The tray of food in my hands clattered as I walked, ears open for any obstacles. Porridge, shredded fruit, and honeyed tea: a meal simple enough for my brother to digest. Or so I hoped. Blind marching had never appealed to me, but without sight I had no other choice. Bereft of cane or companion, the only tool left to navigate these halls without incident was deep concentration. Falling would be unacceptable.
In my mind’s eye, my brother was still a tiny boy. Tripping and fumbling his way around the Fort; both the clumsiest little creature that had ever tip-toed through this strip of land and heir to the Vane family. After all, the eldest son was blind. And a noble didn’t need to be able to run to be capable of rule.
When Mael was eight, and I fourteen, he had been taken by the Albrights as many influential nobles leaders were – which, as the only subordinate Heltian family, we apparently were. For the purposes of ‘education’. I had been slightly envious at the time, but with over a decade of time to ponder I had realised that the education was neither in arithmetic or the art of ruling, but instead in extoling grace and power of the Albrights. The family was impressive, by all reports: tall, broad, rich, well-muscled, and most importantly, skilled – the perfect warrior-kings for this violent land. Hostages like my brother were necessary to remind the other nobles of this.
They had returned him a mere year later, so that when Mael died, we would not think it their fault. He couldn’t stand without help. His muscles had wasted away to useless strips. By the time three years had passed, father was dead of flu and mother of a heart attack. Leaving my brother and I the last remaining members of the Vane family: a lineage loyal to House Heltia for nearly a century. We received a single letter – signed by Neelam but undoubtedly written by a secretary – and a lonely, nine-year-old girl who begged not to be sent back to the Nest. Because in her own home, the only people who lifted their gazes from their projects and spoke to her were the ones who were paid to. That was all the help we received.
Mael’s condition had deteriorated rapidly. I’d tried doctors: first the ones that would tell me what I wanted to hear and finally the ones who told me the truth. I’d tried countless contraptions: ones for reducing the stress of his own weight on his organs and body and ones to fortify his muscles. None could stop his deterioration. Though it would leave both of us Blooded and barred from making an heir, I’d tried Lizardblood. The strain of his body rejecting it nearly killed. I tried every single suggestion my laboured mind produced. Some of it helped. But nothing could prevent the only family I had left from sliding through my fingers.
Through it all, I’d returned to the stone tablets carted from the Wastes all those years ago. Every night, my fingers would run along those fractured promises. An eternal paradise beyond hell; tens of thousands saved at the cost of tens of thousands dead. A dream stripped to its bones by forces beyond anyone’s control. Yet as prospects dwindled, my faith grew. Anything to save him.
If I had realised earlier, could I have prevented all this? Could I have helped him? He was such a good kid. No one deserved this fate less than my son.
I shook my head, trying to rattle everything back into its rightful place. I was confusing them. Not him. My brother.
The floorboards beneath my feet had been warmed by the sunlight streaming through the hall’s windows. Initially, stepping into its humid air was comforting after a long stretch out in Frost’s cold was soothing. But the longer I spent in this part of the Fort, the more stifling the heat became. Sweat constricted my skin in layers of slime. My heart felt ready to pound out from my chest. But the doctors said the heat would do Mael good.
I walked slowly, methodically, but it was not slow enough to prevent me from arriving at his door. It was a small room with a large window. Mael couldn’t move. He had barely spoken for months. Sometimes I had wondered, when I had a maid read to him, whether he could hear anything at all. I had been running out of time.
I wrapped my fingers around the door’s handle. Everything would be better, now. All my tests were as they should be. I had done it.
Yet for the seventh time in seven days, I couldn’t manage to bring my hand down. I could not help but sense the vast, gaping emptiness behind the door.
A gentle ringing came from beside me. “D’you want us t’bring it in?”
“Val,” I grunted. “Is that Kit with you?”
“Mm.” There was a quiet slap of hand against shoulder. “Go on. Don’t keep th’ boss-man waitin’.”
“Hey Gale.” Kit sucked a breath between her teeth. “You good?”
“I am fine,” I rumbled.
“Lotta… nothin’ fer a man doin’ fine.”
I drummed my fingers against my collarbone. “I can see how you might think that.”
“Impressive, a blind man seein’ so- “
There was a louder thwack. “Eyup, sorry ‘bout her. Don’t you got work to do? I’ll go feed an’ read Mael for you.”
“I would…” I paused to take a breath. “I would appreciate that.”
“No problem.” The weight of the tray shifted off my hands as Val took it. “Reckon Mr. Skin ‘n Bones’s waitin’ for you.”
“Do not call him that.” My voice cracked like thunder. “Have some respect. Especially if you want to keep concealing yourself from him.”
I could almost hear her teeth creaking as she clenched them. “…Sure. Be seein’ you.”
The door creaked open, then closed a moment later. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then turned and marched back the way I came. All was shadow, yet of every patch of darkness in this world the Fort was the most familiar to me. I needed no light to navigate it. Even without sound, the lives of people rung in the darkness: maids cleaning and repairing, guards watching Baylar atop the walls, and the Fort’s many guests crawling through the lightless labyrinth. The loudest sat perfectly still, waiting.
I took a deep breath in and moved towards him. It took several minutes to reach my workshop, where Orvi waited.
“Apologies for the wait,” I told him as I entered, walking over to my workbench and retrieving several instruments from the drawers. “I had some things to take care of.”
“That’s fine,” he answered. I had heard his voice repeatedly through the past few days, yet the depth of it still surprised me. I knew a little of what he had gone through in the past four, but he had been aged far past his eighteen years. His birthday would be soon. “Though the workshop was empty. Where’s Colin gone?”
“I…” My brows drew together, and I smoothed them. “He is massively sleep-deprived and overworked,” I told him, voice steady. “I have made certain he will be taking a break.”
A shrug lay in his reply. “Alright.”
“How is the conversion stone progressing?” I kept my tone businesslike.
“It’s done.”
“You’re sure? The Foxblood is gone?”
“I’ve no memories of Babs anymore.”
I nodded slowly. “Are you alright with that?”
“…What?”
“A part of you is gone. Losing Godsblood can be- “ I cut myself off. “Is difficult.”
An undercurrent of confusion ran through his words. “…I’ll be fine, Gale.”
The name left me briefly rattled, but I powered through. “How are you, then?”
“Alright.”
I carefully walked over to where he was seated, touching his shoulder and narrowing my eyes towards him. As if they would help me see better. “Any weakness? Pain? Stiffness?”
“Some.”
I scowled. “Where?”
“It’s not one place.”
Sometimes talking with him was like pulling teeth from a prisoner. “Where, Orvi?”
“…What? Orvi?”
I sighed and rubbed one of my shoulders. “That’s your name. Or did I get it wrong?”
“Where did you- “
A cultivated excuse fell from my lips with ease. “I have done my research.”
“Since I’ve gotten here?”
“After the… events of the Foot,” I slowly began, “the identity of the Ravenblood was circulated amongst the Houses. Your name amongst them.”
A pause settled between us. I allowed it.
“…Which is why I changed it.”
I nodded. “Why Vin?”
“It’s part of an older name. Just like Orvi was.”
I ran my hands through my scalp, finding a thick head of hair instead of stubble. “…You had another name?”
“Yeah.”
I hadn’t known. “Will you…” I paused to swallow down the lump in my throat. “Tell me what it was?”
There a brief silence as he considered my request. “No.”
I turned around and took several steps away, jaw tightened against the sharp sting at the back of my eyes. No cheeky insults. None of his casual wit, or the nervous way he cracked jokes when under pressure. I couldn’t imagine a slight smirk twisting the corners of his lips. Just a flat, impenetrable voice. More than anything, I wished I could see him.
A rattling breath ripped from my mouth, only fractionally less frayed than the feeling that resided in my chest. “I will respect your privacy. Where is your pain?”
“All over. But my arms are bad.” There was a slight sucking noise.
My brows furrowed. “Did you just take out the conversion stone by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he droned.
“Orvi, that was- “
“Please don’t call me Orvi.”
“…Vin. That was foolish.”
He may have shrugged, or waved an arm, or done nothing at all. Either way, I received no verbal acknowledgement of my statement. “Here.”
I splayed my hand and the boy deposited the conversion stone into it. I hefted it, feeling its weight. Slight, for something so immense. “That’s all of it?”
“That’s all.”
I gave a solemn nod, then knelt beside my workbench and began feeling the shapes of its many drawers. Eventually, I found the temporary storage device I had designed for Ravenblood.
“What’s next to be removed?”
I tapped my fingers against the side of the contraption, pursing my lips. “…We will need to wait.”
His gaze pressed into my skin. “…Why.”
“I need to examine the properties of Shrikeblood.” An eighth god came as little surprise, but I still knew nothing about it. “And as your Lizardblood provides a fortifying effect for your body, I believe the Spiderblood might do the same for your mind. Or at the very least, that removing it would be disastrous.”
“Then just remove whatever excess Ravenblood is in me.”
I sighed, finally inserting the conversion stone into the storage unit and powering it in a moment of fierce concentration. “The task is impossible.” I stood to my full height, which seemed strangely short. “Your Ravenblood is the Godsblood I’m working to remove. Do not allow my talk of different types of blood to fool you – within your veins, all of it is Ravenblood. It is irrevocably entwined with the divinity of the dead. If it was withdrawn indiscriminately – without accounting for differences in blood – it’s…”
“What?” he asked, at my long pause.
To my mind, the indiscriminate removal of Ravenblood had seemed such a transparently poor idea that I had difficulty explaining my original reasons for barring that route. “The exact result is unclear. It is certain that the stuff in your veins would be entirely unique, amongst both humans or gods, whether living or dead. Imbalanced and uneven. The things it tells your being would be haphazard and incomplete. You would almost certainly die.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“How’s that any different from what’s going to happen to me?”
My head snapped towards his voice. “What do you mean?”
He quietly scoffed. “Isn’t that what happens to Blooded who remove their blood? They die?”
I tried to look at Orvi. “Ha.” My laugh was a barren, desolate thing. “Did… your mother die?”
“She would’ve eventually.”
I took a moment to parse my thoughts. “The General had almost half a decade with her Oxblood depleted, and I imagine she had another dozen or so years in her. None of this is immediate.”
“I don’t think Ma had the same amount of divinity as I do.”
I suppressed a groan. “Nevertheless, if we can acquire some of Dure’s essence and assimilate it with you after the removal, then you should be held together.”
He grunted.
I turned away, grappling with the urge to break something. I’d had more responsive conversations with brick walls. How could I make this foolish child understand? How could I make him listen?
“I understand if you feel alone, O- Vin. You are the only person to have ever done this. But- ”
“You understand?” His tone was cordial. “Oh, I see.”
I clenched my jaw, then slowly pulled a chair opposite the boy and lowered myself into it. “Have you noticed that many of the staff here wear bells?”
“I have, yes.”
“Have you noticed they sound different?”
There was a dull sound as he scratched the side of his face. “Yes.”
“Did you know I made each of those bells personally?”
“…No.”
It was easy to recall creating them. The delicate work of a tiny hammer and chisel against iron as I worked every piece of the miniscule chimes for hours upon hours. I’d been able to make functional bells in mere hours, but the tiny adjustments needed to personalise each took days at its minimum. Creating one for every employee within the Fort had dominated my life for months. I’d even made some for the guards in order to avoid them feeling left out – though wearing them atop the walls was barred. Despite the constant errors I’d made attempting to work such tiny pieces, the process had never left me frustrated.
“I, uh… I spent a lot of time working on them. Just one would take several days to finish.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Making each look good was beyond me. But I wanted to make sure that at the very least each bell sounded like the person wearing it.”
Silence. His response was invisible to me.
I swallowed and continued. “Each chime was different for every person. I made sure of that. It was, uh…” My voice cracked. “It was meant to be a gift.”
Orvi said nothing.
“A few months went by, and everything… felt better. When someone was in a room, I could know who they were just by listening. My ears could be my eyes. For a short time there was no more…” I gesticulated widely, searching for the right word. “Doubts. I thought everyone enjoyed the gifts, or at least appreciated them. And maybe there was a group of maids that were quiet, but they were laughing more often and I thought it meant they thought the way I moved was funny, because sometimes I think it’s bizarre myself.
“Then I was passing one of them in the hall one day, and I needed something – I forget what it was. So I say, ‘Landa, do you know where this thing is?’ And I hear her moving away, and I think she’s going to get it but I want nothing less than to disturb her work, so I stop her again. And I tell her I just want to know its location. She keeps walking away and I just stand there. And then Bella – our head maid – walks past, and I ask her if she knows whether Landa’s alright.”
I let out a heavy breath. “She was confused. Landa was on the other side of the Fort. Because I hadn’t been speaking to Landa, I had been speaking to the maid wearing her bell. The one I’d spent days making just for her. They had been swapping theirs ever since they received them. I suppose they thought it was a good prank, to make sure I knew nothing of the people around me. And I just couldn’t notice.” A snort escaped me. “Funny, huh?”
There was a rustle as Orvi shifted. “Did you ever say anything?”
“What could I tell her? They’re my maids, not my dogs. Why should they wear collars if they don’t want to?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
I smiled weakly. “Perhaps not. But I said nothing all the same.”
Orvi released a long sigh.
Relief mixed with discomfort followed the wake of that confession. I’d never told anyone. However, I hadn’t told Orvi simply to share. “The point being that the Fort can be a dark, empty place. Living here can be difficult.” I buttressed my fingers together. “But I am here to help you, if you would just talk to me.”
There was a long silence. Yet instead of it feeling empty, like most did, it was gravid with the weight of Orvi’s next words.
“At the end of this, without the Ravenblood, will I die and stay dead?”
A lump formed in my throat, forcing me to speak around it. “There’s no way of knowing. Your Ravenblood might still take your soul upon death, to be ferried to the Blooded who next possesses your blood.”
“Avri didn’t do that.”
“What?”
“The Raven. Its blood was empty of any memories when I received it.”
“What?” Disbelief filled my voice. “Why would it… The Raven keeps souls – why would it not give some to you? To, to save them? That’s what it does. Is it even possible for it to do otherwise?”
“For a god, maybe,” Orvi mused. “It would’ve been too noticeable for the General to let us live. I think it was to smuggle us out – hide the fact that any blood survived in the first place.”
Us? Oh. The twins. I pushed myself to my feet and walked to the other side of the room. Words failed to capture what a fool I had been.
To his credit, the boy quickly realised what had happened. “Sorry, my tongue feels unwieldy with all the blood I’m losing. I meant ‘I’.”
I nodded, careful to keep the gesture as smooth as possible. “Regardless, even if you were to remove all your Ravenblood, it’s a possibility that despite your wishes, some remnants of you will remain in the blood, to be revived in the next body it dwells in.”
“If the blood is destroyed – if it loses its potency – then that won’t happen, will it?”
My brows raised. “I imagine not.”
“Then make sure it’s gone.”
“If you partake of Lizardblood when all of this is done,” I growled, “then you can make sure of it yourself.”
“Do you really think that will work?”
“There are several cases of such incidents occurring. With Oxbloods and Foxbloods, for the most part, however even an Owlblood who Heltia wanted to keep alive for their knowledge had their life extended. And,” I added, “there are hints that other blood types will work as well.” I should know.
“Huh.”
“When do you want this done?”
“When do I want what done?”
“The Lizardblood.”
There was silence.
“Orvi…” I said softly. “This is not something that can simply be left undecided.”
“Just make a decision.”
“Not without your permission.”
After a pause, he let loose an opaque grunt.
“Orvi.” I stressed his name with all the gentle severity I could muster. “I know this is difficult. I know you want to make this tomorrow’s problem. But you must decide.”
“I might live a decently long life without it,” he protested.
“There is no way of knowing that.”
“You said you’d help me, didn’t you? Then find that out.”
“Orvi.”
“You go do that.” There was a scrape as he stood from his chair. “I’m gonna go. Let me know if you need anything.”
“We have several diplomats coming tonight,” I stated rapidly. “Baylarian and otherwise. There will be a gathering in the Hall of Mirrors. I would like you to be there for it.”
“Fine.” Then footsteps, ringing in my mind as they drew further from me.
“Orvi?” I called.
His voice grew louder as he turned. “Yeah?”
“Make sure to take care of yourself.”
He said nothing to that.
I-
----------------------------------------
-sat with my back against the Fort walls, watching the two blurs dance like a mole watches a pair of eagles. In the back of my mind, Kit and Taja’s fires mirrored the steps my eyes failed to behold. The outer courts seemed to ripple through a veil of water: starbursts of muted colour exploding in perfect silence. Wind drew its long, sinuous tongue against the edge of my ear, and I felt it as the Fort’s walls felt me leaning against them.
“Do you think Kit’s teaching him anything?” someone said from beside me.
Fingers flickered.
“She just wants to hit something,” a duller, more monotonous voice replied.
More movements.
“Or maybe she doesn’t like him.”
There was a sympathetic hiss as one blur cracked the other to the ground. “Do you think he’s okay?”
A shrug from someone far above me.
“Gast?”
“Don’t know.”
A hand flashed, shape mangled by the speed of its movement.
“Do we get to eat your cakes yet?”
“No, not until they’re done.”
‘Flicker, flicker,’ went those huge, mismatched palms.
“Eating it would be nice. With the show.”
“I think we should all try them together. And, I don’t think you should look forward to them that much. I don’t think they’re very good.”
Shapes moved. Blurs danced.
“Have you tried them?”
“I wanted to wait for you all.”
“Well- “
One of the figures beside me turned slightly. A hand fell on my leg and shifted it sideways.
“Gods, that’s freezing! Vin, why didn’t you move your leg from the puddle?”
I clenched my eyelids closed, then opened them again. “Can you repeat that?”
“Your leg,” Head Maleen hissed. “You just let it sit in a muddy pool of melted ice-water.”
“Oh.” I drew my leg close to my chest. Raised my hand to clench around the pant-leg, squeezing water from the fabric. It was soaked. “Sorry.”
“Do we need to re-do your bandages?” she asked. “I think I saw some inside.”
“It’s fine. I’ll do it in a bit.”
It was a beautiful day. The skies stretched in an endless blue, as if it were a sea that stretched for eternity. A bird sat on top of the battlements singing to its chicks, and the rest of the courtyard got to bask in whatever merriment was left over. Kit laughed from the arena, spurring Taja into an uneasy chuckle. Guards milled atop the walls. An armoured man brushed a horse. Conversation zipped around in a low buzz. The ground was soft. The sunlight bright and warm. If only I could feel any of it.
Time went by. Head Maleen’s cakes were eaten and a discussion followed. I stared at the blue above and wondered whether any fish swum through its inverted waters. Words and sensations and colour and tastes washed over me like waves over a filthy beach, stealing mud, sand, and grime until nothing but silence remained.
The sun paddled across the sky. Suddenly, I rose to my feet.
“Where you goin’, Vin?” Kit had finished sparring some time ago. She had moved nearby.
“Gotta change my dressings,” I found myself answering.
“Sure, sure. Don’t grease yerself up too much. You’re helpin’ Maddie an’ th’ others tonight, right?”
I squinted.
“With th’ diplomats an’ such.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll see you all later.”
Maleen, Ronnie, Kit, and Taja – seated on a fur blanket nearby – all turned to look at Gast. The fat Strain blinked, then hauled herself upright. “I’ll come.”
I rubbed the fatigue from my eyes. “Where?”
“With you.”
An argument stepped into my mouth, but grew old and died before it could leave. “Alright. Let’s go.”
I stepped through the doors of the dining hall, most of my attention swallowed by the act of understanding where my limbs were in relation to my torso. I’d fallen on my face several times during the process of uncaging Babs from my body, simply because I’d forgotten how to walk properly. Gast’s rolling gait beside me seemed a mockery, yet I couldn’t help but see the humour in it. Two weeks ago, I had been carrying her weight and barely felt it. Now, I struggled to carry myself.
But that was wishful thinking, wasn’t it? I hadn’t been carrying myself back then. I’d barely been controlling my fall.
“I think you should stop,” Gast suddenly stated.
I supported myself against the side of a table. “Stop what?”
“Removing the Ravenblood.”
I slowly rotated myself to stare at her. The Strain’s chubby face was wide and open. My gaze narrowed into a glare. “Are you joking?”
“No,” she stated simply.
I leaned back against the top of the wood, feeling the dull throbs in my arms and releasing a long breath full of teeth. I considered shoving her to the ground. I considered bellowing in her face. I considered breaking down into tears. But I didn’t feel like doing any of those things.
“Do you remember how I was?” I told her instead. “Every thing you said could’ve set me off. Everyone around me was completely at the mercy of whatever urges possessed me in that moment. I beat Kit for no reason. I died for no reason. Because that thing thought I was a threat, and now Alton’s completely in the world with the cruellest person I could’ve left him with.”
“That’s done now.”
I barked a disbelieving laugh. “It’s not. I just… I thought I was Wil just then. I don’t know who the hell I am, Gast, but I do know I’m one bad day from falling apart, and we’ve just pushed it back. How long until something like that happens again? Before I’m nothing but a bundle of panic and fear blown by whatever breeze happens to be blowing that day?”
Her gaze lowered for a second, then returned to my eyes. “We’ll be okay.”
“You were the ones who brought me here,” I whispered to her, eyes stretched as wide as they could go. “Because you knew this was what needed to be done.”
The light from the brazier in the hall above set the vast rooms shadows undulating around us. A silence elongated, yet instead of fraying the air between us it merely solidified it. On anyone else the pause would’ve been a concession. For Gast, it was merely a sign of her mind grinding through responses.
“We didn’t think it would cost this much,” she finally said. “If I knew you’d be so hurt…”
I tutted. “Gale thinks I’m fine.”
“Gale’s blind,” the Strain rebuked. “He can’t see how bad it is.”
“And how bad is it?”
“It’s bad, Vin.” Her gaze bore into my own. “It’s really bad.”
“Oh?” I joked with half-remembered humour. “You don’t like my dashing looks?”
The insides of her eyebrows were raised in quiet mourning. “We didn’t want this.”
“I want this.” My fists pressed against her chest. “I need this.”
Gast shook her head. “You need to stop.”
“No.” The word was harsh even to my own ears. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “You’ve all done so much for me. When I had no one left in the world, you picked me from the shadows of Spires and gave me a place to be.” I rubbed my eyes. “But I can’t give you this.”
“Please?” Her voice was low. Her large eyes stared up at me plaintively. “Please, Vin?”
I shoved myself from the desk and moved my stiff limbs into a step away from Gast. Then another. And another. Each step grew in speed until I’d settled into a shambling, uneven jog. Not flight. Just to see if I still could.
“Vin!” Gast shouted from behind me.
My shins smashed into chairs as I lumbered along, kicking them aside or being tripped and barely catching myself on the sides of tables. However, the pain was dull, empty of all threat. I never stayed still for more than a moment. A hand grasped my shoulder and I shook it off, accelerating in an outright run.
I barged through the doors leading deeper into the Fort and sprinted up a grand staircase, ramming my knees against the top step hard enough to pierce through the mist shrouding my perception.
“Raven’s bones,” I hissed, spittle flying between clenched teeth.
I knelt there a moment, clutching my knee as impotent fury beat back the urge to burst into tears constricting my veins. After a moment, a pair of lumbering footsteps from behind prodded me upright, back into a shambling sprint. It carried me upwards, past the stairs and into the second floor. In my eyes, the stone walls seemed to rotate then snap back into their original position and continue rotating once more.
My legs carried me down the hallway, past the maids wearing the wrong bell shining the floor and into the Hall of Mirrors. I placed both hands beside my face to obstruct my sight of the room’s walls and continued. Gale and several guards carefully were carefully removing pipes from around the brazier while I blundered past, miraculously avoiding them via a series of stumbles both planned and accidental. They stared, but after a few more steps, I was out again.
Everything about the way I moved felt off. My body was too far forward; arms too stiff; legs placed inconsistently and unevenly. Falling was a constant threat. I’d eventually adapted to my lack of strength, but the lack of coordination bit into my pride just a bit harder. But what other alternative did I have? The sting of that wound would quickly fall to nothing, but the bite of my veins would endure forever.
I reached my room, entered, and collapsed on the chair in front of my desk. Though I wasn’t particularly tired, my breath shuddered from my body in harsh, irregular bouts. When I failed to wrench my lungs into their rightful place, I made the decision to stop breathing altogether.
Cautiously, I began unwinding the bandages from my left arm, quietly wincing as the process tore scabs and pustules from my flesh in a tangle of pain. After one final rip, the bandage was released with a wet protest, leaving my arm entirely bare. I extended it upwards to bask in the flickering azure light of the room.
The pits of flesh in my arm had grown in both size and number. So great was the increase that my skin seemed a thin net over a network of exposed muscle, sinew, bones, and veins. Pus wept from the depths of those holes and trickled down the arm’s length, tracing the flayed mechanisms of my being. Flecks of bandage clung to it. A mere attempt at moving from me sent a snap of motion down my shoulders into the labyrinth of meat, as countless tendons and fibres strained to obey my commands. It was too complex to be comprehensible. But my arm moved all the same.
Nestled amongst what was once hidden throbbed inscrutable onyx veins. Muscles expanded and contracted around them, circulating Avri’s essence through every piece of my body according to the beat of my heart. They seemed so fragile. As if the merest press of my fingernails would tear them open.
“Just wait. You’ll be done,” I hissed at them. “You’ll be finished. And I’ll be free.”
Then I cleaned the pus-ridden holes with alcohol-soaked rags, re-bound my arms, and passed out.