Caution, this story consists of graphic descriptions of sensitive topics like sexual assault, violence, depictions of trauma and even implied nudity. These actions depicted are not supported or endorsed by the author. Reading this as a minor or someone who is sensitive to such topics, is not advised. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, please consider pausing or discontinuing reading. I'd rather you prioritise your well being over my work.

If you enjoy this work, please consider supporting me on my Buy Me a Coffee page linked to my profile. Please note that early access to this story will not be available on BMAC due to the potential violation of their content policy.

Chapter one - The Enigma

Wind cradled the stench of blood across a jumpy wood laden carriage as it hurried along the muddy road away from the eyes of common men. A body lay flat and limp on the floor; breathless but not lifeless. As it opened its eyes they darted around the small cabin, a stinging pain radiating from its throat. Staring at it were two women with hair as scrambled as their expressions. 

“How?” One of them asked, their voice shaky. “How are you alive?” 

I—understand them? It pondered. The face of that woman looked familiar, but that made no sense. After all, today is probably the first day of its life, at least as far as it knows. 

One woman, however, gave it no more time to think; she raised an already bloody shard of glass and drove it into its chest, splattering even more red liquid all across her face. 

It hurt, that much it was sure of, but—

“Why?” it intoned. 

The woman recoiled, her teeth screeching slightly from her anger. “Why? You…” she tried to argue, but reason failed her. 

It mattered not though. It knew the answer, sort of. It, no, he was the reason why these two women were locked up in this carriage. 

Both women tried to scurry away, their backs pressing against the wooden framework as one of them hugged the other by her waist. Grasping her back, the other leaned on the door weightedly, hoping that the lock outside might snap. To her horror, all she could muster from the door was a feeble creak. 

Seeing these amusing creatures, the enigma couldn’t help but scrutinise their every action. It tried to fathom the meaning behind their irate stares and quivering bodies. Although they looked similar to one another, the protective one looked slightly older. Her matted hair and battered clothes were just a bit longer and more mature looking, while the other had wilted flowers tangled within her hair that might have once matched her near pristine dress.

Seeing them as they were, the being found a tingle in his chest, like butterflies scattering about. He wanted to feel more of it, yet he somehow understood that it was because both women expressed fear. Why were they afraid? Did he do something? 

“What did I do?” he asked as the air exiting his lungs whistled out the new gap in his neck, leaving the only evidence of his words on the sandpaper he believed was called a tongue. 

Neither of the women answered; he could hear their raspy breath and swore he almost tasted their fear. Oddly, it made him feel powerful, as though he was in absolute control. 

“Despicable…?” he remarked. Just what sort of person was he? 

He closed his eyes, and wished away all his pain. The hole in his throat and chest rapidly healed, leaving not even a blemish behind. He tried to sit upright, but suddenly his brown eyes washed away into pure white and his joints rapidly dislocated at random. 

“Oh,” he reacted. The dislocations hurt a bit, but fixing it was child’s play; in seconds, the body reorganised itself back to normalcy as the brown eyes rolled back in. It was then he noticed that, unlike his lower half, his upper body was covered in fabric similar to the women’s but different in style. 

As he questioned the need for something like that, the carriage rattled on. The two women continued to cower, eyes wide with a mix of horror and disbelief. Seeing the women like that, the being once again felt a surge of pride; a joyous mood he hated.

He didn’t quite understand fear yet, but he realised this body relished the power it granted him over others. A pleasure he understood was wrong, yet craved for. The being continued to scrutinise the women, staring at their chaotic brown hair and tracing down their pale skin, noticing the red marks across their neck and hands. 

A choice presented itself: he could choose to worsen their plight or alleviate their suffering. He had a not-so-spectacular debate in his head about the choices before him. Like a child, he used something akin to a counting-rhyme and settled on a decision: to worsen their plight! 

Now came the hard part: he had to figure out how. He looked to his arms and carefully brought it close to his face; making sure not to snap any bones this time. With that being a grand success, it was time for him to manifest his next move. He closed his eyes and thought of one of the few things he knew: colours. 

Just at the command of his mind, energy blitzed across his arms and accumulated in his palms. A smile found itself on his face, and he carefully extended his arm, palm facing the women.

Yet in that moment, the being felt hesitation, and the pulsing energy dissipated. For the first time since it was born, it thought for itself and betrayed the previous owner’s insidious instincts.

With what few memories it managed to access, the enigma understood the difference between right and wrong, but he wondered what the opposite of fear would be and how that would make him feel. Would he be displeased? If so, how would that feel? Must be bad right?

Why should I make that choice? He wondered. In front of him, there were two women. Why can’t he try both options? 

He noticed the younger girl break away from her sister’s protection and tentatively speak for the first time, “Who… are you? And, what… was that?”

Staring back blankly at her, he shrugged, signalling that he didn’t know what it was either. “I am,” he pondered, scavenging the memories of the body. “Krullev? No, no. That’s my name.” He didn’t really understand her question; how was he supposed to define himself? 

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Before he could finish pondering the question, however, the older girl dragged the younger one back, “Barbara! What are you doing?” she scolded.

With Barbara’s question still lingering in their air, the Enigma, now called Krullev, continued to observe the two women. The younger one, though still fearful, seemed more curious than her protector.

“Who are you?” Krullev repeated the question, trying to understand how he should respond.

“What are you trying to pull here?” The older girl questioned angrily, trying to hush the younger one. 

Yet her attempts failed as Barbara continued, “I’m Barbara, and this is my sister– Liliya.” She introduced with lingering hints of wariness in her eyes. 

“Do we all define ourselves with our names?” Krullev asked as he shuffled his body in an attempt to free himself from the discomfort his naked bottom brought.  

The sisters glanced at each other, their faces struggling to find a proper expression for the question, “Yes…?” Barabra replied, not quite sure of how else to answer. 

“I see,” Krullev puffed up his chest with confidence. “Then, my name is Krullev.”

Any lingering fear within the cradle began to fade as the sisters sat baffled as the lack of all reason left them suffering more prominently with awkwardness. Yet, Barbara persisted with a nervous smile, “Nice to meet you?” Her voice was as weak as the logic present in the room. 

“Wait, wait…” Liliya repeated the word till for as long as she saw fit until she finally managed to blurt, “What the fuck is happening here?” 

“Uhhh, I’m introducing myself?” Barbara responded, her brain only half understanding the situation. 

“To the guy who kidnapped you?”

“I kidnapped you guys?” Krullev asked, tilting his head as though he was a puppy. “Why did I do that?” 

“How am I supposed to know?!” Lilya snapped back. The terror that had tied her down before was now nowhere to be seen. 

The Enigma began to think, pondering why he kidnapped the two girls. No matter how long and hard he thought, his mind only seemed to face roadblocks. Meanwhile, the girls’ eyes spoke with questions of their own. However, unlike Krullev, they seemed to have reached a possible answer.

“Do you perhaps have amnesia?” Liliya asked, trying to invite perspicacity back into this nonsensical conversation.  

“What does that mean?” Krullev asked. 

Liliya had her mouth slightly open, squinted her eyes, and had a slight twitch in her face. I didn’t– I didn’t hit him that hard, did I? She wondered.

“It’s a type of memory loss,” Barbara responded.

“Oh, I have memories, I just have limited access to them.”    

The women found themselves truly dumbfounded. Liliya, in particular, felt as though she was reliving the tales from her childhood; like the monkey that left its heart on the tree, she felt like she had left her brain back at her house. 

The rest of the ride remained silent, the women had given up on logic and god alike. There was no saving them now; or so it would’ve been until Barbara spoke.

“Where is the carriage going?” 

“Sweetheart,” Liliya intoned, her eyes void of its soul. “He has amnesia.” 

He didn’t. He knew he had said as much, but it seemed they weren’t convinced. “I do not,” he retorted. 

“Uh-huh,” Liliya nodded, his words flowing out her other ear.  

His ‘amnesia’ provided Liliya with some ease, allowing her adrenaline to settle. As it did, she felt a tingling sensation along with a small sting of pain from between her legs. Sticky fluid ran down her thighs, causing an uncomfortable tickle. 

She sat there for a moment and felt herself tear away from all other sounds; a lump in her throat pleading to burst out. She lowered her face and hid behind her knees as a single tear ran down her face. 

Don’t cry. She repeated in her mind, squeezing her eyes shut and biting the inside of her cheek; trying to distract herself with pain. Everything will be fine once we get back home.

Her heart rate slowly climbed as she recalled back to earlier today. She and Barbara were engaged in their typical sibling rivalry in embroidery. Liliya would always crown herself the winner, as she, in her opinion, knitted the prettiest designs. Though Barbara found her sister’s prideful boasts annoying, she mostly didn’t mind losing. In fact, she admired her sister’s craft. 

Being daughters of a noble household, their leisure time was often restricted, leaving them with little freedom beyond knitting. Even so, Liliya wouldn’t allow herself to lose or even get a draw; not until today. Moments after they sat down to knit, the window to her room was smashed open, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Through the window came two men almost twice the girls’ size. One of them grabbed Baraba by her hair, and dragged her out. Lilya could still hear her sister’s wails of pain echoing in her ears. 

The other had leaned in, hands gliding across Liliya’s face and body. “You look fun,” he remarked as his hands moved to grope her breasts. Liliya remembered how quick and hard she gripped a shard of glass, but despite the brave woman she was, she couldn’t fend off the scared girl that had locked her body in place. 

“Come on, don’t break before I get to break you in. That’s no fun. Cheer up,” the man, Krullev, had ‘politely’ asked. 

Of course Liliya didn’t cheer up, she couldn’t. She stared at Krullev’s brown eyes as he ogled her with a smile she could only describe as vile. 

He slid his hands behind her neck and gripped her by her hair. 

Then, he closed in on her, his rancid breath almost making her throw up. “Sorry, love,” he said mockingly before stealing her first kiss. 

But that wasn’t enough for that animal, he wanted more as he slid his tongue in, slithering it around as though it was some slimy tentacle. Smelling nothing but the garbage pile that festered inside Krullev’s mouth, Liliya couldn’t help but gag. This caused Krullev to taste her unpleasant bile and break off his coercive assault. 

She was quick to use her sudden freedom to drag her body away from that monster, but she was too slow.

“You bitch,” Krullev cussed as he rushed towards her, yanked her by the hair once again, and dragged her out by the window. Liliya could feel her strands being cruelly ripped apart as he handled her as though she were a rag doll. 

Fortunately, in that fit of rage, Krullev failed to notice the shard in Liliya’s hands. Amidst the searing pain, a brief moment of lucidity pierced her fear. With trembling hands, Liliya tried to use the glass to cut her hair off. Despite her desperation, her hair refused to cut. 

Before she knew it, she was thrown inside a windowless carriage along with her sister. 

Just thinking about it again made Liliya want to grab the shard and stab Krullev again… and again… and again, till her rage died out. If it ever could. 

“Are you okay?” Babara asked as she slid closer to Lilya, calling her back to the present. 

Liliya nodded to confirm, unable and unwilling to speak her mind.

“Are you sure?” 

Liliya nodded again. She forced herself to take deep breaths in the hopes that rational thoughts would plague her mind instead. Then she realised that if she didn't act now, Barbara would suffer the same fate as her… probably by a lot more men. 

She shivered at that thought, her heart drumming against her torso. She shot a glance at Krullev; the filth that feigned innocence thanks to his supposed amnesia, but Liliya knew whatever he did was just a prologue to what they could do. 

I will not… no, cannot, allow that to happen. Her brain started to rapidly fire options for them to escape. Oh, but even fate was against them; before she could think of an escape, the carriage’s wheels groaned as they slowed down over what sounded like fractured pavement.

They had arrived at the place Krullev was taking them to.