Another of the five main characters for the book I'm writing! Her name is Osiris Shadowhound, and she is a moon elven wizard, with many of the powers of a vampire.
Osiris is a brilliant scientist and logical problem-solver, but struggles to find solutions to emotional problems.
Her mother pressed her lips together tightly, and changed the subject. Victory, thought Osiris. “There was an article in the Laiwilla Post today, I hear.”
Osiris had a passing fancy of informing her mother there was, in fact, an article in the Laiwilla Post every day, but replied instead, “I read it, yes. I’m concerned.”
“I imagine you are. So, Daughter, I presume you intend to resume your duties as the Nightwalker?” Each time her mother said the word daughter, níanwa, her knuckles grew a little whiter as she gripped the arms of the throne ever tighter.
“That is correct. I intend to contact my former allies and meet up with them in order that we might handle this rising threat,” Osiris explained. There was no question in Osiris’s tone; she was not asking for permission.
“You might recall that you are the only Lucaslindló we have,” warned Nephenee. Lucaslindló was an Ithilien term roughly translated as ‘Prince’ but more accurately translated as ‘Bearer of the Bloodline of the Twin Wolves’. Due to the unwieldy nature of the latter, most translators choose the former.
“I recall. Yet you, Mother, are the one who chose this task for me, not I,” Osiris reminded her. “The Black Dragon, the Dragon Ludarac Nightwalker, came to Castle Laiwilla. Remind me, Mother, what did he say when he came?”
The Denerîs of Lampranous narrowed her eyes, and recited, “‘O Wife of the Lucastura, as the prophecy ordains, wilt thou give me thy firstborn child, thus uniting our bloodlines, creating a Hero that might protect Rimǔndras from APYTHONAWAR the Demon King?’”
Osiris nodded. She remembered, of course. “And what did you do, Mother?”
Nephenee scowled. “I asked him, ‘And if I refuse?’ and he responded, ‘Then I will take thy family’s throne from thee and give it to whomever is willing.’ And I gave him my firstborn son—”
“Your firstborn daughter,” Osiris corrected.
“—to turn into the Nightwalker. So you might become one of the Heroes of Rimǔndras, but mainly to preserve the throne your bloodline has kept for a hundred generations.”
“That’s right,” Osiris agreed. “And now I continue the duties foisted upon me by your deal with the Black Dragon.”
“Yes,” said Nephenee, her eyes bright with sorrow. “I understand. I’m asking you to be careful.”
Osiris blinked. This, she hadn’t prepared for. After a too-long pause, in which she considered what type of trap her mother was setting for her, she cleared her throat and replied, “Right. Yes. I will.” The prince grimaced, feeling like she’d lost some sort of battle.
“You do not need my blessing, child, but you have it,” his mother added. “May the Mother feed you, may the Queen of Spiders clothe you, and may the Great Albatross guide your path.”
Osiris swallowed thickly. “Good day, Mother.” She turned, the tails of her heleða spinning in her wake, and walked from the throne room back to her study, defeat pressing its hands heavily upon her shoulders.
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