The wind flew through his hair as the eerie chants became faster and faster. He chewed the dried root and revelled in the feeling of weightlessness. The screech of a battle cry signalled the beginning of the procession and they rose as one into the sky.
The wails of the Bean Sidhe rose up from the riverbanks to greet them, their bloody clothes forgotten for the moment. The night was full of the ghostly sounds of the immortals on the prowl. Never did he feel as powerful as when he was leading a procession through their lands.
A scout screamed, a human fool enough to leave the safety of his village had been spotted. There was always one. Tyrae concentrated long enough to find the prey: an elderly man cowering as he ran down the track looking for safety. He would not find it until morning, if he survived. With a smile, Tyrae lead the procession downwards, getting just close enough to drag the man in the whirlwind of their wake. The mortal screams mixed in with the screeches and chants, an evil chorus of sound that filled Tyrae with exhilaration.
No stealth, no sneaking: for the night they ruled the land without challenge, even the Seelie Court cowered in their hill and waited for the night to be over. His rule, tonight, was absolute; his power immense.
Then he saw the light. A beckoning blue glow as unearthly as anything this night. It hovered outside the low house of one of the mortals. Tyrae grinned and swooped toward it: a new spirit to torment. His jaws ground down on the dried root, his muscles rippled like wild animals under his skin, his joyous war-cry echoed through the night. He couldn't resist it -- faster, faster, fas--
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Opening: Sylvia.....Continuation: ril