Despite the years under Talamayas' thumb, Wren was in much better condition than he expected. Wielding his chains came with ease, and the magic within them rang powerfully in the air, the sweet melody of Song magic chiming for the death of his enemies. There was only so much he could do with chains without a target to strike at, but Riff wasn't concerned about his proficiency. Talamayas had used Wren to down his vampire enemies a few years before according to Riff, so the chains would come when called and populate with efficiency. That was before Talamayas had bound him completely, and Wren couldn't figure out why he had not killed Talamayas Sol then. Perhaps no opportunity had presented itself. Though Songs were exceptionally powerful with their chains, it only took one good strike from behind to knock him out if he had no one watching his back.

Riff and Wren instead worked on their physical combat, checking Wren's reflexes and strength in battle. In their years as sparring buddies, Wren had never triumphed over Riff, and today was no different. The dark magic flowing through Wren's veins made him quicker, stronger, and gave him better stamina, but Riff had animal instincts, telling him when to duck, dodge, and strike for the throat. By the time Riff was done with him, Wren was begging for mercy and rolling on the ground in sweat, bruised even beyond his increased ability to heal. The more Riff hit him, the slower he healed until his body could no longer catch up. So there was a limit to his rapid healing, which Wren imagined was what Riff had been trying to measure in beating him to ground meat.

Or at least Wren hoped that had been Riff's aim. With the dead look in Riff's eyes, Wren had wondered a time or two if he wasn't angry with him. Why wouldn't he be? Wren had faltered, fallen as a soldier and bowed to the enemy when he should have done everything to die before it got that far. Somehow Talamayas had controlled Wren, the leader of the Songs and the strongest of the chain wielders. Riff had every right to hate him.

Even so, Riff offered him a hand up as they finished for the day, and Wren accepted it gladly. His legs were wobbly, and he'd need to rest the night before they attacked at dawn. Unfortunately that wouldn't be for a while since they'd gone out a few miles to use their magic beyond other's notice. The hike back was crap, and Riff slapped the back of his thighs when he meandered too slowly. Riff had no off button for fighting, and practically ran him the whole way back. Wren promptly collapsed when they entered the corridors that lead around the desert city to their complex, and Riff tapped his toes impatiently.

"Go on ahead." Wren managed through gasps of breath, and Riff looked down on him disapprovingly. "It's not what you think. I can clearly still run a marathon." Wren's weak chuckle brought a twist of amusement to Riff's lips. "I just want a moment to myself to prepare mentally. I'll just be walking down the halls to the complex. Can you allow me that?"

"Sure." Riff gave him a stiff nod before he continued his run around the city. Riff hadn't looked like he wanted to leave, but it was quite common for Wren to retreat to his home alone to strengthen his mind before a battle, and Riff didn't want to jeopardize his focus.

Wren enjoyed the long walk back through the corridors of the desert town. People running back and forth outside, some laughing with friends, others huffing as they hauled goods, all flaunting the vibrant life of the city despite the hot climate. Something struck him as familiar beyond the fact that he'd been here for a week, the warmth and dryness gave him a sense of ease that he could not explain, and he lifted his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

It was just as he lost sight of the way ahead that the dark magic sparked under his senses, sliding in from one of the windows and hanging close to the walls of mud and sand. Wren dropped the towel to find a man hunched ahead in the corridor, obscuring himself poorly behind a large potted plant. Wren got the feeling it was hiding from view of the window and not Wren himself. His back was facing the wrong direction to assault him, and his focus was outward and not down the corridor where Wren stood.

Wren kept his muscles wound and ready to spring at the smallest movement, light magic at the ready to snap out a chain if a fight called for them. The rush of magical pressure in the hall drew the vampire's attention, and he turned his cloaked figure and lifted his head so Wren could make out his face under the cowl. Crimson eyes captured Wren's not with threat but the weight of longing that exuded from them.

The vampire remained completely calm, no fangs bared, no magic crawling his fingertips, and something about those eyes had Wren dropping his hands to his side. While Wren certainly had no interest in befriending any vampires, this one struck him as harmless in a way that Wren could not understand. No beasts were harmless, yet when this one peeked out from his hood, short obsidian hair dusting his forehead and soft crimson eyes searching his face, Wren felt at ease.

"Are you lost?" Wren asked, a lot less hostilely than he'd ever greeted one of their kind. The vampire didn't speak, merely dropped his eyes to Wren's hand where it lay harmlessly. "If you're just using the corridors to hide from someone else, you should leave. Riff would paint the walls with your blood in an instant if he found you here. Shoo." Wren waved his hand to bid the man go, but he hunched lower.

"You do not know me," the man said, as if realizing that just now.

Why would Wren know any vampires?

The vampire stood, and Wren stumbled back into the wall, surprised by how well it had concealed its size hunched into a ball. Cloaked shoulders broader than Riff's nearly pressed Wren to the sanded mud behind as the man advanced, and the vampire had to bend its hips to bring their faces level. Dark magic swallowed the both of them. Wren knew he should be ready to fight, but his body just didn't agree. Dark skin flashed in Wren's vision as the vampire raised a hand, but it was devoid of hostile magic as it caressed Wren's cheek. The contact pushed a strange feeling down Wren's throat, one of acceptance and welcome instead of the revulsion that should be strangling him.

"You're body remembers what your mind has forgotten." The vampire's voice was a deep rumble, threatening by any measurement, but it tickled Wren's ears, and he closed his eyes to soak it in. Relaxation rolled down his body with a strong hand trailing his shoulder and settling to rest on his chest. Moist air like steam puffed against his face, and Wren opened his eyes to the man's face so close that the edges of their noses grazed each other.

Heat stroked Wren's face as the man leaned in, strong fingers holding his chin as the vampire's mouth pressed to his, hungry and prodding to see what Wren would accept. Wren's lips gave into the pressure and opened, and the vampire slid a moist, searing tongue against his own. Wren drank it like hot cocoa, too scorching to touch but so sweet and comforting one couldn't resist melting a few taste buds for the rush.

At some point, Wren wrapped his arms around the man's neck, and he was sure his feet weren't on the ground. The logistics of that didn't quite settle until he shifted his thighs and felt the strong fingers holding them up as the vampire pinned him to the wall with the rest of his body. Wren dropped a hand down to find nothing but golden skin below the cloak. The vampire hadn't even bothered with a shirt, but Wren didn't care much as he dragged his fingers down the hard muscles in front of his hands, shifting his legs wider to accommodate the man as he arched between them.

"Wren, why are you so damn tempting?" The vampire laughed, fangs flashing in the sunlight, and Wren couldn't control the heat of his face. Half was a blush ear to ear and a loss of understanding on how they'd gotten here, and the rest was caused by the steam pouring from this man's mouth.

Without the man's lips eating him alive, Wren started to process the position he was in, and he shook his head slowly side to side to jar his brain back into functioning. The moment this vampire's skin had connected to his, he'd become putty in his hand, and as much as he'd enjoyed it, he feared that control more.

"Can you put me down, please?" Wren expected a growl of frustration or flat out denial, but the vampire slid a hand off of one of his thighs to set him on the ground and took a full step away. The space was good for Wren to sort out his next move, but it was hard to be annoyed with the man in front of him. Keeping his hands tucked under his cloak, and his head down in an apologetic tilt, the man practically shrank where he stood.

"It was not my intention to accost you like that. I got word that you were sighted here, and I just wanted to know you were safe. I guess I got carried away when you liked my touch." Pure happiness glowed in the vampire's eyes that Wren could hardly handle. It didn't look right on his cut face, with those sharp eyes, lethal fangs, and a hundred pounds of mage-killing muscle.

What had transpired started to click rationality into place, and Wren tried to pull himself together as he faced the only vampire who'd dare kiss him. This had to be Talamayas Sol, the man who'd tortured, broken, and leashed him to his side. Perhaps he should have stayed with Riff for the walk back. Of course the vampire would be searching out his lost pet, and Wren scooted along the wall away from him. A chuckle chased him, and Wren froze in his steps as the vampire moved back in front of him, so close that the steam puffed in his space again.

"You needn't skitter away, Wren. I'll let you go if you don't want to come with me." Talamayas smile had no menace to it despite the words. There should be some hidden meaning there, some jab or threat, deceit of some kind, but nothing but the patient smile followed Wren as he put a few yards between them. "Enjoy your time with your family, Wren," Talamayas said from where he stood, but the vampire edged toward the window for an escape. "Call me if you need me."

"I'm going to kill you for everything you've done, Talamayas Sol." The words came off his tongue bitter, but not toward Talamayas. They tasted bad, like saying that to the man was wrong, and yet how could it be? Talamayas Sol was a monster, a beast who'd devoured his people and caged Wren for entertainment.

It had to be some mind melting magic, but Wren was immune to allure. Just because Talamayas couldn't control his mind with his eyes did not mean he couldn't warp his perception. The vampires touch and magic against his body had pacified him, torn away every instinct he had to kill vampire kind, and left him near trembling in anticipation to be fucked by the man in front of him.

That certainly wasn't normal.

"I'll be waiting then, I guess," Talamayas answered simply, his smile falling but not entirely. It sank to a contentedness before his hood fell over his face and his expression. With a hand on the window sill to leave, he turned back but kept his head low. "I never really got the chance to fight the leader of the Songs, to know you're true power, so I will look forward to seeing you at the castle. When you come for me, I will meet you with the fight you want."

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