Private Tales The Last Days of Summer

Lorcan's raven wings folded gracefully as he touched down, the humid, summer air around them seemed to hum with tension, an unspoken acknowledgment of the gravity of their mission. Raphael's remark about second thoughts earned him a wry half-smile from Lorcan, though his eyes held a darkened weariness that spoke of the burden he carried.

"Really?," he replied rhetorically, his voice a low, almost pained rumble. The bond with Maeve, now stretched across the realms, pulsed with a muted ache owed to the distance that now separated them. The last time he'd had to endure it, she was here. Lorcan took a deep breath in an attempt at centering himself, his shoulders rolling away a little tension.

Lorcan's jaw tightened however, at the news of Mercutio's activities, and then at the mention of Armanthea, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. The mention of her name alone sparked a simmering anger within him. "Shame she hasn't joined the festivities..." he frowned with a mix of frustration and concern.

"We deal with him for now. We try to get this done and get out. Try not to kill anyone we don't need to, and lets try to avoid a war...." he huffed. He had promised, and the last thing he wanted was to have to spend more time away from Maeve. He had enough groveling to do as it was.

Lorcan's jaw clenched, the shadowy energy around him reacting to the surge of emotion. "I'm not leaving until we find her," he asserted, his tone unwavering. The Lady Armanthea's involvement in orchestrating Mercutio's actions was a stain that couldn't go unanswered, and he knew well the types of games she played.

"Let's crash a party."

Raphael's advice was met with a quick glare as his back teeth ground together with the effort of not lashing out at him. Calm was the last thing he felt - his rage only heightened now with how far he was from Maeve. Armanthea had gotten her wish, it seemed, and here he was torn away from his mate yet again by her hand. No, composure would be a difficult thing to maintain here.

The trio took flight, following Raphael's lead to the concealed spot near the servants' entrance. Crouching between the two puca, Lorcan's gaze narrowed as he assessed the situation, noting the guards and the seemingly lax security.

"Whether this is arrogance or design, we need to be cautious. We can't afford to underestimate her." he sneered.

As they prepared to infiltrate the Summer court, Lorcan couldn't shake the feeling that the choices they made tonight would ripple through the Fae realms, altering the course of their lives and the delicate balance of power. His thoughts involuntarily drifted to Maeve, a flicker of the bond they shared tugging at him like a phantom limb. He clenched his jaw, pushing the distractions aside. His mind had to be here, or they'd all be at risk.

Crouching, he leaned forward and set a hand on the grass. Shadow slithered from his palm, spreading along the ground, silent and searching until they reached what guards he could see. They climbed, weightless and unnoticed until they coiled around their bodies, binding their arms and legs and snaking around their necks and mouths, closing tightly around them and robbing them of breath and voice until they fell unconscious.

"They won't be out for long.." Lorcan muttered bitterly as he crossed the threshold. He wouldn't have thought twice about slaughtering the guards had it not been for Maeve's voice that seemed a constant echo in his mind, even with his senses slammed shut. The imprint of Maeve's vulnerability, the vision of how she had cried and cowered still etched into his consciousness, fueled the simmering rage that lurked just beneath the surface.

Shadows clung to him like an ethereal armor, a manifestation of his internal turmoil, ready to defend. Keen senses were on high alert as he moved soundlessly passed his brothers and up the spiral of stone steps until he reached the second storey without any obstacle. Lorcan surveyed the hallway, an unsettling calm hanging in the air, a deceptive tranquility that clashed with the tempest in his mind.

Paranoia shuddered across his back. The Autumn court were not to be toyed with, their armies and hunts were formidable, the Erlking's name alone struck fear into many hearts, and the three brothers were a force unto their own. There was little question of their reputation, and yet these Fae had knowingly tortured his mate and appeared to find little need for defensive measures despite the likelihood of retaliation. Either Lorcan had left it so long that they had become lax, or the invitation was open.. Either way, Mercutio was here, and Lorcan wasn't leaving until he was dead and no amount of logic would change his mind.

Several voices spilled from the archway to the large and lavish lounge they occupied. Lorcan's black eyes, sharp as obsidian, flicked toward his brothers, silently signaling for them to bide their time in the hopes of not revealing their hand just yet.

Approaching the archway alone, Lorcan assumed a nonchalant posture—leaning against the doorway, arms folded, an inscrutable mask veiling the turmoil within. The room sprawled before him, a tableau of indulgence and decadence in which nine males and three nymphs were occupied by one another's company.
Lorcan's throat cleared, a deliberate sound that cut through the ambient chatter. His voice, a low rumble, carried an edge of mockery.

"Must've missed my invitation to this little orgy... I am hurt." he frowned, a hand upon his chest.

The room's occupants, initially engrossed in their revelry, froze at the unexpected intrusion, and the shadows clung tighter to Lorcan, a silent warning echoing in the stillness as he offered a malicious smile.

Mercutio's words struck like a flint on his tongue, igniting an answering flame that set Lorcan's blood on fire. His composed façade wavered for a moment as the vivid image of Maeve's suffering flashed before his eyes—the physical wounds on her beautiful skin and the deeper scars that now marred her mind.

It was everything not to take the bastard's head from his shoulders in one swift movement, but he had waited this long, endured the torturous storm in his mind since the day he'd brought Maeve home, and he was determined to draw out this male's slow and painful death. Perhaps his taunts now were in the hopes of a quick death.

His struggle for control was palpable, like a tempest held at bay, the storm clouds gathering in his eyes. Every fiber of his being yearned for the release of violence, the swift and brutal retribution for the pain inflicted upon his mate. He wanted them dead, every last fucking one of them, and he wanted this court burned to ashes. All he could hear now were his mate's sobs, and all he could see was that grin.

The controlled demeanour Lorcan had attempted to maintain shattered like so much glass. The shadows around him twisted and writhed before they exploded from him in dagger like shards, tearing through the room and flesh and bone.

The edge of that blade that Lorcan currently walked upon was razor-thin, and the abyss of unrestrained fury yawned beneath him, tempting him to plunge into its depths. Raphael's voice was distant, the screams pierced his consciousness too, but Mercutio's was far louder. Nothing, however, was as deafening to him now as the memory of Maeve's sobs.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before the slimy fuck could finish his sentence, raven wings burst from his back and Lorcan launched himself straight at him with a force strong enough to take them both through the wall and into the gardens beyond. His shadows were blades in his hands.

The wall and window crumbled and the pair hit the ground so hard the left a large crater and scar in the earth where they skidded through the flower beds. Lorcan's response was swift and decisive. As Mercutio's fire magic surged towards him, shadows that swirled around him, shaping themselves into razor-sharp blades that sliced through the air with deadly precision. The darkness clashed with the flames in a chaotic symphony of light and shadow, each element vying for dominance.

But there was something else stirring within Lorcan, a power that he had only recently acquired and had not yet had the chance to fully understand. Maeve's starlight pulsed within him, a beacon amidst the darkness that threatened to consume him. In his rage, the power surged to the surface, amplifying his abilities and lending him strength beyond measure.

With a primal roar, Lorcan unleashed the full force of his newfound power, the shadows and starlight intertwining in a dazzling display of cosmic fury. The air crackled with energy as the two opposing forces clashed, sending shockwaves rippling through the surrounding estate.

Lorcan's response was a venomous snarl as he pressed forward, relentless in his fury. Blow after blow, he struck with the force of a tempest unleashed, his anger fueling every movement. Shadows coiled around Mercutio in attempt to bind him tightly as Lorcan's voice dripped with scorn.

"Did you really think I wouldn't kill you?" he growled, his eyes flashing with righteous anger. "You picked this fight, Mercutio. You chose this war, not me."

The next words Mercutio spoke, he'd find tendrils of dark and light snaking their way into his mouth, forcing their way past his defenses and into his mind. Lorcan's shadow was a powerful weapon, capable of weaving through the deepest recesses of a fae's consciousness, twisting and distorting their minds and causing whatever pain and terror he so wished - he knew well how it worked, but he couldn't speak for the starlight. He could only hope that it was just as agonizing as it was terrifying, that the bastard would quake in the presence of his mate's own power.

Lorcan's body trembled with the exertion as he poured every ounce of rage, every bit of pain he'd felt into his assault, and in that moment, he relished the bastard's twisted, gargled screams as his and Maeve's power destroyed him. It was a terrible sight, even to him, but he was only sorry it was not longer and more painful than it was. Mercutio deserved to shed as many tears as Maeve had done, deserved to live in fear and pain for longer than this..

Everything that had been raging in Lorcan's mind for so long had grown deafeningly loud, until finally, his brother's voices broke through, and suddenly, it all stopped, and so did he. As Raphael and Sid approached him, their concern palpable, Lorcan's dark gaze remained fixed on the gruesome scene before him. His heart thudded against his ribs, his chest heaving with every ragged breath, as he struggled to regain control of himself.

Slowly though, the power reined itself in, slithering away from the mangled Fae to caress Lorcan's shaking body. He glanced up at the two Puca and turned to look behind them, now all too aware of the gaping hole he'd left in the palace wall, and the sound of the horns.

Lorcan swallowed hard, nodding in response to his brothers' urgency. "Alright," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. "Go."

With a final glance at the devastation he had wrought, Lorcan turned away, following his brothers as they hurriedly made their escape from the Summer palace.