Heleion Archives

26th of October, 105 of the Neo-Dawn Era. Ang-Saellirith.

            Her aquamarine eyes - in a graceful circular shape - slowly raised as the sensation of soft, cold textile caressing her cheeks registered. A groan escaped her plump lip with a pouty, slightly turned up shape on the upper one. As the dim light blinded her for a moment, her fair skin radiated while her slightly sharpened ears with two rings at the tip registered the soft moans of the wooden floor, which then shifted to the distinct crunching when one steps on Ullyeaster tarp.

As her consciousness slowly returned, she tried to move in the chair. At those small movements the dragonid leather part of her uniform gave out stretching noises. The combination of sealing tape and mana ties prevented her from separating wrists, her arms. Her torso remained pressed against the back of the chair, while her thighs to the seating. Her ankles fared the same as they remained tightly locked to the legs of the oaken chair.

“What in Mmmmnn'ph nnmm?” Then as her captor’s shadowy silhouette formed in her vision, recognition reflected in her eyes while the harsh peeling and tearing of silver sealing tape converged with the steps. Half her sentence became a muffled soft moan as they pressed the long strip against her face. Further groans left her as she shook her head, her hair previously tucked and twisted into a low-bun freed itself and tickled her now sealed cheeks.

“MMhnph nph phhm mmnnnng nf phhnph Mrmmmnnnmmnr?” Weakly, but she managed to try to speak, her assailant shushed her assaulting her small, delicate nose with the scent of sweet, winter lavender. Her eyes set with two deep mauve gems glared at her coldly, emotionless while her index finger gently tapped over her taped lips. Her sharply angled dark short hair with the ends dyed in a contrasting platinum silver hue pointed towards her.

Her breathing became heavier as fear set in, realizing that whoever stood in front of her was not her elderly Sister whom wise and old tales helped bearing the boring duties of Vordriars. As they walked away, she saw the table filled with alchemical components, vials and apparatuses with transparent blackish fluids moving in them.

As her gaze moved around the room, she noticed a board in the right corner. Pages of the Firemind Newspaper pinned. Each a similar piece, a portrait of a females, all young appearing, from different assets of life. But the most prominent feature for each, was that they all came from a race blessed with pale complexions. Winterborn seossurian folks, snaelv, lunar and umbral elves. Stygians and even some white dragonkin all through the past seventy years. She even recognizes two, a winterborn and a noble while the rest seemed familiar.

At those further realization, fear turned to chilling dread. The stretching of her uniform intensified, paired with muffled moans and groans as she now struggled to get free. They remained focused at the table then turned back and walked slowly towards her with a perfume vial in hand.

With a swift movement her hair let out into dark waves was grabbed by them, pulled down as her face stared at the ceiling. Her eyes darted in fear as an odorless liquid was sprayed over her face. A few drops remained on her moistened face, moved into her nostrils after the tape prevented entry to her mouth.

Her heart started beating quickly as a warmness spread within moments as they let go of her hair. Her struggling turned to twitching while her pupils slid back to her head in an endless climax. They sat down and watched as life slipped away from her in a series of fruitless pleasures. An emotionless expression settled on their face.

**

30th of October, 105 of the Neo-Dawn Era.

“Ladies.” Birtingriar, a Seidhrhaur of the Bhamatuthian Order bowed his head respectfully as he entered the garden. Leading up to the path he once again greeted the two, a high elven Black Rose Vordriar and one of his own Vordriaurur. His voice slightly muffled out by the barrage of clicks and the loud voices of the reporters cordoned off in front of the three floored, red painted house.

His long, light brownish hair was pulled to the back, braided into a single tail that danced down his pure alabaster overcoat’s back, crafted from Beornid Leather. A material which had a much harsher, stiff appearance compared to Dragonid Leather that appeared much gleamier. It was like comparing the glistening scales of a black dragon to the hide of Jotunheims. Both were strong against most metals and spells though.

His unkempt beard on the other hand covered his black shirt’s collar and the contrasting white neck tie, both made from Ginnungr Satin mixed with Ulyester that lessened its glamorous properties, but made it as resistant against attacks of both physical and magical nature as Aetherna Satin was.

“Did she find anything interesting this time?” While he finished his cigarette while staring at the cold, white sun hanging above the sky, he asked the two at the door.

“Nothing yet sir.” The naurdian comrade of his reported in a disciplined manner.

“Calm down son – beyond these walls you can drop the manners regarding me. But thanks.” He said with a smile as he threw the cigarette away, conjured flames devoured it midfall.  As he walked in the mood became gloomier, a long hall that once brimmed with life felt empty even with all the Roses and Bhamathians inside inspecting every nook and cranny.

When he walked across the hallway, he noticed all the photos, with family and friends. His somewhat bright expression beforehand faded as his blue and red eyes met with Fridryl’s. For a moment his eyes slanted as the light reflected from her Black Rose badge pinned above her right breast pocket not far from the coat’s stand hiding the zipper line.

The room was nothing special – it had thick wooden walls hidden behind nature decorated tapestry, common sofas that had rough surfaces, that still were considered comfortable for the common folk. Light filtered through the windows and the vibrant red curtains hiding them. A large black box faced him with a black mirror screen – a television.

“Morning Tin.” She greeted him with a forced smile. His eyes focused onto the high elven Seidhaeth. Onto her long dark red hair bundled into a high bun with two strands left hanging, framing her mesmerizing fair face.

Her sharp ears with the tips slightly tilted outwards, her frail neck wedged between her ripe plum hued blouse collars and the single breasted coat’s neck – which to some resembled a blooming rosebud. To him it resembled more of a bundled scroll.

“Anything new? Maybe a small mistake leaving behind a trail of mana or just being seen by the neighbors?” Birtingriar let out a deep sigh as he noticed the haunting figure sitting silently in the chair. A haunting puppet fixated into a sitting position, its jet black featureless body gleaming with ever moving patches of light on it. And a pure white mask with a wide, creepy smile and eyes glaring and moving at anybody who looks upon them. Just like the previous two victims, left behind in an eerie – and to him macabre – fashion as if they were taunting both the Bhamathians and the Myealians from different angles.

One from their glamour, beauty obsession. The other from the angle of hunting the darkness that their Divine Patron swore to banish. There was no other explanation in his head at that moment. While the truth lied in that he couldn’t come up with a better one yet.

“Nothing, they once again stroke when no one was home just her. Not a single trace, not a single thing that fell over than got fixated back.” Fridryl raised her right arm and rotated around. Faint arcane silhouette of every furniture, every decoration appeared as an ethereal frame. Even a single silhouette appeared, dragging itself into the chair, clothes peeling themselves off her body and then fixated herself in her final posture.

“Except?” Noticing a look as she stared at her notes, he asked.

“Not necessarily except, but the only thing the neighbors saw were the patrols in the street.” After a bit of hesitation, she said.

“Good. It is nigh time we start questioning our own.” Birtingriar said with a frown. He snapped his finger which opened a portal.

“Let’s hope this leads us somewhere finally. I’m getting pissed about this sicko.” He said as the two assigned detectives stood out from the way of the coroners who carefully lifted the stiff body into the air then walked back through the portal with it.

“Agreed.” She said after he walked out. As he looked upon the crowd, he took a deep breath and sworn an oath to the Father of Dragons. The killer won’t slip from his grasp, his justice will be served.

**

27th of October, 105 of the Neo-Dawn Era.

The wind gently blew the trees, creating a relaxing symphony of leaves. Twigs broke and leaves crunched as the animals ran around. A few searched for food in the snow blanketed forest, others bolted from their predators charging after them with salivating jaws.

Shadows themselves were soft as the capital’s lights reached even this far. Ghostly silhouettes danced around, disappeared as they reached the clearing, one of the many dozen dotted around the forest.

Cold inhibited the forest, biting into its inhabitants as they lived their various lives. Even at the middle of autumn, the thick bodies of the trees were covered in frost. On a few the frost merged with the white bark even. It was a peaceful night.

Then this calmness dissipated the moment the air, the shadows, reality itself distorted at the center of the clearing. Shadows converged into a ring, danced blissfully until cracks appeared in the space between. With a silent roar, the cracks resulted in the space breaking apart, revealing a dim room in the center with an eye-catching Black Rose in its center.

She was walking backwards, her hands gripped a dark object in the vague shape of a body with the exact same height and width. It added its own folk-made notes to the symphony of the night blanketed forest, alongside the grunts of the Black Rose Vordriar.

As she dragged it in the snow, she drawn a trail along, snow and wet leaves stuck to the wrapped body. Then she suddenly stopped and unceremoniously let go of her grip. For a moment she fixated her jacket neck’s tips then reached into her waist pocket. She slowly pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a jet black spark that swallowed the little light brave enough to approach it.

For a while, she watched the forest that went silent when the portal opened. Her eyes darted across the clearing as an umbral energies softly enveloped their contours. They stopped at a certain post further from the city’s light reaching, then she held her left palm at the wrapped body, and a shadowy tendril shot into it, connecting the two as she continued dragging it.

Her other arm rose when she stopped, and the earth opened up with a howl, revealing four more bodies wrapped in the black tarp, held together by the very same silver sealing tape. “Greet Myelia in my name.” She muttered this words in a cold, emotionless tone before hurling the wrapped cadaver inside, then closed the earthly grave once more.