The Pharoas

[Veatrix]

((SOLO))


Pharoas, The Butterfly Elf
From Ankhas: The Library of Ettermire, Althanian Creatures Section

Pharoas, also known as butterfly elves, are a rare extension of the elf family. Predominantly found in the deep regions of any forest, very seldom do they reveal themselves to the outside world. Pharoas prefer cool, damp climates and can sometimes be found living in caves or abandoned mines apart from the natural deep forestry habitat. Nocturnal, pharoas are carnivorous predators, feeding mainly on birds, large insects and smaller animals such as squirrels, rabbits and moles. Their scarcity has long been misunderstood as extinction and their presence in public areas are usually greeted with hostility, due to their violent historical nature…

…Pharoas are notable for their extreme antagonism towards half-blood pharoas. These impure pharoas, also known as “Unworthies” are the most reviled type of butterfly elf. “Unworthies” can practically be anything – criminals, heretics, half-breeds, traitors or anybody else the Queen says is an “unworthy.” “Unworthies” are highly offensive to the Queen and in most cases, the “unworthy” is publicly executed, much to other pharoas’ glee. If any “unworthy” sightings are reported, they are immediately hunted down by the Queen’s Elite and captured for public execution at the Queen’s Capital, under the criminal offence of racial treason. Despite the steadfastness of the Queen and her Elite to purify their race, there are still reports of half-breed butterfly elves roaming Althanas.

[Veatrix]

Veatrix!

I can’t, too much blood… t-too much…

Wake up, Veatrix!

But if I leave now, it’ll all be…

Breakfast is ready!

…………………………………………………………….

Veatrix shot up from her sleep, a cold sweat running down her back like ice cubes jokingly poured down her shirt. But her dream, no nightmare, was no joke. Images of blood, fire and bees danced around in the butterfly elf’s cluttered mind, ebbing and coalescing together like the ocean waves. Scenes of destruction and corpses, scattered upon a burnt ruins chilled her to the bone. But like every nightmare, the images faded, blown away by the dreamkeeper’s winds, hoping to bring the dreamer back to reality. Veatrix forced her memory to extract those troubling images, but the farther she ventured into her own consciousness, the lighter the dreams became. Diving into the depths of the unconscious world was futile, as Veatrix rubber her smooth hand against her head, disappointed and dreading.

The few moments after waking from a terrible nightmare were always the most awful moments. Moments where ideas swam in her head like fish, all trying to jump up to the top of her mind but too far down below to make any real contact. Moments where everything seemed surreal, where dreams met reality, where illusion met life, both in intangible ways.

Scraping the sleep dust from her eyes, with little bits of it getting into her long, silver eyelashes, and shaking off anxiety like a pest, Veatrix yawned. Yawning made her feel good, made everyone feel good. Fresh morning air flooded into her lungs, shocked into wakefulness. Her room was small, Spartan-like and looked efficient – a single feather bed, equipped with comfortable light blue sheets and pillows, pushed beside the white-curtained window. A small desk with an oil lamp and a mirror right across, a bedside with a cookbook as its stock and an uneven wooden Llewelyn built a couple of years back.

Veatrix was grateful for the room they’ve given. It was sufficient enough to give her a good night’s rest. She was also grateful for the food they put on the table for her, despite the fact that they were peasants. But Llewelyn Johns made enough money to get by, and damn, he was a good cook. Most of all, she was grateful for the feeling of family she had with them. Living with Cassandra and Victor Bane, her parents, meant discrimination and awkward looks. Living with the Johns meant comfort, safety and… love?

“Spicy sunny side up eggs are waiting for you!” Llewelyn Johns shouted from the narrow stairwell of the one-room floor. His warm and gentle voiced throbbed of fatherliness.

Veatrix’s heart swelled with childlike joy, stomach grumbling profusely. He hadn’t eaten since last afternoon, coming back from a long day of training in the Brokenthorn Forest. She had taken it upon herself to train with the spells her mysterious Tome of Lestrange revealed to her. Yesterday was a particularly tiring exploit, practicing an ice spell called Heila the Tome let her read a couple weeks back. Apparently, the Tome felt she was worthy enough to read another one of its spells, so in her perusing, she found that she could actually read the Heila spell, as opposed to it shuffling itself with the letters danced about the paper. When she came back with Lacey after a hard day’s work, Llewelyn had wonderful chicken broth and vegetables prepared for her. She fell asleep right after supper.

Pushing the covers off her frail body, Veatrix dressed into some of Llewelyn’s old clothes, a plain pair of brown wool pants and a clean yellow long-sleeved shirt too long for her. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and noticed, for the first time in months, that she clearly looked healthy and well-fed. Her cheeks were chubbier, her angular jawline less pronounced and her body leaner. She was by no means fat, but all the good food Llewelyn kept putting on the table was making her look more alive. Flipping her golden blonde hair over the shirt, Veatrix made her way downstairs.

“There you are!” Llewelyn came up to her, greeting her with a fatherly smile. “It’s almost noon, I thought you’d never wake up!”

“Sorry,” Veatrix apologized, smiling back at her foster father, just like a daughter would. “Just a little tired from yesterday.”

He motioned towards the dining table, where a few eggs were jiggling away, steam stills smoking up from the yellow-white delicacies. “They’re spicy. Your favourite, and I made some toast, too.”

Both of them sat down at the table, facing each other. Toasted sliced bread rested upon a ceramic plate, looking crunchy and delicious, perfect for smearing some cool butter on it. The eggs, as usual, looked scrumptious, bits of chilli flakes poking out like chicken pox. Some ketchup would do this breakfast some good. A glass of water stood by, waiting to wash down any unwanted bits of food in Veatrix’s mouth. It looked like the perfect breakfast.

“Where’s Lacey?” Veatrix looked around the one-room house, not seeing the raucous boy around. “I haven’t greeted him yet.”

“Oh, he’s out with his new girlfriend…,” Llewelyn began, beaming widely. Lacey was becoming a young man and his father, ever the gracious one, wanted to part of his life. “I fed them breakfast about an hour ago, and then they went out to celebrate.”

Veatrix grinned. “The birthday boy’s already got girls on his mind.”

“Right you are! You’ll get to greet him when he comes back.” Picking up a spoon and fork, Llewelyn pointed to the warm toast and eggs. “Come now, you have a big day ahead of you, too! So dig in!”

Pushing the thought of her parents aside, she smiled, stomach grumbling excitedly. “With pleasure.”

As Veatrix reached for her utensils, a sharp pain attacked her head like a ravaging tiger. Mental claws scoured her mind, scratching and scraping their way around her thoughts. The girl cried out in agony, hands flying up to her head. The claws dug their way through her mind, heaving chunks of memories, fantasies and dreams around like playthings. The mental intruder searched her mind, disrupting her privacy, but more over, inflicting unimaginable mental stress.

“What’s wrong?!”

Veatrix tried to say something, tried to call out to Llewelyn for help, but all that came from her mouth was blubbering and desperate gasps. She clutched at her head, hands tearing at her golden blonde locks violently. Trying to fight the intruder, she was unconsciously scratching her head viciously, to the point that she was drawing her own blood. Red liquid collected under Veatrix’s fingernails, scarlet strands colouring her hair. The intruder’s claw dragged her consciousness deep into unknown mental realms as the suffering girl let out a blood-curdling scream. Llewelyn, panicking but trying to remain calm, grabbed her maniacal hands away from her face.

“Veatrix!”

[Veatrix]

“I see her… Veatrix Bane.”

The voice was piercing and cold like icicles and spoke in harsh, perfectly-accented Pharotongue, the language of the butterflies. Even the slightest whisper made the hairs on her Elites’ back stand up in firm attention. Even worse were her screams – filled to the brim with whatever emotion she wanted to convey, in its extremity. Her voice had grasp, substance and power, so powerful that it was basically an entity on its own. A sadistic smile painted across her regal face, capable of scaring even the bravest of warriors, for she knew none of Althanas’ greatest could stand against her. She was Queen Victoria Diwatah of the Pharoas, a goddess among the Butterfly Elves.

“Veatrix Bane,” she repeated, tongue rolling around the name in disgust. She spat, a ball of spit and phlegm sent flying through the air. But before it even reached the ground, the Queen turned her eyes to it, all the moisture evaporating so quickly, whisked away by her sheer power.

“Yes, my Queen,” one of the Queen’s Elite said in Pharotongue. Thick chest puffed out and standing tall, like a Queen’s Elite should be, he was a proud fellow, and yet he cowered in her divine presence. His chestnut brown hair fell to his shoulders, body covered in indestructible Pharoas armour, a gauntleted hand holding on to a dangerous-looking spear. Most importantly, gorgeous green butterfly wings sprouted out of his back, growing out to be at least six inches taller than him, the rest of the wings dragging on the floor. He looked so strong compared to the Queen, but everyone in the colony knew better.

He flinched when her steel gaze passed over him nonchalantly. He dared not meet her eyes, but the glory of the Queen’s splendour was undeniable.

Sitting on her throne, Queen Victoria Diwatah really was a goddess among simpletons. Dressed in an exquisite deep lavender evening gown, created by the most renowned Pharoas clothiers and bejewelled with precious amethysts, opals and lapis lazuli, the Queen was a vision of terrible beauty. Her almond-shaped eyes were framed by eyelashes so black they had blue tint to them, longer and more stunning than any human’s. Veins etched her face, pulling harshly inside her lilac-coloured skin, adding to her horrific beauty. Shining silver hair cascaded down to her waist, her head decorated with an ornate crown-headpiece fashioned from gold and silver, charms and other precious stones dangling from it. Her majestic wings were rumoured to be the largest in all of Pharoas history, with its magical properties practically endless. The sharpened butterfly wings gleamed in the throne room, bold and black and beautiful as they towered over her, deities just as much as she was.

“She muddles our Pharoas blood,” the Queen mused, absentmindedly playing with the throne room fountain’s water, which was right across the room. Water splashed around without anything physically touching it, her magic making it boil to red hot temperatures, but the Queen did not seem to notice.

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Adel, you of all people know that I do not… allow ‘unworthies,’” she thought aloud.

Emotions ran wild within the Queen’s Elite named Adel. Again he flinched at the brief mention of his terrible, sacrilegious past. A mother and child, holding on to each other in fear from what was a loving father. Her screams as he sliced the child’s throat, face hard as stone. The blood spurting from the wound, pulsating, squirting. The way her neck bent as it snapped, the human corpse awkwardly falling to the floor. The way the Queen smiled when he reported back to her. No tears fell, only loyalty to the Queen mattered.

“Yes, my Queen,” he agreed, nodding thick with blind resolve.

Raising her hand, she motioned at Adel. “End her for me.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

[Veatrix]

The cool of fresh, pure and unpolluted water brought Veatrix back completely from her fanatical seizure. It travelled down from her mouth, through her throat, deep into her stomach, flushing some of the mental pain away. The water was a salve, a healing potion, an elixir of life to the sudden mind intrusion. Right then, she’d rather have nothing running through her mind, but that was unfeasible. Putting the glass on the dinner table, the half-Butterfly elf collapsed into a chair, exhausted from the mental attack.

“What the hell was that…?”

As soon as she placed the glass of water on the table, Llewelyn snatched it away and ran to the kitchen, filling it with cool, clear water. His face seemed to have aged within minutes, as he looked soggy and harried, like an overused bath towel. Sitting back down beside her, hand gently massaging her back, he smiled weakly.

“You alright?”

Veatrix took another swig of water, running it through her mouth to fully bring her back to herself. “I think so… no real damage. My head just…”

A sharp, stabbing pain throbbed in Veatrix’s head, bringing a hand up to her golden blonde hair. She felt smidges of blood rubbing on her fingers and patches of her hair seemed uneven. Eyes widening, she gasped.

“Did I pull my hair out?”

Apologetically, Llewelyn coughed. “Well… ummm… frankly, yes. Among other things. Notice the blood.”

“Damn,” Veatrix began, mulling over the minimal physical damage. “Must’ve really hurt, then.”

“I thought you were going to die.”

An awkward silence filled the room, flooding it like the rain of forty days and nights. Veatrix looked at the shamed Llewelyn, not really knowing what to say. Part of her wanted to walk right up to him and slap him as hard as she could, daring him to even mention her name in a sentence so grave and morbid. The other part of her wanted to burst into tears for the genuine concern he felt for her, a concern only a true father could have for his beloved daughter. Face like stone and body immobile, Veatrix cleared her throat.

“I’m really-“

“Let me get you some more water.”

Veatrix handed the half-empty glass of water to him, smiling at him, trying to keep him at ease. All he did was smile back, half-heartedly, and fill her glass up again. He took longer than usual, but Veatrix didn’t mind. She couldn’t mind, because there were no words to explain what just happened.

The sun bleed through the cream-coloured curtains framing the window like a picture, casting a glorious light upon the room, leaving no shadows untouched and no corner unclaimed. Her skin tingled in the almost noontime warmth, the sun being a fickle thing today, lighting up the day so well it made the good people of Scara Brae sweat like there was no tomorrow. The unpleasant taste of morning tainted her tongue and breath, but the delicious food on the table did not want to be denied. The smell of cooked eggs wafted through the air, reminding Veatrix of the still-warm breakfast she had yet to take a bite.

Llewelyn came back with her water, placing the glass carefully beside her plate. “How do you feel?”

She looked up, seeing a father’s face filled with apprehension. “…what a way to ruin what could have been a perfectly good day.”

“Don’t say that,” he replied, switching back to his happier, more charming mood. “You still got the rest of the day. Lacey’s due back soon, we get to pick your parents up at the dock, we might even go eat someplace special tonight…”

“Really?”

“Yeah! So you had an… incident. It’s no big deal, unless you feel like you need to go back to bed-“

Veatrix sat up from the wooden chair, feeling the smooth oak caressing her light skin under her grip. “Oh, no. I’m good, I’m fine. Just a little dazed… that’s all.”

“Nothing some spicy side sunny up eggs and buttered toast can’t fix!”

Llewelyn grabbed the plate with the eggs and pushed three steaming ones on her plate, looking delicious with their chicken pox-like chilli flakes. They plopped on to the young woman’s plate, making a silly sound that always made her smile, a little smidge of childhood amusement she held on to. Helping herself to some of the crunchy toast, she ravenously gobbled up her meal. She barely had time to chew in between bites, as she was so hungry from both yesterday’s training and today’s mental intrusion. Different flavours coated her tongue, sending her to a simple nirvana for a few minutes, before she had to swallow what she was chewing.

“I’ve told you you’re an amazing chef, right?” Veatrix said, mouth full of toast and eggs.

“Don’t talk when your mouth is full,” he scolded, finger pointing threateningly but mouth betraying his widening grin.

In the midst of their hearty breakfast, they heard, amongst the leaves rustling in the trees and the birds chirping gladly and the mothers and shopkeepers screaming about, Lacey bidding one of his friends goodbye. Looking out the window, Veatrix saw Lacey’s shaggy shoulder-length brown hair colliding gently with little girl’s head covered in exotic purple hair, until she realized they were hugging. Lacey was beaming, all his white teeth showing and sunlight almost reflecting off of it, while the girl smiled meekly, blushing. When the two went their separate ways, Lacey ran to the entrance door, knocking at it excitedly.

“I’m home, Papa!”

Llewelyn pushed his chair back and went for the door, opening it to a red-in-the-face Lacey. Waltzing into the house, arms at the side swinging back and forth, he sat at the dinner table beside Veatrix. The young boy eyed the spicy eggs for a second, but turned away, uninterested. All but breathing could be heard in the house, as both the father and foster sister waited for him to start talking. Realizing that everyone was eyeing him suspiciously, Lacey turned to them.

“What?!”

Veatrix giggled. “You have a girlfriend! She’s like the perfect birthday present for an eleven-year old boy,” she proclaimed in a sing-song voice.

The red-faced Lacey blushed even more, all the blood in his body pumping into one area. “Yeah… what’re you gonna do ‘bout it?”

“Oh, nothing,” Veatrix said, grinning optimistically. She poked him in the shoulder playfully, such a sisterly thing to do. Veatrix loved annoying Lacey; it became one of her favourite pastimes, living in Scara Brae. “It’s just really cute!”

“Quit it!”

Llewelyn turned to his son, a deep tone in his voice. “Now, now, Lacey. Respect our guest, it’s what I’ve always taught you…”

Making a snarky face at the chuckling Veatrix, the boy crossed his arms on his chest. “Don’t you guys have somewhere to be? The docks or something, to pick up these old guys”

“They’re not old, and we’ll be leaving within the hour,” Llewelyn said, scooping up some of the egg into the bread and taking a big bite.

Veatrix giggled again, this time with just a little twinge of nervousness. “Get ready, because you’re coming with us. You have to meet my parents.”

[Veatrix]

“The ship’s coming in now!”

Standing in the simple dark olive dress she wore the last time she saw her father, Veatrix’s forehead lined with anxiety. Being a very simple, inconspicuous-looking young woman, Veatrix was constantly pushed by someone else wanting to wave at the passengers. The sturdy passenger ship towered before the crowd of friends and relatives, excited to see their relations off the boat. The noise of hollered greetings, screams of delight from the children to their grandparents and the collective sound of well-meaning camaraderie filled the Scara Brae docks. Feeling claustrophobic, she backed away from the hectic crowd, leaning on a stone wall, watching the ship passengers meet their loved ones.

Veatrix’s chestnut brown eyes caught the sight of her parents almost immediately, both awestruck and looking a little dishevelled from the travel. Carrying one piece of luggage each, Victor Bane looked as much of a regular Joe than ever before, wearing simple pants and a shirt under a brown leather jacket. Cassandra Bane looked more fashionable, shunning her peasant robes for a more sophisticated deep purple dress. They searched the area for any sign of their daughter, but since Veatrix was invisible in the shadows of the stone wall she was leaning on, she would have to be the one to initiate contact. People crowded around the bridge were the passengers climbed off the ship, Veatrix’s parents desperately trying to push their way out of what seemed like an angry mob.

Separating themselves from the crowd like Veatrix, Llewelyn and Lacey ran up to her, sweating mildly from the collection of peoples down by the docks.

“Come on, Veatrix, we have to get your parents!” Llewelyn motioned for her to come with him, to dive back into the claustrophobic group.

“If you don’t, they’ll drown out there,” Lacey joked, pointing at the busy crowd.

Pushing herself off of the stone wall, she sighed heavily. Part of her didn’t want her parents to see her, visit her in her new home. The other part of her wanted to show them how much she’d grown since she left them almost a year ago. Without a choice, she walked up to her now-wandering parents, as they somehow pulled themselves from the huge crowd and were looking very much out of place in the hustle bustle of Scara Brae city.

“Fine.”

Veatrix walked up to where her flabbergasted parents were standing, clutching their luggage apprehensively in their hands, unawares that she was coming over to greet them. Preparing herself for Thayne knew what, she plastered on a faux smile on her fair face.

“Hey.”

Both turning at the same time, Victor and Cassandra Bane both smiled widely, nothing fake about their elation in seeing their daughter almost a year after she left home. Being the emotional adoptive mother she was, Cassandra rushed to her daughter, dark brown hair dancing in the afternoon breeze, and gave her a hug that’ll last a lifetime. Tears of joy trickled down her face, holding on to Veatrix, whose eyes began to well up as well. Victor calmly went up to their embrace, a father’s face beaming down at his daughter. The three of them didn’t say anything, all words came apart at the letters. In the shadows of the stone wall, Lacey and Llewelyn watched.

In between sobs, Cassandra managed to choke out a few words. “I missed you, and I’m so deeply sorry, and I was so worried because the old man in the shack disappeared, and then your father told me about you almost dying, and I told him you had no food, or friends, or clothing, or money, or anything, but he told me you were safe here in Scara Brae, and when we got your letter two weeks ago, I was so excited-“

Victor put a gentle hand on his blubbering wife’s shoulder. “Calm down, dear, we’ll talk about that later…”

Stepping out from the shadows, Llewelyn pushed his son forward and offered a peasant’s hand. “Llewelyn Johns, sir. Pleasure to meet you. This is my son, Lacey.”

Victor took the hand and gave it a good firm shake. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter, it means the world to us.”

“It is no problem! After all, she is part of the family now-“

KABOOM!

[Veatrix]

A large blast of black light exploded near Veatrix and her family, throwing them all to the ground. Dislodged debris from the street showered over the five of them as terror ensued in the Scara Brae docks. Instead of the reassuring sound of warm greetings and hellos, screams of fear and panic erupted into the bright afternoon. The ship’s passengers and their families went into a frenzy, running in every direction to get away from whatever was attacking the city.

Only it wasn’t the city that was being attacked.

Another flare of darkness exploded near them, shaking the very foundations of the city buildings, ruining the cobblestone streets of Scara Brae. Looking up from where the magic was coming from, Veatrix saw a dreadful vision of death, flapping its jade butterfly wings, casting shadows were the sunlight was blocked. In the bright light, all she could see was a man-shape with ominous wings, flapping gently. He was dressed in princely clothing, gleaming armour, she noticed, and in his right hand was a deathly spear, aimed at Veatrix.

“May the will of the great Queen Victoria Diwatah be fulfilled! Die, unworthy!” The figure shouted in Pharotongue, Veatrix understanding every single word, and raised his free hand. Another blast of black magic erupted from his hand, hitting the stones much too close to the young woman’s feet.

Victor and Cassandra Bane scrambled away from the scene, hiding behind the stone walls, watching the scene unfold in the shadows. Lacey and Llewelyn Johns followed them as well, the older of the two pulling Veatrix away from the evil figure. They all scrambled away, helpless from such powerful magic. Screams of terror resounded in the docks as the some of Scara Brae’s authorities came around the corner, pointing their bows at the man aloft.

“Come down, sir, and we won’t shoot!” one of the guards shouted, all authority and courage packed into what would be his last sentence.

The assassin snarled evilly. “Humans! How you defile our Pharoas blood! Take this!”

A sphere of black magic built around the spear’s knife edge, swirling and crackling with unearthly energies. Raising the weapon high in the air, the jade-winged assassin threw it at the offending guard. The enchanted spear pierced through weak chitin armour, bearing into the guard’s flesh and coming out the back of the body. The black magic endowed into the spear worked its deadly charm, searing the guard’s innards until smoke wafted from the sizzling body. The sweet smell of cooked flesh enveloped the air.

Turning back to Veatrix, who was still sitting down on the pavement and reeling from the shock of the guard’s death, the black figure landed gently on the damaged ground. He looked at her vaguely, observing her and the Johns and the Banes. “You understand me, don’t you?” he asked in perfectly accented Pharotongue, not really expecting an answer. “And yet you are an unworthy… how quaint. But I do as the Queen says, so die!”

Another blast of black energies came at the young woman, but instinctively, she reacted with a powerful spell of her own. Drawing her magical energies from deep within her, Veatrix thrust out a brave hand, fingers curling into a claw-like shape.

“Veatrix, look out!” a child’s voice screamed.

“ILLUMINA!”

The magics collided in an ear-splitting bang, combining the assassin’s evil black magic with the powerful white magic Veatrix possessed. For a moment, the spells seemed to be pushing against each other, a magical wrestling match, until both spells dissipated into thin air, turning into light fog. The winged assassin nodded in approval.

“So you aren’t as weak as you look…,” he regarded her curiously. The terrified guards still had their arrows pointed threateningly at him, but the assassin did not seem to notice, or care. “You’re one of the… livelier kills I’ve had. I will enjoy burning your flesh!”

The black magic came at her again, this time looking stronger and fuller than any of the other shots the assassin had made. The spherical darkness rippled as it came speeding at her. Again, she focused her concentration on her spells, sweating gather at her brow and trickling down her olive green dress.

“HIELA!”

Fragile-looking ice dust came pouring out of Veatrix’s palm, covering the area of the dangerous spell. The air around it magically froze and as the dust solidified, the black magic went ice cold, until it was rendered useless. A frozen ball of black magic hung in mid-air for a second, crashing down on to the pavement, shattering into thousands of pieces, dissipating into the air as soon as they hit the ground.

With the advantage in her hands, Veatrix gathered herself to her feet, both fear and resolve painted on her face. Raw energy swirled around her small hands, and the air around the two magicians crackled like it was being cooked. The wind was beginning to pick up, despite the sun still shining brightly in the Scara Brae sky, and the city docks in shambles. Her golden blonde hair danced in the breeze, while the assassin’s shoulder-length chestnut brown hair looked ruffled and alive. His sharp green butterfly wings looked both beautiful and deadly.

Ready to attack, Veatrix took a step to the side, raising her right hand for a spell. The assassin complied by shooting out a black beam of magic. It hit the side of the stone wall, making bits of it fall off, shocking the Banes and the Johns hiding behind it. Evading the shot and stepping quickly to her left, Veatrix broke into a small trot, thrusting her left hand out to the man’s exposed side.

“ILLUMINA!”

The force of the white light threw the jade-winged man off-guard, blasting him away. Far he flew, smashing against some upturned pavement. He groaned, trying to recoil from the spell, but Veatrix’s magic were unprecedentedly powerful. He wasn’t expecting her to be able to put up a fight, let alone blast him away into jagged stone. While he recoiled, hands crunching angrily with black magic, the Scara Brae guards let loose their arrows, pinning his wings to the rocks.

Veatrix broke into a run, away from the deadly assassin, motioning to her family to follow her away from the chaos. Whisking themselves away from the scene, the assassin screamed in primordial anger, letting a simpleton of an unworthy girl slip through his hands. And to think, he was one of the Queen’s Elite, highly trained to do her bidding. Gaining the strength to stand up from the mess, the force of his wings simply plucked the arrows piercing it out. Casting one last black magic spell, more for aesthetic effect than anything, seeing as he missed his target, the jade-winged assassin shot up into the air, disappearing into the clouds.

[Veatrix]

“If any of you need assistance or have other such concerns, please let us know. We’ll have a couple of guards patrolling around your house for the next 48 hours, just to keep things safe. Once we figure who and what is after you, we’ll let you know. As for now, stay inside and keep a low profile. You never know who’s walking around here in Scara Brae.”

The three Scara Brae officials poured out of the very crowded one room floor of Llewelyn Johns’ peasant house, leaving the rest of them to stew over the questioning. Llewelyn ushered the guards out the door, walking out with them to have a few more words of gratitude. Lacey was sunken on the lifeless couch, petting his cat Rupinder, eyes looking both anxious and animated. Victor and Cassandra Bane were sitting across each other on the dinner table, some steaming leftover stew wafting away in front of them, while their daughter sat on the narrow spiral staircase, eyes closed and contemplating.

Why would he want to…? Veatrix’s thoughts trailed away like a lost path in the Brokenthorn Forest. Her mind tampered with the thought of her being so… important that she was worth assassinating. She hadn’t done anything particularly glaring as to encourage the wrath of anybody willing to end her life. Nor had she even encountered anybody of that certain stature. But the jade-winged assassin did refer to her as an “unworthy,” so Veatrix figured that her butterfly elf heritage was the blame. And she did understand the tongue he was speaking, although Thayne knows what it was called. She could only guess what he was, though her instincts screamed that she wasn’t the only butterfly elf alive, contrary to popular belief.

The silence in the kitchen-dining room-living room floor was deafening. The occasional meow from the Rupinder broke the quiet a few times, as well as Llewelyn’s hearty thanks heard from the street. The Banes were too flustered to even eat, as their stew was untouched, delicious as it was. Finally, Llewelyn came back into the house, breaking the ice.

“What a morning,” he said, trying to sound as jovial as possible in the midst of all the sombreness. “You don’t see an angry madman trying to kill us everyday.”

Veatrix chuckled quietly, bouncing off the silence and breaking the tension.

Cassandra made a move for the steaming beef stew served before her, taking in small sips of the hearty soup, while Victor looked apprehensively at Veatrix before turning to his hot food. Trying to shake the feeling that something terrible was to happen, and the tiredness she felt from expending too much magical energy at once, she smiled at him, albeit weakly. Lacey stood up, bored by the grown-up talk happening, and took carried Rupinder in his arms upstairs to his cozy room.

“Veatrix, are you hungry?”

Opening her chestnut eyes and rubbing her long silver eyelashes, she looked up into the warm face of Llewelyn, looking very father-like. He was so close that she could see the creases in his skin, remnants of teenage acne, scars and scratches from many years back. He looked greyer and much older up close. He smiled at her tentatively, and then shifted his eyes towards the dining table, where her parents were busy sipping politely on their spoons. Submitting, she nodded, dragging herself miserably to the table.

Sitting down beside her father, Llewelyn offered her a bowl of beef stew, and sat down beside an uneasy Cassandra. Awkwardly they all glanced at each other, waiting for someone to say something, anything that will break the stagnancy of speech.

“So…,” Llewelyn began, fishing for family-friendly topics to discuss. “…How was your trip?”

“Fine,” Cassandra and Victor said at the same time, looking at each other.

“That’s sounds fantastic. Now, let me just finish up-“ Llewelyn did not even finish the sentence before he stood up and walked away, trying to make himself look busy in the kitchen.

Veatrix had not expected him to chicken out of the conversation that fast, but alas, he had already started preparing for supper, which was conveniently just a couple of hours away. Picking up where he left off, she started another inoffensive table topic. Clearing her throat, Veatrix tried to look at ease, which was not an easy feat.

“How’s the house, Dad?”

“It’s great, I just finished remodelling the shop so more people can have their hair cut, and I also bought a bunch of new cutting equipment-“

“Can we just skip the formalities?”

Cassandra Bane had put down her spoon politely on the table. The motherly tone Veatrix always hated flooded the room. Despite being an adoptive mother, Cassandra had all the guts and more of a biological mother. Luckily for the Johns, they were out of earshot, as the Banes never had the most pleasant of conversations. Aiming for the direst problems as always, not caring for tact or manners, she turned to her daughter, hands clasped.

“Why was he trying to kill you?”

“Way to be polite, Ma-“

“And why did he have wings, aren’t the butterfly elves-“

“Like always, you don’t even care about manners-“

“And where did you learn how to do all those things-“

“Just speaking your mind, even though you should just-“

Victor coughed loudly, getting the two women’s attention. Widening his eyes, like he always did when he wanted to say something but it was too inappropriate to say, he snapped at his wife, fed up with her complaining and continuous bitching.

“We’re in someone else’s house. Can you please leave your attitude at the door?”

He sighed heavily. Dealing with Cassandra was like dealing with a harpy, they were persistent and annoying and loud and most of all, vicious when provoked. But it was not the time for arguments. Veatrix lacked parents, real parents, for almost a year, and it was time to make up for the time they were not there. Petty disputes only got in the way. He turned to his daughter, putting a strong, paternal hand on her shoulder.

“Whoever’s after you won’t get what they want. I don’t care what you did or didn’t do, or who you were with. It might even be a huge misunderstanding, you never know. But if anything, they’ll have to go through me first.”

“And me!” Cassandra piped, not wanting to be left out.

“And let me just say, you’ve gotten bigger.”

[Veatrix]

“You failed me, Adel.”

The Queen’s voice sent shivers down the Elite’s spine, travelling from his ochre skin to deep within the individual scales on his great jade butterfly wings. Adel stood before her grand throne, trying not to shake in her awesome presence. The fountain on the other side of the room flowed with boiling water, hot enough to roast anything that falls in it. In mid-air, the Queen’s hand stirred, making the hot fountain water move magically.

“Yes, my Queen. I am terribly sorry, but she fought back with her magic-“

“Excuses, excuses!” Her furious gaze locked on to Adel’s bowed head. Despite her anger, she remained dangerously calm. “I don’t think you have what it takes to be a Queen’s Elite.”

“No!”

Adel’s head lifted suddenly, meeting his Queen’s almond eyes, framed by black-blue eyelashes. Daring to push his temporary strength even further, he defiantly stood up from his kneeling position.

“No, my Queen. Being an Elite is all I have, and I’ll prove to you that I’m still worthy of being yours.”

“Worthy?”

A chilling laugh erupted from her lips, echoing through the glassy room. The giant chandelier hung above treacherously, shining its crystals on to the rest of the throne room, making it glisten with a light blue hue. The walls looked as if they were made of pure ice, while jewels and precious stones shined from various points in the room. Aside from the fountain and the two butterfly elves, no sound penetrated the place. The Queen’s laugh resounded like a war drum.

“Worthy? I never chose you because you were worthy.”

A look of confusion spread through Adel’s face.

“I only chose you because you were the only one willing to murder his family for me. You were never worthy, but it seems that willingness is not enough...”

Her voice trailed away in thought, a finger to her forehead as she ran through the fatally creative plans she had brewing in her head. Her black wings flapped slowly, unconsciously, over the bejewelled throne, while her deep lavender evening gown glistened in the blue hue of the room. Meanwhile, Adel’s confusion expression swirled into simple and regretful grief, shocked by his Queen’s nonchalant confession and his own murderous actions. No tears fell, and no words were said, because Queen’s Elites were stones, stronger than any other butterfly elves in existence.

With new resolve, Queen Victoria Diwatah flicked her hand, sending magical sparks flying down beside Adel. “I want our Pharoas blood cleansed and having you do it alone will not be enough-“

“But my Queen-“

“And so, I’ve decided to lend you some help.”

Loud buzzing erupted from beside the Elite, making him step back warily. More black magic poured out of the Queen’s fingertips, her face curving into a callous smile. Wisps of darkness, flecked with splashes of yellow, lashed out at Adel, making him step further away. The loud buzzing then began to transform into a distorted humming, very human-like in sound, and finally into a monstrous laugh. Reformed right beside Adel was an old, speckled man, stark naked but looking very strong and confident for a man of his age. The Elite turned a questioning head at the Queen.

“This is my help?”

“Just watch what he can do, Adel.”

The old man extended an arm, testing out his newly-formed joints and muscles. Flexing, his hand unexpectedly shifted and then spread out, turning into thousands of yellow jacket bees. The buzzing insects still kept the general shape of a hand, but a couple of them wandered away, exploring the large throne room. Strange buzzing noises came from the bee-infested mouth of the old man.

“Ze Beekeeper’z back!”

[Veatrix]

Veatrix lazily stared out the window in her small bedroom, watching the bright sun sink deep into the horizon, colouring the sky a beautiful cherry red. The streets were beginning to thin, as people were making their way to their homes, hungry for some supper and quality time with their family and friends. The smell of a baking apple-cinnamon pie, courtesy of Llewelyn who was making dinner downstairs, surrounded the room. Sitting with her chin to her thin knees, the cool covers calmed her body, eventually making it drift in and out of sleep.

Interrupting her musing was Victor Bane, who unceremoniously opened the wooden door, just like the fun-loving father she knew before she moved out of the house. He saw her sitting on the bed alone, so in an attempt to regain the quiet he broke, he closed the door politely, putting a shushing finger to his lips.

“Hey.”

Turning to her father, who was still dressed in his travelling clothes, she smiled weakly.

“Hey.”

Clutching at something behind him, something wrapped in a white cotton cloth, Victor tried to hide it as inconspicuously as he could. Unfortunately for him, the package was half as tall as him, so his attempts at hiding the thing were very slim. Noticing him trying to keep the wrapped parcel out of her sight, she sighed.

“Dad… you know that I can see that giant thing you’re holding behind you, right?”

Feigning shock, Victor brandished the clothed package in front of him, as well as another smaller package she actually didn’t see behind him. “What, these?”

“What is it?”

He threw the smaller parcel on top of the bed, at her feet, where it bounced harmlessly. The larger gift he kept in his hand, balancing on it like a walking stick. Gesturing at the small parcel, he motioned for her to grab it.

“Open it. I think you’ll like it. It’s from your mother.”

Unwrapping the present, Veatrix felt the glossy smoothness of cloth material under her fingertips. Spreading the clothing out, she saw it to be a pair of silky black pants, custom-tailored to fit her size perfectly. There was a white cotton dress shirt to accompany it, looking very expensive, especially with the flowing Victorian design at the ends of the long sleeves. There was also a black hourglass corset, a perfect fashion accessory for the outfit, along with a lavender bead necklace. Finally, a pair of purple ballerina shoes, laced with black lining, peeked at her from under the new clothes.

“We thought you might like to dress up a bit. And we did miss your birthday… so that would be our gift to you.”

Touched by the expensive-looking gifts, Veatrix’s smile widened. “Thank you. It means a lot,” she said. Pointing at the larger parcel, she pushed the clothes aside and asked. “Now, what’s that?”

Victor pulled off the white cover from the package, revealing a majestic one-handed sword, made of steel by the looks of it. It gleamed silver in the dim light that the setting sun provided, and Victor tentatively swished it around in the air before handing it to his daughter. The thin blade had lavender lining on it, providing some well-needed colour, while the sharp end of the sword glared at her dangerously. On the hilt of the sword were two pearl inlays, shining like eyes in their sockets, seemingly put there for decoration. The handle ended as rough leather, excellent for the grip, had Veatrix known how to use a sword.

Dumbstruck, she traced the lavender lining on the sword. “Where… where did you get this?”

Victor shrugged. “Some mercenary came to the shop to get his hair cut and beard shaved. He gave it to me for a job well done. Its name is Gainsborough.”

“Seriously?” Veatrix waved the sword sheepishly, feeling the weight of it straining her right arm. “It looks amazing.”

“And considering the… trouble you’re in, I think the sword might be useful.”

Victor walked over to his daughter and sat on the bed. Looking straight into her silver-framed chestnut brown eyes, he put a warm hand to her paling face.

“You’ll be all right, okay?”

She nodded meekly, her face dropping to the ground. “I know, it’s just-“

A tearing pain erupted from Veatrix’s head, making her hands shoot up to her temple, dropping the sword with a clang on the floor. Tiger claws swiped at her mind, digging through memories and experiences Veatrix tried to keep at bay. Knowing that the mental intrusion had happened before, that morning during breakfast, she tried to fight back. Drawing on all her strength, the young woman tried to expel the attacking force by casting walls on her mind, effectively blocking out the intruder from a couple of things Veatrix wanted to herself.

"VEATRIX!"

By fighting against the offending force, Veatrix unwillingly melded with the intruder’s mind, seeing everything the mental criminal was seeing. Images of jade-wings, a crystal fountain and an icy-blue throne room appeared in her mind, all jumbled and meshing together like paint. She saw the beautifully malevolent face of royalty, a Queen of a nation she knew nothing about, while the assassin that had tried to kill her that afternoon knelt before her throne. The intruder, noticing Veatrix swimming through her thoughts, an unwelcome fish in a sea of sharks, closed off the mental connection. Before everything went black, Veatrix saw the face of an old man she never again wanted to see. A bee escaped from his yellowing mouth.

“They sent a Beekeeper,” she breathed, voice quivering.

[Veatrix]

There’s no way we’re all going to survive, Veatrix thought gravely, clutching her head as visions of the Beekeeper and the jade-winged assassin fast approaching. They’re closing in too quickly.

She was sitting on the lumpy couch in the living room, quietly freaking out in the midst of all the chaos in the Johns’ residence. Cassandra sat arguing with her husband whether or not they should leave, while Victor completely ignored her. He was too busy discussing the situation with Llewelyn, who had worried creases and lines on his usually gentle face. Lacey, unaware of the predicament, was trying to coax the feisty Rupinder from under the oven, as the cat apparently found a tasty mouse to eat.

Why are we even still here? she wondered, looking around. Seeing all the people she cared about fussing over a life-or-death situation and wasting precious time, when they should have been running far, far away, Veatrix’s heart filled with new determination. Standing up from the sunken coach, she spoke in a tone so heavy, everyone’s attention turned to her.

“They’re on their way right now,” she said calm, countering the general panic in the house. “I think we should leave now. Don’t bring anything, just leave.”

All thoughts of dread and fear washed away from their faces, seeing Veatrix take command of the situation like that. All arguments and discussion were unceremoniously tossed aside. As one they nodded, realizing that the young girl of nineteen was completely and utterly right. Lacey shuffled around, also notifying his son of the danger they were in, and gathered a few things to bring. Cassandra and Victor Bane went to conversing among themselves, small whispers of death and butterfly elf myths running from their mouths. Veatrix, feeling both terrified and heartened by the possible death of it all, went back upstairs to her room.

Climbing the narrow steps and opening the wooden door to the bedroom she would never see again, Veatrix sighed. Her silver-framed eyes traced the entirety of the room, seeing its warmth, its hominess and its comfort. The cool night breeze blew from the open window, making the white curtains flutter. The sky was almost dark, the sun barely peeking over the far horizon, and the sounds of bustling people seemed to have died away over an hour before. Walking up to her bed were her new clothes sat quietly, she slowly began putting them on.

Pulling off the slightly dirty peasant shirt she had on, clothes that Llewelyn gave her, Veatrix slipped the silky white dress shirt, fitting her frail body perfectly. The quality of the shirt was beautiful, letting her skin breath and feeling soft to the touch. The long sleeves hung elegantly over her small hands, complete with a pretty lining detail. Buttoning a few of the pearly plastic beads, leaving a small part of the top of the shirt open, she wrapped the hourglass corset around it, tying the knot behind it tightly. The blackness of the corset extenuated what would become her curves, given a little more weight, and was loose enough for proper breathing. Freeing herself of the browning peasant pants and shoes, she slipped on her new black cotton pants and lavender ballerina shoes. Smiling to herself, Veatrix tossed the clothes Llewelyn gave her to the side and looked in the mirror. Looking back at her was a mysterious woman, possessing lush golden blonde locks and strange silver eyelashes. The clothes made the woman look haughtier, fancier, tougher, effectively hiding the scared little girl fearing for her life. Tossing her beautiful mane back, Veatrix grabbed Gainsborough the sword and dragged it downstairs to the one room floor, where everyone oddly had stopped running about.

The moment she stepped out from the narrow staircase and into the light, all eyes fell upon her. The Banes looked proud and scared for their daughter, while the Johns simply looked impressed. None of them had seen Veatrix in that light before, and none of them expected to see her that way. But drastic situations call for drastic measures, and a physical facelift was merely a confidence booster. The Veatrix, the half-butterfly elf, the one defiling the blood of the Pharoas and going against the wishes of a brutal Queen ruling a nation of mythical elves, didn’t feel confident.

“I don’t even know how to use this thing,” she explained, waving the sword weakly and feeling substantially stupid. Her eyes stared at her family longingly, wishing that she just be saved like the princess she used to be. But things were different. Things were more… life-threatening.

Until Veatrix noticed that nothing had been packed. The food was still set out on the table, Lacey had Rupinder in his hands, but was comfortably sitting on the lumpy couch. Cassandra and Victor were standing by each other, doing nothing, while Llewelyn fidgeted about, looking awkward and overrun.

“We’ve been… talking, Veatrix,” Victor began calmly, approaching her one step at a time. “We think that… staying here is the best course of action.”

He smiled half-heartedly, firmly grasping his daughter’s shoulders.

“For now.”

Dumbstruck, Veatrix forcibly pulled away from his hold. The tip of Gainsborough dragged across the cement floor, making a noticeable silver scrape. Nobody in the small room seemed to notice, as all of them looked at her with pity and concern, except Llewelyn, who tried to get her attention with badly-executed shifty eyes. Anger and annoyance painted across her young face as she searched for a face that believed the vision she had. Well… not really a vision. More like a mental image.

“What?”

“We think that…,” he said slowly, as if the words had to be run through corrections in his brain before reaching the mouth. “You must be tired, and it’s not your fault, but we’re in no immediate danger-“

“What?!”

“And that the best course of action is to stay here-“

“No! No, Dad! I’m sure of this! Why would I lie about this?”

Victor raised his hands submissively, while Cassandra stepped forward, her attempt at calming her adoptive daughter down. Lacey had his eyes pasted on Rupinder, not wanting to interfere.

“Look, Veatrix,” Cassandra cooed.

“No, Ma! If we stay here, we die! It’s happened before, just ask Llewelyn!” Putting the warm housekeeper on the spot, knowing that he didn’t appeal to the spotlight very well, she pointed at him. Llewelyn seemed to be shrinking in the shadows, but even Lacey’s eyes went to the shy form of his father.”

“I did try to tell them…,” he explained, fingers fumbling over each other. “But they insisted on staying… and there are guards outside…”

Raising an angry hand, Veatrix swore, the first time she’d ever uttered a curse word in front of her parents, and one of the few times she ever actually did something so unpleasant.

“Fuc-“

Suddenly, a loud buzzing noise emanated from the upstairs bedrooms, loud enough for all of the people downstairs to hear. At first, Llewelyn thought it was the oven again, malfunctioning even though he just had it fixed a couple months back, but then the sound grew louder and more threatening. Veatrix’s eyes widened, the scent of fear covering her whole body, making her twitch and shiver. In the midst of all the buzzing came an evil laugh and a heavily accented Pharotongue only Veatrix understood, a sinister set of insectoid hisses to all the others.

“ZOMEBODY LEFT ZE WINDOWZ OPEN!”

[Veatrix]

A huge horde of over a thousand bees came swarming down from the second floor, flying down the narrow spiral staircase. The loud buzzing filled the house with noise, leaving no room for audible screaming. When the yellow-black bees reformed into physical shape, the naked figure of an old man stood in the kitchen, patches of dead skin and a disgusting insect-infested mouth for all to see.

“Let me tazte your bloodz, little girl!” he hissed.

The moment the sound of bees registered in Veatrix’s head, her mind went on overdrive. Instinctively, she led everyone out there door, compelled by the fearsome proclamation and the malevolent laugh from the upstairs bedrooms. Llewelyn gathered Lacey up, who had Rupinder in his arms, as they both hurried out the front door. Victor and Veatrix ran out, followed by a deathly afraid Cassandra, running outside into the cool of the night.

Outside, the guards the Scara Brae authorities had set to protect them looked scared and weak – they were probably new, as one of them carried his sword around like he just learnt how to use the thing. In truth, the government did not expect an attack only hours after the first one, thus they sent a few of their newer guards to patrol the Johns’ residential area. Unfortunately for them, the Scara Brae government was dead wrong. The night sky was dark, no surprise that the Beekeeper had gone unnoticed, and everything seemed peaceful, but inside, the chaos had only just begun.

“An attack!” Veatrix shouted at one of the guards, pointing frantically to the house. “There’s an attack, you have to help us!”

“An a-attack inside?!” he replied, his face betraying himself that he did not look ready for any kind of attack.

“Get inside!”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

Carrying a rucksack with her spellbook and water satchel inside, and pointing Gainsborough away, Veatrix ran. Victor carried nothing on him, because admittedly, he didn’t have much to carry. Lacey held the mewling Rupinder in his arms, while Llewelyn had a fully packed backpack, making quite a bit of noise as they pounded through the pavement of the Scara Brae streets.

Veatrix, Victor and Llewelyn ran away as fast as they could, with Lacey leading the way, as he turned short corners and steep alleyways. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and finding a way to escape from enemies was a speciality of his, although airborne human-insect creatures weren’t usually the enemies he was running away from. Nevertheless, Lacey twisted and turned, while the three of them followed, unaware that Cassandra was not with them. After ten minutes of exhaustive running, Veatrix’s head shot backwards, her ears picking up a loud scream of her name.

Then she realized that her mother was not there.

“This way!” Lacey motioned for a small pathway, the end of it shadowed in darkness, leading to Thayne knows where.

Panicking, Veatrix swore again. “Dad, we left Mama!” she said hysterically, swivelling around to go back to the overrun house. The thought of her mother, adoptive or not, flashed through her head as she bided her speed into bursting back the way they came.

Reaching out, Victor grabbed her shoulder firmly. “She’s fine! The guards are with her!” His face seemed relaxed, almost unconcerned, but his eyes betrayed his inner emotions. He was torn.

“But we have to go back!” she protested, pulling on her father’s sleeve.

“She’ll be fine! We can’t go back now, or that thing’ll kill us!”

Lacey waved a hand at them, motioning for them follow him quickly. “Come on, he’s gonna catch up with us!”

Overwhelmed by everyone else’s reasoning, she followed them swiftly into the dark tunnel, disappearing into the shadows. The sound of feet, jangling cooking ware and irritated meowing echoed through the tunnel. Veatrix’s mind filled with grief and anxiety, because she knew that the Beekeeper was ruthless. She faced one before and she barely came out alive, and she didn’t even kill it. Stomach tied in knots, her feet kept running, all the while she felt like she made the wrong decision.

Back in the house, seeing a golden opportunity, the Beekeeper rushed forward, body parts sliding in and out of humanly form. A rush of bees snapped forward like a whip, aiming for Cassandra Bane’s back. His aim was true, bringing down the simple-looking woman down in one hit. A loud scream erupted from her mouth as she fell to the floor, not even reaching the doorway, before the demonic insect-human hybrid came upon her. He bared his yellowing teeth as bees escaped from his lungs, flying out of his mouth and falling in line with the other writhing insects in his arms.

“VEATRIX!!!”

“I’ze show the little girl who zhe’z dealing with!”

Raising a hand, the Beekeeper mentally ordered all the bees in the hand to attack. Attack to kill, to poison, to end this screaming woman’s life. The hand came apart, separating itself into over a hundred small bees, all bearing this stingers and dripping green venom. Cassandra was forcibly held down by the Beekeeper’s other hand and knee, as he was kneeling on her back, breathing down her neck while insect grazed her paling skin. Unable to stand, she tried wrestling him off her, but it was no use. The bees, stingers bared, came down quickly, over a hundred of them burying their needles into Cassandra’s back.

At first, the sensation of the poison seemed like a misty haze, with everything going blurry and slow. The painful prickling of hundreds of stingers on her back then made themselves known, as the agony exploded. The pain transformed into a steady ache, a stabbing feeling deep within her heart as the poison travelled across her body, infecting and disrupting all the systems it could. The acidic properties of the poison began burning Cassandra’s viscera from the inside, as her body quickly shut down. The last thing she knew was the sound of her daughter’s voice calling out.

For Cassandra, everything turned back to black.

[Veatrix]

Veatrix, Victor, Lacey and Llewelyn dashed through the stone streets of Scara Brae, shadows running through the night. The night was dark and the air was biting cold, and very few people roamed the streets. Seemed like everyone was already fast asleep, because Veatrix, from all the running, lost track of time over an hour ago. Faraway were the sounds of battle, clanging of swords and magic, and the occasional but unmistakable laughter of the Beekeeper. From where the foursome was, things did not bode well for Cassandra, who was tragically left behind in the skirmish. Despite the jarring noise made by hard battle, they ran, searching for some temporary shelter until morning, when they can board a boat out of the city.

“We have to find a place to stay!” huffed Llewelyn, who still had his large backpack of miscellaneous household items.

“Hurry, this way!” Lacey waved a hand for them to follow, through anther vile-smelling alley, in hopes that they would come out to a safe haven for the night.

As they rushed away, a dark winged figure flew through the dark night sky, almost invisible by the lack of substantial light. Strong butterfly wings flapped vigorously, hastily catching up to the escaping foursome. The figure carried a long spear, almost as tall as the man himself, clutching it tightly with both hands as his wings took him above the group. A shadow passed over them, and soon enough, they noticed that unfortunately, there were not alone.

Swooping down from above, the man landed gracefully in the alleyway, sharp jade wings folded over his back. He brandished the spear, pointing it violently at them, snarling. Llewelyn and Lacey stepped back fearfully, their run abruptly stopped by the appearance of that morning’s jade-winged assassin. Veatrix and Victor both fell, tripping over some stray garbage someone didn’t bother throwing into the trash can. Falling to the damp floor, the young woman inched away, unsure of what to do.

“You die now, unworthy!” The assassin lunged forward; spear at the ready, as he spoke in perfectly accented Pharotongue.

Moving quickly, Victor Bane rushed forward from his fall, grabbing the spear by the hilt and tilting it upwards. The assassin, startled by the sudden counterattack, hissed menacingly, spittle flying from his mouth in abandon. The two men fought, human strength against Pharoas strength, fighting for physical control over the spear. Victor closed his hands on the wood tightly, determined not to let go, while the assassin tried to push him away. Locked in a fierce embrace, Victor shouted at the three of them.

“GO! I’ll hold him off!”

“No!” Veatrix stood up, holding Gainsborough threateningly, although her idea of using the sword leaned more of random swishing than skilled battle. “I’m not leaving you!”

Turning to the cowering Johns, she beckoned them to go. “Find a boat out of Scara Brae, I’ll meet you at the docks!”

With resolve, the father and son fled from the scene, both nodding at Veatrix before they left. The mewling Rupinder scratched pointlessly at Lacey as they dashed away in the opposite direction. Llewelyn’s noisy backpack jangled in the night, as the sound of footsteps gradually faded away.

“Your friends have left you, unworthy,” the assassin breathed, snatching his dangerous-looking spear forcibly out of Victor’s grip. He fell back to the ground, overcome by the Pharoas strength. Charging forward, he screamed. “You are alone now!”

Her hand jutting forward like a tsunami, Veatrix gathered the last remnants of her magical energies, as most of it had been spent from the incident that morning. Drawing on the raw power stored within her body, hidden deep inside her subconscious mind, ice magic began emanating from her fingers. Ice blue dust fell from her hands, and pointing to the ground, she called out the spell.

“HIELA!”

The ice dust falling from her hands shot out to the stone ground of the alleyway. The second they hit the floor, the path the assassin was standing began turning cold, freezing so fast that he didn’t have time to correct his body stance. Still running, the assassin slipped on the freezing cold ice that covered the ground, a clear blue slate of frozen water under his leather boots. Loosing his balance, the assassin toppled over clumsily, the spear stabbing the ice violently as he fell.

Time was all she needed, as Veatrix pulled her father away and began to run the direction Lacey and Llewelyn went. But the assassin wasn’t that easily distracted, because just a few seconds after, he had already gathered his bearings, standing up strong and stepping out of the slate of ice. Pulling out the spear stabbing the blue ice, he raised a hand, crackling with black magic.

He drew upon the energies within him, calling upon the black magic bestowed upon him by the Queen, as a dark lightning bolt struck Veatrix in the back, sending her flying. The shock of it all made Victor let go of his daughter, standing bewildered at the powerful magic the assassin used. Veatrix was on the floor, gasping for breath as volts of magical electricity surged through her. Fortunately for the young woman, the spell wasn’t meant to kill, but to disable.

“I’ve got you now!”

Leaning against a wall, electricity still pumping through her veins like a battery, she raised Gainsborough weakly, awkwardly, as a last resort to protect herself from the assassin’s charge. Lunging and spear ready to strike, he drove his deadly weapon down, aiming for Veatrix’s heart. Steel passed through flesh and bone, destroying lungs and poking the heart, until the assassin realized it was not Veatrix he stabbed.

Standing before him was Victor, spear jutting out from his back, blood trickling down the side of his mouth. “Get away from my daughter…,” he managed to whisper, blood bubbling to his mouth.

Mouth agape and mind racing, Veatrix sat there, still. Her mind didn’t register what just happened. Her mind completely shut down.

The stabbing pain erupted in his chest as the spear pierced his heart. His lungs collapsed, drowned by the flowing of red blood inside, and his breath became shallower and shallower. Weakly, he clutched at the weapon, holding it still inside him, as he looked the assassin in the eyes. The eyes were the window to the soul, and Victor saw a piece of a tortured soul, one maddened by circumstance and blind loyalty.

It was the last thing he saw before everything turned back to black.

Pulling the spear forcefully out of the simple man’s body, the assassin observed the weapon, dripping red human blood. Scarlet ooze covered the steel point like a blanket, flowing down to the wooden portion of the weapon. Turning his eyes to the disbelieving Veatrix, he smiled malignantly, sadism and bloodlust charging his body.

“No one to protect you, silly little girl.”

“No…,” she whispered, unconsciously slipping into Pharotongue. Rage and astonishment seethed through her body, seeing her father murdered so unceremoniously. She wanted to stand up, fight, kill, destroy. She wanted to end this assassin’s life, and exterminate the Beekeeper that wrecked the home of her foster family. She wanted to burn whoever was causing her all this grief.

But all she could do was sit there, motionless, gaping at the bloody corpse of Victor Bane, her father.

Slowly approaching, the jade-winged assassin wielded his bloody spear with the pride of the kill, ready for more blood to be shed, in the name of the Queen of the Pharoas.

Veatrix feebly lifted her sword, pointing the sharp tip at the assassin.

He rushed forward, spreading his wings dramatically as he dove in for the kill, an owl ready to devour its mouse. Hovering, he again brought the bleeding spear down.

Gainsborough aimed straight at the assassin, held together but two quivering hands. Instinctively, Veatrix whispered, not so much in defense, but as her last resort to life. “Illumina.”

A bright white light travelled from Veatrix’s hands, through Gainsborough, and out the tip of the sword, creating a sharp blast of energy unexpectedly aimed at the diving assassin’s chest. Energy surged out of the metallic weapon, shaping the spell like the sword. Raw power extended out of the weapon, jabbing at the assassin’s chest while he hovered in mid-air.

The moment it pierced his body, a searing pain exploded from the point of contact. It felt like a millions branding irons stabbing him all at once, intense heat so bright it was like seeing the sun in close contact. The pain was so great that the assassin dropped to the ground, spear tossed aside near one the garbage cans, clutching at the spreading fiery agony in his chest. The assassin screamed and hollered, shadowing the sounds of battle still resounding from the direction of the overrun Johns’ residence. Writhing on the floor, he screamed for his Queen, until the body stopped moving completely. The smell of charred flesh lingered on the in alleyway, covering the scent of urine and dank rotten food, a sweet aroma that would have set Rupinder the cat’s sense on fire.

And in the midst of it all was Veatrix, still sitting in the same position, eyes glued to her dead father. Gainsborough still pointed to where the assassin’s body was, flashing bright with the power of the spell emanating from the weapon.

“No,” came her whispered hiss, barely audible, but there, in the darkness and tragedy of the Scara Brae night. It was there.

[Veatrix]

It was a long walk.

Step after step.

There was no pride in her stride, no happiness, no life.

Oddly enough, there was no sadness, either. No anger, no sorrow of death.

The Scara Brae night was dark, darker than it had been before, presumably because midnight had come upon the land like a mischievous thief. The air was cool, calm, light and slightly jolting to the skin, and the sounds of battle had died down a while back. Veatrix wasn’t sure of what happened at the Johns’ residence, not did she want to know, because she was too afraid to go back. She didn’t know what she would have seen, especially since she had seen so much that night.

One thing was certain – she was sure in her heart that Cassandra Bane did not survive.

She lost track of time, sitting there in front of the bleeding corpse of Victor Bane and the shocked expression pasted upon the motionless face of the jade-winged assassin. It might have been just a few minutes of her looking into the soulless eyes of the dead bodies, or it might have been a couple of hours. The sweet smell of cooked flesh sung beneath her nose, a scent she would never forget, though she desperately wanted it erased from memory.

Carrying her small rucksack and dragging Gainsborough aimlessly across the Scara Brae streets, the tip of the steel sword scarring the stone pavement, she walked towards the docks. Llewelyn and Lacey would be there, the two of what was left of her family. Eyes wide and mouth hanging agape, she passed through quiet houses and manors, populated by families sleeping the night away, their recharge for a better tomorrow.

For so long, she had been running, almost a year. To be perfectly honest, she did not know who or what she was running from. Herself? Her past? Her heritage? Nothing seemed to make sense in her mind, as her thoughts always trailed away and ended back to the gentle, still face of her father. At first, she thought she was running from persecution at the hands of her own parents, of her the prejudiced town she grew up in. She thought she was running from a terrible life. Arriving at Scara Brae only added to the grief, with images of violence and suicide, the death of her parents and the forced uprooting of her foster family.

Llewelyn and Lacey did not deserve any of this.

Turning a corner, Veatrix saw the docks, where a small passenger ship was lighted up and docked, ready to depart at the captain’s command. The docks spread out across the edge of the city, covering most of the expanse of the area like a blanket from the ocean. The sea breeze blew gently and the sound of kind waves lapped at Veatrix’s ears, bringing her back to reality. Thoughts temporarily shaken away, she saw the father and son duo running towards her, haggard and worried.

“Where’s Victor?”

“And Cassandra?

“What happened back there?”

“The guards were saying the creature just flew away.”

“I heard a scream, and then I saw a fire come from the house…”

So they set the house on fire, she thought gravely, concluding that her mother’s body must be burning up in the flames of the Johns’ residence ruins. She looked at the two, no emotions in her chestnut brown eyes, and everything that needed to be said was said. The Johns were not as stupid just because they were simple peasants, and they knew the meaning of a painful gaze when they saw it. Veatrix shook her head slowly, further acknowledging the death of her parents. Boarding the boat without a word, she stood on the deck alone, looking out to sea.

“But we have to go see if they’re okay, they might still be…,” Llewelyn’s sentence trailed off, after Veatrix gave him a paralyzing stare, filled with pain that she would rather not communicate. Seeing that there was nothing left to do, Llewelyn placed a fatherly hand on the back of Veatrix’s head. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he whispered hopelessly.

Lacey stood beside the young woman, silent and still as his foster sister. The boat began move away from the dock after the captain hollered at his crew to set sail. An anchor lifted by the side of the ship, and it picked up speed, ready to make the journey from one continent to another. The smell of the ocean attacked Veatrix’s sense, but she refused to be moved, let alone be talked to. Putting a small hand on hers, Lacey spoke in hushed tones, trying to sound as devastated as she felt.

“The boat goes to Radasanth, in Corone. We’ll find a home there.”

I hope so, Lacey. I hope so.

[Veatrix]

The icy blueness of the room hummed, casting an eerie glow on all surfaces in the light, and keeping all the shadows at bay. Nobody could hide in the throne room, because the Queen always wanted to be able to see who was there. The giant chandelier hung dangerously atop the bejewelled throne, as the fountain parallel to the Queen’s seat flowed with crystal clear water. Everything seemed to echo in the throne room, as the buzzing of the Beekeeper resonated and filled the place with a creepy atmosphere. Everything looked and felt icy cold, but the Queen’s eyes pierced at the old man’s figure, standing before her with misguided satisfaction.

The Beekeeper felt like a child presenting a gorgeous gift to his mother, bees buzzing proudly. A smile crossed the old man’s face, the yellow-black insect crawling dubiously in and out of his stained mouth. He killed the little girl’s mother and burned her house down. He also led her to leave Scara Brae, which he assumed would be just as good as killing her. That must have counted for something, but the loss of Adel, the Queen’s Elite assassin, was a shame. Though, the death of others never really was a concern for the Beekeeper.

“I’ze done it, my Queen,” the Beekeeper said in heavily accented Pharotongue, bowing in exultation. “Ze little girl haz left ze city, zhe iz az good az dead.”

“You’ve done it?” she replied, her voice dripping poison that caught the Beekeeper off guard. He expected to be praised and blessed for his endeavours, not talked down upon.

“Yez, my Queen. Ze girl-“

“I wanted her dead!”

Queen Victoria Diwatah, the goddess and ruler of all the Pharoas in Althanas, stood up from her throne, her deep lavender gown shining in the icy light of the jewelled throne room. Her voice echoed, so powerful and imposing that the old man, not one for being afraid, cowered in fear. Her almond-shaped eyes, framed by long black eyelashes, glared at the Beekeeper, silver hair and black butterfly wings fluttering menacingly. Black energy crackled from her fingertips as she stood, filled with dissatisfaction.

“The girl muddles the Pharoas blood! My blood!”

The Beekeeper took a step back, noticing the black magic jutting out of her, desperate for release. Though the room was still and quite, mystic winds began picking up, sending a few of the Beekeeper’s stray yellow-black insect away, sucked in my a small tornado that was forming near the base of the jewelled throne. The fountain across the room bubbled with boiling water, a sure sign of the Queen’s anger.

“No unworthies are allowed to live while I am Queen,” she explained, voice seething with blind lust for racial cleansing. “I’ve had so many of them put to death – stoned, hanged, lynched, burned beneath the trees! This one was a simple girl and you could not even catch her! And you made me lose one of my most loyal servants… Adel was so blind for me."

The Beekeeper breathed, scared for his life. “I’ze terribly zorry, my Queen! If you’ze could juzt locate her again-“

“I cannot locate her again! She’s too far… my reach only extends to Scara Brae, for now, at least.”

“Zen I will findz her! I will bring you’ze her head!” The Beekeeper kneeled before the towering visage of the Queen, mighty and mystical and magical in all her glory. A second chance was just what he needed to redeem himself, and bringing the Queen the little girl’s head would be the greatest prize of all. Plus, the Beekeeper would be able to snack on delicious half-Pharoas blood. Something he’d been craving for a very long time.

“No,” the Queen replied nonchalantly.

With a twitch of her hand, a ray of black magic burst from her hands like evil lightning, sizzling the figure of the old man. A loud scream and unearthly buzzing erupted from the burning Beekeeper, a sound so infinitely unbearable that even the toughest warriors would have to cover their ears not to hear. But the Queen of the Pharoas just blinked, channelling her magic into her dying servant’s flaming body. Charred bees fell to the floor, while cooked ooze bubbled on the glassy throne room floor. With one final zap, the Beekeeper was gone, simply exterminated.

“I think you’ze done enough.”

[Veatrix]

Everything was watery, blurred, like looking into the ocean with your eyes open.

Seemingly random images danced everywhere – Rupinder the cat when she ate the mushroom that made her gigantic, Lacey having a temper tantrum alone in an alley, flapping jade wings and black magic, Llewelyn cooking his hearty stew, hugging her parents when they first arrived at Scara Brae, the image of her lifeless and bleeding father lying beside a charred butterfly elf assassin. Things seemed to mesh together, black ink mixing slowly in mixing in cold water.

She was standing naked on solid gusting air, surrounded by a darkness so pure and unadulterated that a blue sheen caressed the black. She could not even see her own hand, let alone the rest of her body. There was no sound, no wind, no heat, no coldness in the darkness. Blind, she reached out for something, anything to hold on to. A bar, a railing, some kind of person, but in the darkness, there was nothing. In the darkness, it was just a void.

For Veatrix Bane, an unworthy and a murderess in the eyes of the Pharoas Queen, everything went back to black.

Her heart began beating faster, as she tried to feel her way through the black. Taking a step forward, and another step, she never seemed to make progress. Lonely and panicked, she whimpered, unsure of what to do.

“Hello…?”

She spoke in Pharotongue, slightly accented but perfectly understandable. But it could be a possible philosophical debate whether what she said was understandable, since there was absolutely nobody there to understand (or misunderstand) the words she uttered.

“Is anybody even out here?”

Suddenly, the darkness was broken. A faint gleam of crystalline light shone in the far distance, seemingly calling her name. Tentatively taking a step, realizing that the air really as solid enough, she walked quickly towards the light. Her heart beat even faster, knowing that the light bore company she long desired, knowing that the light would give her reprieve. An immense feeling of desire came upon her, washing over her like a shower, cleansing her of anything else. As she approached the light, she reached out for it, a crystal ball floating in mid-air. Her hands grabbed for the brightness, feeling it to be warm and natural, a bridge from the place of darkness to harsh reality.

The light beckoned her even closer, and kneeling down before the crystal ball, explosive pain erupted from her shoulder blades, travelling along over the expanse of her naked back. She felt like giant spikes were being pulled out of her back, desperate to be freed from hiding within her pale skin. A scream echoed in the darkness, a chaotic shriek of desperation, to be liberated from the pain bursting from her back. Her skin stretched out agonizingly, as two entities grew out of her back, unfurling themselves like creatures destined to fly. The light engulfed her nude body, warming her but not forgiving the pain, as two crystal clear wings, glowing in the black and adorned with beautiful unearthly patterns opened out.

fin.

((SPOILS: The new set of clothing - black corset, white cotton dress shirt, black cotton dress pants, lavender-black ballerina shoes, Gainsborough - a steel short sword embedded with two pearl inlays (no magical properties), Crystal clear glowing wings with alien patterns and designs))

[Skie and Avery]

Quest Judging
The Pharoas

Minimum commentary, as requested.

STORY

Continuity ~ 3/10. Nothing in her past was explained clearly, and there were times when you said things that directly went against what you'd said before. You mentioned persecution at the hands of her parents, but then painted a picture of love and affection from them. You referred to her as a halfbreed, and that she had a little knowledge (as much as a name) for the Butterfly Elves, but then there was a lot of confusion there. You did say her mother was adopted, but wouldn't her father know a thing or two about them? If there are reasons all this is so, you didn't tell me them.
Setting ~ 5/10.
Pacing ~ 7/10.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 6/10. For some strange reason, I can tell the good guys from the bad just by their dialogue. Good guys, believable. Bad guys, hokey.
Action ~ 7/10.
Persona ~ 6/10.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 7/10. I like your use of simile and metaphor in here. If you can work on getting your sentence flow smoother and a little more sophisticated, I can see you getting tens in this category in the future.
Mechanics ~ 6/10. Problems here didn't crop up too often, but often enough to disrupt the flow of reading. Mostly little things, like improper word usage, tense changes, and other small grammar mistakes. Just keep a good eye out when proofreading and you could eliminate these.
Clarity ~ 9/10.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 8/10.

TOTAL ~ 65/100.

Veatrix gains 1628 EXP and 195 GP
Veatrix also gains spoils requested. Keep in mind that just because you have wings, it doesn't mean you can fly. Flight is an ability that must be cleared through the ROG via character update before you may begin to use it in threads.

[Zook Murnig]

EXP/GP ADDED!