The Conquest of Mytheyr

Semele stormed through the halls. Not a living thing was left now, just thralls on guard. Every time Semele passed them, a black tendril would erupt from the floor, tearing the thrall apart and leaving them in pieces. It didn’t matter, anyway. There were plenty more of them.

The black magic enjoyed Semele’s torment.

“A simple boy like him?” it crooned. “How disgraceful! Unworthy of a queen.” Semele did not know where he ended and his parasitic magic began. He took these words to be his own thoughts. He reached the throne room, and plopped down on the throne, throwing his leg over the arm rest, a sullen look on his face.

“It’s too bad, really.” The parasite sighed. “She seemed quite regal, didn’t she? But filth cannot masquerade as their superiors for long.”

“Filth?” Semele’s own thoughts cut in unexpectedly. “No, of course not. I saw her fighting Markus. Only those who are truly meant to rule can hold themselves like that. There must be another reason…” This annoyed the black magic. It had a harder time controlling Semele when his real thoughts did not match the magic’s goals.

“Then why then?” it questioned, “What makes him special? What makes him better than me?” it whispered slyly. Semele bolted up, his anger returning.

“Better than me?” he said aloud. “Better than me?” he screamed, his face coloring red once again. “No.” he snarled, racing back the way he came. His breaths instantly became heavy and ragged, and in his wrath, Semele couldn’t even see straight.

The door unlocked before him, and Semele threw open the door to Vath’s cell. His eyes narrowed to find it empty. He screamed in rage, striking at the cell door. Its hinges broke, and it toppled over, making a horribly loud clang on the stone that echoed up and down the hallway. Semele stood in silence for a while, staring into the blank, now doorless cell. Slowly, the color faded from his face as he began processing possibilities. He had to check on Morgan.

He stormed to Morgan’s cell, not noticing the small, blue rose lying on the floor of Vath’s former cell. It had fallen out of Vath’s hand and it was forgotten.

Morgan’s cell door unlocked itself as he approached it, and he opened it slowly. As he looked in, terror overcame him as he saw a huge pool of blood. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees. The blood was completely dried; it had been sitting there a long time. But there was so much of it… His time spent around Blood Iron had taught Semele the unique ozone smell of dragon’s blood, and he knew well enough to tell that the puddle was not entirely that. There was little mistaking the blood of a Dragonkin Elf.

“Why?” Semele muttered. “Why was she bleeding? There’s so much… where did she go?” the thought, entirely his own, came suddenly. “Where did she go?” he repeated, “He must have helped her. Foolish of me, leaving him unguarded… it will not happen again.”

Semele stood, pondering, a curious expression on his face.

“She must be still alive, then. But she will be weak, tired. More so than before. She will be vulnerable. And this time, I will not take any chances. This time, I will not make mistakes.”