Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary...

Knock.

Knock..

KNOCK!

Commander Alastair idly knocks harder and harder on the wooden door until the dramatic third knock ends with a bang against it; he's never been a patient man. The cold air and frigid temperatures don't alleviate his impatience either; they sting his clean-shaven, fair-featured face as a whipping wind ruffles his greying head of well-maintained hair. Alastair's been standing here for almost a minute without feedback from the other side of the door; he knows this is the right house. Right?

"I know this is the right house, ain't it?" The Commander questions his memory with a huff, now rubbing the underside of his chin in deep thought. He takes a few steps back from the door and glances over the front of the house again: it's an average-sized wooden house in the nicer part of the village. The only thing giving this home a more distinctive look compared to the rest is how bland it looks. No decorations or anything is giving the impression that people live in it, and yet the Commander is knocking on the door and feeling like an idiot the longer he goes without a response. Alastair brushes snow off his uniform and huffs before walking away.

"I hope this isn't a sign I'm getting old, pfft!" the well-aged and physically fit man remarks with a soft scowl that turns into an immediate hum when the door finally opens behind him, and his gray eyes lock onto the soft, timid blue eyes of a woman rivaling Alastair's age. Her waist-length black hair and fair-colored facial features are still as firm and vibrant as they were in her younger days, and her form draped in dark and homely furs still bears function and appeal; she's a very healthy and pretty older woman. Commander Alastair is almost stunned at the sight of her.

"... Mrs. Celestia, I presume?" Alastair respectfully inquires after instantly dismissing his surprise at her appearance; those gray eyes stay on hers as he approaches the porch again and introduces himself. "My name is Kaiden Alastair, ma'am. I'm the Commander of the Defense Force," he stops and pauses a respectable distance from the slightly shorter woman staring at him with a subtly confused expression that then clicks into one of understanding. As she raises her arm to speak, Alastair finally looks away from her eyes at the motion, but then nearly fails to hold back a look of utter shock at what he sees.

Her arms bears horrible burn scars. They span her shoulders and neck, too...

"If you're here to tell me that my daughter is dead, please don't," Mrs. Celestia asks in a soft, raspy voice as if her throat is also burned. "She hasn't talked to us since her little brother died, and I'm sure she's cursed us from the grave; which we most likely deserve..." those follow-up words are filled with grief; the woman's on the verge of crying already. Alastair has several questions flood his mind but keeps them to himself as he speaks on instinct.

"Your daughter isn't dead," Alastair assures but then pauses. "... At least as far as I'm aware," he throws in with a confident nod a few seconds after seeing Mrs. Celestia's entire face swap from growing despair to what could arguably be foolish hope. But, hope for what!? Alastair stays on topic and keeps to the reason he's visiting. His next words are all truth with zero emotional investment behind them; he likes to get to the point.

"However, there's a high chance that she's in severe danger. My best scout believes that she's come into contact with a group of Lycans somewhere out in the Boreal Forest and she's been captured. We're on her trail now and intend to bring some good news soon. I've come to politely ask if I can ask you some questions about Her so that I can get a handle on who She is as a person and how I'll need to approach this delicate situation," he pauses and bows a bit to sell the sincerity in his words while making sure to avoid giving hints he's noticed her injuries. He doesn't know that this is earning him points with the scarred woman, who gently smiles and lets the man inside. It's nice to meet someone that didn't react negatively to her appearance and voice these days...

"By all means, come in!" Mrs. Celestia hurriedly welcomes the Commander into a homely abode dimly lit with a roaring fire burning from across the living room. It's a cozy-looking, middle-class cabin imagery Alastair didn't expect considering the bare exterior, but welcomes it nonetheless with a smile. The two quickly move over to the soft couches near the heating flames of the fireplace. Mrs. Celestia sits closest to the fire while Alastair sits across on the other couch farthest from the fire; he gets hot rather quickly in his uniform tailored for the cold. He speaks while taking off his fur-trimmed service top, revealing a muscular frame garbed in a short-sleeved, padded vest.

"Will Mr. Celestia be joining us today?" Alastair asks, and immediately regrets it when he sees the woman's frightened reaction; it's like she's got PTSD. The black-haired woman freezes like ice as those eyes quiver with fear. The Commander anticipates the worst and readies for it, but blinks a few seconds after the woman does, noticing how she just dispersed what should've been the start of a traumatic episode. She fascinates Alastair even more when she speaks as calmly and plainly as ever.

"No, he's dead," she says with... relief?

"He finally succumbed to his injuries yesterday evening..." she adds on, and Alastair's expression shifts hard.

He's shocked.

"Oh, and please call me Mary..." she introduces after the fact with a gentle smile, her raspy voice a little sweeter than before. Alastair takes a moment to digest the multitude of bomb drops he's just suffered, regaining his composure in a few more seconds with a nod. Though, the name inspires curiosity about something that the Commander can't help but inquire about...

"Like Mother Mary?" he jokes while referencing the Biblical Mother, and Mary flashes him a smile with a soft nod. When she speaks this time, though, that tinge of despair sprinkles her words again; Alastair picks up on it.

"If only I weren't Human..." Mary softly laughs, but suddenly caresses her throat in a fit of discomfort. Alastair watches Mary and her shadow on the wall as she coughs, with Alastair focusing more on the shadow out of respect. Mrs. Mary quickly recovers and apologizes before continuing with her introduction, her tone is soft like a feather, but her words weigh heavy like lead. "Ah, I appear to have possibly given you the wrong impression regarding my reaction toward Joseph, my husband?" she asks with a minor head tilt, and Alastair swiftly brushes it off with a wave of his own.

"Oh, no! It's no business of mine what you and your husband had going on. There's no need to tell business that ain't gotta be told," Alastair assures with a nod as he relaxes on the couch. "It's a rule of life I tend to live by and it's what's allowed me to make the best decisions when they need to be made. So, I mean no offense at denying your explanation, ma'am," he reassures with sincerity, to which Mary politely acknowledges, then disregards with a shaking head; what she's about to say is important and relevant.

"Mona is my daughter and my daughter alone. She was conceived without a Father," Mary calmly reveals as if it's normal, and Alastair pauses, his expression flashing with shock! Then? He laughs, or more correctly, he unintentionally laughs as if he's just heard the most bullshit thing ever. He immediately realizes what he's doing, though, and tenses with embarrassment while bowing his head enough that he's nearly kissing his crotch. Nearly.

"I am sorry, ma'am..." Alastair apologizes from the heart with sincerity in his words while awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. His eyes meet Mary's as he explains himself. "I wasn't laughing at you, it's just your story shouldn't surprise me given the circumstances around me coming here. But..." he trails again with a small laugh and another shake of his head; what a conversation this was about to be. Mary remains very silent while she watches Alastair gather his bearings; she shows no emotion toward his antics and keeps a calm and solemn expression.

"We live in a world where things that seem outright impossible tend to be the norm for us. Then again, it makes me wonder why am I in disbelief about this, you know?" the Commander stalls his words as he glances to the roaring fire nearby; his expression shifting to something more reserved and tired. "You ever read history books in your free time, Mrs. Mary?" he suddenly asks, and those eyes flick toward the woman's pretty blues when they flash with confusion toward his question. What an interesting thing to ask...

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"There's very few history books in the village, so no..." Mary politely replies while brushing bangs of hair from her brow, but those eyes remain on Alastair as she asks. "Why?"

Alastair clears his throat and clasps his hands together while idling in silence for a few seconds; he's thinking of how to put this into words. Eventually, the well-aged man locks eyes with the woman again and speaks. "If you read a general outline of some historic events in human history whether they're major or minor, you'll notice something interesting," he pauses and leans back on the couch, throwing his arms over the spine while resting a leg over the other. "All of it sounds like something you'd read out of a fairy tale..." he adds, noting Mary's sudden confusion at his words and swiftly flowing into an example.

"Take the Werewolves for example. History says that they once dominated Apocrypha as a warlike race of people capable of turning into mythological monstrosities. Yet nowadays they're little more than myth and legend. There are no traces of Their empire, but plenty of stories of Their savage battle skills and whatnot," he sighs with a loud exhale, recalling the conversations from earlier. "But, to deny that they existed is the same as being a fucking idiot. And that's just one example..." he suddenly leans forward again and gets to his point with a single sentence.

"What I'm trying to get at is that at this point I'm willing to believe anything as long as it keeps the people safe."

Alastair stands and approaches the fire, where he then crouches and holds a hand over the roaring flames...

"If you say you had a kid without a man involved, then I believe you. Anyway, I assume this is relevant to how she got her powers, right?" he asks without looking at Mary, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames in front of him. Mary falls silent, her posture formal, but her hands clenched together over her lap in powerful emotion. She opens her mouth to say something, but can't bring herself to speak. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, then speaks a second before Alastair tells her to forget he asked due to sensing her emotions.

"Mona was born with a curse that transcended her body and spread to those around her..."

"Joseph was the Priest that cleansed Mona at the sacrifice of his only son..."

Mary goes quiet, her hands trembling again as her raspy voice starts quivering with something Alastair immediately recognizes...

Regret...

"You don't have to continue if you don't want to, Mrs. Mary," Alastair approaches the widow with a softer voice and heavy concern in his usually stone-cold gray eyes. But as the Commander reaches out to console the woman, her following words make him freeze in his tracks, his expression horrified as Mary says...

"I made Joseph kill his son to save my daughter..."

Mary breaks down into tears, unable to hold it in anymore as the weight of her guilt overtakes her. She crumbles in front of Alastair, who still looks at her in horror now sprinkled with surprise. How does one react to this!? The typically calm and dominating Commander is unable to say or do anything but listen as Mary expresses her guilt through crying. Her already straining and raspy voice stresses even more as she talks.

"If I hadn't done it, Mona would've cursed everyone in the village, or been executed. I couldn't suffer the thought of either outcome, and Joseph was so understanding and helpful. He didn't deserve what I did..." Mary sobs and sobs into her burned hands, suddenly pulling her teary-eyed face away from them to show them to Alastair as proof of her sin. "These burns prove that I am no Mother Mary; I'm a curse on her Legacy," she cries into her hands again, weeping so loudly it's possible to hear it outside. Alastair needs to do or say something before this situation gets worse; he snaps out of his shock and focuses.

"Does Mona know what you did?" Alastair asks with the most intense look in his eyes; he's fearing that Mona does. His fears vanish when Mary shakes her head and looks at him with reddened eyes tinged with sorrow. She answers in a broken tone.

"No..." Mary says, wiping her face again. "I can't bear to tell her the truth and that's what kills me the most. She thinks that Joseph sacrificed his son of his own volition and that I did nothing to stop him. But, I had everything to do with it... I orchestrated it..." she confesses, fully leaning into her lap while shaking her head and still crying. "My actions have cost me my husband's touch and support and my daughter's love. Just put me in prison or execute me; I can't live like this anymore..." She begs for justice, and Alastair fights his conflicting emotions about this situation. He came here for general information and wound up getting a murder confession.

He keeps his composure, though. There's more information he can get...

"Wait, wait, something ain't adding up.." Alastair's tone changes and grows suspicious when he remembers what Marcus told him a few days ago, relaying the young man's words to Mary for a fact check. "I thought that Mona's brother was her twin?" He says in confusion, doubling down on Marcus' recollection of events combined with his own. "The confession you've given doesn't match up with what I remember when I think about it..." he starts to recall all of the events aloud from his interactions with the son and everything in between until Mary's voice cuts him off in a nearly crystal clear tone...

"That's because She altered the memories of everyone but three..."

"The Mother that she gestated in..."

"The Father that had His Hope..."

"And the Daughter that'd be Her new Vessel..."

Alastair is shell-shocked; he's speechless as Mary looks at him now with an eerie smile...

With specks of red in those blue eyes now...

"Humans are Sinners..." Mary quietly laughs as she smiles, then slowly stands up and approaches the Commander who's now backing away; why's she coming toward him? Mary keeps that unsettling smile filled with anticipation for what's coming; she's feeling relief. "My sin was not realizing that Eve's Karma stained my soul before giving birth to a vessel. It also was sacrificing the only two people capable of stopping Her..." Mary suddenly pulls a knife from her clothes, swiveling it into a reversed grip as she nears Alastair, who's already preparing himself for the worst.

"Mary..." Alastair says in a low tone as a warning. "Think about what you're going to do before you do it. If you want redemption for your sins then help me fill in the gaps to this puzzle and that'll be a start. You don't need to use me as a scapegoat for suicide," he calls her out with a scowl but still keeps his guard up as Mary pauses mid-step, tilting her head like a curious animal. Her teary eyes are vaguely glowing in a strangely beautiful way as if the colors are dancing against one another instead of clashing. Alastair can't make sense of what's going on beyond the immediate stuff. It's a headache.

"Let me take you somewhere safer where you can tell me how much of the village's memory was altered first and foremost, and we'll worry about the rest afterward. Please, Mrs. Mary. What would Joseph want for you?" he challenges, further buying time from Mary's lunge on his life; Alastair's got her thinking! He keeps going...

"Your husband was a priest, right? I remember him a little," Alastair says aloud, recalling the small bit of info he remembers and cursing his habit of only remembering significant shit. "I met him a few times when he was a Chaplain for the Patrol Corps when I joined years ago; he was around my age with messy black hair and eyes like yours, right?" Alastair tries to reason and is again mortified when Mary attacks him in a frenzied laugh of DESPAIR!

"ThEsE ArE HiS EYeS!!!"

"EVE MADE ME STEAL ADAM'S SIGHT TO COPY IT TO HER VESSEL!"

"I CAN'T SUFFER HER KARMIC DEBT ANYMORE!"

Bloody Mary attacks Alastair with the knife, throwing herself at him with such force that they both leave the ground and slam through the wooden double doors leading into the kitchen. She lands on top of Alastair with a thunderous crash, raising her knife high over her head as her now completely red eyes give Alastair a traumatized plea for mercy behind a sea of insanity.

Those stained with Eve's Karmic Debt shall eventually succumb to Her insanity...

Becoming nothing but savage thralls if left unchecked...

Mary misses her fatal stab in Alastair's throat as he throws her off him with more effort than he should've needed. It doesn't take him long to realize there's magic involved, and he curses to himself.

"Alright then..." Alastair cracks his neck and pulls a dagger from his boot before assuming a fighting stance.

"Violence it is," he says before fearlessly rushing the Frenzied Human.

Next Chapter: Aleria, Daughter of Domination...