Blood Destiny (46 page)

Heavy, dark lashes fanned her ancient cheeks as eyes that 435

Blood Destiny

by Tessa Dawn

had been closed for centuries fluttered open. Her sleeping mind awakened. Her soul became aware.

The echo of the male's call stirred her heart as she slowly sat up. His anguish penetrated her soul. The cadence of his cry restored her eternal heartbeat. Somehow, his rage reanimated her pure, royal blood...ancient, innocent, and unblemished...even as his grief broke the ancient spell.

Ciopori rubbed her eyes trying to clear her mind. She pushed a heavy lock of her hair from her face and struggled to remember: Where was she? Who was she?

The memories came back slowly, one scattered piece at a time. She was the daughter of greatness. The first born female child of the Great King Sakarias and his beautiful wife, Jade. She was the caretaker of her youngest sibling, Vanya, and the sister of the royal twins, Jaegar and Jadon. So, what was she doing buried deep within the earth? Surrounded by layers and layers of rich minerals, crusted soil, and clammy moisture?

The ancient princess suddenly felt entombed in the endless layers of evolution. Trapped in a timeless grave. Think, Ciopori, she urged herself as the dirt walls of her grave seemed to close in on her. How is it that you find yourself in this predicament? And what must you do to get out?

The memories began to creep in incrementally like water through a leaky dam: all the killings, the endless sacrifices, the loss of so many females. The last of their great kind, the Celestial Beings, had been reduced to ashes by the moral depravity of their men and their ravenous hunger for power.

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Their culture had been decimated by a wicked, insatiable thirst for blood that had become unquenchable.

Ciopori sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking in a smooth, rhythmic motion, trying to calm her mind. Who was the last person she remembered seeing? Ah, of course, Jadon, her beloved older brother. Now she remembered.

Jadon had whisked them away—herself and Vanya—at great risk to his own life. In the midst of a violent storm, he had come into their castle bedchamber like a thief in the night, imploring them to flee Romania at once, explaining that they had to get out of the castle immediately if they hoped to live: Jaegar and his warriors were coming for them.

The men had finally crossed the last and final boundary.

They had gone mad from their endless blood-lust, and were ready to make the ultimate sacrifice: the virgin daughters of the great king himself, Jaegar's very own sisters.

Determined to see his sisters live and his society survive, Jadon had whisked them across the vast, open countryside, taking them deep into the heart of the Transylvanian Alps, where he had met up with a convoy of traveling warriors, a secret group of mercenaries led by the infamous wizard, Fabian. Eventually, Fabian had secured passage on a ship across the great sea, taking himself, Ciopori, and Vanya to a foreign land far across the ocean, an uninhabited refuge where they would finally be given sanctuary from their own kind.

Sanctuary in the form of a living death.

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A deep, dreamless slumber where their bodies would remain alive—immortal yet asleep—until such time as it was finally safe to awaken them again.

Until Jadon came back to get them.

Ciopori wondered what time it was. What year it was. She began to thrash around, frantically searching for her sleeping sister in the darkness of the shallow chamber. She must find and awaken Vanya! How long had it been? How many years had they slept? Had Jadon finally come back for them?

And whose anguished cry was that?

Her heart felt heavy from the torment in his voice. Had his sorrow awakened her? Ciopori didn't know why, but she had to find that male.

She had to go to him!

Desperately, she began to claw at the ground, digging in frenzied circles as her body scraped against the walls of the earthen tomb.

"Vanya! Vanya!"

She cried out until her voice grew hoarse, digging...turning...clawing...twisting her body this way and that in a frenzied effort to uncover her baby sister. "Vanya, where are you?"

After what seemed an eternity, Ciopori dropped her head in her hands and started to weep. The earth was suffocating her. She was about to panic. She had to get out of the ground.

Now that she was awake, she could no longer stomach the shallow grave. The smell of damp earth was all around her, the blanket of rich soil encasing her like the burial shroud of a 438

Blood Destiny

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mummy. Ciopori took a long, slow, deep breath and worked to calm her mind. She was a Celestial Being. Picture the earth. See the sky above you.

She shifted until she was on her knees: "Ancestors, Great Ones, I humbly beseech you....

—

From deep within the earth I pray; my tomb as dark as night—

—

for freedom from this lowly grave; awaken heaven's light.

—

Place my feet along earth's path; the sky above my head—

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where flowers bloom and children laugh; release me from earth's bed."

—

All at once, Ciopori was standing in a clearing, her feet on solid ground. Towering pines and fir trees surrounded her, and the sky shifted right before her eyes from a darkened gray to a brilliant, aqua blue. Her eyes swept over the land, taking note of the simple granite markers. It was a circular, hallowed clearing. This was sacred earth. A burial ground.

Ciopori stepped backward, reverently removing her shoes from her feet as she paid silent homage to the dead. She wondered who they were. Were these her father's soldiers?

And then she saw him.

The powerful...stunning...warrior.

The one whose cries had awakened her.

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He was an enormous male, clearly a fighter, with long, thick hair the color of midnight: the same color as hers.

His eyes were like the depths of the ocean, so black they gleamed blue. And his remarkably handsome face was stricken with sorrow as he knelt before a simple white stone marker. Ciopori knew immediately that he was a warrior of some standing. It was in the proud set of his shoulders, the way he crouched above the ground with both stealth and purpose, the arrogant slant of his chin. There was a hard certainty in his demeanor...in spite of his sorrow.

Ciopori had spent very little time with her father's guard growing up, but she knew enough etiquette to approach the warrior with respect.

She padded silently around the periphery of the grounds, stopping about four feet behind him. Averting her eyes—as was proper when addressing a male of authority—she cleared her throat and awaited his attention.

The male sprang to his feet like a predator, rising and turning to face her in one smooth motion. He looked startled to find her standing there, as if no one had ever snuck up on him before. His face was a hard line of menace as he stared her down with those hauntingly beautiful eyes.

"Greetings, warrior," Ciopori whispered in the old language.

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About the Author

* * * *

Tessa began writing as a child and composed her first, full-length novel at the age of eleven. Her first published works were in the areas of poetry and education. She currently lives in the suburbs with her two children and "one very crazy cat"

but hopes to someday move to the country where she can own horses and a German Shepherd. Writing is her bliss.

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