Dormant Power

 

The mist parted like a ghostly curtain as she approached the outer gate. Pausing with one pale hand resting on its latch she turned to glance back. Blue-hued feathery smoke still billowed in the distance, twirling up to an angry sky that raged heavy with thunderous rainclouds. A light rain began to fall, a hesitation before the storm finally broke.

She knew the smoke came from the dragon’s wrath. Her unforeseen defeat of her captor had left him weak and penetrable, allowing the anger of Zenathor and the dragon masters to finally pay just retribution for his era of tyranny over their lands.

She took a deep breath, the increased capacity of her lungs diminishing quickly but still allowing her the almost sensual feeling of the chill air caressing her within, easing the pain of her tortured limbs, subduing her anger. Passing quietly through she let the gate swing closed with a creaking groan that echoed across the planes causing the loose ice and snow to tremble with a shudder.

Walking slowly she stretched her arms out in before her, watching as the blue flames flickered along her skin and diminished at her fingertips. With each breath and painful step they lessened until there remained only a faint blue glow.

Reaching the edge of the forest she took shelter from the rain under the withered branches, taking stock of her injuries. Although there were no signs of wound, her chest ached as though it had been hit with a tremendous force. She reached up to touch her raven hair. The shimmering horns had once again shattered as had her magnificent wings, their icy remnants protruding through her torn clothes. As her vampiric blood began to flow, their gnarled stumps quickly melted away, leaving no sign that they had ever been there, just an aching throb.

Overcome with exhaustion she sank down in the snow but the chill did not reach her. Her blood ran so cold that she was numb to its touch. At the height of her torture it had raged through her like an icy blade, almost burning in its intensity. Now there was only fatigue and a foggy memory of the horrors recently passed. The cool glow of her eyes began to dim and gradually she felt herself returning.

She scooped up a handful of snow, watching it dissolve into a pool in her palm. Bringing her hand to her pale lips she drank it down, attempting to wash away the lingering taste of dragon blood. Like a poison it had been forced upon her, mixed with all manner of unknown and powerful substances it had taken over her senses and bent her body to serve his dark purpose. But this was to be its final exorcism as its force finally surrendered and slithered into dormancy.