Demon On My Mind I : Legends Awake
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
8,542
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
8,542
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Raevyn
AN: Because I had it. Don't expect the others this fast.
-
Chapter One
-
“This is the most beautiful part of the kingdom,” he said softly. He was leaning precariously over the balcony, staring wistfully at the sky. The white of his wings stood in sharp relief against the inky blackness of the night, folded loosely against his back. “Nowhere else can you see the stars as brightly as you can here.”
He turned to face me, his bright jade eyes glowing with a softness only I was allowed to witness. He smiled, a rueful look falling across his face. “I miss the stars.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came. It never did. I was never able to offer words of comfort to him. It bothered me more than usual this time, but I didn’t know why. His smile changed suddenly, becoming joyful. Hopeful.
Beautiful.
“Soon. Not very long from now, my beloved one, I shall see the stars. Do you still wait for me?”
Forever.
He held his hands out to me, his bright wings extending to their full glory.
“Fly with me once more. Once more in our dreams.” His hands clasped mine.
“…my beloved Raevyn….”
-
The hall was dark, despite the light of torches throwing shadows into every corner. The walls were bare and a murky grey, dusty from years of neglect. He paid no notice to this, nor to the fact that it was only he who would dare walk down this particular hall, especially at this ungodly hour of the morning. None of this concerned him.
It was only out of respect for the one within that the doors did not crash loudly into the walls from his haste to get inside.
“Took you long enough,” snarked a husky voice from within the sunken rocking chair placed just inside the circle of light produced by the fire crackling loudly within the grate.
“I didn’t know I was expected,” he replied, taking the seat across from the rocking chair.
For a long moment, the two regarded each other. He, with his dark hair that shone like blood in the firelight and matching eyes. She, with her thinning, bedraggled silver hair and eyes so grey they could be of stone. Needles clicked from within her hands as she knitted deftly, not once loosing her stride. Her body and chair rocked back and forth in a slow, even rhythm.
“It’s been too long, Boy.” Her voice carried the proof of years of disuse. “I remember when you came to me every day without fail. It has been six years and four months and two weeks and eighteen days since I last saw you. Has your adoration dwindled in two thousand years?”
His hands clenched the arms of the chair so fiercely that the wood creaked from within his white knuckles. “How dare you,” he hissed. “I have much respect for you, Soothsayer Arámia, I do not deny that. However, I will tear out your throat with my teeth should you ever dare suggest that my love for him is any less than it was the day our bond was forged.”
She didn’t even blink. “I see. A matter of faith, then.” He didn’t respond to this, although his grip on the armrests of his chair loosened.
They didn’t speak again for several minutes. You could not get the Soothsayer to talk when she did not wish to and thus trying would be futile, and he was still smarting over her words. He soothed his ruffled pride as she thought and knitted.
“The dreams are less frequent, however they are increasingly real.” Raevyn leaned forward in his seat, eyes trained to her sharply. The beads threaded into a lock of his long hair clicked with his abrupt movement, and a black feather got tangled with his necklace; he freed and smoothed it with a delicate, but absent, touch and gave her his complete attention. Her brows furrowed in annoyance, though not directed at anything in particular. “It means his soul is growing stronger,” the Soothsayer continued. “And yet… I cannot feel it?” Her tone was unusually soft, for her, a testament to her confusion. “It gets ever more annoying. Never before has a soul eluded me with such success, though I cannot find it within me to feel surprised with he being whom he was. That is not to say I like it.” She scowled mightily, her needles clicking harshly together. “No, this is nothing natural blocking me. This is a sinister plot indeed.”
“Explain,” Raevyn commanded. His eyes were narrowed, and his clawed fingers were beginning to close around the armrests once more. Soothsayer Arámia was content to ignore him long enough to complete no less than sixteen knots in her knitting.
“Souls are tricky things,” she said finally. “No soul ever truly dies. Even the supposedly banished or destroyed are merely cleansed of all knowledge, reprogrammed and recycled if they are not meant to return as they are. But of course, you know this. You have asked me enough times.” The colour of her thread changed with nary a pause. “Harisu’s soul was meant to return exactly as it was and awaken once his new form was strong enough to accept the might of his power.
“Others have sought to change that.”
“Who?” Raevyn demanded forcefully, the command issued with a snarl of fury. “Why?”
“If I’d known who, I’d have sent you to kill them already,” Soothsayer Arámia snapped. “They ‘why’ I can answer. The Angels of the Oracle, the foolish lot that they were, had a prophet among them that told of his return, and what would happen upon his return. Before they were destroyed and their species scattered to the four winds, they locked his memories and power away in the hopes that should the day pass, he would never come to power.
“As I said, however, Angels are incredibly stupid. If they truly wished to lock away the Lord of Shadows, they should have tried harder than merely locking away something so easily reclaimed with the right key. But there was another who was clever enough to figure this out. This person did not merely lock his away his memories and power; they sealed it.
“I cannot feel his soul. I cannot tell you where to find him, nor if he has truly returned. But I can feel the stirrings of the fates, are they are incredibly unhappy at being denied.” The thread changed color again. “What did he say to you?”
Raevyn stared at her for a moment. “He said that he would soon see the stars.”
Somehow, even the slow rocking motion of her chair alluded smugness.
“If he has not already returned to this world, he will soon. Your bond to his soul is the only thing that will be able to find him. When the dreams stop, his soul is awake. However, by then it might be too late.” Raevyn’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“As I said, Boy, there are others who will do anything to ensure Harisu does not return. If you do not find his reincarnation by his seventeenth year, he will die. And you, Prince, will spend another two thousand years waiting for him.”
-
Chapter One
-
“This is the most beautiful part of the kingdom,” he said softly. He was leaning precariously over the balcony, staring wistfully at the sky. The white of his wings stood in sharp relief against the inky blackness of the night, folded loosely against his back. “Nowhere else can you see the stars as brightly as you can here.”
He turned to face me, his bright jade eyes glowing with a softness only I was allowed to witness. He smiled, a rueful look falling across his face. “I miss the stars.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came. It never did. I was never able to offer words of comfort to him. It bothered me more than usual this time, but I didn’t know why. His smile changed suddenly, becoming joyful. Hopeful.
Beautiful.
“Soon. Not very long from now, my beloved one, I shall see the stars. Do you still wait for me?”
Forever.
He held his hands out to me, his bright wings extending to their full glory.
“Fly with me once more. Once more in our dreams.” His hands clasped mine.
“…my beloved Raevyn….”
-
The hall was dark, despite the light of torches throwing shadows into every corner. The walls were bare and a murky grey, dusty from years of neglect. He paid no notice to this, nor to the fact that it was only he who would dare walk down this particular hall, especially at this ungodly hour of the morning. None of this concerned him.
It was only out of respect for the one within that the doors did not crash loudly into the walls from his haste to get inside.
“Took you long enough,” snarked a husky voice from within the sunken rocking chair placed just inside the circle of light produced by the fire crackling loudly within the grate.
“I didn’t know I was expected,” he replied, taking the seat across from the rocking chair.
For a long moment, the two regarded each other. He, with his dark hair that shone like blood in the firelight and matching eyes. She, with her thinning, bedraggled silver hair and eyes so grey they could be of stone. Needles clicked from within her hands as she knitted deftly, not once loosing her stride. Her body and chair rocked back and forth in a slow, even rhythm.
“It’s been too long, Boy.” Her voice carried the proof of years of disuse. “I remember when you came to me every day without fail. It has been six years and four months and two weeks and eighteen days since I last saw you. Has your adoration dwindled in two thousand years?”
His hands clenched the arms of the chair so fiercely that the wood creaked from within his white knuckles. “How dare you,” he hissed. “I have much respect for you, Soothsayer Arámia, I do not deny that. However, I will tear out your throat with my teeth should you ever dare suggest that my love for him is any less than it was the day our bond was forged.”
She didn’t even blink. “I see. A matter of faith, then.” He didn’t respond to this, although his grip on the armrests of his chair loosened.
They didn’t speak again for several minutes. You could not get the Soothsayer to talk when she did not wish to and thus trying would be futile, and he was still smarting over her words. He soothed his ruffled pride as she thought and knitted.
“The dreams are less frequent, however they are increasingly real.” Raevyn leaned forward in his seat, eyes trained to her sharply. The beads threaded into a lock of his long hair clicked with his abrupt movement, and a black feather got tangled with his necklace; he freed and smoothed it with a delicate, but absent, touch and gave her his complete attention. Her brows furrowed in annoyance, though not directed at anything in particular. “It means his soul is growing stronger,” the Soothsayer continued. “And yet… I cannot feel it?” Her tone was unusually soft, for her, a testament to her confusion. “It gets ever more annoying. Never before has a soul eluded me with such success, though I cannot find it within me to feel surprised with he being whom he was. That is not to say I like it.” She scowled mightily, her needles clicking harshly together. “No, this is nothing natural blocking me. This is a sinister plot indeed.”
“Explain,” Raevyn commanded. His eyes were narrowed, and his clawed fingers were beginning to close around the armrests once more. Soothsayer Arámia was content to ignore him long enough to complete no less than sixteen knots in her knitting.
“Souls are tricky things,” she said finally. “No soul ever truly dies. Even the supposedly banished or destroyed are merely cleansed of all knowledge, reprogrammed and recycled if they are not meant to return as they are. But of course, you know this. You have asked me enough times.” The colour of her thread changed with nary a pause. “Harisu’s soul was meant to return exactly as it was and awaken once his new form was strong enough to accept the might of his power.
“Others have sought to change that.”
“Who?” Raevyn demanded forcefully, the command issued with a snarl of fury. “Why?”
“If I’d known who, I’d have sent you to kill them already,” Soothsayer Arámia snapped. “They ‘why’ I can answer. The Angels of the Oracle, the foolish lot that they were, had a prophet among them that told of his return, and what would happen upon his return. Before they were destroyed and their species scattered to the four winds, they locked his memories and power away in the hopes that should the day pass, he would never come to power.
“As I said, however, Angels are incredibly stupid. If they truly wished to lock away the Lord of Shadows, they should have tried harder than merely locking away something so easily reclaimed with the right key. But there was another who was clever enough to figure this out. This person did not merely lock his away his memories and power; they sealed it.
“I cannot feel his soul. I cannot tell you where to find him, nor if he has truly returned. But I can feel the stirrings of the fates, are they are incredibly unhappy at being denied.” The thread changed color again. “What did he say to you?”
Raevyn stared at her for a moment. “He said that he would soon see the stars.”
Somehow, even the slow rocking motion of her chair alluded smugness.
“If he has not already returned to this world, he will soon. Your bond to his soul is the only thing that will be able to find him. When the dreams stop, his soul is awake. However, by then it might be too late.” Raevyn’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“As I said, Boy, there are others who will do anything to ensure Harisu does not return. If you do not find his reincarnation by his seventeenth year, he will die. And you, Prince, will spend another two thousand years waiting for him.”