CHAPTER ONE-HUNDRED AND EIGHT: STORMBRINGER

Tristan was never afraid of being the center of attention. He often sought that position. All eyes on him. Smiles filling many faces. Frowns wreathing a few others. But none were indifferent to him. 

In his most narcissistic moments, he had gobbled up the attention like it was candy. Later, he learned the value of being unnoticed, unseen, and even forgotten. To switch between the two, Tristan imagined a stage light up above him, shining down on his person. In this light, he was seen and he performed for his audience. When the stage lights went dark, he disappeared from sight and notice. He was but a whisper and then gone. Needless to say, Tristan thought he knew what it was like to have everyone aware of him.  But the way the Horys Vampires looked at Cheveyo–as if their very souls were in their eyes being offered to him–made what Tristan had experienced before look like dog food compared to the finest filet. 

Even standing next to Cheveyo, he felt as if not one, but a million stage lights were focused upon him.  He realized in that moment that he had never quite understood what an Immortal meant to their Bloodline. At least, he knew what Cheveyo meant to them. There were tears running unabashedly down some faces. Others covered their mouths as if to hold in screams of excitement. Arms half lifted from sides as if they would reach out and grasp Cheveyo to them. Yet Cheveyo had been among them all this time, every night and more, but it was as if they were seeing him again after a long, long time.

“It looks like they know who you are,” Tristan whispered. “I thought I was the first person you told who you really are.”

Tristan’s left arm was looped through Cheveyo’s right. Cheveyo pressed that arm tight against his side to keep Tristan very near as they threaded through the crowd of Horys Vampires that lined the road on either side of them. 

“You were, but they guessed.  I have made them wait too long,” Cheveyo answered.

You made them wait for me, Tristan thought and a stab of guilt went through him.

He wasn’t in control of this choice, of course. He hadn’t asked Cheveyo to wait nor would he have wanted the Immortal to do so. But Cheveyo had valued his potential discomfort above all of theirs and he sort of hated himself for that. Had he been so fragile and precious in the past that Cheveyo hadn’t been able to govern his own Bloodline without compromises? Well, that stopped in this life! He was not some shrinking flower. He could stand on his own two feet. 

“How did they know you would open the palace tonight? Tristan asked.

He glanced up at the Immortal when Cheveyo hadn’t answered after a few moments. His handsome profile–as if carved from red rock itself–was pensive and a little sad. Tristan’s breath caught and the urge to stroke his brow until that look was gone flowed over him.  He merely tightened his grip on Cheveyo’s arm instead so as not to draw attention to the Immortal’s distress.

“I think they have gathered here every night in the hopes that I would come,” Cheveyo admitted.

Tristan winced.  Cheveyo looked down at him with concern.

“I’m fine,” Tristan quickly assured him. “I was just feeling a little guilty that I was the reason for that wait. Or, at least, part of it.”

He was certain that there were other reasons, too, that Cheveyo had kept his Immortal status hidden. From what he’d seen and read, the Immortals had pretty complicated histories with the Vampires they created. But still. He had played some role in their waiting and it was clear that the Horys Vampires had been hurting for want of their Immortal.

“Did any of them flat out ask you if you were Horys?” Tristan asked.

The Vampires drew near but kept a clear pathway directly ahead of them to the edge of the Horys Palace. 

“No, they just accepted my authority as if I was,” Cheveyo acknowledged. 

“When did you know who you were? When you were turned? Before that?” Tristan asked.

He realized he had allowed Cheveyo to ask him all the personal questions while he had resorted to more general ones about him. He was no longer doing that anymore either. He would ask. Cheveyo didn’t assume they would be anything more than friends in this life. Or he said he didn’t. But from the moment they’d met, Tristan had felt drawn to him. He could acknowledge that now. He might not remember their past, but his soul knew Cheveyo’s and wanted to be with him.

I’m normally such a bad picker of men though. Cheveyo is nothing like the Vs of the world. He’s the exact opposite. So wouldn’t that indicate choosing him is a good pick for once? Tristan wondered. But I died three times before when we were together. Was it because of him? Was it for him?  No. I’m sure I was the problem.

Cheveyo’s silver eyes were fixed upon his face, studying his emotions, and Tristan quickly wiped away the self-hatred from his expression.  The Immortal would sniff out the reasons for it if he didn’t. He smiled delightedly at Cheveyo. The stage lights were on. He was performing. But he actually did feel this happiness even if, as always, it was mixed with something else less savory. He forced his eyes towards their goal: the Horys Palace.

“Ah, that’s weird,” Tristan frowned. “Where’s the palace? I only see fog.”

Tristan rose up on his tiptoes a few times as they walked to catch sight of the palace beyond the Horys Vampires clustered ahead of him, but, as he’d told Cheveyo, fog–which was nowhere else–had surrounded the entirety of the Horys Palace. Any view of it was cut off by the glowing, rolling fog. 

Cheveyo chuckled. “Theatrics, taala.”

His eyebrows rose. “Theatrics?”

“I may have made them wait too long for me and their rightful home, but that does not mean I do not know how to make up for it,” Cheveyo said with a slight smile.

Tristan’s eyes widened. “You’re normally so self-effacing, Cheveyo. You don’t draw attention to yourself.  Well, except for that truck…”

Cheveyo tossed his head back as he let out a rich laugh. His long, black hair that fell to his waist shimmered in the moonlight.  He imagined that hair flying back like a banner in a strong wind.  “Oh, taala, on the contrary. Nature is always putting on a display.”

They had made it to the divide between graceful avenue and the Horys Palace’s grounds. Tristan stared at a fog wall. There was actually a hard line of fog and no-fog. So it was not natural at all. He extended one hand towards it, pausing only at the last minute to check with Cheveyo that it was all right. The Immortal nodded. 

Tristan thrust his hand inside. Other than a faint chill and water droplets forming on his skin, he felt nothing. Of course, it was just fog, but still. It looked thick enough to scoop with a spoon. He wasn’t alone in being fascinated with the fog. Other Horys Vampires started doing it as well, laughing as they used their own version of the Horys gift to pull some of the fog out and turn it into shapes. 

One created a miniature dragon that flew around his fingers before dissipating in a puff of smoke. Another modeled the fog into tiny rain clouds and had lightning no bigger than a toothpick illuminate the clouds. A sudden cloudburst followed, leaving a quarter-sized wet mark on the stone. A third formed a wizard’s hat atop her head before fashioning a flowing cloak of the fog, too. The others laughed and clapped. Cheveyo smiled paternally. But then all eyes were on him.

He didn’t give a speech. He didn’t even make some awkward smalltalk before admitting that he, yes, was their beloved Immortal Horys reborn. He didn’t speak at all. And he didn’t have to. Because like most things Cheveyo did, he did with such intention and natural gravity that everyone stopped to watch and wait and understand in time.

Cheveyo brought Tristan’s one hand to his lips. His silver eyes fixed upon Tristan’s face even as they half shut when his mouth placed a tender yet somehow scalding kiss on the back of his hand. His skin tingled where Cheveyo had touched him like electricity. And like electricity it raced up his arm and across his chest. His heart beat with it. Fast and then slow. Electric.

With great regret and reluctance, Cheveyo released his hand. Tristan brought it against his chest, trying to hang onto the feeling of those lips. 

We’re not together. I don’t even know him. We might have been an “us” before but that doesn’t mean we’ll be that way this time. Right?

Yet Tristan kept cradling his hand to his chest. And he couldn’t look away from Cheveyo even if he had wanted to.

Cheveyo turned so that he was fully facing the wall of fog. His eyelights fluttered shut. His arms began to rise upwards from his sides. Everyone moved a bit away from him as electricity crackled through the air. Tristan could see the spark between Cheveyo’s fingers.  The wind began to stir. Tristan squinted as leaves stirred, branches started to rock, and Cheveyo’s long hair flowed out behind him like a silk flag.

The excitement Tristan felt was reflected on the faces of the Horys Vampires. An elderly man with skin the color of a walnut and deep lines around eyes and mouth was smiling so broadly that his silver eyes were nearly hidden with the folds of flesh. A young woman grabbed the arm of her companion, a big bull of a man, and jumped up and down like a school girl. The bullish Vampire whose head was shaven other than a line of short hair in a strip down the center of his scalp rocked back and forth just as excitedly. 

They’re as excited to see Cheveyo use the Horys gift as I am even though they can use it themselves. 

He somehow knew it wasn’t only for them to see the Horys Palace revealed as alive and livable that was causing this. Nor was it simply the Immortal Horys return. No, they were watching a master of nature work his magic. And that was always something to admire.

“Stormbringer,” someone murmured.

The wind gushed around them, stirring up the fallen leaves and few loose branches.

“Stormbringer,” another added with a nervous giggle behind it.

Tristan’s clothes began to flatten against his chest as the wind’s power grew.

“Stormbringer!” A third shouted with a pumped fist.

Lightning streaked through the fog obscuring the palace. 

“STORMBRINGER!” the bullish Vampire and the young woman Vampire shouted in unison.

Lightning forked and flared in a dazzling display. The trees all around them were being whipped in the wind. In fact, the wind felt so strong that Tristan felt his feet might lift the ground. The young woman Vampire grasped his hand in her free one and grinned at him. 

“We’re about to fly. Hold on!” she giggled even as she held onto the bullish Vampire on the other side of her.  She was as delicate and pale pink as a ceramic doll. Brown curls frothed around her heart-shape face.  She looked maybe fifteen, but she could be any age. 

“We are? Fly?” He laughed.

“I’ve only heard about this. About the Stormbringer bringing us soaring into the air,” the bullish Vampire enthused as he took Tristan’s other hand. Tristan’s hand was swallowed within his massive dark skinned one. 

“What are your names?” Tristan asked as another gust of air blashed them. 

“Dalia,” the young woman said.

“Bruce,” the bullish man said.

“Tristan,” he answered, not adding “Shire” and instead after a pause, “Tristan Balfour.”

The two of them glanced at one another for a moment, sharing a meaningful look. And he realized they knew of him. Well, the past him or hims.

“Of course,” Dalia said with a nod. “You’re back, too.”

“Yes,” he said and felt both invigorated by the face and enervated by it too.

“Glad you’re here,” Bruce said with a flash of white teeth. 

“Me, too,” Tristan said, meaning it.

“So… Stormbringer?” Dalia asked.

“Stormbringer!” Both Tristan and Bruce replied.

And then they started to chant Cheveyo’s nickname. The others picked up the chant until their shouts were all that could be heard over the howling of the wind. Dalia and Bruce tightened their hands on his as their feet left the ground. Tristan let out a shout of surprise and delight even as his stomach lodged in this throat before dropping precipitously into his feet as he saw that they were already ten feet above the ground and rising. Finally, his heart found its way back to where it belonged in his chest.

Cheveyo had levitated them over thirty feet in the air. The entirety of the Horys Bloodline that was there. Several hundred Vampires were all arrayed in a line before the wall of fog. Cheveyo was slightly higher than the rest of him. His arms and legs were spread wide, reminding Tristan of the Vitruvian Man. 

His heart seized as he studied that handsome face, which was seemingly lit from within with joy. Cheveyo’s eyes were still closed. His hair flew around his head like a halo. There was something so wild and free in him. Something that caused Tristan’s heart to lift and lift and lift. His lips parted as he watched Cheveyo. His eyes suddenly burned with tears of happiness so intense that it hurt. 

This is it. This is what life should be. This is why it matters to exist. To see this. Be a part of this. Be with him…

Tristan blinked as he thought of that last line. It was so sudden yet fully formed in his head. He’d believed he had past lives.  But now, he thought he might feel it. Feel them. 

It was as if Cheveyo heard his thoughts as the Immortal turned his head at that moment towards Tristan. His eyelids opened slightly. All Tristan could see was glowing silver between those lashes. Cheveyo smiled and mouthed something. 

Taala.

Tristan grinned and let out a choked laugh-cry. Joy spiked through his veins like a drug. He felt immortal himself. He felt stronger than ever. But also more fragile. As if he could shatter into a million pieces. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want this to end. But even if it did, even if he shattered, he would never regret this.

Cheveyo’s eyes closed once more and he turned back to the wall of fog. And then the line of Horys Vampires including him began to move. They were flying around the border of the Horys Palace’s grounds. It felt like he was on some crazy awesome carnival ride. He held tightly onto Dalia and Bruce’s hands. He met their grins with his own as they continued to chant, “Stormbringer!”

Students, other Vampires, visiting dignitaries, and the media had started to realize that something was going on at the Horys Palace. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of flashes and the bright lights of cameras. They were being recorded. He heard voices raised in alarm, but also wonder. These people pointed and gasped as he and the Horys Vampires flew around the fog faster and faster. 

Lightning flashed and danced within the fog that obscured the Horys Palace and its grounds from view. Tristan had a feeling that whatever had been there in the past was not there any longer. It was changing to represent the man Cheveyo was now. The Immortal he was now. 

The fog began to swirl now forming a tornado. It lifted up into the air. Thinning as it was drawn off and more and more of the grounds were revealed. Tristan squinted his eyes, not wanting to miss a thing.

Paths of white stone wound through dark green grass and wending rivers of brightly colored flowers. The flowers glowed in the dark. Luminescence running through their stems, leaves and petals. Their stamens bobbed heavily in the air. Glittering pollen drifted through the air. 

More fog was drawn away and Tristan saw that there were wending pools of water that surrounded a central structure that was still hidden. These pools were filled with crystal clear water. Gem-like stones filled their bottoms, giving off their own light. More glowing flowers bobbed on the water’s surface. Fish with flashing scales zoomed between lilypads. 

More fog dissipated and there were vast pale stone sitting areas where organic-looking chairs and tables were lit with majestic flowering lamp posts encircled the palace. Steps, wide, low and graceful, were revealed next. Handrails of softly glowing brass led up to another landing with more places to lounge and watch the mesmerizing glowing flowers stir in the wind. 

Finally, the remaining fog was sucked up into the air and dissipated. There was a massive crash of thunder as lightning stabbed down from the heavens and struck a brasier on the very top of the palace. Silver flames burst to life inside of the brazier.

“STORMBRINGER! STORMBRINGER! STORMBRINGER!” They all shouted in unison.

The sky was flooded with lightning. Thunder shook Nightvallen. The Horys Vampires and Tristan thrust their clasped hands up into the air. They didn’t let go of the person who was holding onto them. He grinned at Dalia and then Bruce who grinned back.

Then the three of them looked fully upon the Horys Palace. Tristan’s heart caught in his throat once more. His first impression was that it was a gigantic model of the Sol System, but made entirely of blown glass. The “planets” were larger than double decker buses. They were arranged at various levels and encircled a central tower of white stone that rose up to impossible heights. The brasier blazing with the silver flames sat on the very top. Lightning occasionally flashed down to touch the brasier. Matching flashes sometimes appeared inside of the delicate yet massive glass planets that orbited the central structure. 

“Otherworldly,” he murmured.

“Wow!” Dalia gasped.

“It’s like nothing else,” Bruce said with awe in his voice.

It wasn’t. It was like some dream made real. Nature, both its beauty and danger, was encompassed in the design of the Horys Palace. Unlike other palaces that might have bowed to convention and pretended to be normal, the Horys Palace did not. It was magic solidified into physical form. It took Tristan’s breath away. If he’d seen anything like this in a past life surely he would remember it, but nothing came. Only this moment.

And maybe that’s all that matters.

Cheveyo’s eyes were open. He had them spinning around the palace still, high up in the air, but Tristan had no fear of falling. He never wanted to touch the ground again. Cheveyo spun around to face him. His eyes still burned silver. He did not look human, but more like a storm god of old. Tristan’s heart leaped. Cheveyo extended a hand to him. Tristan looked at Bruce and Dalia.

“Ready?” Dalia asked.

“It’s all right, Tristan Balfour,” Bruce said.

“Right. I’m ready,” he said, not sure what they were asking him, but he was ready for anything at that moment.

They let go of his hands and he soared through the air alone. He stretched his arms wide, spreading his fingers so he could feel the air whisper between them. And then Cheveyo was before him. Tristan reached for that hand extended towards him. The moment their fingertips touched electricity soared through him. Cheveyo’s other hand curled around his waist. Tristan’s lips parted as he was brought against the Immortal’s chest. 

Their bodies kept moving. Spinning around the palace. Tristan’s free hand wrapped around Cheveyo’s neck as their spinning became more of a dance. Cheveyo’s silver eyes looked at only him. Flashes of lightning illuminated both of them in the same silver. 

Tristan tilted his head to the side as he brought Cheveyo’s head towards his own. He knew what he wanted. What he had to have. Maybe he was the worst picker of men in the world. Maybe this was too fast. No maybe about it. Maybe he should know what caused them to part in the past. No maybe about that either. 

Yet none of it stopped him. He kissed Cheveyo. Soft at first, but then desperately as if he could merge with the Immortal. Cheveyo held back, too, but then it was as if the kiss unleashed something inside of him and he couldn’t stop either. 

They were one as the lightning crashed and the thunder rumbled.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: If you want a bit of music while you read this, I would recommend Turn the Lights Off by Kato featuring Jon Hamm. The song is a banger and it encapsulates the feeling that this chapter really inspired in me.  There are so many mixes!

Next Chapter Will Be Posted!