5. Missing

Dear Journal,
             I remember vividly as a child, my mother would tell me of my father and how he was the most magical man she had ever met. He had saved her from an ordinary life and she often expressed that she could never repay that debt, not even with her life. I never truly understood what she meant until water had filled my lungs and a total stranger gave me new ones.

                                                  - 𝒮𝓎𝓇𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓁𝑒
                                                              (1611)


The hallway towards Emma's old chambers felt cold as she opened the door to her former room while Omara accompanied her inside.

They were headed for her balcony. A place that had been sealed off for years in fear that she would escape the castle at the time her father had held the throne.

She chanted latin to ignite the candles set in place and as she shut the door behind her she paused for a moment, staring at her old bed before gazing all over the room.

Her mind drifted to the now bittersweet moments she had spent here with Elias and her mood dampened tremendously. It was here that they had shared their last loving moment together, wrapped in each other's arms. Her hand drifted to her silver necklet as she reminisced, her eyes slightly watering at the painful memory of him giving it to her.

She had allowed the handmaids to cover her old furniture in white fabric, making the room appear haunted and abandoned, similar to that of her heart.

"Are you alright?" Omara asked, his eyes shrouded with what seemed like worry.

"Hmm," Emma nodded quickly before opening the double doors located before them to a beautiful stone deck blessed with an impressive view of the castle gardens and the quarter moon.

Previously, the entrance had been hidden and sealed by a large wardrobe but tonight it looked free and inviting as the night air welcomed their company, longing for an audience to demonstrate its captivating sights.

Under the moonlight, the garden looked unearthly as it faded the colorful blooms, casting white shadows on the flowers to make the garden look like a snowscape at first glance.

The cool breeze of the night had made it their sovereign duty to appeal to Emma's sense of smell as it carried the scent of the rose bush up towards the balcony, favoring the air with the sickly sweet smell of its fragrance.

"This is wonderful." Omara said, resting his goblet on the rail as he stretched both hands across it, staring down at the sleeping flush of colorful plants before gazing up at the white beacon in the sky.

"It really is. I've not been out here in forever. Since they had barred it off from me years ago I had forgotten how amazing the view had been." She told him, looking at the moon as well.

"Sorry to hear that," Omara frowned, his tone showing genuine displeasure.

"Oh, that is fine. It was a long time ago." Emma gave him a short smile before sipping from her goblet.

"Ah, forgive me for forgetting my manners. We left the great hall so quickly. How are you tonight? You look beguiling as ever but I imagine you always do." Omara complimented, his dimple deepening as he spoke.

Emma flushed as she looked at him. He had changed out of his cranberry surcoat to replace it with a navy blue doublet with silver sewn threads embedded into a flower design. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as if inviting her to speak freely, to tell him everything he wanted to know about her.

"You're too kind. Thank you." Emma answered, her cheeks still as red as cherries as she looked at him.

"Can I ask you something, Your Majesty?" Omara questioned.

"Please, call me Emma and you may," she told him, her eyebrows knitted in wonder.

"Why now? Why have you waited so long to seek a suitor and a king for the throne?"

Emma's eyes widened for a split second before returning to normal. She turned her attention towards the balcony, inhaling deeply before taking a sip of her wine. The wind had picked up as it flicked through her hair, licking the back of her exposed neck and sending a shiver down her spine.

"To be honest, this isn't exactly my wish but it has to be done." She said truthfully.

"Why is that?" Omara asked, his attention never leaving her face. He admired her side profile as he thought of how gorgeous she was and wondered if he would be able to pull off what he needed to do tonight.

"I-I had a lover. He was killed some years ago in the rebellion," Emma said, her voice cracking slightly.

"The wound is still fresh. I'm sorry to have pressed you." Omara responded.

"It's alright. It's good to talk about the things that hurt you. If its burn is kept inside it could turn into a fire." Emma tried for a smile but it came off as a grimace.

"I understand," Omara frowned, a memory flashing in his mind.

"How are things in Pretvar? I hear there has been quite a few disappearances. No doubt it is the sorceress's doing." Emma changed the subject.

Omara stiffened for a moment but quickly played it off as he sipped from his goblet.

"Yes, no doubt." He responded, his tone as vague as ever as he too changed the topic. "May I ask you another question?"

Emma nodded as she turned to him, listening intently.

"How does it feel to be in love?"

Emma paused for a moment, wondering if she had heard him correctly while she scanned his eyes for hints of playfulness. His hazel irises however, were free of all humor as he watched her eagerly, hungrily even; as if the answer would have satisfied a centuries old famine.

Setting her goblet down on the rail, Emma turned to him, clasping her hands as she spoke.

"Well, it feels like God carved out a chunk of your heart and placed it into another person. You wonder how you had survived so long without them and you die a little when they are not around. When they are joyous, your heart celebrates. When they are hurt, it mourns. It is itself in its purest form; in its only form rather." Emma said, turning towards the balcony once more. "They are a part of your heart afterall and we cannot live without it, not truly, not peacefully."

"You'd do anything for them?" Omara asked.

"Ofcourse." Emma answered.

"Even die?" Emma's attention flashed to him once more and though she didn't think it possible, his eyes had grown even more serious.

"Ofcourse. Where is this coming from?" Emma frowned.

"It's just that my mother said something different contrasting to your explanation. She said love is like a poison that weakens slowly before eventually killing. People spend their lives searching for their preferred dosage and when they find it, they devour it, eager to die a euphoric death."

Emma thought about this for a moment. Was love really poisonous? Were people actually searching for a sweeter way to kill themselves? She remembered the moment she knew she loved Elias. He had burned his hands to create the piece of jewelry currently sitting around her neck. She had indeed become weak for him and she imagined the same happened on his end.

In his letter, he had left to protect the kingdoms and also protect her. Had he truly died because of his own love and his love her? Did they both drink love's venomous elixir?

"Well, that is most unpleasant. Do you believe her?" Emma asked, her frown deepening.

"I do not actually. I'm quite fond of your explanation rather but you seem to have left something out."

Emma's eyebrows knitted together as she waited for him to continue.

"You seem to be a good woman with a good heart. It is quite a shame." Omara shook his head, his inviting tone never leaving.

Before Emma could respond, a loud explosion echoed from the first floor of the keep, shaking the balcony as she grabbed hold of the railing to steady herself.

"What in the world," she started to say, just before Omara stole her hand, withdrawing a dagger as he slice both their palms before joining them, splattering blood on the stone floor of the balcony.

"Id est ut numquam mori. Cor meum nominemur et sumus propter hoc magnum mendacium."  He chanted, their palms growing hot as he finished.

"What is dead may never die. My heart is bestowed upon you for a great lie."

"What is this?" Emma gasped, her head spinning as she felt like her heart was trying to separate from her chest. She was not sure, but it felt like her blood had been returning to wound but it felt strange, foreign even.

"Forgive me," Omara said, blowing black dust from his other palm into her face.

It smelt of charcoal and roots and it made Emma dizzy as her eyes slowy closed while she fell into his arms.

He could see the castle guards running to towards the cause of the explosion as he held the queen. The explosion had been timed perfectly as it occurred to distract the vampire from the smell of Emma's blood on the balcony towards the roaring flames.

Taking the dagger, he cut his wrist, drawing a circle around them both. He watched as her wrist also started to bleed before covering his with a handkerchief he had hidden in his clothing.

This was a con of a soul link. Everything he experienced, she did as well.

Chanting another spell, he and Emma began to dissolve into nothingness as he returned to his mother.

The sound of footsteps jolted Syrus awake as water fondled the heels of his feet, its cold liquid fingers sending a slight shiver throughout his body.

His gold eyes slowly opened to an angry sky as dangerous black clouds tinged with a magenta hue loomed over his body, accompanied by flashes of lightning. Syrus could decipher that it was not night time. In fact, it seemed as if the clouds had taken the sun captive, imprisoning it behind their dark barriers.

Syrus frowned as he sat up, wind licking his pale skin while he scanned the beach in confusion.

His eyes shot to the black sand under his palms, scooping it up in a heap so that some had wriggled their way underneath his sharp claws before turning his attention back to the sinister colour of the sea. The water was as black as onyx and the pelicans that usually serenaded sea sides were absent from this one. All that was here was a dark beach with salty air and raging clouds.

"Syrus,"  called the owner of the footsteps as the vampire tilted his head up, peering at him through similar gold eyes with an outstretched hand that beckoned for him to take it.

"E-Elias," Syrus managed to say as he took his hand, pulling himself up from the ground as the wind turned violent, ruffling his white linen shirt.

Their matching dark hair danced around their faces while the wind speed picked up but they allowed it to flow freely, to tingle their scalps with cold moisture and wind.

"H-how?" Syrus asked incredulously. "Where am I?"

"You're with me now," Elias said, his tone slightly distorted as it seemed to echo into the air.

Syrus imagined he was staring at his maker like a young boy who had finally met his hero. He looked exactly like the first time he had seen him. Out of place in a cruel world. An anomaly, far from normal and far too wonderful to have ever existed.

Lightning flashed above him, illuminating his face for a split second and Syrus's shocked expression fell to one of melancholy as he peered into the dark abyss of Elias's skull. For a moment, he was a skeleton, much like his reflection but then he was him again, beautiful and pale and extraordinary. His savior.

"Stop them, Syrus." Elias said, his tone and expression turning grave. "Don't let them take her."

"I- what- I don't understand," Syrus shook his head, his mouth as dry as the black sand as questions hailed in his mind like a storm.

"Don't let them take her," Elias said again, this time it sounded like a supplication.

As he grabbed Syrus by the arms his body froze and his skin began to turn to that of stone, hardening to become brittle as it cracked dangerously before falling into a dusty pile at Syrus's feet.

"No!" Syrus shouted, right before a volt of lightning shruck him, the electricity resonating into his body as he rose from his bed heaving.

Sweat washed his face as he caught his breath, something he seldom did since he did not need to breathe.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air but it did not seem to come from the fireplace. Rather, it was his sheets that had been smoldering under his hold, burning his palms as he quickly released them.

"Are you alright?" Eleanor asked, her mouth twisted into a frown as a worried expression plagued her face. She was sitting at his table under candlelight as it burned over a book.

He had tied her by the fireplace and watched as she fell asleep there before falling asleep himself but it was of more surprise that she was still here than that she had escaped his binding.

"I- yes," Syrus answered, tossing his legs over the bed as he rubbed a hand down his face.

"You had a dream,"

"I do not wish to talk about it," Syrus said curtly.

Standing, Eleanor walked over to his window, parting the drapes as the moonlight kissed her skin. The night was cool and promising but the air was arid, a very strange occurrence she had been in Gandalwell.

"Why did you really come here, Eleanor?" Syrus asked, watching her stare outside.

"You don't believe I came here to meet you?"

"I don't trust you. I don't have much luck with faes or witches or whatever you lot call yourselves." Syrus replied.

"Neither do I," She said, still staring at the sky. "But I never lied."

Syrus watched her like she watched the moon. In admiration of their appearances that made them both mysterious.

"How long are you going to keep me here?" Eleanor asked.

"You're a witch aren't you? I'm not keeping you anywhere. In fact, I bet you could leave if you really wanted to. The real question is, why haven't you?" Syrus retorted.

Eleanor turned to him as he finished his question, her eyes twinkling with hidden emotions Syrus had yet to experience.

"I'd like to meet your niece."

"Have you gone mad?" Syrus questioned, his eyebrows creasing.

Before she could respond, a loud explosion shook the room, rattling both the walls and floor.

Syrus stood immediately, quickly dressing himself in his linen shirt before grabbing his sword belt and placing it on.

"Stay here," he told the witch as he left her behind, heading towards Emma's chambers.

Bursting through the doors, he found Celine putting shoes on Celestria's feet, each of them wearing relieved expressions as they saw him.

Celestria reached for him, clutching on to his neck as he picked her up, hugging her tightly as he turned to Celine.

"Where is Emma?"

"I-I don't know. She mentioned seeing one of her suitors earlier."

"What's happening?" Celestria cried as Syrus held her.

"Don't worry, Princess." Syrus calmed her down while signaling Celine to follow him.

He could smell the scent of chemicals, smoke and debris from the explosion but there was also another scent in the air; witches blood, similar to that of Annora's.

"Take her to safety. Protect her with your life. I'm going to find Emma." Syrus said to Celine, handing a fussy Celestria over to her as the little girl begged him not to leave.

"I'll be back for you I promise," Syrus told her before rushing off down the hall.

There was an intruder present and he needed to find Emma before checking out the cause of the explosion incase the keep decided to topple over.

He headed to her old room, sniffing out her scent as he opened the door.

The balcony doors were left unfurled, allowing Syrus to rush out onto the stone deck where the scent of blood grew even more potent and fresh against the floor.

Running his hands through his long hair, he fidgeted as he paced the balcony, his heart beating nervously. This was not only Emma's blood but someone elses which meant something had happened while he was incapacitated.

He tried to calm his panic as he noticed the 2 goblets of wine on the railing. Looking down, he saw clouds of smoke and dust coming from below, threatening to engulf the entire castle in sooth filled air.

Syrus jumped down from the third floor, landing on his feet as he crouched onto the ground.

Rushing towards the growing fire, his pupils dilated to the size of marbles as he watched as a third of the main keep was now exposed and currently up in flames.

The garden had also begun to catch fire as it lit up the castle grounds, filling the arid air with the smell of burning rock and flowers.

"What are you all standing around for? Get water from the river out back. Hurry up!" Syrus instructed the knights who stood looking off into a daze at the sight before them.

Walking closer to the flames, he used a hand to cover his face as the fires seared the hairs on his skin, watering his eyes while smoke filled his nostrils.

He could hear the rest of people evacuating the keep behind him, watching the castle burn as they scattered throughout the inner courtyard in numbers.

The knights that had returned with buckets of water to quiet the fires did more harm than good as it only grew angrier, soon rising to Emma's old balcony to burn away the evidence of her disappearance.

"Syrus!" He heard Calen call at him as he rushed to his side along with Aredhel and Damien.

"We heard the explosion and smelt the fire so we tried to help everyone evacuate safely." Damien told him as they all frowned.

Syrus's mind raged with solutions as he racked his brain on what to do. He had been practicing a new technique for the past few years but it was so unpredictable that he couldn't rule out the possibility of it affecting the people around him and it did not help that Celestria was somewhere within the crowd. On the other hand, if he did not atleast try it, the castle would surely burn down at the rate of the fire.

"I need you three to get everyone to evacuate to the outer courtyard, I'm going to try and put out the fire." Syrus told them.

"What are you going to do?" Damien asked.

"No time to explain. Hurry!" Syrus rushed.

"Everyone get to the outer courtyard immediately!" The werewolf shouted as he and the elves ushered them through the gates.

Syrus watched as the last person left before turning his attention to the sky, saying a silent prayer to the goddess of the night.

There was not a cloud in sight, just Syrus, the crescent moon and the large fire before him.

Accumulating an abnormally large ball of electric current in both hands, Syrus channeled all his power, withdrawing it from the soles of his feet and the top of his skull to send it into his crackling palms before directing it to the sky.

With a deep groan, he released the lightning up into the atmosphere in a violent surge, watching as it lost itself in the inky black sky.

Syrus collapsed on his knees as the last volt left his body, his chest heaving dangerously as his vision blurred from overusing his power.

A crack of thunder soon echoed back as dark clouds began to blanket the sky while lightning struck back viciously at various areas of the courtyard. This was what he was afraid of. It was too dangerous a power to use, especially with others around.

A light drizzle followed before erupting into showers of rain, hard and heavy as it quenched the thirst of the flames while simultaneously drenching Syrus and everyone else.

Drawing a relieved sigh, Syrus stood, turning at the sound of his niece's voice behind.

"Uncle!" She shouted as Celine tried to stop her.

Scooping her up, Syrus held her tightly in his arms, squeezing her slightly as he closed his eyes. She pulled away from him as they stared into each other's eyes, their wet hair plastered across their faces.

He felt relieved that she was alright but the castle grounds were still dangerous as the lightning continued to strike various parts of the courtyard.

Celestria was terribly afraid of thunder and lightning despite Syrus having show her his power numerous amount of times in hopes to help her overcome the fear.

"Where is Mommy?" Celestria asked, rain dripping down her face as her hair stuck to her cheeks.

He could not bring himself to tell her that Emma was missing as her sad eyes waited for an answer.

"What an interesting turn of events," Eleanor's familiar voice said from behind him, her red hair soaking as she squinted in the rain.

"And here I thought that they would actually wait." She shook her head, turning to the smoldering building.

"What are you going on about?" Syrus asked harshly.

"The Lenoré coven have finally made their first move."

Sorry for the wait!
Next chapter will not take so long. Promise.

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