Chapter 9: Destiny

A haunted silence filled the hall leading to Naia's chambers before the two large doors split open. Noctavion and Fatalis followed the short corridor, which another great door awaited them. It opened, releasing a sudden whiff of blood and a sight to behold.

Naia was feasting. Again.

Noctavion assumed Zamson's blood sufficed her cravings. It dawned upon him that Naia has been trapped in that vault for an uncountable amount of years. One feast was not enough. The blood dolls, humans who served the vampyrial appetite, laid drained from their essence, slumped over a succulent pile of flesh, drained blood dolls at Naia's feet.

The only hints of life other than the dolls' struggling heartbeats tuning into Fatalis and Noctavion's ears were the faint moans escaping their lust-spent mouths.

Zamson nodded for Fatalis to leave. Fatalis silently shut the door. Noctavion noticed the table of clothes untouched. The primal preferred to dine in the nude, feasting for quite a while. Noctavion expected Naia's session to be far more horrendous than predicted.

Naia had two dolls in her greedy hands. She couldn't decide which one tasted the best. The slim-thick one with the light-honey skin pleased her well, but the darker, thicker doll gave her bloody sweet tooth a flavored kick. She fed on the darker girl's neck, then feasted on the other. Both whimpered and bled. Fondled and devoured in the most carnal of bestial manner until the more petite doll started to twitch, and Naia carelessly released her.

The slender doll collapsed at Naia's feet; the thicker, darker one was taken into Naia's full embrace. She squeezed the doll's fat ass cheek; sweet red lines dripped from her claws. The same blood trails flowed from the doll's consumed neck, trailing over every curve.

She devoured the doll to the brink of oblivion, releasing the woman once that deathly edge was reached. The blood doll completed the pile. Satisfied, her purr was a pleasant growl. If Noctavion was weak, he'd tremble at the terrible sight.

Naia licked her claw clean. Each bloody finger and nail glistened. "The savages have evolved."

Her words, Naia's words, hit Noctavion's ears like an ancestral authority returning to re-educate him. If not for the will of the Bloodmother, Naia's displeasure would be lost to the prick of his ears. The language of the primals spoke only to those that are chosen.

"Their evolution benefits our nature." He rested his hands behind his back. A perfect posture for one of nobility. "Are you not impressed?"

Naia inspected her nails. A single speck of blood caught her strange, haunting cat-eyes. She quickly licked. Then a lite moan followed. Noctavion waited. Was she to answer him or let the question dangle in the dark? She reserved that bit of sense for herself.

Her feelings on the humans' evolution. The pillars of city light had taken her attention, skyscrapers filled with humans and darkbloods pretending to be human.

She silently abandoned the question for a new one. Perhaps Noctavion was wise enough to enlighten her. For his sake. She had no quarrels biting his throat, too. "This world. What has become of it?"

"When the primals returned to silence, and the corpses of darkblood and humans fertilized the war-torn earth, unions were forged upon new soil. In time, the carnage ceased before more blood could be spilled. It was the pacifists' path to better days... and nights. To coexist with the mortals in response to the unending chaos formerly intended to destroy us all."

She finally turned to him, eying his timed yet elegant descent into a kneel, staring at pools of blood, the pile of bodies fidgeting at her feet. "And how is that working for you?"

Noctavion looked up at her. A brave flash of ambition sparkled his eyes. "That's why you're here—"

Naia stepped forward. "Really?"

He dropped his eyes to her feet again. Stunned. He hurried to respond. Her cold nature was an enemy to ambition, but it was not going to defeat him. Wet steps alerted her approach. "You are the daughter of blood and fury, closest child of the goddess of the same name—"

She finally stood over him. "I know."

Of course, she knew. Noctavion got to the point fast. It was dangerous to remain in the shadow of a powerful ancient whose trust was not secured. "As primal, you hold dominion over the vampyrial brood. Every fang from here to the realms beyond the wastes will heed your call. In fact, the moment you drew your first, raw breath into this new world, we felt it. A shift in the winds. A ripple through the dark. When you have consumed all there is to know of this current era, we will be waiting for your command."

"Is that so?" Her eyes thinned at him. The glare was quite unpleasant. How her claws flexed as if provoked to slaughter was even more threatening. "Disturbing my slumber to correct your failures?"

"No." His brow furrowed. If he was distressed, it wasn't because of her. "Not mine. You were to remain in the darkest shadows, to be forgotten. Forsaken. Never to surface. To abandon your right in the governing of their careless reign. I have traveled the far corners of the planet to change that, seeking to unearth your tomb from those shadows. Now, that ambition has been met. Naturally, I confess that I am not efficient in turning the tide."

"Your kind failed like the rest. Like the humans." She left Noctavion to kneel. Red footprints leaving behind perfect steps at her wake. The news on television gained her sight now. Noctavion was not out of the predicament yet.

Men, human men, savages in suits pretending to be important, struggling to overpower another. Politics. Pity filled her from within. "I see that their savage males assume themselves superior."

"The females have gained such beliefs, as well," he added. "They, too, fight to claim themselves as equals. Their society, governments, religions. Quite fascinating."

"They do not know what created them." She paused. "What created us."

Noctavion nodded. "If only they knew."

"They will."

"Thus is why my place is at your feet."

If Lady Countessa could see him now, groveling before another in the comfort of his own domain. In that case, she'd try her hand at scolding him to reason, to quit his ambition and let the primal do as she wished. It was too late to turn back. Noctavion still lived to see another minute, as well.

There will be no snapping of his neck or removal of limbs this night.

For now.

"You have done well to recover me." She turned from the television to find her eyes drawn to the city beyond the wall of glass. "I'll see to it that your exploits are worthy of reward."

Noctavion eyed the back of her bare heels. "The only reward I require is reverence."

"So be it," she said to him. A sign of things to come. "I will bring this new world to its knees and exterminate every lord that refuses me. But know this..." She looked over her shoulder at him, still kneeling, like the obedient vampyrial thrall he was. As soon as her lips moved, she was no longer speaking the primal tongue. Her English was amazingly fluent. "When the seeds of my ambitions bear fruit, and the soul of your submission crumbles. It will be your destiny to embrace your death. Wailing in agony as I peel the meat off your bones."

Noctavion drew a calm breath and respectfully closed his eyes. "And so it shall be."