“You forget, Druid, there is still a price for calling on us,” the redhead replied, her voice tinged with amusement. My body felt cold all of a sudden. The request sounded like a threat. I had thought the price had already been paid with the Druid carving runes onto his body…would the Daughters now demand something of him too? I glanced over at Draven. The muscle in his jaw flickered, but he remained silent.
What price?
Serena
Despite Draven’s warnings, I wanted to say something to the Daughters, to know what price they felt he should pay. They had been next to useless—why would he have to give them anything?
“You have offered us nothing,” Draven spat, clearly unable to hold his tongue any more than I could.
“You knew there would be a cost,” the redhead replied. I felt Draven starting to tremble next to me. I knew it was through rage, not fear, and I worried about what he would do next. I didn’t want him to incur their wrath any further than we already had done, and mentally begged for him to stay silent.
Draven didn’t reply, and the Daughters stood there in silence, watching him. I glanced over at the others—none of them had taken their eyes off the Daughters, it was Bijarki alone who steadfastly looked at the floor. His fists were balled at his sides, his usually handsome face distorted by an expression of blind fury—or dread, I couldn’t tell which.
The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Were they deliberating the price? Using a form of telepathy to confer amongst themselves? Or was it the redhead who would make the decision? I started to think that perhaps the price wasn’t going to be too severe. Draven had mentioned the last Daughter he still guarded—well, looking after an object didn’t seem that high a price to pay, even if the Daughters had been useless. I tried to focus on relaxing my muscles, trying to breathe and calm myself before I snapped.
“Payment has been decided,” the redhead intoned, breaking the silence. I exhaled, relieved that the wait was over. “Considering that your actions were for a greater cause than your own selfish end, and for the good of Eritopia, we have decided to take a temporary gift—to be returned to you once we consider your debt to be repaid.”
I looked over at Draven in relief. Surely this was good news? But the Druid hadn’t moved, his steely gray eyes watching them carefully. He made no indication that he was relieved to hear about the temporary payment.
“Druid,” the redhead continued, “you rely so heavily on the visions of those with the sight, much like the Destroyers you profess to hate. Thus, we have decided that we will take your own vision. Perhaps afterward, you will learn to trust and value your own sense when it is returned to you. Let it be a lesson, and let our benevolence remind you of our greatness.”
What?
I didn’t have long to wonder. Draven cried out in unspeakable pain, falling to his knees, as the Daughters laughed. I crouched down next to him in a panic, not knowing what to do. The black shutters I had seen before when Field had tried to attack him came over his eyes. Then blood started to pour out of his sockets.
“STOP!” I screamed, ignoring the Druid’s earlier warning. How could they do this to him? When I looked back up, the Daughters had vanished completely. Draven’s cries stopped, and he collapsed further onto the floor, unconscious. The blood continued to seep out from behind the black veil over his sockets.
I ripped the hem of my dress, creating a bandage that I proceeded to wrap around his head. Bijarki helped me lift the back of his head up, and we tied it in a knot at his temple. Within moments, where the bandage covered his eyes, two crimson spots appeared and slowly spread outward.
“How do we stop the bleeding?” I asked the incubus.
He shook his head. “I think we have to wait till it’s over. Can you try to syphon some of the pain away? We need to wake him,” Bijarki replied.
Without bothering to reply, I pressed both my hands against Draven’s chest. I sent my energy outward, locating his pain and trying to suck it out. Luckily, because it pertained mostly to the head, his pain was easy to find, but it was like red-hot coals, and my own energy seemed to wither and recede when I tried to hold onto it. I kept trying, unwilling to give up.
“Phoenix, help me!” I cried, calling my brother over. He came quickly, slamming his knees into the earth next to me. His hands joined mine on the Druid’s chest, and soon I felt his energy, bright and golden, next to mine as we tried to remove some of the pain. With both our energies combined, it eventually started working. I could feel myself growing weaker as Draven’s own pain polluted my mind, sending a dull ache to my temples.