Chapter 8:
Clack. Clack.
The sound of footsteps along the dim corridor echoes through the air, as Lord Unar strides towards the door at the end. Alongside him, a small boy runs to keep up with his father's fast pace, curiously asking, "Where are we going, father?"
The man glances down at his son with disapproval, "Where we are going is no concern to you, Israel. If you want to be useful just follow and don't speak your inane thoughts."
The boy's matching brown eyes lower to the floor as he whispers, apologetically, "I'm sorry, father." With those words he becomes silent, hand clutching the rough fabric of his father's billowing cloak as if letting go would send him lost out into a sea of uncertainty.
Reaching the edge of the hall, Lord Unar orders with a heartless tone, "When we are within thy Master's presence you will not speak unless spoken too. You will not fight him. Do you understand, boy?"
Chewing on his bottom lip, anxiously, Israel obediently responds, "Yes, sir. I'll do as my Master wishes."
A tight smile of approval enters the elder's face before it's wiped away and replaced with a cold expression as he knocks, politely upon the door.
Rap. Rap.
The rapping upon the oak door alerts Lord Redmoon to the presences beyond his chamber door. Setting down his quill, he calls out to the two, “Enter.”
As Lord Unar and his son, Israel, walk inside his domain, Lord Redmoon could barely prevent himself from the delicious smell of Israel’s soul. The tempting innocence excites him as his eyes turn to a burning black. With a devious smile, he welcomes Israel, “Why, hello, little Israel. Your father has told me much about you. I must admit you look very handsome for such a tiny child.”
Israel stares at the floor, shuffling his feet as he buries his face in his father’s leg, suddenly overcome with shyness. Never had someone praised him so spectacularly. Not even his momma. Gripping the fabric tightly he almost cries when suddenly Lord Unar yanks the fabric away from his son’s clutches.
“You must be strong, Israel. Someone as weak as you cannot possibly serve the Master for long. You must not hide in my clothes like a blushing girl. Is that clear, boy?” Lord Unar glares down at his sniffling child with distaste.
Coming around the desk, Lord Redmoon spreads his arms to gather the small child in his arms, chiding the other man lightly, "Now, now Lord Unar. He can't be more than six. Surely he has all the time before a teen to learn the lessons of us men."
Lord Unar scowls lightly but finally relents, "As you say, My Lord. Still it's easier for him to learn the lessons now, but if it is too early then perhaps it is indeed best to postpone them for now." His voice clearly revealing his opinion on the matter.
Israel frowns lightly at the adults talking, knowing somehow that it deals with him yet unable to really comprehend their way of speaking. Frowning he listens attentively as they continue to converse, almost as if what they had to say would later mean something to him, to someone at least.
"So is he ready, Lord Unar?" Lord Redmoon inquires, leaning back against his desk with a tight frown as he steals a glance at the boy who stands enraptured at a painting, or so it seems.
"Yes. He will not disobey your commands." Lord Unar responds, lightly running a finger against a speck of dirt upon his silk shirt, refusing to look at his son. His heart speeds up when Lord Redmoon kneels down to Israel's level ordering him sternly, "Anything we say within this room is not to be spoken aloud to anyone other than us is that clear, Israel."
Israel frowns lightly, the only time adults say those words are if what they're doing is bad. So this man is bad, but he called him Israel, unlike his parents. They only called him boy or son. Only rarely did he please them enough to be called Israel. Tentatively, he whispers respectfully, "Yes, Master. Nothing said within this room shall leave it."
Patting the youth on the cheek, the elderly man gets up, wincing as his joints creak. "Good boy. You're very smart, too. But for now just sit upon the chair over there and wait for me." He gestures to the comfortable chair next to his desk, hoping that the boy would fall into slumber.
Nodding at the Master's order, Israel scurries as fast as his tiny legs will allow over to the chair, where he sits. Placing his legs so that they were tucked underneath him, Israel glances down at his hands, pretending to prepare for sleep. But inside his mind whispers fiercely for him to be still and to listen. Listen. His heart shouts in unison with the voice within his mind, keeping him still so they would not suspect. That is his job.
Watching the boy fall into a rather deep slumber, Lord Redmoon turns his intelligent eyes upon his possible ally with a slight frown. "Are you positive that this plan will allow me to take her soul?"
The other stiffens slightly before letting out a cold laugh, sarcastically sneering, "So you''re saying my reputation has not reached the Kiyoraka?" His green almost black eyes watch the old man turn slowly to face the fire, mouth in a displeased line.
"They have. But who trusts rumors, Lord Unar? Rumors are always ninety percent wrong to begin with. They maybe be based off truths but they get spun around so many times the truth no longer holds its meaning." Aysian remarks calmly, fingering the rune upon his hand. He knew just how damaging rumors could be in his plans.
"Indeed." Lord Unar concedes before stretching his legs by walking to the window, eyes peering out with an unreadable expression. "The plan is that with those runes I have given you, the girl's soul can be taken to you in order for the plan to succeed. The only way it cannot is if the rune healer, Anastasia, manages to run back with Takeshi. But I don't they will due to my sources saying she is in the far mountains on the opposite side of our location. It would take months or years to reach us."
Smirking, Asyian glances over at Israel with hungry eyes, "And him? Are you sure you don't mind that fact you just handed your youngest to be a soul feeder?"
"I have no need for him at home. If he can help our cause by being such a thing." Lord Unar turns to face Asyian with a dark smile, "Then rather him be a feeder than an enemy. Besides, he's perfect. Just don't take too much he can't get back, Asyian. I do noot want my son ill. He will be of no worth to either of us then."
"Yes, yes I know." Asyian growls, waving his hand towards the door in clear dismissal of the man before him.
With a curt bow, Lord Unar leaves the room, not looking back at the monster who now has control over his son. After all, many would argue he is the true monster. Laughing aloud when out of hearing distance of Asyian, he whispers, "Soon the palace ramparts will come crashing, crashing down and with eagerness I await your doom, Princess Nastusia."
Israel breathes in deeply, he remembered the Princess when he had come to one of the birthday parties for Lord Redmoon's grandson, Damien. He had wandered off and he remembered vividly her kind atmosphere despite the hostile looks she received by every member there. He had boldly stood up to her which ended with a very harsh punishment. Shuddering internally at the haunting pain before turning his thoughts back to the elderly man heading towards him, his boots clacking against the floor like a death sentence.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
A hand touches his shoulder and despite the initial instinct to cringe and scoot away from the offending arm, Israel carefully keeps calm, pretending still to be in sleep as the hand gently shakes his shoulder.
"Israel, wake up." Asyian commands while pulling his hand back just as Israel peers up at him with confused, drowsy eyes.
"Yes, master?" Israel inquires, watching with wide eyes as the Noble tilts his head back to reveal a white neck.
"Your soul is all but begging for me to drink it in!" Asyian declares silkily, licking his lips as he leans forward to kiss the skin just above the jugular vein.
Israel freezes with adrenaline pouring through his veins as he futilely attempts to stop the man. But within seconds a searing pain rips through his neck as the Summoner begins to slowly pull out the soul within the blood, reveling in the taste of such pure innocence as it hits his taste buds.
'What? What is he doing?' Israel stares at the ceiling as the feeling of something deep being taken without his consent. "Master, what are you-" Asyian covers his mouth as he takes more, knowing soon he would have to stop, least the child be unable to recover the soul pieces he was taking now.
Few minutes pass and soon Israel passes out as Lord Redmoon pulls back, crimson blood dripping from his mouth as Israel manages to vow internally, 'I shall...I shall not let this man win...whatever it takes...however long I have to endure this..I will be useful to Lady Nastusia.'
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