THE VOWEL CHALLENGE!!

Prompt: May I have this Dance?

So there is this French book... whose name escapes me, but essentially it was written without using the letter ‘e’. Which feels like it would be impossible right? Especially if you’ve studied french, it’s mind blowing. More so, this book was then translated to English (it’s called ‘Void’) and once again, it’s entirely void of the letter ‘e’. I personally haven’t read it yet, but I am very keen to.

The reason I mention this is because my challenge for this week is to write a short story, using the prompt ‘May I have this dance’ entirely without using the vowel ‘I’, ever so kindly picked by one of my friends. Also, we twisted the prompt to 'Care to Dance?' due to the letter 'I'. ((Have mercy on me now, I don’t know how I will cope)).

Challenge accepted.

Your hands ran through the elegant navy blue ballgown that wrapped around your frame. The dress was a present from the man you’d conned to take you to the huge gala. The one place you knew your target would be. You’d tracked the man all across the world, a prayer that he would stay at the gala long enough for you to conclude your quest.

You pulled on the gold heels that you had purchased yesterday, as well as some makeup so that you wouldn’t stand out amongst the crowd of overdressed stars that would no doubt attend.

“Ready sweetheart?” The man drawled, a knock on your door. You glance at the clock, you would both be early, perfect. That should allow you a decent chance to properly survey both the crowd and the area, the exact place had been a well-guarded secret, that had left you no chance to study the place’s plans. You wouldn’t be able to operate to the full extent of your prowess. Nevertheless, you knew that, by the end of the day, your target would be exactly where you wanted them.

Your hands shook as you approached the tower where the ball was to be held. Armed guards checked everyone that approached, cameras and reporters stood along a red carpet, prepared to catch anyone and everyone they could. You made a note to evade all of them, the last problem you wanted was your face all over the papers. You were supposed to be dead after all. There would be enough trouble to make your way through the extra guards. You had come prepared, though, your hand a gentle pressure on the arm of your date, hopefully, they would overlook you and go after someone far more famous.

Your hands pulled the fake passport from your clutch as you neared the glass doors, where metal detectors meant there was no chance that a weapon could get through to the party area. Your date had the summons, and he was well known enough that he wouldn’t get asked for proof of who he was.

Your eyes found your target the second your feet started to tap on the marble floors, he was on a balcony; grey eyes scanned everyone who entered, thankfully he overlooked you as though you were another nobody who was dragged along. He would make you the second he saw you, you knew that much to be true. He, as well as the rest of the world, thought you were dead, and you weren’t ready for anyone to know any better, not yet at least.

Your date lead you through the crowds, a glass pressed to your palm, but your eyes were more focused on your target and the grey eyes that stubbornly seemed to follow you. You felt the presence at your back as you abandoned your date, a strong chest pressed to your back as you were forced out onto a balcony. Your target blocked every means of escape, strong arms wrapped around you.

“We thought you were dead.” Your partner’s words caught as he fought away tears, a hand on your cheek, you moved closer to the man, your head on a muscular chest. “Everyone thought you were dead.” You felt when he turned to look at the rest of your team, all spread out across the gala.

“Care to dance?” You knew you should say sorry, but you weren’t ready to yet. All you wanted was to dance, held by the arms of the man who loved you. The rest could be spoken another day, he would want answers, and you would have to reveal them all, but not for now. That could be dealt to another day. (when the author can use the letter I).

That was a lot harder than I thought!! The biggest issue were the words: ‘with’ ‘into’ and ‘him’ everything else we found an easy work around. Huge thanks to my friends for helping me, and listening to me complain. To everyone else, it’s your turn :P

Three Short Drabbles

Heya Everyone, so today I bugged one of my friends for a prompt: “I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet." "I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far.” and two names: Sarah and Linda. Lets see how this goes:

Drabble One:

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet.” Sarah’s voice was filled with laughter as she teased you. Your eyes rolling as you focused back on the screen in front of you, adjusting the headset before grasping the controller firmly once more.

“I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far.” You growled back, as your character loaded back into the game and you were in control once more. Sarah’s character bouncing away in front of you as you made your way back to the objective, and your target.

“Sniper on the roof opposite,” Sarah warned as her character's body hit the ground in front of you.

“Snipers not my problem, it’s that damn turret up the hill that keeps getting me.” You eyed up the sniper nevertheless, just because your character had a shield to keep the sniper at bay didn’t mean the rest of your team did, and you needed the backup if you were to have any chance and taking down the objective.

A shield held high as you manoeuvre your character up the building to take down the sniper, freeing your team as you all approached the target - this time. You would kill him.

Drabble Two:

“Linda.” The whine of your name had you turning to look at your partner.

“Yes?” You raised an eyebrow when you realised she was sprawled out on the couch, watching videos on her phone with a bowl of food balanced on her chest.

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet. I’m bored, get this over with.”

“I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far. His bodyguards keep pulling the blinds, or blocking my shot.” You grumbled, looking back down the scope. You would get him before nightfall, mark the mission as a success, and return home.

Drabble Three:

She sighs, twisting the glass of red wine between her fingers as she looks over at her best friend. She had demanded a much-needed girls night after a horrible week at work where she had to deal with the company's best client. The same man who also did his best to be a demanding pain in her arse.

“Sarah, come on-” Linda danced her way over, a glass of vodka in her head and male eyes following her every move. Sarah sighed again, lifting her red wine to her lips.

“Is this about that douche-y client?” Linda’s words slurred slightly, leaning against the table as she regarded her best friend. “I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet.” She laughed, taking another sip and leaning forward.

“I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far.” Linda laughed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her from her perch.

“Well then let's drink and forget about it.”

Heya everyone, so I am super sorry about yesterday, and now short these are. I had planned to do a few more but I’m honestly just not up to it. Hope you’re all doing good, and hopefully, next week will be better. ((Especially because I’m failing NaNoWriMo for the first year ever and I’m not happy about it)). If you want to keep up with delays, progress, or just to talk check me out on twitter: @Rose_Demica.

The Truth About Me

Nearly nine weeks ago I left work early after feeling like I was going to faint. I got my Mom to come pick me up, and I went to bed. I thought it was the same illness going around work, that I would bounce back after a day better than ever, just like I always do.

Nearly nine weeks ago, my life changed. I now have what is known as an ‘invisible disease’. When you look at me I look exactly the same as I always have, but I’m not. Nine weeks ago I was working and studying full time. I managed to keep my social life going as I worked my butt off to achieve my dream. Today, I consider it a good day if I can make it out of bed without wanting to fall back into it and go back to sleep.

I’ve gone from that girl who gets out of bed when her alarm goes off with a fully packed schedule for the day, practically bouncing with excitement and energy with a smile on my face; to a girl I never would have imagined myself being. Pyjamas on as I face another day laying on my bed, surrounded by the quietness of t.v. shows with volumes that barely whisper for fear of being too loud. The person who turns down social gatherings because I don’t want to admit that I’m just not strong enough anymore.

I’ve been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) or, as it’s also called, Myalgic Encephalopathy (ME). I’m looking at a minimum of two to three years before I might be better, the current statistics say there is a 7%-10% chance of full recovery. It’s something my grandmother has lived with since my father was a young child. A vast majority of people who suffer from CFS/ME later become diagnosed with depression. The odds are not in my favour.

No amount of research has been able to help, for something that so many people suffer from there is scarily little research. They don’t know what causes it or have much of an idea as to how to cure it. Everything seems to be a guess, an assumption, added to a checklist of things I never realised I met. Symptoms that pile on top of each other, each more upsetting than the last.

Things like light and sound sensitivity, muscle pain, exhaustion, dizziness and memory problems, just to name a few.

I’m still trying to come to terms with this myself, what it means for me and the plans I’d started to make for next year. How to deal with going from two full-time commitments to considering it a good day if I can manage to make myself a hot drink. My life has changed, and I don’t know how to deal with that... let alone tell people I know about it, because what am I supposed to tell them? Tell you?

That going for a walk to one end of my property and back is guaranteed to land me in bed for the next day, unable to find the strength to leave. That I can’t go out because I can’t concentrate well enough to drive safely. That yes I care, but, on a bad day, please don’t talk to me because the sound of your voice is too loud and it hurts. That I can’t look at my phone because the brightness is too much, let alone trying to remember what I was going to say. Yes, I have thought about messaging you time, and time again, but the thought slips through my fingers as quickly as melted butter on a hot summer's day. Abandoning me before I can act on the thought or even lift my phone to find your name in my contacts.

I forgot the colour red the other night, a colour that’s been ingrained in my brain since I could talk, reinforced by years at school, one of the three base colours. I was staring at it, but heavens forbid I could tell you what it was. I was about to say a word and it fell from the tip of my tongue into a void never to be heard again. I struggle with the simple task of remembering what I stood up to do, losing things the second I put them down.

I woke up this morning swearing that it was Monday, no matter how many times I was told it wasn’t. Confused when my father told me it was Tuesday, struggling to remember that I had to do a blog post today.

The main reason I decided to write this post, was real to say that I’m sorry. The quality of my blog is decreasing, the length of my writing rapidly shrinking, the motivation to do this null and void. My health has taken a nose dive and with it everything I care about.

I’m not going to stop updating, though, it just might mean that things get hectic, that posts might be late, or a mere 500 words shoved into a document deemed good enough by my exhausted brain. I might update on the wrong day, because Monday is Saturday, and Tuesday is Monday, and my brain just can’t seem to get it right.

I remember things to forget them two seconds later, start a conversation to forget what I was saying midway through, type a sentence to stop and stare, trying to figure out if it makes sense. Pause mid-paragraph to re-read and try figure out where I was going with this entire thing. (I have no idea, in case it isn’t obvious).

The truth of the matter is, I am sick, my life has changed, things have to be different for me because my health won’t allow anything else, and it’s time for me to start accepting that. Even if the first step is a blog post I can share with people so I don’t have to try to explain this time and time again.

Hello Desi (Space Pirates Chapter 2)

(Before writing the story) For this week I was ‘given’ (read; bugged someone until they gave me one) a prompt. ‘The man who is going to kill me is cooking me dinner first’. I decided to use this with Carina, and our Space pirates.  I dunno if this is going to end up as a chapter in the story, or just a little one shot to give me an insight into the mind of Carina, but it will be worthwhile no matter what.

(After)... well that didn’t turn out as planned... got a little carried away and accidentally wrote the first draft of Chapter Two instead.... Sorry?

Also for those that read the Character Creation for Carina, I think I might end up changing that a little bit too... not too sure, let’s just see where this shooting star takes us shall we?

Carina’s head felt fuzzy, lifting it up from where it slumped against her own chest. She knew she wasn’t on her own ship, even through the fog that clouded her mind she could hear the difference. Metal that creaked, the loud cry of engines didn’t hum softly through the walls. Rough voices and heavy footsteps over grated corridors.

Mother had warned her what to do if ever she was taken hostage, drilled protocols into her until she was certain Carina could do them in her sleep. But this, this was different. She wasn’t in this situation because of who her parents were and the work they did. No, she had put them in this situation, it had been her fault that their ship was attacked. They knew her name.

Carina had begged ever since the mission had crossed their radar to avoid it, let someone else run errands to a planet she never meant to see again. She’d always known running from him wasn’t a smart idea. He’d owned her since he found her on one of his ships, forcing her to work for him. She’d hoped he would have forgotten her, the stowaway he turned into a beggar girl on the streets, earning money for him to pay off the debt she owed. Another cog in his empire of servants.

“Thought you could just escape Desi, did you?” Carina flinched when she heard his name, biting back the moan that accompanied the jolting of her head. “Foolish child, you never should have come back here.” A calloused hand gripped her chin, lifting her head and forcing her to look at a leathery face full of crooked teeth and gold flecks.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Carina lied, his fingers dug into her jaw bone as she tried to wrench her jaw from his grasp. “My name is Carina, my mother is a commander of the Alliance, you should return me to them while you have a chance.” She tested the bonds that held her wrists behind her back, trying to figure out how easily the ropes would break.

The man before her laughed, releasing her chin and taking a step back. A hand motion to the men behind her had her lifted off her feet, manhandled up the corridors towards the ship's bridge. Every crew member they passed stopping to gawk at her and the colourful markings that danced up her bare arms. The same thing that singled her out no matter where she travelled to.

“The Alliance has nothing against the power of my armada.” The gold-toothed man grinned, waving his arm towards the huge windows and the hundreds of ships that lay beyond. From what Carina could see they were in worse state than the ship she was on was. Some relying on the slipstream of others to stay on course, drifting through the sky on the galaxies faint tide.

“And yet you still bow to a Master,” Carina smirked, knowing the jibe would get under the captain's skin. His ‘armada’,  although impressive in number, was barely anything compared to what the Alliance had. The Alliance had just completed a complete refurbishment of their fleet, her family's ship was one of the few remaining of the outdated style, and it was on its last mission before it was to join the rest in retirement. All that truly meant, was the advantage the armada had clawed in numbers was lost, the Alliance had double the amount of ships it usually would have had.

The captain's anger had his hand wrapping around her throat at the insult, lifting her up off the grated floors. Carina held onto her smirk, suppressing the urge to gasp for the air her lungs begged for, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction he sought.

“Captain!” The crew rushed forward, tugging on his arms until he dropped her, taking as step back as Carina landed in a crouch and looked out the windows once more. She prayed to gods she never believed in for a glimpse of her parent's ship, hoping they were safe after the attack.

“Looking for your pretend parents, Rat?” The Captain spat, his hand catching her under her arm and hauling her to her feet. He barked orders for the ship to be spun one-eighty degrees, pointing at a smouldering wreck the second it came into view. “Because you’ll never see them again.”

This time Carina couldn’t stop her cry of pain, tears streaming down her face as she collapsed. She’d recognise her ship anywhere, the place that had become her home when she never thought she’d get another chance. Visions of her parents danced in her mind, memories that she tried to force away.

“Fire on them again.” His grip was tight around her arm, hand on her chin, forcing her to watch the smoking wreckage.

“Captain?” Hesitance, a shake in the crew members voice as he questioned the orders.

“I said fire on them again!” The hand tightened around her, a glare focused behind them. Carina stayed silent, listening to the click of fingers against a screen, the whir of the lasers starting up. She bit her lip as a beam of light flashed across the windows, keeping her eyes locked on the ship she’d been taken from so violently.

“You happy now? Proven that you're the boss rather than Desi’s little servant?” Carina spat the second he released her chin, She expected the backhand that accompanied her words, thrown back and crumbling. Physical abuse she could take, she’d faced it all before, anything to get her mind off what she’d just seen. Her parent's punishment for daring to care for her.

Carina spat the blood that had been filling her mouth onto the floor, watching it drip through the floor. Hands attempting to lift her back up despite still being tied behind her back.

“Captain! Desi said-” One of the crew tried to calm the captain down as he stomped towards her. Carina smiled, he clearly didn’t know who she had been to Desi. Death at his hands would spare her ever having to face him again.

“I don’t care, I’ll teach this little-” The Captain's hands were once more around her neck, brushing off the attempts to stop him.

“Captain.” His voice cut through the air like a hot knife would butter. Everything seemed to stop all at once, the crew keeping quiet and huddling back as though it would make him just ignore them. Carina was dropped instantly, the captain turning to face the man.

“I can explain-” A low growl cut him off, causing the Captain to flinch back, head bowed and hands tucked behind his back as he rocked nervously.

“Your orders were clear, Captain.” She’d never been able to explain the effect his voice could have on those who he meet. Not to her father as he shook her awake after another nightmare filled with just his voice. Not to the therapists that pretended to understand what she’d been through.

“Sir-” He tried to explain again, Carina smirked, hiding it behind her hair, the longer she stayed down the worse things would be for the man who ordered the death of her parents.

“You alright, Carina?” Deceptively soft, full of concern as her new name rolled off of his tongue, as he tainted her new life with three syllables.

“Never been better.” She spat, lifting her head as blood rolled down her chin. He chuckled, knowing her far better than she would have ever liked.

“I’ll be there soon, and Captain, keep your hands to yourself.”

Space Pirates

Seeing as we made a character the other week, (click here if ya wanna read that), I figured it was only fitting to use her as the next blog post. Unfortunately due to my poor health, this plan didn't quite make it last week... BUT IT DID THIS WEEK! Woo!! ((Also, next week is Chapter Two))

Space Pirates (Working Title):

Chapter One:

Carina was silent as she stared out the stars passing by the ship that doubled as her and her father's home. The captain carefully navigating past the giant burning balls of gas that had separated them from the planet she was desperate to avoid. Her fingers traced the marks that danced along her skin, distancing her from those that she had once belonged to.

“You worry too much Carina.” Her father looked up from his journal, watching her over the top of his half-rimmed glasses as she turned away from the ship's giant windows and towards him.

“This planet has never been friendly to the Alliance father, you and mother should be more worried.” Her hands locked in front of her long skirts, walking over to her father and taking the journal from his hands.

“You worry more than enough for both of us, we will be fine, I promise you.” He stood, pressing his lips to her head.

“And now I worry what mother will do if we are late for dinner once more.” He laughed, offering her his arm, she accepted, letting him lead her towards the dining room. His soothing voice trying to keep her mind from the planet that awaited them in the morning, the place she had fled from years ago.

“Pirates incoming!” Her father’s grip tightened on her as soon as the pre-recorded warning sounded, spinning them both back around towards his office, and the safe room that was hidden within.

“Sir!” Armed guard sprung from their posts against the walls, racing towards them and flanking them as an escort, as per the protocol that had been ingrained in her since she first started accompanying her adoptive parents. Hands on her shoulders as they rushed her and her father towards one of the safest places on the ship. The same hands that shoved her towards a wall as the entire ship was thrown widely to the side, knocking them back as everything went dark.

“CARINA!” She could barely make out her father's voice over the ringing in her ears, forcing her eyes open despite the desire to sleep. She’d felt this all before, the pain in her head after being slammed down and beaten.

Red emergency lights highlighted the silhouette of her father, dragged backwards by guards towards his office, more guards were on the floor around her. Groans falling from their lips as they tried to pick themselves up off the floor, fighting through the pain, knowing they had to protect the commander's daughter.

Carina could barely hear her father’s screams over those of the ship's hull as it was forced apart. The walls caving in and smashing into the corridor above her head, drawing a scream from her as debris fell on the guards, blood spilling onto the floor. Carina looked to where her father had been, screaming for him as a hand wrapped around her bicep, hauling her to her feet.

“We’ve been looking for you Rat.”

A Tale As Old As Time.

Heya Everyone.

So I was working on a new piece for today's blog post. I wanted to use Carina from last weeks post and write the start of her story. Keyword wanted, unfortunately, my bad health flared up, and despite spending a day in front of a keyboard, I was unable to tell the tale she deserves. What I have done, is searched through my files for something semi-recent to show you instead. (This is from 2013, it counts right?) So I haven't done very many touch ups, and I found this because I found a part of it that I was working on late last year.

In terms of my health, I should have an 'official' diagnosis in about two weeks to share with you all.

I hope you like it.

Rose.

Prologue:

We live in a world, a world we unknowingly share, with Vampires and shapeshifters alike. Like us humans, they have their faults and flaws.

Vampires are one of two things, made or born. Made vampires were turned into vampires by another vampire. They have only one more restriction than born vampires, their explosive habit of imploding on contact with the sun.

Born vampires are either noble, from one of four founding families, or they weren't. Should the vampiric king pass on, a new king is chosen from the nobles, one who shows the most potential rather than anointing someone named as heir. This King rules over his vampires. It is very rare for the ruler of the vampires to change, and there is only one known case of this having happened. The vampire king grew too powerful, abusing his power. The collective vampiric community decided to eliminate him and replace him with someone who seemed to be better suited to rule.

All vampires have an intense craving for blood, and generally, each vampire has their own personal preference. Each time a vampire drinks blood they receive something extra from the bloods owner. Shapeshifters blood allows vampires to use their shifting abilities, whereas human blood heightens the vampires normally dulled emotions. The duration this lasts directly correlates to the amount of blood consumed.

Otherwise, vampires are like those we read about these days. Fanged, blood sucking creatures, who can move faster than you ever dream possible, and some of the most attractive people on the planet.

Shapeshifters are not immortal, but they do outlive humans, with an average lifespan of 5 000 years. The current ruler of the shapeshifters spends that time not only ruling her people but also looking for a suitable heir to take her place once she passes on.

Shapeshifters have very few restrictions on forms they could take, anything that wasn't extinct or mythological. There were still few who broke those two basic rules, and more often than not they ended up hunted, killed by their own kind. Rare shapeshifters are slightly more powerful than shapeshifters that don’t have the gene. Those born with it are able to change form, quicker and sustain that form for an indefinite period of time, whereas normal shapeshifters can only hold their forms for 1000 years before they have to revert back. The rarest of these shapeshifters also have better control over their abilities, and, if they could master it, they could also 'modify' the creatures they change into, mixing the better parts of two creatures to make one powerful hybrid, however, this in itself was such a rarity that although several dedicate their whole lives to studying and mastering it, very few succeed, and when they do, they are only years away from death's door.

Shapeshifters usually find a few forms that they called their 'preferred forms', which are simply the forms that they felt comfortable in. These forms are typically similar, with one animalistic, one human and one vampiric, however, the older the shapeshifter becomes, the more likely it is they would grow bored and develop even more 'preferred' forms.

It is here we meet the most famous of Shapeshifters and Vampires. King Altius Hadrien Marcellus of the Vampires and Queen Rozen Sabina Aurelia of the shapeshifters. The story I'm risking my life to tell you, is a simple one, of forbidden love, vengeance and royalty.

Chapter 1:

Stunning green eyes locked on pure blue as they stared across the school's courtyard. The Queen of Shapeshifters instantly recognised the King of Vampires, they’d met plenty of their vast years walking the earth, and he had not aged a day. He was well built, as expected of a vampire of his status, easily carrying the air of nobility with subtle grace. He looked more welcoming than his predecessor, short light brown hair that curled naturally and soft pure blue eyes. Yet as is well known, looks can be deceiving, the King of Vampires could be just as malicious if not more so than his predecessor. A single glare was like a glimpse into the evil workings of his mind, more violent and cruel than anyone could ever imagine.

A slight smile graced the Queen of Shapeshifters lips as she noticed the man she had been searching for for years. Green eyes slowly changed to her natural hazel, and only the king noticed, his ‘entourage’ still stunned by the mahogany haired woman who commanded the utmost respect by just standing still. She seemed to control the very breeze that flicked through her hair.

“Alone are you my Queen?” The King asked, bowing his head as she walked to stand closer.

“Never my King.” A silent command and the light breeze turned into 3 figures, two males and one female. The female and a brown haired male stood to her left, whereas the blond haired male stood to her right.

“I do not believe you’ve met, the female is Jeniveve.” The only other female in the group looked up, blue eyes glancing over everyone, pausing only slightly on the king before looking to her queen.

“Then the male next to her is Nickolas, we call him Nick.” The brown haired male didn’t bother to glance over the crowd of Vampires, instead, hazel eyes flickered between Jenieve and his Queen.

“And, this is Kaardil.” The male had steel grey eyes, and dark blonde hair, a soft smile on his face.

“Your bodyguards change all the time my Queen.” The King teased,

“Unlike yours?” She replied with a smirk.

“Point proven, they have forced another upon me now, see.” He gestured to the three vampires behind him.

“Victoria, the eldest.” He motioned to a woman with long curly brown hair and dark brown eyes, who was studying the Queen with a slightly concerned look on her face.

“Avan,” Avan also had dark brown hair and brown eyes, but he didn’t seem worried by the Queen, a slight smile on his face, looking right at home.

“And Alli” She had short light brown hair, and also had brown eyes.

“What happened to John, and Luca? I liked them.” The Queen easily looped her arm through the one that the King offered her, and the pair walked away, conversing like the old friends that they were. The Vampires followed along behind, while the shapeshifters again took on their form of air, and hovered around the King and Queen.

“You have been searching for me, Rozen.” The King stated,

“Indeed I have Altius.” She replied with the same serious tone. They both motioned for their guards to leave at the same time.

“To class, the Queen will do me no harm.” The King ordered as the three shapeshifters appeared next to the vampires.

“You also.” The Queen turned and walked away with the King, to a more private place.

“I do not have the answers for you, Rozen.” He spoke softly, his hand resting on her cheek. She leant into his touch, her own hand resting softly over his.

“You have all the answers Altius, you always have.” Her voice was slightly softer than his,

“Not always my love.” He smiled sadly,

“I should be dead Altius, I’ve watched those I have chosen to succeed me die, I have for the last thousands of years. I should have died when I was five thousand, and I am twenty times older than that.” Her voice rose hysterically with her words, and Altius couldn’t help but draw her into his body, hugging her tightly.

“I have only one theory my love, and it is not one that you will like.” A sigh from the King,

“Have you been craving more raw meat than usual?” He asked quietly,

“My preferred forms are carnivores Altius, I have always preferred my meat raw.” She replied just as softly,

“My only theory is that you are on the verge of becoming a vampire. Still a shapeshifter, but very close to turning permanently, and that is what is preventing you from ageing and dying as you should.”

“So I am at risk of turning?” A whispered question,

“No, my Queen. If my theory is correct, the only one who can finish turning you...” He paused, moving one hand to run through her hair softly.

“Is me.”