A bit of a background on Senyaru. This is one of my more random stories I’ve come up with. I have actually written it twice as a full novel, but both times I have scrapped it. I love the stories and the characters, but the words haven’t come 100% to me, so this one is sitting for now.
Senyaru is, like most of my stories, based off a nightmare I had in 2012 or maybe 2011, but I woke up and thought “This needs to happen!” and I wrote it nonstop for a couple of years until I got too mad at it and set it aside to work on other things. I still like my opening chapter for it.
Wings flapped, the only sound to pierce the quiet night. The man flew, asking the winds to give him more speed as he hurried toward the insignificant village. If any were to find him missing before he returned, questions would be asked. Questions he couldn’t afford to answer. He scanned the ground for the signal; if that damned man backed out he would not live to see tomorrow. But, no, there it was on the edge of the woods. A small fire burning steadily; small enough that it wouldn’t be considered suspicious but large enough for Aldrid to see.
He folded his massive wings and dove toward the ground, holding the bundle in his hands tightly as he plummeted. For his part, the man beside the fire showed little surprise as Aldrid strode into the light. He squinted up at the hulking, winged figure, his gaze going instantly to the large bundle Aldrid carried.
“You seem surprised,” replied Aldrid, his Zentu rusty but better than most sentras’.
“It’s not often that the High Lord asks a lowly enyanni for help.” The man’s voice was dripping in sarcasm.
Aldrid ignored the man’s tone, taking one last look at the bundle before handing it to the man. “You will take care of her?”
“As if she were my own. She will be safe with me.”
Aldrid nodded once before spreading his wings and calling the wind to help him get back in the air. He floated above the campfire, looking down at the enyanni and the bundle, his daughter, before turning toward the Citadel and flying with haste. “By Jeshua I hope we’ve done the right thing,” he muttered under his breath.
It took him less time to fly back to the Citadel. He landed on the window ledge to his room and opened the window quietly so as not to wake Alina. As soon as he stepped inside and shut the window, he knew something was wrong. He felt rather than saw the darkness fling itself at him, wrapping around his neck.
“Where isss ssshe?” it hissed in his ear.
Aldrid reached for his knife only to have the creature grab his hand and pin his arm to his side. “Let go,” Aldrid spat, trying to rip the thing off with his other hand. Another tendril snaked out, grabbing his free hand and capturing it in its embrace.
“If you tell me now, your life will be ssspared.”
“Then you sssshall sssshare your mate’sss fate.” The darkness loosened enough for Aldrid to scrabble free and grab his sword from where it lay. He stepped back and slipped on something slick, falling heavily on the hard, stone floor. He twisted to right himself and froze when his hand brushed hair. He grabbed it and pulled, moaning loudly when Alina’s head followed, her face frozen in a terrified scream. Aldrid dropped the head and got to his feet with a roar just as something slammed into his back, crushing his wings. He faltered, almost dropping the sword, but managed to stay upright and swing it toward the shadows. It was the last thing he ever did.
A maid ran screaming from the chambers the next morning, causing all who heard her to flock to the great doors and stare in dumb silence at the gruesome scene. The High Lord and his lady were strewn across the room to the point where nothing was recognizable. The heads sat impaled on the bedposts, one mouth opened in a wordless scream, the other in a roar of rage.