Silence of the Senses

5 fin.

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Gluttony had unleashed a surge of strength. The stomach constricted around Eydis with a bone-crushing squeeze, shattering her barrier before swallowing her whole.

"Delicious..." its guttural voice rumbled, "so... delicious..."

Eydis thrashed within the acidic confines, her screams a muffled gurgle against the churning flesh. Gluttony's stomach pulsed, then lurched, savouring its unexpected prey. The movements faded, then…

Silence.

The anticipated surge of satiated hunger never came. Instead, a wave of something far more exquisite crashed over Gluttony. A pleasure so intense it teetered on agony, a dark symphony of euphoria, a song of the damned. This... this was unlike anything it had ever devoured.

The taste. Beautiful, decadent, and strangely familiar. A burst of sweetness, like vanilla—no, more like thousands of lollipops consumed by this realm. Then colours! A cotton candy explosion flooded its vision, swirling, mesmerising. Its monstrous gut pulsed – "pumping, beating, constricting, consuming!" What was this intoxicating essence?

Childish glee, a bubble rising in a vat of acid. The witch, outsmarted! The sigils, silent and useless. All that big talk, yet so weak, easily devoured in a single, joyous gulp!

This was just the beginning. Soon, the endless meals would resume. This place was brimming with raw mana, unlimited. With the witch gone, the binding spell would surely break. And then... then the glorious FEASTS! And power!

Barely above Sloth? Not anymore! This place was a treasure trove, overflowing with deliciousness! Envy would be green with envy when she saw how powerful Gluttony would become. Maybe even Pride... hmm, maybe not.

Pride was a little... intense.

Gluttony's monstrous form trembled, pleasure warring with a disorienting lightheadedness. Every fiber of its being vibrated. It was drowning, not in sorrow, but in a gurgling sea of impossible bliss.

Then, a CLICK. A sound of gears turning, grinding, clinking, whirring an unholy rhythm. The… sigil? Impossible! This couldn't be happening.

The fleeting dream – the warmth, the promise of endless feasts – shattered with the sudden eruption of crimson light. The euphoria, so sweet, so seductive, vanished in an instant. So quick! Too quick! No! It wanted, no, NEEDED more! Something was wrong!

Not enough. This girl wasn't enough!

“Not ENOUGH!!!” Gluttony roared, a sound like human souls ground to dust for millennia. Its muscled walls strained, threatening to burst under the pressure of hunger so vast it defied comprehension. The witch’s magic was devoured… and left it emptier, hungrier than before.

Why? Why was this happening? Why was it still SO HUNGRY? This should have lasted longer. It shouldn't feel so... loss. Despair, a cold, suffocating thing, filled the void. It roared, a sound lost in the echo of its own loneliness. Alone. Devoid of sustenance. Escape! It had to escape!

“Why can’t I leave?”

Just what kind of monster inflicted torture like this?

Ever since its senses came to be, it could only remember its name. And a vague memory of freedom, of wind whipping through… fur?

Then, memories, vivid and warm, slammed back into Gluttony's nonexistence. It was running on… all four? In a field of lavender. The scene fractured, golden eyes, holding a fleeting warmth. A smile, so dazzling it blinded the Sins eyes.

It was wrong. It was never free. It had a master.

A horrifying truth clawed its way to the surface. The warmth, the affection… it belonged to the one it devoured!

Nooo! A shriek tore from Gluttony's throat as a searing pain erupted in its gut. Agony. Its stomach – its glorious, ever-consuming stomach – lay sliced open, a gaping maw that mocked its hunger with its pathetic attempts to reseal. When? How?

The revelation ripped Gluttony apart, not just physically but existentially. Its monstrous form exploded, swirling back into a wisp of violet smoke.

Then, a voice – melodic, dripping with amusement – cut through the chaos. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence. Seems someone's having a bit of a meltdown. Perhaps a tad too much sugar, wouldn't you say?"

Disoriented and utterly confused, Gluttony's fragmented vision settled on a blurry figure before it.

"Did you… plan ALL THIS?"

"Gluttony, Gluttony," the voice purred, "didn't anyone tell you it's rude to snack without asking? Especially when the snack...bites back."

Gluttony, for the first time, felt a tremor of fear that transcended hunger. "I... I was hungry," it rasped. "She… she told me to be selective, that there were hidden poisons, but hunger… hunger blinded me."

"She?" The voice held a hint of curiosity. "Who is this 'she'?"

The question ripped through the fragmented memories swirling within Gluttony. The world snapped back into focus. Before it was the same defiant girl it thought it had devoured. But this was no mere girl. No, this was...

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Its tattered memories coalesced – the Queen of Shadows. H-Her Majesty?

"It was you..." Gluttony’s voice was a pathetic whimper. "...You told me!"

Eydis stood radiant, an enigma against the pulsating violet smoke. Blood oozed from a wound on her palm, the only sign of a struggle. With a slow, predatory grace, she pushed herself away from the wall.

"Every lure needs a tempting bait, you knew that," she trailed off as her bloody hand reached out, tracing a gentle circle around the roiling smoke. "But a fool is a fool all the same. A slave to its own hunger."

A tremor ran through the violet mass. There, again, that taste - a forbidden ambrosia that ignited a fleeting euphoria so profound, its absence felt like a thousand icy needles piercing its core.

Memories flooded back. Her mana. Her blood. It was a drug. Earlier, she hadn't just cut through the membrane, she'd offered a taste, a seductive mix of her magic and her own blood.

And everything else – her desperate struggle, the breach of her barrier – was Gluttony’s hazy dream.

Eydis smirked, a silent incantation flowing from her lips. The violet smoke twisted and writhed around her fingertips, then condensed and transformed. In its place stood a colossal ebony three-headed hound, its imposing form scraping against the freezer's ceiling.

"Cerberus," Eydis murmured, "that's your pet name, remember? You seem to have forgotten your manners lately."

Cerberus, no longer the formless Gluttony, whimpered and shrunk down to Eydis's waist, nuzzling her affectionately. Its three tongues darted out, tasting her fingers with a pathetic reverence.

"Forgive me, My Queen. To consume your essence without your permission... how terribly blasphemous of me."

Eydis's eyes gleamed with a knowing glint. You see, the Queen of Shadows didn't just cultivate any mana. Her darkness wasn't just any darkness. It was a seduction, a torture, a spiderweb laced with slow-acting poisons. Her mana, a fleeting taste of paradise before the inevitable abyss.

Fleeting. So very fleeting.

And her blood? Her blood was the catalyst, the key that unlocked the agonising withdrawal.

Binding these primal Sins wasn't a matter of drawing chalk circles on the floor – anyone could do that, until the unleashed familiar devoured them whole. This was a constant, perilous dance on a knife's edge, a cruel, unending song on repeat – controlling them meant inflicting a constant torment, a twisted game of pleasure and pain.

A shadow flickered across Eydis' face, a glimpse of the burden she bore. Envy, the serpent of jealousy, was forever writhing in a perpetual agony of unfulfilled desire. A single sliver of her attention, a crumb of validation, was more than enough to keep it enslaved.

Cerberus was a different story. Even a single drop of her essence was a potent narcotic, leaving it desperate for another fix. Control? No, this was a cruel dependency, a leash woven from the very essence of its hunger.

But such was the price for wielding the power of primal evils. Eydis let out a humourless chuckle. How naive to believe simple spells, binding magic, or lucky artefacts were all that stood between the world and these monstrous entities.

Freedom? Were they all, monstrous familiars and their Queen, trapped in gilded cages of their own design? Bound by desires they couldn't escape, each a prisoner of their own tortured existence.

Eydis's voice, laced with a dark amusement, dipped to a low hum. "So eager to devour me, were you, Cerberus?"

Suddenly, a ripple snaked through the air, a cold whisper slithering into Eydis's ears. Envy. Astra was coming.

"This time... the pleasure will be all mine. But a second thought, three-headed hounds are hardly discreet in this realm, are they? How about…" Eydis tapped a single finger against her chin, her gaze fixed on Cerberus.

The dog blinked, its three heads swivelling in confusion. This was not what it expected.

“A Doberman?” Eydis finished, her eyes glinting with delight. A whisper of power, a ripple of command, and Cerberus's form shimmered. In its place stood a sleek black dog, its bewildered brown eyes meeting Eydis's.

With a swift snap, the Doberman's powerful jaws clamped shut, engulfing Eydis in a shocking silence.

“As you command, Your Majesty!”

The Doberman's eyes flared gold for a heartbeat, then softened to a warm amber. Its stood transformed, shedding the brutish crouch of Cerberus for a posture exuded a regal bearing. As the dining hall door creaked open, the creature melted into…

The shadows.

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That same night, in the mansion nestled within the Alchymia mountains, a different kind of shadow fell. Moonlight sculpted skeletal figures onto the plush king bed through the wrought-iron bars of the window. Thomas Blackwood sank into the chair beside his daughter, his hand trembling as he reached for hers.

A rasp escaped his throat, barely audible over the incessant drone of the reporters. He blinked rapidly, each blink failing to hold back the tears threatening to spill over, carving paths through the worry etched on his face.

"Tiffany, sweetheart… why?"

Tiffany remained unmoving, her vacant eyes staring straight ahead, reflecting nothing. Reporters swarmed around him, cameras flashing, lights flickering, shutters clicking, and voices shouting. Microphones crackled with static as they bombarded him with questions.

"Sir Thomas, your thoughts on Senator Blackwood’s proposed communal reform act?"

"Are you reconsidering your Senate bid in light of recent events?"

“Sir, any comments on the prayer vigil you held for your daughter?"

"Regarding the leaked duel footage circulating online, is it genuine or AI-generated?"

"Sir, rumours persist regarding Tiffany's connection to The Eye. Can you confirm or deny these allegations?"

His jaw clenched. "My daughter wouldn't touch such evil!" he roared. He lunged forward, his hand clamping down on the nearest microphone, the plastic groaning under his grip. "Apologise!"

The reporter stammered an apology, his face paling under Thomas's emerald glare. With a curt nod to the butler, Thomas silently commanded him to escort the press out, leaving him alone in a room choked with silence.

Then, the door creaked open like a rusty hinge. Noah Blackwood strode in, moonlight glinting off his silver hair. "Bravo, brother," Noah drawled, a slow clap punctuating his mocking words. "A truly convincing performance. One might almost believe you a grieving father."

Thomas' eyes narrowed to slits. "What brings you here, Noah? Surely not a misplaced concern for your niece."

Noah's touch on his shoulder was surprisingly cold. "Curiosity, Tommy. Your sudden ambition for the Senate seat. But well played, the loving father by his daughter's bedside. How very... touching."

A low growl rumbled in Thomas' chest. "Leave, Noah. I have matters to attend to – finding a cure for Tiffany." He gestured towards the door, not a polite escort but a forceful eviction.

Noah threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, the grieving father," he said sarcastically as he leaned in. "But don't think for a second you've fooled me. I see you, Tommy, a reflection of you in Tiffany. That insatiable need for validation, always living in my shadow, isn't it... endearing?"

With a final, condescending laugh, Noah vanished. As his laughter faded, a suffocating silence descended. The darkness in the room pressed closer, and a tendril of shadow swirled around Thomas' fingertips, mirroring the forbidden question that echoed in his mind.

‘Can I kill him?’

The answer came not in words, but in a sensation. A pressure, vast and ancient, filled the room, pushing down on Thomas until his knees buckled. A voice, a booming whisper that seemed to emanate from the very walls, resonated through his skull.

"No," it boomed, vibrating through his bones. "Not yet. However..."

The pressure eased, replaced by a cold, slithering curiosity.

"...I am particularly intrigued by this boy you encountered. This one who dared to..." the voice trailed off, the silence stretching, heavy with menace. "...tamper with my will."

Thomas swallowed hard, a knot of unease tightening in his gut. "You mean… the one at St. Kevin's?"

The voice chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a cold wind. "Yes," it purred, sending another wave of goosebumps across Thomas' skin. "The one with the power in his golden eyes…How…nostalgic. How delicious."

-End of Book 1: The Queen’s Crash Landing-