6
Oriana
30th day of the Ninth Month, 1749
Oriana caressed her forest of enchantment.
She breathed it in, sending out tendrils of magic to prod the mist and tweak the trees, persistently altering their position, creating an unsolvable maze to keep her inside. She reached out feeling for any living creature within the gloom, ensuring that she was completely alone within her dark forest.
“Well, dearest sister, what a lovely little predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.”
Oriana spun, annoyance sagging her shoulders at who stood before her. “Aren’t you supposed to be locked in the pits of Morial?” she sighed.
“Oh, that boring place.” Orrick waved his hand flippantly. “I got out of there ages ago. What dimwitted warlord Anthes seemed to forget is that the pits of Morial can’t hold me, not truly, anyway.”
“Why have you come here?” Oriana gritted her teeth, dreading her brother's reply.
“Well, to see my dearest sister, of course! Imagine my surprise to find out you had also been banished, and cursed at that! Bad luck indeed,” Orrick drawled.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, now you’ve seen what's become of me. Time to leave.”
“Oh no, you can’t be rid of me that easily. I want to see you in action.” His eyes were alight with mischief. “You have done a lovely job of terrifying the townspeople with this forbidding forest. They won’t even come near it. I’ve been to the village you’ve trapped here and heard the horrid stories they tell their children.” He glanced at her with an impressed smirk. “Supposedly whoever goes into the Phantom Wood on the full moon never comes out. Oh, and beware the eve of the blood moon, for the White Demon will steal you into the night and bathe in your blood to keep her youth. Such tales, sister. So, tell me, how long has it been since you’ve feasted on their blood?” A wicked grin spread across his lips.
She began walking away from him without a response. He moved swiftly in front of her, blocking her path.
“I’ll take that as an exceptionally long time.” Orrick placed a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around and wrapping his arm around her neck so that her back was flush with his chest.
She stiffened, every hair along her arms and neck raising in rapt attention and fear for what was about to come.
“Let’s change that, shall we?” Orrick chided, tightening the arm he had locked around her quivering throat so that she could not move her head. She brought her hands up, pulling at his arm, but it wouldn’t budge. He was too strong.
She looked upward through the treetops at the swiftly dimming sky. Tonight was the full moon, and he knew it. She brought an elbow into his stomach, desperate to be released from his hold, but he only pushed the attempts away with his other hand. “Orrick, let go.” She squirmed, digging her nails into his flesh without making so much as a scratch on his skin.
“And miss all the fun? I think not, sister.” He chuckled as the forest around them darkened; the night was quickly falling upon them and the full moon was not far behind.
Oriana thrashed in his grip until a yellow haze cut through the darkness and she froze, standing as still as a doe caught in a hunter’s sight.
The change began, and Oriana moaned as she felt it. The feeling had become all too familiar. She hated how natural it felt, as if it was a daily occurrence. It honestly seemed like it was after all this time. She had lost count of how many years she had been inflicted with this malediction.
“Very interesting,” Orrick mused behind her.
She growled, the need for blood like a tangible thing moving through her. It had been years since she had last fed, since she had torn skin from bone, ripped muscle from bodies, tasted fresh blood on her lips. She smiled broadly and maliciously at the thought, revealing her horrifying rows of pointed fangs prepared to shred any living thing in their path.
As if sensing this, Orrick forced her to walk, never lightening his hold around her. As they trod forward through the fog, a young man, just barely into adulthood, came into view.
“I found you a nice little snack, dear sister. It seems he unknowingly wandered into your forest on the eve of the full moon. How ill-advised.” Oriana could feel Orrick’s expression spread into a sinister smile behind her. She snarled, squirming against Orrick’s hold.
The man’s eyes widened in sheer terror as he beheld her. She bit down on her lip, drawing blood, and stilled, cocking her head to the side–a predator assessing its prey.
“Your dinner awaits, sister,” Orrick whispered, and then released her. Like an arrow drawn back taught before being released from its bow, she took off for the youngling.
The man turned sharply, sprinting away, but the fog was too thick. The trees shifted with each step and he stopped, completely blind to the haze that surrounded him. Oriana had been close behind, following his every move, waiting for this moment, for his confusion to set in, for the forest to trap him just as it trapped her from breaking free, from ravaging Sardorf and the other Northern towns. The man spun in circles, distressed, unable to find a way through the mist.
She heard his blood pumping through his veins, his heartbeat quickening with panic. It was music to her ears. She dove for him, jagged teeth baring into his neck, nails tearing through flesh. She drank deeply, feasting on his warmth, delighting in the kill. Ripping her teeth from his neck, she tore a chunk of skin and muscle free. Dark red blood sputtered from his neck in streams as he sank to his knees, choking as his life slowly drained from him. Oriana placed both clawed hands in the gaping wound and pulled, ripping his head from his body. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his blood, the smell of death, running her tongue along the torn flesh at the base of his decapitated head.
“My, my sister, that was very…enlightening.” Orrick’s eyes danced with mischief as if uncovering some masterful discovery. “If you run, you might just find a few more surprises in this brilliant maze of yours.”
“Why are you doing this?” She ground out, desperately fighting against the monster.
