The magic lingering in the air is almost tangible, rippling with the emotions of those trembling within this home. Waves of terror wash down from the locked room where the two brothers cry and smash at the floor.
The musically talented servant hides from sight as the lord comforts his wife, who only weeps for the wounds that the lord himself inflicted. A wounded woman, but there is something more to her, something hidden, something which I should call upon.
I have the tools with me to draw out what hides inside her, creations of such horror that I simply cannot hold the memory of their creation in my own mind.
My hands, though clean, still smell of the blood which stains them. I walk away from the ruined corpse of my prey, leaving her scattered remains in the cellar below with the mind-addled victims that she tormented. The scarred creatures stand unmoving, even freed from their bindings as they are. Some stare at the bloodless corpse, others gaze into a distant world well beyond our reality.
In my left hand is a dagger, made of hard bone and knotted sinew. The parts themselves are perfectly dry, I drained the noble daughter to the last drop in my gluttonous hunger, and what was spilt on my hands has been cleaned carefully with soap and scourers stolen from the kitchen.
The bone dagger is not much of a weapon, delicate and fragile as it is, the power locked within it something more symbolic and magical.
In my right hand is a dried heart, grey and lifeless but glowing with æther veins packed with illusions ready to burst to life. It retains much of the fear the girl had felt in her final breath, the moment she faced her fate.
Flickering red eyes flash before me, sharp teeth sink into my neck, and then... the moment is gone again.
What is this twisting of my soul? Have I truly become the same monster that ruined me?
It feels… cathartic.
Terrible and awful, like an open wound being packed with rotting things. Yet, still, this suffering is cathartic in the way of bursting an infected pustule. The release of pressure that’s been building unseen within me.
I am a villain in a house filled with cruelty, and it is the only excuse that I can find for my own twisted actions. I am expressing this horrible new nature of mine in such a way that it might be seen as forgivable to someone far more lenient in their moral values.
Even if unforgivable, this is the only action that I can find. Father may not have lived up to all of his ideals, I’m still learning of his failings, but there is one thing he taught me that I must not let go of.
It is better to regret taking action than to regret inaction.
I see no other path to resolution but this one. The fault is mine, my own inability and lacking strength, influence, and nobility. Yet, I must see this through.
The dining room is empty of people with only traces of scents remaining where the rich feast once gloried. Here, roughly in the centre of the mansion, I place the dried husk of a heart, resting it in the centre of the table.
I see the blood flowing from father’s sliced neck, dripping into the bowl. Mother’s screams still echo even now, and yet… here I am, acting the role of the monster…
I thrust the blade into the desiccated heart.
Æther burns through the dead flesh, cycling fast and summoning an illusion. Even I don’t know what I’ve imbued into it, but soon I will find out.
A bell tolls, ringing around the house through the bloodied walls and resonating with the cursed bones of this structure. Silence penetrates every room as the others are quieted by the ringing, a sound that is not a sound.
I find myself guided, perhaps by my own magic, and perhaps by something more, towards a particular seat. It isn’t the same, it cannot be, this is not my home, but it is near to the same. I sit just as far from the head of the table, with my back to the door, last to notice as the red-eyed monster comes… but this time the monster is already at the table.
First come the boys, young men riding the line between children and adults. Bruised, they enter bearing broken chair legs as weapons, it seems that they’ve struggled with one another, and perhaps with something else too, though I know not what.
They approach the table seeing the heart and the knife, taking in the scene through wide eyes. I did have enough sense to clean my face and hands in the kitchen before coming here, but it is still suspicious enough that I’m here ahead of them.
The lord and lady enter soon after, their hearts pounding from the silent tension before they even tread into the room.
“The monster is with us,” I say, my eyes locked onto the monstrosity of my own making. The æther still runs through it, and through me, burning so hot that it’s threatening the collapse of my veins.
Before any of them can think of a reply, the illusion unfolds, strengthened by the sacrifice.
The red-eyed man stands with us. He strides around the table, meeting the eyes of those he’ll kill, but we are all too weak to speak up against him. his hunt is over before it’s even begun, and we all know it.
Everyone finds their seat at the table as if guided by the eyes following us.
“What is this?” The large lady asks, somehow resisting the force for a moment. “Where’s Lorretta?”
“She is here with us,” I say, staring at the heart but opening my hand to the delicate shape that now sits at the table beside us. The shape of the girl who I murdered, whose heart now sits on the table. “This is our end…”
“What are you talking about?” The lord growls but is startled into the back of his seat as the red-eyed man confronts him, bearing terrible fangs.
“You survived this monster, what do we do…?” One of the boys whispers, looking to me for salvation. My æther burns as the illusion pulls at me, surrounding me with a face most familiar. My own, but made ghostly.
“There were no survivors…” I reply in barely a whisper, sliding beneath the table and hiding as the shadowed shackles pull at me, locking me into place as they once did.
I can only watch in silent witness.
A wave washes through the air, born from the energy that drains from my dry veins. It gathers and concentrates on the lady of the house, birthing Illusions that pull at her mind. Her screams fill the air.
A desperate gasp escapes the lord as he falls to the ground, toppled by his larger wife who wields a sharp little knife like a madwoman. She stabs wildly, so fast that he can’t defend himself. So fast that none can react.
Æther strengthens her body and movement as she smashes the blade into his chest over and over again, shattering ribs on her way through to his heart. She screams in rage and fury as his attempts to fight back weaken with every passing moment.
Finally, he stills, his head rocking to the side and his eyes focusing on mine in the last moment of his life. The sweet taste of his fear rushes along my tongue.
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I need his blood.
The large monster of a woman falls as she’s struck from behind by the blunt weapons of her sons. A distraction for me.
While everyone is turned, I take my prey and pull him beneath the table.
His blood tastes of steel and fire, but still sweeter than any cake I’ve ever before enjoyed. His life is mine, his strength is mine, and instantly the burning of my veins fades as the boiling blood soothes me, a curing potion that no alchemist can imitate.
His power becomes mine.
While I feed, the brutal sounds of blunt forces striking soft flesh resound throughout the room. The blade of the bone knife is pulled from the desiccated heart above me, shattering the illusion but releasing a magic much more powerful.
The mother screams, the one to draw the knife, and the one to be subjected to the curse. Illusions consume her, a vision which I must share.
The dagger remembers the corpse it was forged from, it still remembers the pain of being torn apart and forged. It… no, she can remember being cut, sorted, and remade into a tool. She can recall being stripped of everything and made into it.
The mother now shares the experience. An illusion most terrible, and most powerful, as it is no lie, only a retelling. It lasts for only a moment.
A bright, burning light bursts from her hands, and the screaming stops.
“Illusory magic… how much of this is even real?” The mother whispers in realization, moments before wood cracks over the back of her skull. She topples, but the sound doesn’t stop.
Again and again, the wooden chair leg smashes into her head.
This isn’t what I intended. This isn’t as I remember it.
My own creation is a pale imitation of what the red-eyed monster did to us. My own power, my own will, my own evil, a poor reflection.
The disparity eats at me, pulling me back from the reverie that was consuming me.
The pounding continues and the blood drips from the edge of the table where the lady now rests eternal. Her life now gone, her sons all that remain now that my awful deed is nearly done.
I stay here, hidden, safe from the monsters outside as I pray that they destroy each other and finally bring this cursed night to its proper end.
“What do we do?” One of the boys asks the other, “We… you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Not unless you try killing me,” the murderer spits. “We need to clean this up. This is… no… that monster did this. The same as what happened in the Count’s estate. We’ll call for the guards and the reeves. Everything will be fine.”
The boy’s calm cuts through the fabric that I patterned together for this moment, every curse and effigy made null by the boy’s sudden calm.
What is this?
What’s happening?
“But what about… all of this?” The younger one asks.
“We need to be more concerned about the cellar,” the murderer says. “That much we can’t blame on some spirit or monster. We…
“Was that girl real, or not?” He asks his brother.
“I… don’t know,” the younger replies.
“Whatever, go to the cellar and burn all the slaves. We don’t want anyone to find out about that.”
“I’m not going down there alone!” The younger one shouts.
“Fine, together,” the murderer says, leading his brother away.
I rush to the mother the moment they’re gone, feeding off her corpse and draining her lifeblood. There’s a heavy bitter taste to her, blended in with the sweetness, the terror. The terrible state of affairs that brought this moment about, the fact that she was murdered by her own sons, it only makes the flavour that much more intense. The bitterness lingers on my tongue a moment longer.
I drain her for every drop of power that might be gained before I shadow the two boys into the cellar. My plan wasn’t thought out this far, I’m not sure what I’m doing, or what I can do, but I cannot allow them to survive.
They stand over the corpse of their sister in the darkness of the cellar, and with a gentle nudge with my magic, I push the door closed behind them. Telekinesis snaps the lock in place, Ice and shadow break it.
The darkness within the room is not enough. It’s not enough to kill them. I cast more illusions as my veins burn again, the new power is not sufficient to sustain me forever, especially not in the face of such cold calm, but it will have to be enough.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“It’s still here! It’s going to kill us!” My dumb brother shouts. I mean, I was worried too at first, but now that mother and father are dead, a familiar calm steals away all my fright. The same as I feel when cutting someone up and hearing their screams.
This is fine, I can make this work.
“It’s a mage, illusion magic and something else,” I say, but my brother still shouts in surprise as the ghostly apparitions appear. Of course, they take on the shape of mother and father, but they aren’t real, just light shows. They raise their hands and point at me.
“There’s no one else…” My brother says, his gaze turning to me. “It’s you. You’re the one behind this! You killed them! You’re going to kill me too!”
“Don’t be an idiot, it’s obviously a trick.” I spit, raising my weapon just in time to catch my brother’s stupid attack.
“You’ve killed everyone!” He shouts, and I can’t spare the energy to resist him. His body reinforcement is far more effective than my own, but that doesn’t matter.
Even now he’s hesitating, holding back.
“Idiot,” I curse him, channelling the æther through my body and calling upon my flames.
He burns, not smart enough to fight them. It takes him a moment to realize that he should be screaming, but by then there’s not much breath left in him. The fires burn so hot that my own skin reddens just from standing this close to him.
His pale skin burns black and the fat beneath crackles before bubbling away to nothing. He falls atop the sundered remains of our sister, and with that, I’m the last of my family line.
It’s fine.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” I ask, turning around in the darkness. “You weren’t just an illusion, a mage that strong would approach this in far more effective means. No, you Christina Greystone, you are real. More than that, you’re the monster behind this.
“Did you do this to your own family, too?” I ask, chuckling at the thought. “You’re even more insane than I am.”
She doesn’t reply, but I summon more fire and blast through the door. I catch a glimpse of her as she runs, trying to escape.
“You’re not getting away!” I shout, running after her.
Pulling away illusions and summoning more flames, I chase the girl. She’s the last true blood of a Count, and should I marry her, our combined estates will be worth far more than anything I’d get for my own heritage.
We can blame everything on the monster that she made up and live on without the reeves troubling us. I’ll just have to tame her, which… it could be troublesome, but father tamed mother just fine, and she was a true monster if ever there was one.
I just have to make sure she doesn’t escape.
She moves desperately, but she’s slow, like most noble ladies she’s not used to running and it shows. She glares at me, but the faint glow in her eyes doesn’t do anything, whatever she was trying fails.
The shadows around her move in unnatural ways, one reaching out to my feet and nearly tripping me. An interesting magic to be sure, but nothing to be frightened of.
“I’m not going to kill you.” I say as calmly as I can manage, “It’s fine. I’m on your side.”
She doesn’t listen, reaching the front door where she finally pauses. She stands there staring at the twin doors and the windows covered in shadow, a magic of her own creation no doubt.
I’ll have her. Women become more submissive once they’ve properly experienced a man, I’m sure it’s a good place to start.
She turns to face me and I stop a little away from her, maybe she isn’t going to run after all.
“I… cannot leave you alive,” she says.
“Then stay with me instead,” I say, walking closer. “I’ll protect you, just stay by my side and do as I tell you.”
I reach out and touch her face. She’s ice cold, and pale as snow.
She twitches, her gaze turning somewhere distant as she screams, throwing herself at me and biting at me like an animal. She’s desperate, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. I had a dog that used to bite me too.
I catch her by the neck and hold her back from biting me, she struggles but she’s not as strong as I am.
“Everything will be okay,” I whisper, holding her still and pushing her to the ground.
She struggles but she’s too weak to fight me, her eyes are wide, and tears stream down her cheeks as she whines, her screams already dying. I hesitate for a moment, but just like with that dog, I have to harden my heart and properly put her into her rightful place.
Something hard hits the window, shattering it open.
I look up, ready to blast fire at the intruder as his blade rushes down at me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The boy’s head is impaled by the sword, right atop me, his blood drips over me, but I have no want to consume it. I shiver, deepening the cold in my heart as it starts to shift around inside my chest.
I’m a monster.
It shouldn’t have turned out like this. I shouldn’t be afraid. I shouldn’t be hesitating, but I did.
“That’s paying back the favour,” the man says, still wearing only the kitchen apron, but now wielding a guard’s sword. “I’ll be seeing you. Ah, if you need help, maybe you should try hiring from the guild… but then again, not for something like this. Never mind. Anyway, thanks for saving us.”
He turns and leaves not even glancing back towards me, not seeing the expression that I cannot manage to crush.
Blood drips down on me from the body lifelessly draped over me, but my mind is lost in the visions of that night. The passion of that foolish boy is nothing akin to the red-eyed monster. This boy saw me as a noble person, one to be used, but a person no less.
To the monster, I was nothing more than a snack. His fangs sunk into my neck, and he feasted upon me, before throwing me aside like the empty husk that he reduced me to.
My burning veins itch at the recollection, the memory of my blood pulled from me. I reach up and draw upon the still blood in the boy’s body, drawing it in and stealing from him, what was stolen from me.
Toppling the cold corpse, and rising to my feet, I leave the house with not even a backward glance.
Another monster steps into the darkness of night, my noble heart dry, splintered, and frozen.
Waiting patiently for me, I find a maid, a guard, and a familiar reeve leaning heavily on his walking cane. Therina rushes to me with a napkin, cleaning the blood that stains me.