The Dark Princess sat alone in her tower chamber reading a book, just another lonely night in her seemingly endless seclusion by her father’s command. The particular book was of no concern to her, simply a means to pass time until she fell asleep. But, that wasn’t happening. Most nights she read, sometimes the same book over and over. Reading had become a routine rather than something she cherished or enjoyed. There was a time when she did, when she would clamor for the opportunity to delve into another story or find useful information in an encyclopedia. That time was over or, at least, it was for her during that moment when she sat on her bed trudging through the perfectly creased pages of her book. Anything was better than what she was doing, anything within the rules that is:
-The Dark Princess is never to leave the Royal Chambers, unless called to do so.
-The Dark Princess is never to speak to anyone, unless spoken too.
-The Dark Princess is never to show her face or body to anyone that is not worthy.
-The Dark Princess has no world, save the one that the Black God deems to her have.
Those were the rules. They were found scrawled on a piece of old paper when she arrived at the tower thirty years ago. It all took place so fast that there wasn’t time for the transition to sink-in, just time for it to happen. She was a little girl then, thirteen, and afraid at everything that was happening to her. Even now, in her forty-third year, she was still a child compared to the beings of earth – where the average lifespan was centuries long.
Her eyes wandered from page to page, soaking up the information that was provided in her book – “Anatomy of Darkling Species”. She hardly cared what the book was about. She just wanted to hurry to the end and start another one. It was a simpler means of distraction, simpler than sulking in her isolation and waiting for them to call her for something mundane or useless; or worse – ordinary.
She never fancied herself as ordinary. The mere thought that she was anything like her Darkling watchers made her squirm, refraining from such a comparison. A quick glance at her appearance would prove to anyone that she was not like the other breeds on earth. Or at the very least, nothing like the Darkling. They all looked the same to her, all except their eyes – bright and glowing, like a sea of stars on a clear night. She had witnessed many of them up-close, but they had never seen her. If she ever had reason to leave her chambers she was always concealed behind a black shroud. Only the Crimson Prince had ever actually seen her without it, when he brought her to the tower.
Over the years the Prince rarely came to the city where she was kept, Beleth. His visits were always brief. Sometimes she would look down from her balcony to his convoy, curious at what news he’d bring concerning the affairs of the world. Or she would twinge, secretly, with excitement about any sort of news regarding Agares – the realm where Beleth resided. Even though the state of the nation was not something she was supposed to concern herself with, curiosity always got the better of her. Being locked up for so long, there wasn’t much comfort in staring at her giant bookcase or dull walls. No, none of that interested her anymore. She was older, much older than when she came to the tower, and was tired of reading about the world outside. Even though it was forbidden, she couldn’t help but dream of it. At times she longed for the Ride, where she would journey to the other side of the world to give her life to the Black Goddess. At least then she would get to see the world and finally be free of her isolation, free of the tower.
A few yawns did little to bring her closer to rest, which is what she ultimately wanted that night. Reading often cured her desire to stay awake, but the room was unusually quiet. Her sensitive hearing registered the slightest sounds, from her beating heart to the bed as it settled. Normally, she could control how loud or soft she heard things. But, since she was growing tired, it was more of a burden to do so. To help matters, she gave in and listened to the room’s ambiance hoping that it would lull her to sleep. It didn’t. Instead, she began counting the times her heart was beating in a minute and pretended the settling wood from her bed-frame was talking to her. Sometimes those games worked to relax her mind, but she was finding it particularly difficult especially since she had counted over five thousand beats from her heart and the pretend conversation with her wood-creaking bed had become somewhat boring. Neither the counting nor the unexciting game had brought her closer to the outcome she wanted: to sleep. The choice had become simple at that point. She was going to have to try harder. So, she stopped counting and decided to force herself into relaxation by merely lying down.
Gentle air rolled in, from her chamber windows, bringing with it the ripe scent of the Saddish trees that grew in the surrounding forest. Smelling it reminded her that her seclusion went beyond her tower walls. In her little world there wasn’t anything beyond the forest. It could be worse, she thought. The alternative was living in a dungeon, with no lights, chained to a wall with musty scents and putrid odors as her only company. Instead, she was locked up in a secret city. Hidden was more like it, she grumbled. Darkling soldiers and their families lived in the city outside her tower. They were entrusted to keep her safe, to be her eyes and ears, to be ever watchful of anything out of the ordinary or anyone that didn’t belong. Belong? She found that notion amusing. I don’t even belong.
She set the book down, yawned, and rubbed her black and violet eyes. They itched and ached from hours of non-stop reading. Her body sank into the mattress and she stretched out, arching her back, nestling down for a good night’s rest. As she remained there, she fixed a gaze to the ceiling. It was long, narrow and steel beams crisscrossed toward the top, going up for several meters. She squinted her eyes, trying to see if there was a ceiling or not. But, it was too dark. Again, she laughed at another amusing notion. Darkness was not supposed to be a problem for her species. Night-vision, the ability to see in the dark, was common among the Nightsiders. Being a Viempire, something as easy as seeing brightly in darkness should have come naturally to her. But, even a luxury as that was limited.
Still, she wanted to look beyond the steel beams, past the black-stone walls of her chamber and stare directly into the sky. Instead, she found herself staring at the unique details of her balcony doors and marveled at their craftsmanship. When the light caught them at the precise angle, they were almost as pretty as stars on a clear night. Almost, she thought as she admired their gleam. Stargazing hardly ever made her tired. In fact, it was just the opposite. She could spend hours gazing out into the endless realm of stars and planets, dreaming of their celestial glory and unlimited grandeur.
But, there was no time to stargaze. She was on a quest to get to bed and escape into an exciting dream. That was her wish, to be taken by a dream – the same wish she hoped for every night. Dreaming was a way for her to leave without breaking the rules. In them she could venture into endless and imaginative worlds, see the galaxies she admired and be as big as the universe. But, she had overdone it with her reading and her brain was still blazing with activity. She closed her eyes, softly, to try to soothe the aching. When that didn’t work she clenched them, as if to force them into submission and bend them to her will. Still, there was nothing. No sign that she was drawing closer to sleep. Not even a yawn anymore.
She sat back up and contemplated reading another book, one that was even more mind-numbing than the one she was reading. There were three towers of bookshelves on the other side of her chamber. Both were very large and the grand scale of the chamber only served to compliment their stature. A ladder was needed to scale their entire length. Contained within were compendiums, books of knowledge, dictionaries and encyclopedias written in all the major languages of the world – from the harsh sounding bitter-taught tongue of Ermengarde, belonging to the Velgen Wraiths; to Sitri, the Vampire and Viempire language, Abria her native Darkling tongue and even the majestic sounding Veroia, the Sylph dialect. She spoke them all fluently and during her time in the tower had read each book from cover to cover, twice.
She was raised speaking Abria, but preferred Sitri. She liked the way it sounded. Perhaps it was because she was part Viempire that she favored Sitri. Each sentence flowed effortlessly to the next, like a song or majestic poem would. Even though there was little distinction between Vampires and Viempires the common term for both was Vampyre, it made it easier for the world to group both races together since they were practically alike. There were only slight differences between Vampires and Viempire, one being that Vampire witches grew antlers on their heads and Viempire witches grew horns. The Princess had wings, which made it hard for her to determine how to classify herself among them. Even her many books didn't contain that answer.
Thousands of books rested on the three bookshelves, each perfectly straightened. There was no sign of dust or even the slightest thing out of place in the rest of the room. It made her cringe at the sight of anything that was the least bit askew.
“Damn it,” she said, perturbed, remembering that she had not put the book she was reading back on the shelf. She snatched it up, grudgingly, and marched toward the bookshelf where it belonged. She climbed the ladder, hammering down each step, until she reached the correct level on the bookcase. With a heavy sigh, she riffled through several rows of books. Each was alphabetical and organized according to language.
Gently, as if it were delicate glass, she ushered the book back into the shelf and jumped off the ladder with a victorious grin. The smile on her face quickly dropped, however, when she noticed the book was upside down. She blasted out a few swear words and sprang back onto the ladder to fix the book’s position. When she was done she rolled her eyes, thinking about the trouble she was having with a book she could care less about. There, satisfied?
It was approaching the late hours, three o’clock in the morning, when the moon was at its brightest. She balled-up with exuberance, for the chance to see her moon-dial in action, and scurried to the balcony where it was placed.
Odd, she thought, when she noticed a creature resting on the moon-dial. Is it a bird? She wondered, inching towards it. Such an occurrence was unheard of, near impossible even, for a creature to get past the sentinel Hell-Sirens who watched the skies above her tower. Was it real? She started to wonder, doubting its very existence. She was, after all, tired and had been suffering from a severe case of insomnia. Hallucinations were not something she was privy too, even when she had been awake for an extended period. No, whatever was on her balcony was real.
She gauged the way it was captivated by the numbers on the dial and saw no threat in its demeanor. It seemed more enthralled by the dial than anything else, even when she opened the door and cleared her throat to get its attention. As she got closer to it, she recognized it as an Ipe: a four legged being no bigger than her hand. It had a torso of a man, faceless, with four wings growing from its back.
Odd, she again thought, taking more time to process the fact that she indeed had a visitor - a strange visitor at that. She became fascinated by a wicked grace it had. There was no other way she could describe it. Its wings fluttered gracefully, at times appearing void from the rest of its body. But, as graceful as it seemed its likeness appeared more sinister than its demeanor – harboring a fang-filled mouth on the palm of each hand and jagged claws on each finger. She froze, gasped even, remembering what she had read about Ipes and how they were known for stealing dreams and leaving nightmares in their place. Still, it was company and she felt inclined to speak to it. Manners were important to her. It was not often she had an opportunity to demonstrate the lessons learned in the book, "Proper Darkling Etiquette" - one of her favorites.
“Excuse me, but can I ask you what you are doing?” she asked.
The Ipe pointed to the dial.
“You're reading the time?"
It nodded.
"Why, may I ask?"
The Ipe flew toward her in a bolt of energy. She flinched and covered her eyes with her hands. It fluttered around her, studying her body with the same interest it had when it studied the balcony. She observed it, through her fingers, as it hovered with its hand out, inviting her to follow.
“I can’t fly,” she explained.
The Ipe gestured to a pair of wings that were attached to the sides of her head.
She touched them. “These?”
It nodded.
“They’re too small to carry my body.”
The Ipe blasted down the tower in an abrupt dive, as if losing patience, and waited for her at the bottom.
“Okay...you want me to go down there?” she whispered with reluctance, debating whether or not to go after it. She had escaped the tower before and knew how to get out without being caught. Since she was constantly watched and guarded she used those times sparingly, especially since it was against the rules.
“It would be rude not to accept the creature’s gesture,” she said to herself, justifying her decision to follow. “Besides I can’t sleep.”
She knew that if she thought about it any longer, she would just end up losing the Ipe and the opportunity for something to do. Any chance to break away from her mundane existence was one she was willing to take, in spite of breaking the rules. Bending them, I’m just bending them – it’s not like I’m going to leave the city. With her mind made up, she ran back to her room and threw on her cape and hood. Her Vampric Agility made it easy to descend the tower, enabling her to trot to the bottom with little exertion. When she got there, the Ipe had already moved into the city and was motioning her to follow. With a deep breath, she halfheartedly went.
At the Late Hours, Beleth was as quiet as a graveyard and nearly as dead as one. Little Darkling were out, roaming the streets in dismal patterns to make sure things were correct for moonrise. They cleaned the roads and picked up trash from the merchant stalls, Late Nighters was what most called them. They didn’t have an official title, just did the job they were assigned too.
No one noticed her. The edge of her hood hung just above her eyes making her indiscrete at a passing glance - not too overbearing with the way she disguised herself, but humble enough not to warrant suspicion. Ever watchful, she gazed around at the buildings and street corners and planned her next move. The buildings were uniform in design, which made her feel more comfortable. In fact, the more organized things were the better she felt.
But, she wasn't feeling safe. Not yet, not as long as the Arch-Knights were out. If the people of Beleth were her watchmen, then the Arch-Knights were her guardians. Jailers, more like it, she scoffed. They were Agares’ top knights, diligent and dutiful in their calling. A yellow haunting light glowed from under their helmets as they scanned, in an eerie unison, the streets. Years prior, she discovered the hard way what the yellow lights did – being caught in their stare, frozen and immobile. She hated that feeling of vulnerability and vowed never to feel that way again.
The Ipe was hovering near the city walls and beyond it were the impassive, giant, Haih trees. They were older than the city, older than most things of the world, ancient and looming. It often occurred to her that such a landmark could be easily seen by anyone for miles. Maybe, no one knew where to look. Maybe, Beleth was more hidden than she thought. Or perhaps it was lost, forgotten by the rest of the world like a secret too old to remember - like her.
“Where are you leading me, Ipe?” she whispered, still observing it. In that instant, she nearly doubted her decision to leave her tower and chalked up her prior enthusiasm to little more than wanting to resolve her boredom. It was almost enough to make her turn back. Almost. That is, until the Ipe jauntily hovered to a building with an open window and crawled inside. Her interest was sparked once more and she followed.
The Ipe hovered over a young boy who was sleeping inside, intently studying his face. Oh no, she gasped, concerned for the boy's safety. She never figured that would care about her Darkling captors. But, it was a child and did appear innocent. Though she had never seen innocence, she knew the definition: unacquainted with evil. She didn’t know the boy. All she had to judge him by was the way he slept, with his hands cradled under his head and his legs curled to his chest. Was that innocence? She wondered.
“Are you going to steal his dreams?” she asked the Ipe.
The Ipe nodded.
She grabbed it. “Why are you showing me this?”
It pointed to a red mark on her forehead.
“Because of this? Because you think I am like my father?”
The Ipe agreed vigorously.
“Well...I’m not,” she told it. The boy tossed around. She pulled the Ipe away.
“Why do you want to steal his dream?” she whispered.
The Ipe moaned while rubbing its stomach.
“You’re...hungry? You feed off of dreams?”
It nodded again.
“That wasn’t in any of the books I read,” she recalled.
The Ipe briskly fluttered back to the boy, where it started cutting into his head with its jagged claws. The Princess tapped her foot, nervously, finding it difficult to watch. Something inside her was troubled by what was happening, troubled to the point where she felt compelled to put an end to what the Ipe was doing.
“Wait,” she finally said.
The Ipe stopped.
“If you want to feed...use me,” she offered.
The Ipe flew over to her and inspected her face, worming its hands across her hair and cheeks.
“Take my dream...and give me a nightmare...” she offered, once again.
Sharp claws spread out from the Ipe’s fingers and a small mouth opened in its palm. It placed a cut on the side of her head and drank from the wound, drawing out her blood to the point where she felt faint and dizzy. When it had gotten its fill, she collapsed to the ground. Her eyelids grew heavy, pulling her closer to unconsciousness. Darkness came, followed by silence.
* * *
She winced, grasping her arms as her veins blistered and swelled - boiling from the heat around her. Her face closed tightly from the pain. She was unable to speak or move. Vines with thorns burrowed their way inside the long canals of her veins, blocking blood-flow and tearing their way through her flesh. She screamed an agonizing cry, helpless to do anything else. The vines broke through her skin and wrapped themselves around her wrists, pulling her down to the searing ground that was below her.
This is a nightmare! It has to be!
Sweat soaked through her clothing, mixing with tears that rained down along her face. Surges of heat burned through her body, sending her into uncontrolled spasms. The thorns from the vines cut open her wrists, lengthwise to the elbow, until numbness washed over her. A deadening, catatonic, state followed with the satisfaction that peace might have been obtained. But, there was none. Instead, the heat died; snuffed out by surges of freezing winds. Ice formed on her extremities and came alive. It inched toward her mouth taking the shape of serpents.
The Ipe! This is the nightmare it gave me! It has to be!
Realizing where she was, the Princess tried to imagine the serpents away. But, things were too vivid and she closed her mouth tightly so that the serpents could not crawl inside. Insects, bugs of all kinds, emerged from the vines and gnawed at her lips. She held them off as long as she could, but the sensation of a thousand biting mouths became too much and she let out a horrific scream. The serpents hissed and snapped at her face, spitting venom. It hit with scorching heat, burning to the bone. The mark on her forehead glowed red, throbbing to the beat of her heart. A cloud of vapor arose, covering everything thing in a murky haze. Through the haze she saw the insects turn to dust and the serpents melt away. The mark’s light dimmed.
My mind is my own. I control what it sees.
Unsure if she was awake or still dreaming she covered her face with her hands and waited, hoping, for her mind to find peace – to find some sort of clarity. As the events concerning the Ipe returned, she remembered the sacrifice she had made for the sleeping boy. She didn’t expect the nightmare to be so real, so vivid that the distinction between reality and dreams was indistinguishable.
Her body hovered, swaying from side to side with an easy calm, rocking her gently in sharp contrast to the pain she had felt moments earlier. Her moment of peace seemed to embrace her body, wrapping it in warm and serene arms. The calmness abided and she peeked through her fingers and saw stars and galaxies, in an endless sea of darkness. It was as clear and as real as anything she had ever seen, so real that she doubted she was dreaming anymore. Allured by the stars, she reached for them. But, she couldn't touch them.
Time seemed to pass by in an instant. Years turned to mere seconds and centuries, to mere minutes. She saw the galaxies die and new ones born. She saw the whole spectrum of life, in an endless plane of eternity. She saw forever and its end. All life, since the dawn of existence, moved toward its conclusion and in their midst a voice, vague and slow, played across the horizon of space: “Fear not the ending of time. The dawn of eternity waits, when all will be cast out and worlds will be without form and void.”
The scent of the Saddish trees around her castle came as her body fell down to earth, drifting toward Beleth. Her conscious thoughts returned to normal and she slowly began to wake up.
* * *
It was moonrise. The night stars faded behind a portrait of dark blue sky. Light from a clear dawn rolled over the Asper Mountains to Beleth, spreading the colossal shadow of castle Advysar’s tower across the city below. Multitudes of curious Darkling filed out of their homes, with rumors that the Dark Princess was found escaped from her chambers – tied in their midst. The pounding march of an Arch-Knight line parted the overbearing crowds as eager spectators looked for any sign of the Princess. Most caught a glimpse of a body, wrapped in cloth, being carried back to castle Advysar. News spread and more Darkling gathered. The Knights cleared the thoroughfare leading to the castle gates, where the Princess’ handmaidens waited, and pushed back the crowds until the Princess was completely out of their sight.
The Princess smiled, briefly, glad to see her castle and pleased that she had survived the nightmare. She was still bordering between half-asleep and awake, but found time to appreciate how beautiful her castle looked against the moonrise. The light escaped through the peaks of rooftops, cascading down to the lush courtyard.
“Take her up, now,” ordered one of the knights.
The maidens helped the Princess to her feet and tried cleaning her face with wet rags. Her surroundings spun and splotches of light bloomed from a sudden headache. She clutched a maiden as her footing waned, waiting for the dizziness and headache to pass. She felt the Ipe’s cut, fearing that was the cause of her discomfort. The wound had already healed over with her Vampric Regeneration, but the aftereffects of her ordeal still lingered - the emotions most of all.
“I want to go alone,” said the Princess, feeling stronger. The maidens obeyed and stepped away, letting her guide herself the tower. The ascent made her even more tired, even though she had technically slept all night. It felt as though she had been running for miles. Aching muscles filled with acidic fluid, forcing her to drag her feet. Though the pain was aggravating, the fact that she was wearing dirty clothes bothered her even more.
After she reached her chamber, she staggered over to her wardrobe. Her arms were sore with the lingering sensation of the vines that had burrowed through them in her nightmare. She let them dangle at her side to help relieve some of the soreness until it passed. She inched the heavy door of the wardrobe open. Inside was an assortment of clothes from gowns, to tunics, coats and leggings. It took her a while to remove her dirty gown, forcing her aching muscles to work. The gown was covered with spots of sweat and blood. Seeing its filthiness made her cringe. More distressing was the fact that her face was cleaned by a foreign cloth. She didn’t know where it came from, only that the maidens had used it. Such a way of cleaning was nowhere near how the Princess liked it. She had ways of doing it, a method that always worked to her liking.
Above her, on the top shelf of the wardrobe, were fragrances and vials of filtered Lunar Water. Lunar Water was crisp, unsoiled, refreshing and more importantly she knew where it came from. There was a stream nearby that she used to fill the vials. No one knew about it except her and that made it her’s, and her’s alone. She grabbed a fresh hand towel and mixed the water with a dash of fragrance. Almost immediately, she was hit by the alluring scent of lavender and fresh flowers. It took nearly three years for her to get the lavender fragrance, by nurturing the seeds she had found in the Gloomy Woods. It wasn’t as though she had any particular reason for using it, but she couldn’t help but feel like a woman and the desires that came with being one. Silly, she thought, it was silly that she wanted to smell nice even though there was no one to smell good for.
The mirror was situated on the door and she used it to properly wipe the dried blood from her face and any other dirty spots on her body. The maidens had done a poor job, leaving most of it unclean. When she was done she rubbed a cocktail of Dorpen Nectar and Filament Oil over her neck and arms. The lotion soothed her aching muscles and made her skin feel as soft as velvet.
She used an entire bottle of Flower’d Silk in her hair and combed it. There were always a set number of strokes she had for each side of her hair: five hundred. Her hair was long and black, like her mother’s. It stood out, especially in contrast with her white skin. Both held the glimmer of the moon’s light, when just right. For a moment she nearly fooled herself into thinking it was beautiful, until she saw the wings that adorned the sides of her head. They were small, nothing too impressive, and as far as she could tell they served no purpose. They were sensitive too, to the point where it was annoying. If that wasn’t enough, there was an intrusion in the center of the forehead. It appeared to be crystallized flesh and was no bigger than her thumbprint. She knew little about it, only that it was called Liberdyne.
One thousand, she counted, finishing the last stroke of the brush. She let out a relieved sigh, grateful that she was done, and grabbed another nightgown. She tossed it on and plopped down on her bed. Another lunar day had begun and with it, more seclusion. As her eyes sank closed, her thoughts drifted to the nightmare. Everything felt real to her, the smells and sounds appeared genuine. It was as if she was taken away from the world, like her body was forced into another realm. The feeling of fear and the unknown dropped into the pit of her stomach, resting there for a moment. The last voice she heard in the nightmare was familiar. It was her father’s, the Black God.