; it all beamed with warmth. Which, following the dreadful cold of Shadowlands, was as shocking, as relieving.

The land was all shades of red; vermilion and mahogany… blood. The sky seemed to pulse above his head, with copper heat. Tiyan felt as the fire in his veins awakes and moves, eager to free itself and merge within this reality.

Why was he here?

Weren’t he supposed to pass the gate and land in somewhere called Lesser Realm? As far as he understood from Qhal’s words, it was another realm under the rule of Dal’coler, as cold and merciless as other fae lands.

This land though… was silent, with the silence of the burning furnace, quiet like a burned forest…

… what if he landed here and won’t be able to free himself? Tossed somewhere by mistake, unable to find the way back…

His insides twisted in fear.

Mina. All he did, he did for her. If the shortcut made him lost, he won’t save her and shadows will consume her soul. Such foolish way to fail – misguided, after all he went through.

He still felt eyes of the burning faeries on him, their nightmares under his skin. And the vision of dying Mina will join this, crueler than teeth and talons.

Qhal… he had to be here, somewhere… or he would search for him. The flames under his heart were burning around the mark on his chest, the lines that scarred his skin lighting up from within.

No.

He couldn’t get lost. In sake of Mina and himself.

He looked into the sky, sunless and empty. Only bright red and vermillion. The ovewhelming colors was everywhere, like mocking him, closing all paths, and chance to find guidance or signs.

“A human.”

Only one word, just in his head, but powerful enough to make him fall on his knees, his fingers burying in the red sand.

“Mortal creature, such a bad choice…”

Tiyan wasn’t ready. The dry meat he ate before landed before him in a unrecognizable pulp. The voice which spoke, forced inside him,; started to eat him alive and take senses from him.

“… but did we have another?”

Tears ran from his eyes… to sink into the sand, releasing smoke.

What was that? Oh goddess…

“But maybe that is the best choice, after all.”

This time, the voice wasn’t as painful. Feminine, delicate, but emotionless and alien, somehow, like Tiyan would imagine a sky or a mountain to speak – distant, empty… but… at the same time curious.

How?

Who?

His eyes were still filled with tears, which were slowly evaporating from him, the skin on his face drying, like he was becoming a desert itself. His flames, his mysterious power danced in his veins, happy to hear the voice. Enjoying its closeness.

“Hope is not something that I can embrace, poor soul. But, if I did… I hoped that you would survive.”

His tongue was dry too, but he didn’t have to speak. His thoughts were sucked in by the strange force that was addressing him.

Who are you.

“This is a question even I don’t know the answer for. All I know is that my womb became dry, when I created winter. And I can’t bear flames anymore.”

Tiyan’s mind swirled frantically. Flames. Fire.

“And I am hungry.”

Visions attacked Tiyan’s mind. Chaotic, incoherent, painful. The entity in his head showed him its feelings, its hunger… loss of strength and power. But… also vile intent to destroy everything that walks on Ain’asel and swallow it to feed the flame.

Tiyan felt the meat, what was left of it in his stomach, again traveled to his throat.

“You shouldn’t be here, mortal one. You came too close. Too close. But my hunger is overwhelming. I can’t swallow you though. You are the key to my existence.”

Tiyan heard this hunger in its voice, even if it was emotionless and dry as the sand under his fingers. It didn’t care how many lives it would destroy, satiating itself. It was pure want. Want for souls, blood, crave for flesh.

It was a bottomless mouth wanting food and only food.

And Tiyan felt a repressed desire to eat him too in it. It would swallow him, destroy him, even if it would feed it only for a few minutes.

He didn’t even fear. He felt utter disgust and repulsion. His flames suddenly felt vile for him, because they wanted so much to become one with this warm land and the voice.

“A soul of your… one of a kind… burning… flaming… with the flames that were torn from under my skin..  it would fill me… it would bring me so much… but I can’t… even if I want this so much… the pain of hunger is… unbearable… he EATS us… HE EATS US WHOLE…

Bottomless mouth wanting food.

Someone’s hand grasped over his arm. He heard a voice, much more familiar, much more… alive. And he was pulled. So hard that when he landed with a thump in the freezing snow, he thought that’s shock would destroy him.

The snow slowly was falling on his hair, his hat laying under his feet, he felt a strong urge to throw up again, but he couldn’t, nothing was left anymore.

“Fool” murmured Qhal, his voice slightly off, like he was worried… or scared. “But no. It was only my fault. I should anchor you with me.”

Tiyan’s eyes filled with snow and tears. His body was shaking but not only from the immense cold.

“What… where was I?” his voice shaking, alongside his limbs.

“Shadowlands were once a gate to the underworld. When gods still lived, going through this portal was a death sentence.”

“G-gods?” Tiyan started to form a frightening conclusion.

“They are dead. But the underworld is a trap. It can fill you with the afterglow of the deceased elders and it can madden you… or kill… and I am not sure which of these two would be worse.”

“They are d-dead?” the voice inside his head didn’t seem dead. It knew his name. It knew him, of all. It craved his veins and tendons.

“For a very long time, Tiyan Markon” Qhal started immediately to enchant leaves and vines, the cold here was even worse than in Shadowlands, and even if Qhal could joyfully walk naked in it, Tiyan would die, a frozen bundle of lost hope and failure. “But they still harm our realm.”

Gods.

Hungry gods.

Fae gods, as filled with need as the fairy folk. An intensified and personified craving.

It didn’t feel as if they were dead. It felt as if they were very alive.

And Tiyan thought immediately that his flames wanted them. They felt good there, in this ellusive realm.

And that meant…

… that it was all bigger than him. Bigger than he imagined. Bigger than he wanted.

And bigger than he was ready for.

When Tiyan heard of the portal, he was ready for another translucent passage, which would swallow him as soon as he would dare to touch it. Dorh-arsol was nothing like that.

The huge gate, biting with stone teeth into the wall of the mountain, looked all but translucent or delicate. When Tiyan approached it, the monument seemed to swallow all sound and movement, replacing it with heavy stillness and silence. Tiyan almost felt the beating of the heart of the ages trapped under the surface.

Last days Tiyan spent with his very soul traveling in places in his body, he would never have thought it could. He felt the eyes, burning eyes of the – as Qhal explained him – Shadow Fairies. With a dull tone he painted him the situation that arose between Ain’Dal throne and the burning folk.

“One of these faeries killed a son of an important general” Tiyan felt Qhal wasn’t telling him everything.

“And Lorian Ain’Dal had to punish him, of course. Shadow Faeries don’t forget. And never forgive. Besides… The shadow folk has a long history of turbulence with the ruling line. Everyone connected with Ain’Dals is their greatest enemy.”

Those ominous words stayed with Tiyan for all nights which he had to spend under the canopy of thriving leaves. The burning folk were always on post, like animals, like wild beasts, giving him company, and making sure he won’t forget that they are there. Qhal, even if he almost died, seemed to not care more about them than for the snow that was falling on their faces as they walked.

“Lorian… is the king” Tiyan of course remembered who’s blood he gave to Qhal to wake him up from his cruel mirages.

Qhal’s almost transparent, pale blue eyes drilled him through.

“Lorian Ain’Dal is the one who awaits you. That is the only thing you need to know about him.”

Tiyan didn’t understand that approach. But he preferred to not ask further, in case the fae decided that he still can function without some body parts or two.

He caught himself observing Qhal with true curiosity. Aside from his animosity when he tried to talk about his king, Qhal was nothing like Tiyan imagined faeries. The small folk… their cruel games, the nightmares they were sending for him, the hunger – for his soul and flesh – Qhal seemed different. Not bloodthirsty. Not hungry.

He was closer to someone Tiyan imagined to be a High Fae.

High Fae though were unreachable perfection, which Tiyan preferred to not imagine, not now, not in the future, until he meets them.

The same perfection oozed from the portal – dangerous beauty, hiding ages of life… and cruel darkness.

The snow stopped falling and the sun emerged above their heads, pale and faint. Qhal seemed energized, even if he didn’t feed on it; maybe the closeness to the portal, filled with familiar magic, was somehow affecting him. Tiyan felt only dull anxiety.

How will it affect him? How much of his soul will get squeezed off him again and returned in a minced way? The gate, with closer look, gleamed with emptiness, similar to faint light given by the sun. What spells animated it?

“Dorh-arsol” Qhal’s voice reached him and Tiyan heard a note of warmth in it. “The only way to pass the Shadowlands and reach a lesser realm without entering Natsel’sorl. The only way… that would not disfigure your body in quite an intriguing way” he turned with amused eyes at Tiyan.

“I don’t know if disfiguring my body is worse than disfiguring my spirit” Tiyan himself didn’t know, but felt a strong urge to respond to the light mock.

“Believe me” smiled Qhal. “The other ones would do both.”

Oh, I am sure.

“Still. If you want to pass it without feeling pain – which I believe you do – I must do something quite interesting to you.”

“How interesting?” Tiyan’s brow raised. This already sounded not interesting at all. Tiyan knew that Qhal didn’t want to kill him – or harm him – after all, he was sent to deliver him to the capital. But… that didn’t mean, the fae can’t do something vile, in order to carry him easier.

Interesting.

“Your gaze sells you, human soul” laughed Qhal. And started to rummage in his backpack, to eventually pull out the bottle with the same blue liquid which Tiyan served him when he was under shadow spell.

Lorian’s blood.

The blood of the fairy king.

Will he have to drink it? Or…?

“It must go straight to your veins” Qhal shook the bottle before Tiyan’s eyes. “In order to allow it to, I must do… a small wound in you.”

“And this is to protect me from pain?” Tiyan mocked.

“Yes, much worse pain. Something you would not survive with a sane mind. Or you would. But I am not going to risk it.”

Tiyan looked at his hands. The fae – and the freezing cold – took already one finger from his hand.

Small wound to allow the fairy blood to enter his veins… The question was… how this blood will change him, inside.

“Have you tried that before?”

“On humans? Many High Fae transport their slaves that way. This is the only way” Qhal face showed no amusement. He was really telling the truth. Afterall, he couldn’t lie.

At all.

“Very well” Tiyan swallowed saliva. He knew that something like that may happen, since he was told about the passage. He won’t be able to save Mina, if he will be backing off too often. If he won’t be able to walk as fast as he can, as long as he can.

He pulled the sleeve. The chill attacked his skin immediately, a cruel touch of winter. Qhal approached, and taking his hand in his own – strangely delicately, with care – he pulled the small dagger, and quickly, without prolonging it, he made a cut. Much deeper than Tiyan suspected. His mouth released a cloud of warm air, stifling a loud protest.

Qhal as quickly as the cut was made, poured the blue blood on the wound. Tiyan’s own blood trickled thickly on the white snow. Tiyan looked hypnotized, as the fairy blood is not falling down in droplets, but gets under his skin, worming its way into him, up up, to eventually disappear inside him…

Like it wanted to be in him.

Like fae blood wanted the human one.

He felt as the whole world dissolves in strange haze. Dazed, and confused he looked at the gate. The ancient carvings on it seemed to dance before his eyes, emitting the blacklight, so bright in its darkness, that he had to lower his eyes. Black as burning as light. Almost unbearable to stand.

He took few breaths, trying to gain courage to look again. The gate seemed to reach for him, almost ordering him to look at it and bathe in its repressed and still power.

When he raised his gaze at Qhal, nothing indicated that he enjoyed it too much or not. A mask of perfection, hiding all his feelings. The fae started to enchant the vines around his bleeding wound; a touch of spring, soothing all pain and allowing him to heal quicker.

“Will it… change me inside?” Tiyan had to ask.

“Maybe… but no one enters Ain’asel and remains the same” was the enigmatic answer.

Yes. Such a good question. Has he changed? Was it bad? Or, maybe better ask, if he became something different because of it? Something more.

Or something less?

Will he stay human still, when – if – he will be able to leave the fae realm?

The portal seemed to look at him, again stale and towering, and only that. Hungry with the hunger of the High Fae – not obvious… but a threat hidden behind the wall of beauty and enchantment.