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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/679149-Kirii-Nostra--Daemon-Faery-of-Clyhseret
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #679149
Introducing Kirii Nostra for the campfire entitled 'The Bane of Nyrlesa'...
Kirii Nostra:
A Daemon Faery’s Tale of Possession


         A swift breeze blew through the valley, creating a rippling effect in the soft greens of the grass and the crystalline blues of the cold lake at its very center. Creampuff clouds floated across the cerulean sky above and the golden sun shone down with a warm ferocity. This was a day that one would normally spend inside, with the windows open to catch the breeze and sleeves rolled up to allow the skin to breathe as the chores were finished with a apathetic air.

         Karmak McKellen sat before the lake, watching it with eyes of steel and with hair of gold blowing about his head, wrapping around his face and neck. It grew to his shoulders and fell in messy waves wherever it landed when Karmak awoke in the morning. He didn’t believe in bathing, much to the chagrin of the people in Claddian Village, located in the next valley over and permanent residence of the weaponsmaster in his retirement. Karmak wasn’t old by any means, being only thirty-one, but it was believed that too many battles had driven him mad. He firmly believed that a dark creature was out to steal his soul and often spent torturous nights tossing and turning in his bed; unable to sleep for fear that he would wake up without a soul. As such, Karmak was treated like a rabid dog; made a pariah in order to keep a certain epidemic from spreading through the village- a monstrous wave of madness.

         “By the wind that blows over the stormy seas and the fire that burns, creating new life on earth- all the elements brought together in the Spirit, everlasting, ever watching, ever turning,” Karmak sang as he dragged the whetting stones along the already sharp blade of his longsword, Maenima. Rough, calloused fingers were strong, made so by many years of dutiful service to the army of Clyhseret, a small kingdom just to the North of Nyrlesa not known for its light or its honest creatures. Of course, that was just outside the kingdom of Clyhseret; all Clyhserecians knew that they were just as honest as the next country- they just had creatures that weren’t known for their honesty. Karmak was a good man and had never faltered in his loyalty to king and kingdom; except for that whole soul-stealing thing, which had gotten him kicked out of the military forever.

         A sudden shift in the wind alerted the man to the presence of something less-than-savory in the valley with him. He knew that a creature of Darkness needed a wind from the North to enter into this valley, which was long protected by the forces of Light and the Council of the Twelfth Epiphany*. Jumping up, he flipped Maenima from his left hand to his right and twirled it into a fighting position. Instinctively, he bent his knees and knelt, his sword held out before him in a defensive manner and his left hand clutching a dagger he had brought out of his boot. Karmak looked like a panther ready to attack a potential threat, his gray eyes scanning the increasingly dark valley about him and sweat pouring down his forehead, both from the heat earlier and his anxiety now. In his heart of hearts, he knew that this was the dark creature that would steal his soul, but Karmak was determined to give it the fight of its life, if their existence could even be called a life. Whatever was there, he was ready for it.


         Kirii stared at the man before her, gauging his life force and deciding whether or not it would be of use to suck the life out of him. His skill with a sword would be an art that Kirii could use later and he was young enough, but years in the military had worn at him. If Kirii had left his soul to live, the man would’ve lasted no more than ten or twenty more years before the Gods took his life and sent him to the Underworld. No doubt he would reside with the past heroes of the kingdom until his next life was to begin, when he would come back and continue to learn. Nonetheless, his was a good spirit and her stomach was currently an empty basket inside her abdomen, waiting to be filled with the deliciousness of a well-chosen soul.

         It was hunger that made Kirii’s decision for her. As she flew forward, red and black wings carrying her, she continued to watch the man. He knew, from the North wind she’d had to call up in order to enter the Valley of the Clearrock Lake, that she was there and he kept that cat-like defensive pose steady. Poor soul, she thought, doesn’t even realize that I can take his soul while still invisible. Silver hair floated on the breeze and eyes made of smoldering fire twinkled as a strange, almost evil smile formed on her beautiful face, contorting it into something a little less than human-like. Her face became made of darkness itself as Kirii lost her materialized form; if she didn’t eat soon, she would become solid darkness- all Spirit Daemon.

         Kirii Nostra was a Daemon Faery, born to a Spirit Daemon father and a Dark Faery mother three hundred and fifty-six years ago in the Morristan Forest of northern Clyhseret. Her mother had raised her, but after a century of spasmodic combustion into solid darkness and accidental Daemon attacks, she had been sent to live with her father, Couraen. Kirii might have been saved from the ambitious, evil ways of a Spirit Daemon had she lived with the Faeries, but her mother couldn’t have dealt with her any more. It was best for everyone if Kirii lived with Couraen. Over the next two-and-a-half centuries, the Faery-like, happy Kirii Nostra had been lost and replaced with a Daemon-like, hard, unfeeling, and ambitious Kirii Nostra that held little to no sympathy for anything and felt no pity for those whom she sucked dry in order to maintain her own existence in materialized form. Once soft, her maroon eyes were now icy and hard; only coming alive right before killing. She was still beautiful, having kept the milky faery skin and soft, pretty features of her mother, and still had a very fit, sensual body, but she was not the same Kirii Nostra that had been raised by a clan of Faeries. Nor would she ever be again.

         Landing before the man, her booted feet making no sound in the grass, Kirii stood for a moment, watching him. He was afraid, looking around wildly for something that would allow him to know where she was and quickly coming to the conclusion that he would be able to do nothing to defend himself. Kirii felt nothing stir in her blackened heart, however, as she stood above him like an angel of death, her black shirt billowing out behind her with the breeze and the front of her legs feeling cold, even with soft, black leather pants covering them. Grinning, she stepped forward and dumped her material form for the moment. Everything that she had been before disappeared to be replaced by a humanoid shaped column of darkness that continued to make its way toward Karmak. Soon, her leg slipped inside the man’s body, followed by the other leg and then, in one swift movement, the rest of her form.

         Karmak let out a barbarous cry that rang out along the entire valley, shaking the very roots of the trees with its pain and fear-tinged echoes. Slowly, however, ever so slowly, darkness began to creep up out of his skin starting at his hands and heading for his heart. Once it reached the heart, Karmak’s cry ceased as his spirit was sucked dry before the darkness spread much more quickly around his body. Maenima never left his right hand, however, nor did the dagger in his left. Soon, though, Karmak’s hands were replaced by Kirii’s slim, faery hands, as was the rest of his body. Even Karmak’s clothing was gone; replaced by Kirii’s dark attire. The only trace left of Karmak was his sword and dagger, now wielded by Kirii. Over-all, it was a good feed and Kirii now felt much, much better.

         The North wind picked up and Kirii looked up. Standing before her was Mykyel, her best friend from home, and he was staring at her with his foot tapping. Mykyel was solid Spirit Daemon and was fire rather than darkness, but he kept the form of a young man of about twenty-one with black hair and brown eyes. His eyebrow went up as he waited for Kirii to greet him.

         “Hello, Mykyel. What news has father sent you to give me now?” Kirii asked, rolling her eyes. Couraen had always been overprotective of his daughter because she looked so young; only about nineteen. Kirii was tired of it and, as Mykyel always had to give the messages, he was probably tired of it, too.

         “This time it is not your father; it’s me. I know who you just made a meal of and I came to tell you the news of the kingdoms. The Bane Dragon as returned and the kings and queens of each kingdom are to send one hero to fight it. King Salataion the X seeks the hero Karmak McKellen, who, if I’m not mistaken, has currently been taken over by you. Now what are you going to do?”

         Kirii smiled and stood up. Closing her eyes, she pictured Karmak in her head and released that over her body. Within seconds, no one would’ve been able to tell that she wasn’t Karmak unless they knew better. “Send Karmak McKellen, of course,” she said, smiling and sheathing the sword before putting the dagger back into her boot. “Then I’ll obviously do a little shedding. Needless to say, the Bane Dragon is going down.”

*The Council of the Twelfth Epiphany came into existence shortly after the reign of King Salataion the V of the Clan Douris. The Douris Clan was long known for having epiphanies, despite not really knowing what to do with them. While sitting in a valley one day about two months after becoming king, Salataion came to the conclusion that a Council of Clyhseret’s wisest and most powerful men should always be there for both Judicial and defense purposes to help king and country. And, in a move not at all common for his Clan, Salataion listened to his own judgment and created this council. Since he determined that his epiphany was the twelfth in the history of his family, he decided to call this council The Council of the Twelfth Epiphany. The Valley of the Clearrock Lake, the valley where the king had had his epiphany, was declared sacred and protected with many a spell that, for some odd reason, always failed when a North wind blew through.
© Copyright 2003 Professor Q (rainangel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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