Becoming Fae
Blood Talk

I woke up with my wings curled around me and Mal, blocking out any light that there might have been. If it weren’t for the creepy chill that ran up and down my spine, I’d almost believe that our trek into the Vale had been a messed-up dream. That, and the stiff soreness that still held firm to my muscles and bones.

“We should get up,” Mal mumbled, but his arms that were wrapped around my waist tightened.

“Five more minutes,” I yawned big enough to give me goosebumps and make my feathers stand up a little and puff out.

There was a giggle, and my eyes went wide as I lifted a wing slightly to peek out.

“You’ve been asleep for sixteen hours already,” Netiri smiled and tilted her head sideways. “The other two have been awake for three.”

“Be honest; how much of Naz’s teasing did we miss?” Mal chuckled.

“A fair amount, but my Immail is just getting started,” she giggled again. “Food will be ready soon.”

“Thanks,” I said, and she left the small hut where Mal and I had crashed shortly after arriving here.

“I think I can see where your wingspan comes from, but her feathers look nearly as soft as yours,” Mal said.

“Seeing as hers are originally Celestial, I would bet that they are much softer,” I laughed and opened my wings and rolling to my back with a groan. “Gods, I’m sore. I can’t wait for a long bath when we get out of here.”

“I haven’t been stiff like this since the early days of my weapons training,” Mal grunted, stretching out before getting out of the bed.

We pulled on our shoes and made ourselves as presentable as we could before joining everyone else by the large bonfire that was the center point of the camp. Immail was lounging on the ground, resting against a stump and carving a chunk of wood nearly identical to the box that had been left outside the Vale. With his claws.

Naz was grumbling and adjusting his clothes and smoothing his hands through his hair and Harmon was doing a terrible job of trying to not look obvious as he kept looking from the fire to Netiri to Immail, then back to the fire.

“Jesus, Harmon. Just ask already,” I laughed and sat down on a log that had been carved into a chair that was perfect for my wings.

“It is rather annoying,” Immail nodded as Netiri poured some tea into cups for me and Mal.

“What happened?” Harmon asked.

“That depends on how much you know,” Netiri sighed and sat on the stump behind Immail, her legs resting over his shoulders comfortably.

“Your oldest son rescued you while your daughter freed Immail,” I said. “We know enough of what happened before to fill in any blanks the information might have left in the nightmare.”

“Nightmares are kinder,” she said, her wings rattling until Immail put his hand on her knee.

“Before we get into this,” I held up a hand. “When I was poisoned, we used a vial of Immail’s blood to help fight it. If this curse is blood born, why didn’t they use it as well as Netiri’s?”

“The nature of the curse is dark, but I am darker,” Immail answered. “Had my blood been included, I could have weakened it and eventually broken it.”

“What kind of poison would need his blood to heal?” Netiri frowned and Harmon explained to her the nature of the weapon the Celestials had developed against demon-kind.

“Clever,” Immail nodded after a moment of silence. “It would kill many of the lower classes, the ones that you would be most likely to encounter outside of Infernus.”

“Where?” I asked.

“The Demon Lands,” Naz clarified.

“Why not just keep calling it that?” I rolled my eyes. “Much more creative than ‘The Demon Lands’.”

“The palace is named Infernum Castle. The throne is the Infernal Throne,” Immail shrugged.

“I sense a theme,” Mal snorted.

“Our son wasn’t very creative or imaginative,” Netiri giggled. “Such a sweet boy, though. He brought me a banshee head for my birthday one year.”

“And started a minor uprising in the process,” Immail chuckled. “It was a wonderful gesture.”

“Okay, so what happened? What is this curse?” I asked, getting us back on track.

“When our children brought us together again, our Bond began healing us in both our bodies and our spirits. The curse rooted in the Bond, though it remained dormant until we-,” Netiri said, and I held up a hand.

“We got that part. Move past it,” I said flatly and Immail snorted.

“It worked quickly, but I was able to fight it off until we came here,” she gestured around us. “The Vale’s magic is wild and so very different than the magic we use now. It’s been keeping the curse from progressing as quickly as it should have, but, as you can see around us, it’s not fail-proof.”

“The petrification?” I looked around.

“The draining of life,” she corrected. “It was intended to drain the life force of everything I held dear to me, including my Immail.”

I saw his hand tighten on her knee as she leaned forward and kissed his forehead from above.

“Then it would turn her into this,” he held up the carving he had made. An almost perfect replica of Netiri. “Her soul would join mine, but her body would live. That was all he wanted, after all.”

“Disgusting,” Harmon hissed and Immail growled in agreement.

“So, the Heart is holding the curse back, but barely,” I said slowly. “What am I supposed to do about it? I’m not exactly all-powerful or anything.”

“We can sense our family, embrasa-rah,” Immail chuckled. “We know when they pass their Trials and Awaken.”

“We also felt them dwindling as less and less survived the trials,” Netiri added. “It took me a great deal of effort, but I was able to alter the process the Ancestors put you through, adding a judgment to replace someone who might be strong enough to break the curse.”

“When you are Bonded, you are stronger than you would be without,” Immail explained. “You would have made a Call as soon as you woke.”

“Before,” I huffed. “Stupid, juvenile, jealous bit-”

“There was an incident and she Called before she Awakened,” Mal put his hand over my mouth. “I know we give you grief about not cursing properly but calling her that would be an insult to female dogs everywhere.”

I crossed my arms and glared at nothing in general, because the person that I wanted to spear with my eyes was in a completely different world right now.

“Upon completing the Bond, a blessing would have been granted, giving you protection against curses and giving you more of our strength than the paltry dregs you would have gotten as the line grew longer between us,” Immail said, eyeing the marks on my skin.

“It was intended to be small,” Netiri said.

“I’m confused,” I stated.

“The marking was meant to be small, a reflection of the strength you held on your own, before ours were added. The longer the family line grew between us, the smaller the mark,” she explained.

“Because of the others that were added to it. Your traits prevailed over them, but the blood became watered down,” Mal nodded, understanding.

“The fact that they cover you completely is amazing on it’s own, but the color... They should have been white, or gray, because of my powers,” Netiri looked at me, her eyes trailing over my arms. “I can feel the power and it didn’t all come from me or Immail. It begins with us, but the rest of it is yours.”

“I’m still not following,” I frowned.

“It means you’re far stronger than we thought any of our immediate children could be, much less such a distant descendant,” she shook her head. “You could quite possibly be stronger than either of us.”

“Unfortunately, that also means that I will be unable to reclaim the Infernal Throne from you,” Immail said. “But I will help you get rid of it.”

“If I can get you out of here,” I said what he didn’t.

“It would be easier that way, yes,” he nodded.

“So, how does one break a blood curse? I know an old lady thing and a hellcat that would love to know,” I said.

“By killing the ones that hold the blood of the one who placed the curse,” Immail answered.