The Guardians E-Book

Kira Chester

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 559

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"And whenever the balance threatened to tip, the gods sent their guardians." The world was divided into three parts: That of the elementals and blood mages, that of the gods and that of those who chose not to use magic. It is precisely this world that Bahal and his guardians must protect. For there are magical beings in the mortal world that they are not allowed to know about. Police officer Robert is frustrated with his life and with being stuck in a new department that deals with things he doesn't want to believe in. But when a mysterious case catches his attention, his intuition returns.

Leseprobe

Prologue

Our world is beautiful, full of wonder and magic, but it is also dark and dangerous. To keep it from breaking, it needs balance. The scales must be balanced, that is the one law that applies to all of us, including us gods. But balance cannot be achieved alone. That is why the whisper exists. A quiet voice that we hear in our dreams and doubts. It wants to tempt us to disturb the balance so that the scales begin to tip. The balance and the whisper are the origin of all life. From this fleeting spark of being we were born: the first gods.

When our world was still young, we gods shared it with the ancient beings who, like us, were born from the first spark. Together we ruled over all their wonders, in harmony and unity. We gods created our own people, born from our magic. We shared all our knowledge and all our magic with our creation, and they prayed for us. When the time came, we created a magical barrier to make a small part of the world our home, this barrier we called the Veil. So we watched over our people for an eternity. However, the separation from us gods and our magic brought with it some strange changes. Without our influence, a force called time settled over the world. Its waves now flowed through all life and made it mortal. With mortality came sickness, age and loss to the once mighty people. Out of fear, the faithful pleaded, they knelt and begged for our return. But their lamentations did not reach us, for the time of our reign was over and we fell into a deep sleep.

A new age dawned, mistrust and despair settled over the hearts of the faithful and the whispering grew louder and louder. It penetrated the dreams of mortals and settled in their minds. Our voices and our names were now nothing more than a faint memory.

New gods now walked through the world behind the veil, they lived in a hall of gold, from there they observed the world we had left them. But the new gods were not like us, they did not share, they wanted to rule, so a fight broke out between them. Like pawns, they pushed the believers across their battlefields to die in their name. So that the blood shed in faith might strengthen their power. And the believers bled and died as sacrifices for their greedy gods.

Many ages passed over the land, still there was no victor in the golden hall behind the veil. The once great, strong people we old gods had left behind were no more. Where the blood soaked the earth, there was no one left who could believe. Without faith, however, a god is no more than his people, weak and vulnerable. The remaining rulers turned away from their gods. Priests became kings and as such they claimed the land for themselves. When the time came, the great armies gathered under the name of their kings to negotiate something the gods had never granted them: Peace. So the first three kings stood face to face, each with their own people, arguing over the rightful rule of all life. The first, whose magic was able to tame the elements themselves, laid claim to creation. For the magic of his people flowed through the mountains, the seas and the air. The second, whose magic flowed with the blood through his veins, claimed dominion over all life for himself. For blood flowed in all life and the magic of blood belonged to his people. The third, however, warned that magic, no matter what kind, should only belong to the gods, for it had corrupted the people and all life. In his eyes, all peoples should renounce magic, for only then could there be peace, free from the whispers and the gods. The kings called upon their gods one last time and asked for advice. But no answer penetrated the veil, no sign could be seen, the gods remained silent. So the rulers decided to divide up the kingdom once and for all. The north and the east now belonged to the elementals. They ruled over magic and all beings that emerged from their pure form. The south and west fell under the rule of the blood. They ruled over a great people and their servants of flesh and bone. Those who wished to renounce magic realized that this world had no place for them. The people of the third king banded together for one final act of magic to finally break away from the gods. With their combined energy, they created a barrier thicker than the veil itself, so that the whispers could no longer reach them. Without their magic, the people were led into an age of oblivion. No more stories of the old days were told, no more songs about magic and its beauty were sung. Until finally there was no one left who remembered the old world. Now the world behind the barrier no longer belonged to the Whispering, this world now had new gods: this world belonged to the people.

Chapter 1

Disgusted, Pain looked at the city at his feet. How he despised the humans. Their weak bodies, born without any talent, doomed to die. Like a herd without a mind of their own, the humans followed whoever they thought would give them a better life. What they lacked in magic, they tried to replace with metal and electricity. Their houses reached up to the sky, close together, like a forest, there was hardly any way through the crowded alleyways. Shady characters stood in the dark nooks and crannies, waiting for prey. An amused smile flitted across Pain's face, the idea that these frail mortals probably saw themselves as predators, he couldn't understand how anyone could fear something as fragile as a human. Without fangs or claws, they had nothing to make up for their lack of power and talent. Without wings they couldn't fly, no scales to protect their soft skin. They were simply a pile of frail bones encased in soft tissue, wrapped in mortality, what an aberration of nature. Pain turned his gaze upwards. Was it night already, he wondered. His sense of time had been damned confused since he'd been stuck on this side of the barrier. Not only because time obviously flowed differently here than he was used to. He simply found it difficult to read the time in the sky. During the day, the blue was obscured by thick, gray smoke rising from the chimneys like a smith's furnace, and the night was obscured by the lights of the city. There was no way to follow the position of the sun or the stars. What an irony that their houses reached up into the sky, even though the sky could not be seen from their roofs, Pain noted with amusement. However, as empty as the streets were at the moment, it was probably night, he tried to classify his observations. Only the most peculiar and abnormal of their race roamed the city at this hour. Watched by guards who were more a part of the filth than any real help, at least as far as he could tell. Pain tracked a thunderous sound through the streets. It came from the guards moving through the streets on metal companions. The companions were so loud and heavy that he could easily make out the guards from a distance. Even up here, he could feel the vibrations under his feet. Pain didn't know what advantage that would have, he himself would prefer a strong horse. And instead of facing each other like real men in a duel with swords or swords, the humans carried metal weapons that fired bullets with a deafening bang. He grimaced in disgust; metal in wounds was not recommended. Like when the point of a dagger or an arrow was stuck in a wound, it simply didn't heal properly. He didn't like the idea of having to search for the bullet with his hands in his own flesh. Pain had observed that the bullets ate deep into the flesh; getting them out of the wound would make a real mess. Carefulness was required as the guards seemed to be quite trigger-happy, so jumpy and so easy to kill. Amused, Pain thought about the guard he had taken out last night. Feeling the man's frail body break under his blows had given him a certain satisfaction. It was unfortunate that he had not been allowed to kill the human. The mortal had stood in the way, which he would have ignored, but then the man had turned and started waving his metal weapon around. The human had threatened him, or at least he had tried to, Pain smiled at the sweet memory. The human had trembled, like a recruit before his officer, pathetically. Still, he would not be threatened, not by anyone, especially not by a mortal. If you gave in, you looked weak and no one would ever call him weak. Slowly, Pain stroked the fence in front of him with his fingertips. The metal felt smooth and firm under his fingers. All the rooftops in the area were fenced in like this. As if they wanted to keep animals up here, strange, he wondered, as his fingers continued to follow the curve of the metal. Straining to expel the air from his lungs, he clung to the fence with his hands, so tightly that his hands began to ache. He had been here for hours and still had not spotted any prey. His predatory nature didn't like that at all. Slowly, a certain nervousness rose in him. He could hear it clearly, his song, the sound of his magic, was fast and restless. All the muscles in his body felt tense, but the hunt was not over yet. Sometimes you just had to wait a little longer for prey. A little tension only made the hunt more enjoyable. Pain tried to loosen his shoulders and neck a little. Bored, he watched the city at his feet, hoping for a little distraction. He leaned his upper body against the fence so that he could see further down. In a side street, prostitutes stood waiting for customers. They were sick or high on drugs or alcohol, sometimes all at the same time, he could smell it. Like the prostitutes in our taverns. Pain remembered evenings in their homeland when he had seen something similar. The prostitutes were paid with pieces of green paper, which the people valued highly, or so it seemed. People loved this paper like a dragon loves its treasure. They don't even exchange gold coins in this backward world, he realized, suppressing the disgust he still felt. Once, when he had been in a tavern with his sisters and brothers, a mortal woman had made a massive pass at him. She had had dark hair, brown or black perhaps, he didn't remember her appearance that well. Her smell, however, was still in his nose. She had smelled of cheap perfume and alcohol. At first she had kept looking over at him, then she had come closer and closer. Finally, when she had almost sat on his lap, he had taken her outside, behind the tavern. Humans had no survival instinct, no insight into situations that were better avoided. In their homeland, no one would dare approach him uninvited. Everyone feared him, and rightly so, as he was known for his cruelty and lack of compassion. This human woman, however, seemed to seriously want to have sex with him. Admittedly, it aroused curiosity in him. Curiosity as to when her body would break from his strength or his magic, when her instincts would awaken and warn her, when she would fight back. He had lifted the woman up and pressed her firmly against the cold wall of the tavern. She swallowed, startled, but still tried to smile. She said something to him, her voice sounded soft and although he barely understood a word, he recognized the lust in her voice. Like a deer inviting a wolf to dinner and asking if it should bring wine. Pain wasn't proud of it, but such a lack of instincts had made even him hesitate briefly. He remembered with pleasure how the color drained from her face when he let his eyes light up red. When her instincts finally kicked in, she began to fight back, finally behaving like prey. He remembered with pleasure her screams and the wriggling under his hands, what a sweet melody to his ears. Still, the woman was not particularly defensive, not even when he buried his fangs deep into her flesh. It had been difficult to pierce her skin, a sign of how bored he was with the mortal. When aroused, his fangs were much longer and sharper. The woman's blood had tasted of stale, corked wine, it was disgusting. Just the memory of the taste made his stomach churn. Luckily for her, one of his brothers showed up, Keith had heard the commotion and put an end to the game. Pain hadn't cared, his curiosity had been satisfied, so he had let them go. However, remembering it now, his fangs began to throb. He would love to rip someone's throat open tonight.

Loud shouting echoed through the streets and caught Pain's attention. A group of men, bald and tattooed, were chasing a man in fine clothes through the street. The group followed him menacingly, demanding money. The well-dressed man refused to give up his possessions. There was shouting, fighting, swearing, then one of the bald heads pulled out a knife and settled the claim to ownership for himself. Blood flowed from the body of the defeated man and formed a pool on the ground. The hunters had gotten what they wanted and departed, leaving their prey to die as only the cruelest of creatures would. A predator ate its prey, a king hanged his victims or killed them in public to prove his claim to rule. A warrior of honor killed his opponent to give him a dignified death, as every warrior deserved, no matter for whom or for what he fought. But to leave the dying flesh to the animals was cruel. But humans were a cruel race. They treated each other badly, destroying their world and themselves with a devotion that even impressed him a little. Although it amazed Pain that people like this down there were willing to sacrifice their lives for a little property. What a waste of his blood, surely it would still have been good as a sacrifice to the gods, he thought. Sacrificing a mortal to the gods carried no more weight than sacrificing a goat or a sheep, but as a small gesture of goodwill it could still be considered, Pain thought as he watched the human do what his kind did best: die. What the humans believed in, he had never spoken to one, nor did he intend to. But he imagined how the humans worshipped their metal and all the mechanical things in their world. Why else would they surround themselves with all that? Some of them had even replaced parts of their bodies with metal. Why would one do such a thing if not for a deity? A feeling of familiarity interrupted his thoughts. As Pain turned to the feeling, he looked into the bright yellow eyes of his sister Ria. Her steps were silent and elegant as she came to him at the edge of the roof. Her eyes darted downwards to catch a glimpse of what Pain was watching. She pursed her lips in disgust; he knew that she was thinking what he had thought before.

"What a waste," she said, turning her gaze back to him. Apparently her hunt had so far been as unsuccessful as his, otherwise she wouldn't be here. To get an overview, Ria walked the sides of the roof and surveyed the streets below them. Pain watched her carefully. His sister wore the same black leather armor as he did. Magical runes were embossed on the black leather, a warning and a sign of their status. When they used their magic, the otherwise hidden signs lit up in gold. The gold flowed through the embossed runes and made the ritual text on the leather legible, telling of the oath they had all taken and of their inseparable connection to each other. They were all used to the respect that came with their status, but it was frustrating that the mortals could not understand this unmistakable warning. But they didn't necessarily need the armour; their prey recognized them even without all the symbolism, because they could sense each other. Ria smoothly climbed onto the metal fence and while she watched Pain pondering, she balanced back and forth on it.

"Don't fall off," Pain warned when he noticed what his sister was doing to pass the time. Ria furrowed her eyebrows and glanced over her shoulder at the road a good thirty meters below.

"You've got to be joking." Her voice sounded calm, but stern as always. Pain just nodded, sure, why should Ria be afraid of heights either. He had never seen his sister shy away from anything before. Apart from that, she always landed on her feet anyway. Ria was faster and more skillful than any warrior he knew. His sister was a huntress, not prey, if they were still in their homeland, Ria would surely be leading an army of her own there or making recruits cry. Pain looked at his sister. As calmly as she stood, it belied her warlike nature. As did her slender, petite body, although Ria was certainly muscular. Her yellow eyes were always alert to her surroundings, as one would expect from a predator like her.

An unpleasant tingling sensation spread under Pain's skin, slowly creeping down his arm. To suppress the feeling, he rubbed his hands, with little success, the tingling became stronger. The tattoo covering his upper right arm began to writhe. The black lines crept down his arm. Soon they would reach his hand and wrap themselves around his fingers. His restlessness moved inexorably towards its climax.

"Nervous?" Ria asked, pointing at his arm. About to lose his temper, Pain thought. He was definitely lacking exercise, a good hunt, a good fight or sex. Something to challenge his mind and body. "Hungry," he replied curtly, which was true, he thirsted for blood and death. Pain looked at his right arm, slowly losing control of himself. Thanks to this lovely punishment from the gods, everyone could see it. The tattoo was a warning to everyone to stay away from him. The more he lost control of himself, the further the lines spread until, in the worst case, they covered the entire right half of his body. Excessive and completely inappropriate, but unfortunately there was no escaping the will of the gods, most of the time anyway. Ria jumped off the fence and approached him with elegant strides. Her long hair swung like the tail of a cat of prey, it was black and always braided into a plait that now reached down to her ankles. Her hair was wrapped in bandages so that everyone among her people knew immediately what they were dealing with. For it was the sign of a temple in the middle of the desert that trained the best assassins in their world. The man whose strength she would eventually recognize would take a ritual dagger, cut off her braid and then carry it with him. Until then, no man was allowed to see her with her hair down, according to tradition. Pain wondered which man would willingly take her on. He had already seen Ria take on warriors twice her size and at least three times her weight.

"Are you sure everything is all right?" his sister asked. The soft tone of her voice disgusted him, it sounded like pity.

"I just need a good hunt," Pain replied curtly. He turned back to his observations so as not to have to delve into the subject. His gaze wandered over the city again, all the gray and black standing in stark contrast to the bright, colorful lights everywhere. Every store tried to be even brighter and more colorful than the one next to it, like birds vying for the attention of a female. Although there were only a few people out and about at this time, it was so loud that his ears rang. All their machines and companions roared and thundered, even their lights purred and crackled.

"Do you think he'll come tonight?" Ria interrupted his thoughts. His sister had leaned back against the fence next to him.

"I don't know." His voice sounded sadder than he wanted it to. Perhaps there was even worry in his voice, considering what his brother had been through recently. Although, really, he shouldn't care, he didn't care, he didn't care. Pain gritted his teeth, he would rather taste the blood of a human again than think about his brother. Ria scrutinized him with her piercing yellow eyes, but she said nothing. Sleekly, she turned her body and turned her gaze back to the road below them. She knew about his divided attitude to the subject. Pain was grateful that she left it at that. Together they watched as the human's blood ran across the road and seeped into the ground. "Balance must be maintained," he had been told, shaking his head inwardly, such nonsense. As if it would upset the balance if such a lowly race was killed off. The humans seemed to be managing the extinction quite well themselves anyway. Another loud scream echoed through the night. Pain smiled, hoping the screams meant what he hoped. Then this night would not end as uneventfully as he had feared. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the energy in the air. In his mind, he tried to separate the energies of the people from those of the city in order to find something else. Something that didn't belong in this world. Finally Pain found what he was looking for, faint, dark, barely perceptible, but he had found it.

"Finally." His voice was almost hoarse with tension. He concentrated intensely on the energy, trying to follow it. Ria had also picked up the scent, she had drawn her dagger and started to jump from the roof. Pain dematerialized and reappeared next to his sister, being able to jump with his element was a rare but useful ability. Time was running out, if they had heard the screams then surely someone else had too. Soon the place would be swarming with guards wanting to see what was going on. Pain and Ria stepped over the corpse in the street and the blood on the ground. Together they followed the energy through dark and winding alleyways, past all the stinking garbage piled up there and the shady characters going about their business. Pain had given up wondering how wasteful people were with their short lives. How easily their minds became confused by intoxicants and how carelessly they destroyed their bodies. Even when their minds and bodies were eaten away by all the filth, they didn't come to their senses, quite the opposite. It seemed that the more they decayed, the more they wanted intoxication, gluttony, sex and violence, sometimes all in one evening. And these rotting mortals should be relevant to the balance, hardly. But it was not his place to disobey a direct order. Not that he hadn't tried, but unfortunately they were too strongly connected. At a dead end they finally found their target, it was so dark that nothing could be made out, but they could hear him smacking and the scrape of teeth and claws on bone. A servant, lowly creatures with no mind of their own, had grabbed one of the prostitutes and decided to eat her. Normally the servants would be fed by their masters or would roam the woods and hunt game, but here in the human world, mortals were probably the easiest prey. A loud yelp cut through the air. Ria had slashed her dagger between the servant's ribs and, judging by the low whistle, punctured his lung. Pain illuminated the alleyway by levitating a small but very bright sphere of light above his hand. The light revealed all the misery. The woman was beyond help. The creature had shattered her ribcage and spread her entrails everywhere. The servant had then gnawed the flesh from her bones. The servant was no longer breathing either, black blood flowing from its body. Once again, he had made no prey to calm his urges. Disappointment spread through him and with it the tension returned. This brief moment of hunting could not satisfy his desire to kill. Watching the red blood of the humans and the black blood of their enemies seep into the dust together was a grotesque but also amusing spectacle. A vivid expression of his feelings and an impressive demonstration that both were trapped on the same stage of evolution, Pain thought. In his eyes, the mortals were just as expendable as the servants. As he stood to the side watching the scenario, Ria wiped the blood from her dagger on the woman's clothing. A wise decision, better to stay away from the servants' blood, and their saliva. Both contained a powerful poison that caused all mortals to die in agony. A cruel death that unfortunately comes far too quickly, so there was no time to enjoy the agony and the screams. The poison would not necessarily be fatal for Ria, but it would definitely make her very ill. An experience some of them had already had, not a pretty sight, Pain remembered. It was a good thing that one of his brothers always had a vial of antidote at home, but caution was still advised. When his sister tried to bend down to the carcass, he stepped in. "I'll do it," he said, levitating the sphere above his hand into the center of the alley. Pain knelt down next to the creature to examine it. The thing was small, barely a meter tall, not fully grown, not a good sign, they seemed to be multiplying in this world by now. A little thin, not well fed or bad at hunting, which would explain the kill it had made. No sign of a master, no brand or tattoo, no scars, no amulet. Another failure, but at least, one less, though hunting servants wasn't exactly satisfying, it lacked challenges. "Disappointing, it's too quiet tonight," Pain said with a bored expression on his face.

Ria nodded, just one servant really wasn't good prey. They simply didn't make serious opponents, even if they did visibly shorten the lives of humans. Both of them would have preferred to find an opponent who made their blood boil and demanded everything from their bodies and their magic. But so be it, tonight they would certainly not find any more servants, the area was safe for tonight. Pain felt melancholy at the end of the hunt, now he would have to wait until tomorrow night in the hope of better prey. Ria left the alley first, leaving his sister to clean up as usual. He would catch up with her at the next intersection. Pain let his light get brighter and hotter, finally setting the alley on fire. This should have destroyed all traces. The mortals were not allowed to find out about their existence, that would only lead to more problems. Now, however, it was time to meet up with the others. After the hunt, his sisters and brothers wanted to meet up in a shabby tavern nearby. They didn't ask any annoying questions there and the people were too drunk or too high to remember anything. The meeting place was only a few streets away, so Ria and he strolled slowly down the street.

"Better?" she asked, pointing to his hand. The lines had retreated to his upper arm again.

"Something." Pain tried to concentrate, his instincts still wide awake. Only by concentrating could he force his mind to calm down. Given the unsuccessful evening, he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay focused. Hopefully, a large amount of alcohol would help him find calm. Jeanne and Arya were already waiting for company in the tavern. Arya happily beckoned Pain and Ria to the table. As always, she was bubbly and cheerful, which Pain tried to put up with only occasionally. Just like Ria, these two women were his sisters, at least because of their feelings for each other and their shared destiny. Not even this world could dampen Arya's spirits, Pain realized and was almost glad about it. Her loud, lively manner distracted him from himself, at least for a short time. Typical wind elemental, he thought, but that wasn't fair. Somehow they were all the cliché of their magic or race, besides, wind elementals were very fickle, just like fire or water elementals. It often didn't take much from a gentle breeze to a furious storm. Given this fact, Arya's happy-go-lucky nature and never-ending optimism was probably far from a cliché. In stark contrast to Jeanne, her cold nature and the pragmatism she lived by was very typical of ice elementals. Jeanne was cold, unapproachable and incredibly sexy. Pain knew of no man who had not sworn before the gods that Jeanne was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Although she would probably turn any pushy suitor into a statue of ice. He sat down next to Jeanne, she smelled of cold winter, he liked that. She had put her long white hair up tonight. The sight of the almost white skin of her neck was tantalizing. Pain imagined what it would be like to sink his fangs into her flawless skin. How a thin trail of blood would run down her collarbone. He gritted his teeth until his jaw began to ache. Instead of following his impulse, he leaned towards Jeanne and gave her a kiss on the back of her neck. She smiled briefly, then her gaze grew stern again. Jeanne turned back to her sisters, but her slender fingers stroked his right arm almost casually. Pain pulled his arm away, he didn't need caresses now, what he needed was far removed from any etiquette or reason. Tonight he would tear something to pieces.

"It was quiet tonight," he heard Ria talking to her sisters, "too quiet."

"Oh come on, be glad you don't have to kill something every night," Arya said, smiling at her sister as if she was really hoping for reassurance. Arya knew exactly how bored Ria was without a good hunt.

"Where are the others?" Pain asked the group. He had to clear his head somehow, even if it meant provoking an argument with one of his brothers.

"Still hunting," Jeanne reached for her glass and sipped.

"And the rest?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

Jeanne shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, maybe they'll stay at his house, who knows what he's up to again." Jeanne turned her attention back to Ria.

"He looked like he was up to something, looked determined when we left," Arya added, taking a sip from her glass.

Great, thought Pain, although he should be pleased, after all, he didn't feel like running into him. On the other hand, Pain hadn't seen him since he had locked himself in his room days ago. No use waiting for the others, Pain decided. So he would have to make do with his sisters tonight. Not that he had a problem with that in general, but he could really imagine more entertaining conversations. To avoid having to listen to his sisters gossiping, Pain tried to concentrate on the noises in the tavern. He fervently hoped that the noise would distract him from his inner demons. The people around him were boisterous, dancing and drinking, preoccupied with themselves. Loud music blared through the tavern and clouded everyone's minds, if the drugs and alcohol hadn't already done so. That was exactly why he and his siblings met in taverns like this, they would stand out too much in finer company. Because of the color of their hair or their eyes, perhaps even because of their charisma. In the lower social classes, however, everyone was colorful. They had colorful hair, fancy clothes. Some of them wore leather, as only warriors normally did. None of these mortals suspected that they were merely prey. From time to time, one of the barmaids came to the table and brought new drinks. She was so lightly dressed that her bust threatened to slip out of her top every time she leaned forward. On the way back to the bar, the woman was groped by every second man she walked past. Too bad these mortals didn't try that with Ria, Pain thought. He would have loved to see her break the man's arm first and then devote herself to the rest of the bones in his body. He could already hear the pain-filled screams and whimpers in his ears, an almost sensual image. Trahy would have loved it all. Pain recalled the memory of his brother. His brother Trahy had always found such gatherings of mortals entertaining. He had never been averse to physical experiences with them either. Pain could still remember their first meeting, when they had still been children. Trahy had been taken into their home because all his teachers had failed because of his rebellious nature. Pain had met him in the kitchen when they were both trying to steal something sweet. Trahy was the only one Pain would ever call a friend. A sigh escaped his lips.

"I miss Trahy," he said a little too loudly. Softness was not on his face. At the moment, he was more disgusted with himself than with the mortals around him. His sisters only nodded, the mood at the table dimming surprisingly quickly. It had been a few months since they had lost their brother, but the pain was still very present. Trahy had been the loudest of them, this evening would have been so much more interesting with him. The human world had always seemed like a big playground to Trahy. The hole he left behind was big enough to drag them all down with him. But all the brooding and mourning didn't bring her brother back into their midst. The only thing they could do was raise their glasses and drink to their brother, as was the custom. Slowly they all relaxed again and listened to the loud music. Pain watched the mortals go about their business while his sisters returned to their conversations. Unfortunately, he got bored of watching the humans faster than expected. Pain felt his fangs lengthen, ready to dig into flesh and muscle. Every muscle in his body was tense. Straining, he tried to breathe the tension away. Normally, he didn't even try to control himself, but after three nights without a successful hunt, the tension inside him was almost unbearable. There was no way he was going to pounce on his sisters, especially not in front of all these people. Although a fight with Ria was certainly entertaining. Pain hoped to slowly calm down again, as he had done earlier that evening. He examined his right hand. The lines of his tattoo wrapped around his fingers. The back of his hand was almost completely covered in black. Just as his thoughts became darker and darker, the magic wobbled inside him, his song became louder and louder and more and more restless. With a movement that was a little too forceful, he pushed his glass away from him.

Arya caught it with a small gust of wind before it reached the floor. She gently set the glass down on the table. "Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

"No," Pain cursed and stood up. "I have to go." His voice sounded pressed and strained. For the moment, however, he was glad that words were still coming out of his throat instead of a growl. Hastily, he pushed his way out through the mortals. When he was out of sight, he dematerialized and jumped behind the building. Pain leaned against the wall, trying to feel its hard, rough surface against his back, but the leather of his armor was too thick. Damn it all, his heart was racing so fast he could barely breathe. His skin was damp with sweat, an anxiety spreading through his chest, making his hands tremble. Completely beside himself, he closed his eyes and tried to shut out the world around him. Until a gentle touch snapped him out of his frenzy. Dainty hands stroked his arm and followed his muscles up to his chest. There they rested, spreading a brief hint of calm in his heart. Jeanne had followed him, her scent was unmistakable, like a soft winter morning, cold but pleasant. He opened his eyes and looked at her, the only being he loved, at least as far as he was able. How fortunate for them both that she wasn't expecting a loving, cuddly union. Jeanne knew him too well and knew that a quiet family life was not on his agenda.

"You need to calm down," she said gently.

You must, he repeated in his mind, sounding like an order, a deep, dark growl coming from his throat. Pain braced himself against her hands, pushing her against the opposite wall.

Jeanne looked at him calmly but attentively, her eyes following his now almost black hand up to his eyes. Concern settled over her pretty face. "Pain?" She called his name like a question.

He grabbed her hands and held them above her head. Completely enraged, he had no desire to wait any longer; if he couldn't find any prey, he would at least get his fill of her. His gaze rested hungrily on her neck, so slender and so perfect. Her blood would be sweet and sensual, no comparison to the kinky broth that flowed through the veins of mortals. The memory of the taste of her blood stirred a dark desire in him. Pain could feel it deep within him, the ancient blood in his veins, the legacy of his lineage that made him a monster. The growl from his throat turned into a dark rumble. Jeanne was talking to him, but her voice was barely getting through to him. Whatever he did to her tonight, he would regret it, but he couldn't help it. Jeanne tried to free herself from his grip, but the wriggling intensified his frenzy even more. Pain leaned towards her menacingly; she would only belong to him. As his fangs grazed her neck, a sharp pain shot through his hands, Jeanne had frozen them. But he was only briefly impressed, fueled by the defensive prey, he let his hands light up. The light was warm and turned the ice into water without any effort. Growling loudly, he wanted to grab Jeanne to end the hunt.

"Stop." Her voice pierced his mind, echoing through the fog of his anger. He paused as if her words had pinned him to the ground. Her hand rested on his heart, she had stopped the chase for him. "Stop," she repeated, her white-blue eyes fixed on him, trying to get through to him. He was a monster, a cruel hunter, unrepentant, bound to the woman he loved. Just like all children of the old blood, his blood. It was a deep bond, stronger than his anger and all the hatred in him. A connection between their souls that he could not break, not even in this state. Jeanne was probably the only one who was able to keep the monster inside him in check. Pain hated that she had such power over him, but today he was glad of it. A hollow, tinny sound echoed through the night. Someone had stumbled against a discarded can. Pain lifted his gaze, the fear-filled eyes he looked into told him everything he needed to know. He didn't have to hunt today, the prey had found its way to him on its own. It was time to sink his fangs into flesh at last. The hunt had finally begun.

Chapter 2

Even after many ages, the blood mages and the elementals fought relentlessly over the rule of the land. Only one power could rule them all, this belief was their only common ground. So the blood mages created slaves from flesh and bone and made them fight for themselves. In a never-ending wave, they rolled across the land and consumed all life. In fear and in the face of their extinction, the elementals called upon their gods. They pleaded and begged and finally they were heard.

In their eagerness to rule, the blood mages had upset the balance. To restore the balance, the gods created a new power: the Guardians. They were to serve and protect the balance. Time and again, the blood mages and the elementals faced each other on the battlefield. They fought relentlessly over many ages. And whenever the balance threatened to tip to one side or the other, the gods sent their guardians. It was a cycle that would never end.

In one age, however, there were two kings who were more powerful than any who had ruled before them. Their armies were larger than history itself had ever seen before or since. For both kings were prepared to sacrifice their entire people in order to emerge victorious from the war. Under the watchful eye of the gods, the two armies clashed in a final bloody battle so that only one people would exist after that day. This time, however, when the gods summoned their guardians, it was different. Instead of preserving the balance, the Guardians destroyed the world, killing every warrior, every general, every woman and every child. No one knew how the Guardians were ultimately banished, but the horror of those days would always be remembered. For the Guardians had drenched the earth in blood, consumed all life and torn the world to pieces.

In the end, it was the elementals who rose from the ashes of those days. They banished the remaining blood mages to an island beyond the Dark Sea. From then on, their existence was denied, they were forgotten, as was their magic.

The guardians had not been seen since. But in the shadows of time, voices whispered of their return should the balance be disturbed again.

It was good to think about something else and Bahal liked to remember the old stories he had been told as a child. Stories about gods, warriors and great battles, stories he had always enjoyed hearing as a child, because they were a nice change from his strictly timed everyday life. The old stories tell us that good will always triumph over evil, Bahal remembered the words he was always taught. But it was an embellished truth that only told part of the story, namely that of good elementals and evil blood mages. The elementals had won the war, if only through the chaos caused by the Guardians, but the stories liked to keep that quiet. The blood mages, once a strong, great people, had lost everything in the end through their greed for power. A truth that he himself believed for a long time, because as a child it was the only thing he was taught. Since the expulsion, the blood mages had been called demons, an insult they themselves had come to accept over the ages. Today, the term blood mage was no longer used, for they now called themselves demons. Bahal remembered that, ironically, calling someone a demon was far more insulting to a noble than to a demon himself. The real truth was, there was no good side and no bad side, it was called balance. And although balance was the strongest force in all the worlds, he learned nothing about it as a child. One might assume that things would be more peaceful now that the elementals ruled the land alone, but there was no question of peace. Instead of the blood mages, the elementals now hated each other and everything that was different. Of course, "different" was a vague definition that varied greatly depending on the region. Today, his people were obsessed with the purity of blood, any anomaly was a scandal of immeasurable proportions, at least among the nobles. That was why they tried desperately to enter into relationships only with their own family. It was unthinkable that an outsider would bring impure blood into the line. The irony was that the elementals needed the blood mages more than they would have liked. With each generation without the old blood, they became weaker and more mortal. So it was no wonder that people no longer flaunted their magic in refined societies. Instead, they preferred to duel with swords and swordsmen, which was less embarrassing than not having their magic under control. The strange thing was, the purity of blood actually corresponded to the beliefs of the blood mages, so why the elementals had adopted this aspect was a mystery to Bahal. But in this respect, the behavior of his people was not so different from that of the humans. In the months that had passed since they had entered this world through the barrier, he had observed very similar things among the humans. The mortals, too, found it difficult to accept otherness; they liked to squeeze themselves into self-imposed norms that they strictly adhered to. Bahal thought about his companions who had followed him. They were all sisters and brothers, because of their feelings for each other and their shared promise to maintain balance. He knew how hard it was for them in this world, among all the metal, the noise and all the strange things that humans seemed to need to live. Of course, he was aware that Pain in particular despised this world more than anyone else, even more than he did. But Bahal also knew that the humans were becoming increasingly skeptical of them. The human guards had eyed them suspiciously too often, and there would be real trouble at some point. However, who could blame the mortals, they must all be a strange sight to their eyes. Their appearance was very different from the humans, they didn't know the rules of this society and barely spoke the language, it was time to get some support. Heavy footsteps could be heard in the hallway. They reminded him that he was not alone in the house.

"Are you all right?" His brother's worried voice came through the closed door. As always, Ascan was far too worried about his health, so it was almost surprising that he had only checked on him five times today.

"Yes," Bahal lied, trying to keep any emotion out of his voice. Although the answer was short and a lie, the footsteps moved away from him again after a quiet curse. His brother would be back sooner than he would have liked, that much was certain. But for now, he was grateful that Ascan hadn't burst into his room and left him alone. Bahal spread his arms and stroked the bed with his hands. It was covered in a soft fabric that was smooth and cold to the touch. The air in the room was also cool, the noise of the city filtering through the tilted window. His eyes wandered around his room, it was dark except for the light of a few candles. A thin thread of smoke was still rising from the bowl in which he had burned the herbs, the smell filling the whole room. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smoke. With his eyelids closed, the light from the candles before his eyes had also disappeared and he felt a brief moment of peace in the darkness. Until the voices penetrated his mind again and spread through his head. Quietly but insistently, they came closer and closer, becoming menacingly louder: Come to us, we are here. Bahal opened his eyes again in an attempt to become aware of himself. He had been listening to this whining, whispering and shouting for what felt like an eternity, but he would probably never get used to it. The voices tormented his mind incessantly, and although they were quieter in this world, they never left him in peace. A while ago, he had decided to ignore the murmurings, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to do so. His head was pounding, every thought he had was heavy and sluggish. Bahal carefully rubbed his temples, hoping that the slow, circular movements would dispel the pain. But it didn't help, so he stretched towards the small lamp on his bedside table, wanting to dispel the darkness in his room and hoping that this would also silence the voices. Annoyed, he switched on the light and regretted it in an instant, hissing as he sucked in the air and put his hands over his eyes to protect them from the light. The people and their cursed, artificial light, it felt like someone had shot an arrow through his head. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the light. Not that he hated light in general, but the artificial light of the humans felt so different. It was hard to put into words, but there was something about it that bothered him. The energy emanating from it was unnatural, it didn't resonate with its surroundings. It was like listening to music where the notes regularly slipped, still a beautiful song, but still wrong. Blinking, Bahal tried to take in his surroundings, but neither the headache nor the loud clamor of voices helped much. Control, control, he repeated in the rhythm of his breathing. Again and again he remembered the mantra until the voices slowly became quieter and his mind gradually found peace. Grateful that peace was slowly returning to his body, he tried to get up from the bed, his legs feeling heavy and stiff. Bahal slowly walked around the room to regain the feeling for his own body. He stopped in front of the window and carefully pulled aside the curtain that kept the light of the city out of the room. The city of humans was as big as the one he had grown up in, yet it seemed much bigger to him. The first time he had seen this place, he had felt like he was in a dense forest. The houses were all so huge that they seemed to touch the sky. But the house they lived in was smaller, located on an old pier on the edge of town. It was dark, cold and the closest thing to workers' accommodation. They had paid the person who sold it with gold coins. Bahal remembered how exuberantly happy the human had been about the payment. And although he could not understand his joy over the few coins, he was still satisfied that his family now had a safe haven. From time to time, he had taken the time to observe the humans, impressed by the way they dealt with their mortality, as it didn't seem to bother them too much. But humans didn't like nature very much, at least it seemed that way, because there was only one place in the city where plants and trees grew. Nevertheless, their world was not grey or dreary, on the contrary, the many lights transformed the city into a colorful, wondrous place, so completely different from what he was used to. The thought of his homeland made Bahal nostalgic, he remembered the forests and gardens, the scent of fresh air coming down the mountains into the valley. Of all the small houses that lined the road that led in circles to the center of the city. Beautiful and peaceful, at least until a group of demons had attacked the capital and turned it into a field of rubble. Some of their enemies had escaped into the human world through a crack in the barrier, but their presence here was wrong. That was also the reason why he and his siblings had come to this world. Their enemies were upsetting the balance, a danger to both worlds. Their task was to find them and hunt them down until the balance was restored. Only then would they return home. But without the attack on the capital, he would never have had the chance to see this side of the barrier. All the more reason to handle this gift with care.

Heavy footsteps approached the door again. "I'm fine," Bahal called out before his brother could knock. But was that really the case, he wasn't quite sure. He had been praying to the gods almost non-stop for three days now, in vain. He had burned herbs, performed the old rites, said prayers, old and new, to no avail. Three days kneeling on the floor, immersed in deep meditation, definitely left its mark. His song sounded heavy, almost sad. The song, the unique sound of her magic, showed how she was doing, in his case it was a definite, go to bed. His body felt heavy, as if the weight of the world was dragging him along. His joints and bones ached, as did all the muscles and skin on his body. But he was not surprised that he was not answered, even if it annoyed him; his relationship with the gods was difficult. Nevertheless, Bahal had hoped that at least the old rites would be accepted as an offer of peace, but unfortunately there was an iron silence beyond the veil. Veil, gods, growled the voices. Since he had started praying, it had become worse, as if the voices were trying to stop him. Bahal rubbed his eyes, the babbling in his head was getting louder again, it was insistent, trying to tempt him to follow, but he would not give in to the voices, not ever. Control, he reminded himself, control. Bahal pushed the voices back until their volume became bearable. But he wasn't trying to talk to the gods for fun and boredom, he wanted something, and since they wouldn't even listen to him, it was probably time for plan B. Determined to put his plan into action, Bahal left the room. His path led him down the corridor to the bathroom. Ascan had lit the room with candles to avoid artificial light. As attentive and caring as ever, Bahal noticed. The scent of herbs was in the air and the tub was half filled with ice. Scrutinizing, he sat on the edge of the tub, took out a piece of ice and turned it back and forth in his hand. There was a person near their house who was exchanging their gold coins for paper. As they had observed, people exchanged their goods for this paper, so it was good to have some. A few days ago, while out walking, Bahal noticed a vendor selling ice cream in bags. This was handy, as it saved him having to ask Jeanne for help, even if he had no idea what people did with this ice, as the small blocks were far too tiny to store food in. In his mind, Bahal watched the ice melt in his hand and imagined the cold that would surround him. A little uneasy about what he was about to do, he began to pace around the room. He stopped at the window and gazed reverently at the sky, hardly a ray of sunlight penetrating the thick, gray smoke during the day. At night, neither the stars nor the moon could be seen, so there was hardly any discernible difference between day and night. He hoped that this fact had less of an effect on them all than he feared. Because they were elementals, their health depended on their surroundings. No shadow can exist in the light, his teacher had always philosophized, and no light can exist in the darkness. As I said, very philosophical, but there was probably some truth in it. He had rarely felt as exhausted as he did at the moment, and it was quite possible that it was due to the world they were now living in.

"Do you really have to do that?" Ascan's voice sounded stern and worried as he entered the room.

"I need to talk to him," Bahal said calmly but firmly as he turned to his brother. He was standing in the doorway, dressed only in his trousers, as he usually was. As imposing as ever, he took up the entire doorway for himself. Ascan was the most muscular of them and the tallest; at two meters, he towered over almost every warrior and every human. His shoulders were broad, his body strong and his spirit unyielding, even though he was not yet fully grown at almost a thousand years of age. It was possible that one day he would be able to match his grandfather. Bahal remembered having seen a portrait of him once, a portrait of a man with dark hair and dark eyes, a giant, judging by the picture.

"Still, I'm against it," Ascan stated firmly. Bahal nervously stroked his unusually short black hair, which he had cut off to make himself less conspicuous among the mortals. Ascan was still staring at him with apprehension, which didn't surprise Bahal, for his brother always looked at him like that. He was the epitome of a worried big brother, coupled with absolute paranoia. Unfortunately, Ascan was very good at this role, he never took his eyes off him for a second, ever. It was exhausting for them both, but it was necessary, if only to respect tradition. Ascan was his protector, a title of great honor, he would do anything to protect him, even die for him. His kind stood for strength, wisdom and unquestioning loyalty, and like all descendants of Ascan's line, he was passionate about this task. You could see it on his body, although he lacked the ritual tattoos. His body was covered in deep scars that looked as if acid had been poured over his skin. Wounds that had eaten deep into his flesh, running down his arms and shoulders, ribs, back and thighs.

"Would you rather I covered myself?" Ascan's voice had found its love and softness again. His brown eyes rested gently and caringly on him. "It's not your fault," he added gently and fatherly.