Chapter 4: Medea Irrylis

She sighs softly, keeping an eye on the room. Watching the new chylde, the one of both dark and light, night and day, phoenix and dragon. The dark angel. She shakes her head. The angel was a killer, a skilled one, known throughout the realms as Midnight Beauty, Shadow Lover. Angel of Death. And Alex had fallen for her.
:Life. Humands, mortals. The living, lead lives I will never know.
She sighs, wishing she were mortal, free to lead the life she wishes for, to have her own sould, to live. She looks out to the night sky, wondering where her 'brothers' where, beings like her, unfeeling and soulless.
She shakes her head. To feel real emotions. Her powers of empathy were strong, strong enough to almost make her believe they were her own feelings. Almost. The emptiness in her, the void where her soul was to be, aches and longs to be complete, to be whole.
:No, tis only mine foolish whishes for a soul.
She cries out: a sharp, piercing note of despair.
:A soul!
She runs out to the gardens, brushing past Rowan as she does so. Graceful, even in panic, her white garments flowing behind her. A ghastly effect. She stops in the middle of a clearing, a crystal fountain at it's center. She drops down next to it, glancing back at the room, catching Rowan by the door, her hand on Alexander's shoulder, as if to stop him from going to her. She looks at Rowan, but cannot read her thoughts, her face emotionless and thoughts too tightly in shields. Her body shakes, visible even to the mortal eye, she turns away and lays her head down on the cool marble of the fountain. Her hand dipping into the water, causing small, delicate ripples.
Her shaking ceases and she looks into the reflection in the fountain. She does not see the mirror of herself. The reflection slowly dissolves and in it's replacement is the scene inside the central building of the realm of Darkened Shadows. She lifts her head and loks deeper into the scrying pool, the occupants unaware of her sight. She looks around, as if she were in that room herself, focusion on Alexander Ialu at first, then is drawn to the woman. Rowan. Alexander's visage, contoured with worry, looks at Rowan, but Rowan, her visage...a masque of emotionless beauty. Beautiful, aye and so uncanny. She makes as if to touch Rowan's cheek but draws back, almost fearful when she turns her cool silver eyes upon her, almost like she is able to see right thought they scyring pool unto the one that looks upon her at this moment. She quickly banishes the scene, the pool once again the fountain.
She turns away from the fountain, looking up onto the stars. With a flick of her wrist, small particles of light gathers in front of her, slowly weaving a pattern: a body. The image takes place: hair of ebony, skin of ivory, lips of blood and eyes of cold, cold silver, framed by black, white tipped wings. She watches as the light forms the lithe body and beautiful face into the exact replica of the dark ange.
She breathes at last.
"Ah, Rowan."
:Rowan, Rowan, my chylde. You have drawn my intrest. You, so heartless and cold. What is it about you. I touched you once, and you draw energy from me. Aye you are dangerous. Alexander...he knows. Yet...he does not. So infatuated with you 'tis he.
She looks up at the image, lifting a hand to it, touching...nothing. Her hand passes through the image, though the heart. She draws her hand back quickly and watches as the image slowly dissipates, light particles floating off slowly. She waves the remainder of the particles away, and turns back to look at the room.
She sits at the fountain still, her hand brushing the water, leaving light trails that light up the fountain to it's very depth.
:I will stay...a moment longer.
She sighs, once again turning away from the building, seeking sanctuary within nature itself. She shivers slightly, but ignores the cold breeze of the night, walking out into the depth of the woods yonder. Walking blind, her eyes shut tightly, as if to prevent further images to appear, she leads herself deeper into the woods, guided by an invisible force of energy. When she opens her eyes at last, she finds herself in the center of the woods, a clearing. At a quick glance, she is able to tell one has already been in this area: crushed grass, death, essence.
The clearing looks much like a small mage war has happened: flattened grass, energy drained from the surrounding area, yet the nodes remained undisturbed. She stands at the center of the clearing, in a large charred area, unsure as to what has happened. She passes her hand in front of her, slowly, the air thick with power, energy, mvlana. She breathes.
"The gods!"
She jumps at the sudden cool touch of a marble white hand on her bare shoulder. She turns to look upon the one who has frightened her, but the face lies hidden within the shadows of the night. She knows.
"M'lady Rowan! You startled me."
The woman steps out of the shadows, revealing that, indeed, she is Rowan.
"I give my apologies, m'lady." She bows slightly, moving in front of her, effectively obstructing her view of the clearing.
"Might I be of some service to you?" She looks up at Rowan, backing away slightly upon encountering the darkness that cloaks her eyes.
"Perhaps." She smiles slightly, but her eyes remain as cold and dark as the night sky, "Perhaps you will return with me to the tower?" A demand, more than a question.
"Is there something wrong, m'lady?"
"The old one...he worries for you."
"The old one? Alexander, you mean?"
"Aye, perhaps...I know not his name." She offer her arm: delicate, smooth and cold.
She takes her arm, slowly turning away from the clearing, the cool skin chilling her to the bone.
:Chilling as the one who brings death to the door.

The soon arrive back at the tower door, looking up at the stars, gasping softly, having to see that so much time has passed in what has seemed like such a short moment. She turns to look back at Rowan, seeing her almost in a new light: a darker light.

"Alex, Alexander." She reaches out with her hands and touches his shoulder. He turns.
"M'lady!" His worried expression breaks in relief, "You are alright."
"Aye, I...just went for a walk. I am able to care for myself, Alex. You need not worry for I."
His eyes dim slightly, nodding.
"Aye, m'lady. I knowest - but I do and it cannot be helped."
She smiles and shakes her head, moving to be at his side. He places his hand on the small of her back in tenderness. She sighs softly then, crying out, leaning heavily on him. He turns, wrapping his arms around her in comfort.
"Alex...my...essance...my being - it years for a soul. Even to be mortal!"
"Hush, my dear, hush. Speak not. Wish not what you may regret later."
She looks up at him.
"Regret? Regret Alex? Nay. A soul will never be!"
He smoothes her hair down her back, letting his gentle voice drift around her.
"Hush, my dear. Think of nothing. Think naught." He continues to soothe her, slowly leading her to the couch by the fire and settling her down, comfortinng. He watches her, resting peacefully in the arms of the chair. She stirs slightly, but remains asleep.
"Evil"
He turns and looks down at her. He breathes.
"What...?"
She does not answer, instead falling deeper into sleep.

She dreams. Nightmares. Death. Destruction.
:No!
The shadows swarm in her mind's body. Cloaking her, smothering her. She tries to open her eyes but found that she could not, like someone was controlling her.
:M'lady.
She swings her head around, or thought she did, trying to find the source of the voice.
:M'lady.
Again the voice, so soft, so delicate. She shakes her head.
:No! What are you? What are you?
No answer. Only the sweet, soft rustling of cloth and darkness. She whimpers slightly, struggling not to give into the frea that grips her with cold, cold tendrils. Fear not. Afraid to think, lest this thing scans her mind.
:How does it feel to know what is to become of you? To know, yet not know? To live in fear?
The voice brings a violent shiver though her whole body. The voice, so cold yet so soothing, lulls past her ears. A soft breath at the side of her neck. Cold fingers sliding down her body, causing another shiver to course though her.
:What do you want?
She realizes that she has spoken with mind send, realizing that this is a dream. A virache, a vision. She lies back, watching what will be will be.

Darkness.
Hatred.
Death.
She closes her eyes, feeling all, yet feeling naught. She looks around, trying to find what the vision wants her to see. Virache. She shakes her head.
:This is one. No, dreams weren't this true.
She turns her back on the vision for a moment, only to be knocked over by something. She waits as the creature turns her on her back and pinning her arms and legs down with their own powerful limbs. Shadows cover the intruder's face. How, she does not know, nor does she question. She waits for her captor to speak. To reveal what or who she is. She hears a soft hiss in her ear, the warm air brushing past her cheek.
:For the young to succeed, the old must fail.
The voice and words bring a chill down her spine. The coldness of its words. What they mean. What it intends to do. She thinks of Alex. Rowan had called him 'The Old One.' Will he fall? Again the whisper. A soft chuckle.
:Dreams are not always dreams, m'lady. Merely illusions to cover the truth. You wonder now. 'Am I in a dream...or seeing an Illusion? Is this true?'
She look to her right, to her captor, but the face remains hidden. She nods slightly, knowing what her captor had said stands true. One will never know dreams and illusions, unless 'tis the one that makes them. The dreamless. The Keeper of Illusions. Her breathing quickens as she feels smooth fingers touch her around the neck, sending tendrils of coldness down her shoulders and chest.
:You think...'Is the Keeper of Illusions here?' Nay. He is not. Not this time, m'lady.
She can only look back, unable to understand how her captor has read her mind so easily and without her knowledge.
:You forget, I hold the power now, Medea.
She nods. Yes, her captor held the power. Only now, only here. When this vision is over, her captor will be no more. If she awakens. She begins to wonder if this is a vision, or only an illusion created by another to control and conquor.
:Aye. 'Tis what you call a 'vision'. Of what. I'll not tell.
Again the hiss at her ear, she turns, looking straight up at the dark night sky. The moon shines, so that everything is illuminated by an eeri sapphire glow. Everything but her captor's face. Vision. Signs. These will all connect, but how? She turns to look at her captor's shadowed face, but found it gone from her side, instead the shadow looms over her. She watches, horrified as, by the light of the moon, her captor's face is slowly revealed.
:It cannot be!
:What, m'lady? You cannot believe that 'tis I?
Her captor chuckles, a soft melodious sound. She shuts her eyes, unable to, not wanting to face what has been revealed.
:I am surprised you did not know, m'lady. I believe you are intelligent enought to have seen this coming. The signs, m'lady. You have seen it all before I got you, hmm? You also wish to know what happened, correct? Ah, m'lady. You are quite easy to read. Much to easy. Now this 'vision.' What is it, you ask. You look for a meaning in all this?
Her captor smiles slightly, cold. Two elegant, sharp deadly fangs slowly extend. Behind her, black, white tipped wings form, soft to the touch, razor edged at the end. Again the cruel laugh.
:What would happen if one's mind body died?
:What...what are you trying to say?
A cold glint shines within her captor's emotionless eyes.
:Exactly what I mean, m'lady.
Her captor stands up, extending her wings to full length. The razor edge shines beautifully under the full moonlight. She brings one wing down, across her neck.
:Goodnight, m'lady.

She sits up suddenly, coughing. Bringing her hands around her neck, she finds them covered in blood. She looks down, also finding her garments covered in blood. She cries out, shaking violently.
"Alex! Gods, Alex!"
She touches her neck again, but finds no wound of any sort, to have let so much blood spill. Her vision floods back.
"Alex!"
She watches as Alexander Ialu pushes his way though the crowd. Kneeling down to tend to her wounds. She pushes him away, knowing there are none, yet she aches.
"Alex. A vision."
"A vision? Of what, m'lady?"
She shakes her head, gripping onto Alexander with her life.
"Rowan. She possesses the dark side. She is death."