Chapter 51: Prince, Pain, and Hollow
The warm snow of Zard was known across the Northern realm through the songs of traveling bards. Despite the historical record and the teaching, many people across the Northern realm believed it was just an absurd invention of some desperate bards until they felt the autumn snow petals of Zard fell upon their skin for the first time.
“Wherever the warm snow touches, the golden dragon of Zard reigns,” the first king of Zard once declared, establishing his rightful territory when the War of Dragons concluded. After that, his children and grandchildren repeated the words as their vow every time a new king of Zard was coronated.
Even so, it was hard to imagine that snow could be warm, not in the land where Atuc came from at least, not in the remote Scicily of Kraig’ondor.
Once, there was a land with a name like that, Scicily on the map of the Northern Realm, and a kingdom known as Kraig’ondor, no more. Now, they existed in the dreams and memories of chained slaves or wanderers of no kingdom like Atuc.
The snow in Scicily was cold like anywhere else but Zard. The white petals when they fell, the winds became strong and changed direction, bringing with them the salty odor of the Tideless Sea from the west. As an ignorant child, Atuc loved the salty snow. It was probably because her family has always been comfortable and privileged despite the changing seasons that she can love such a thing. However, Atuc was fond of the grey snow petals as a child, because whenever they fell, they brought with them the oceanic smell of the Tideless Sea. They blew away the thick smell of rotten eggs that stuck within every stone and people of Scicily like perfume.
When Atuc first heard about the strange snow of Zard, she was a blissfully ignorant child. But now, when she confirmed that the autumn snow of Zard was indeed warm, Atuc was already in the late of her 31st autumn. Looking back, Atuc realized that so many things have changed. Many of her old memories were rushing back into Atuc’s head, flooding her with a mixed sense of nostalgia and bizarrely calm tranquility.
It was snowing on that day as well, but back then, it was far colder, extremely so. Atuc remembered the moment when the frostbiting ice violated the very marrow of her bony body, and yet what she felt with the tips of her fingers was far colder. Tiny fingers, once soft as silk and warm as breast milk, they were cold and rigid like black steel in her palms. Never would Atuc forget that. That memory has once made Atuc howled as her body doubled and disintegrated into ashen grey. Once it has brought her nothing but pain, but no more, no longer, for it has become her inner armor.
Atuc squeezed her palms, remembering the coldness she felt back then as her unblinking eyes focused on her unsuspecting target. She felt a wave of tranquil calmness washed over her. It has been like this since the moment she brought out the grimy dark of her paired funeral costumes for the first time since she completed them. Paired they were. One for her, the other one for her second husband. A rough and modest black was hers. A silky luster of darkness was his, adorned with the golden insignia of the faceless god that melted from the blood-soaked gold ornaments, gifts of Atuc’s second husband to her, taken from the corpses of his victims.
“Haahhhhhh,” the loud languid sigh of Lajara echoed within the depth of Atuc’s consciousness, disrupting her inner peace like ripples on a surface of a lake. Only Atuc could hear Lajara’s sigh no matter how loud the dream demon could be.
Sweet was Lajara’s sighs, soft as pristine snow and sweet as virgin honey freshly collected from a beehive, but unbearably sorrowful. If a bard were to hear such sorrowful voice of Lajara, he would sing until his voice was all but lost just so that the sorrow would disappear. If a brave knight heard that sorrowful sigh, he would swing his sword, to display his valiance, to act dulled and foolish until the dream demon laughed away her sorrow in her most innocent maiden voice.
Atuc has learned to ignore Lajara. She has grown numbed to Lajara’s ceaseless whispers in years, but the dream demon’s persistence has triumphed this time. Lajara must have sighed a million times like that since the first light of dawn arrived on Escana and she was really getting on Atuc’s nerves.
“Goodness, stupid demon, can you stop already? I need to concentrate here,” Atuc inwardly commanded the dream demon.
“Ignore me and my woes, you insane bitch, like you always do,” the dream demon sulked and sighed languidly again.
“I will definitely do that,” Atuc coldly hissed to the dream demon within her mind. She removed the languid sighs of her dream demon out of her mind as well as the rowdy toasting noises of her husband’s lackeys. She ignored their loud laughter and endless hollers and all the splashing noises they made as they swam in the poisonous lake.
Atuc focused on her target. She waited patiently. She has waited for seven years. She could wait for more.
Fearless, Atuc’s beloved accomplice and lover of the nights was within her eyesight, standing a few steps behind her husband. His visage was dreadfully beautiful as usual. His eyes were an enticing dark pair, mysterious as a quiet starless night, full of secrets and mysteries. He was looking at Atuc, his gaze intent and warm, but at the same time, absent of thought. He was looking at her and at the same time, he was looking at something else, something that lied beyond Atuc’s understanding or anyone else.
When Atuc allowed her sight to focus on him, the dream demon’s sighs only became louder within her mind. Thus, she stopped, but Lajara’s sighs didn’t.
It was unheard that a dream demon of Lust would lose her power to a human male in the heat of passion, and yet that could not be further from the truth. The moment she laid her sight upon him, Lajara was adamant on taking over Atuc’s body, casting her demonic power on Fearless at every chance she had, trapping him with the dark grip of her Charm and Atuc’s body to enslave him. The succubus succeeded naturally until her Charm rebounded against her, putting the grip of her own demonic power on both herself and Atuc instead.
Child-play, did you say? What a joke of a succubus, Atuc inwardly mocked her dream demon, stabbing her with sharp words.
“Leave me alone, you insane bitch. You don’t understand anything,” the dream demon rebuffed, defending her pride as a high-ranking succubus, “…When he is inside me, I felt complete. I felt whole. I felt warm and loved. I felt so fulfilled that I almost cried... I wanted to return his love…he made me felt that way…that’s why my Charm rebounded… that’s the only explanation…You don’t understand… This is true love.”
“Goodness, NO, stupid demon, you have only slept with him for two nights. What do you know about true love anyway?”
“Shut up, you don’t know anything, insane bitch, he’s my true love…”
Atuc ignored the succubus’ worthless babble for good, completely disgusted by her dream demon’s pathetic attempt of playing the role of a maiden in love. Nevertheless, Atuc could forgive the dream demon for losing her heart since the other person himself was just as charming as a dream demon.
“You understand nothing…” Lajara disagreed strongly, which Atuc continued to ignore her.
Subtly but firmly, thought returned to that mysterious starless night of Fearless, but only Atuc noticed it. In a brief exchange of their gaze, she felt connected to him, their thought mirrored.
It’s yours now, all yours.
It’s mine now, all mine.
Arrogance was his eyes, not an inquisitive gaze that brimmed with curiosity like Atuc has thought that he would. The lovely curve on his lips was even more so, sneering with arrogance. She did not tell him her plan in full so she thought he would be curious. She did not tell him many things, Lajara’s existence was just one of the many.
On his lips, it was a sneering arrogance, “Surprise me!” which could not be more suited to his character.
Should have predicted it…
Stifling an amused chuckle within her throat, Atuc answered her partner’s arrogance with a mirrored look, Watch me, she told him. She advanced, each of her steps grim and firm until she was standing on the shadow of her dazedly second husband.
Gently she grabbed his massive hand and firmly pressed it against her cheek. Rough was his hand, like dry sand, and full of callouses and scars, tempered from a never-ending blood-soaked life and endless battles. It was the complete opposite of the hands of the princely person she fell for, which were delicate and soft like a maiden’s hands. Whose hands were more deadly was up to debate, but Atuc already knew the answer.
“I have been dreaming of this moment for so long.” Atuc sweetly whispered with her upturned eyes, gazing warmly at Bloodbeard. She tilted her head lovingly, resting her cheek against her husband’s hand. Through their eye contact, she invoked the unholy power of the dream demon, which she hosted within her body, and targeted the unsuspecting giant, snapping him out of his daze.
Atuc felt the firm grip of the dream demon’s power on her husband’s mind. If he has not already fallen for her natural womanly charm, the demonic power of Lajara made him stupidly infatuated with Atuc. She reined the demon’s power, leaving just the adequate amount of clarity within the mind of her husband.
“Me too, yes, a gift from my uncle,” absently was his reply, hopelessly infatuated with Atuc’s charm, “But how do you know?”
Male or female, human or elf, a virtuous saint or dirty whore, it did not matter. Lajara’s innate power cannot be denied unless the target was another dream demon or equipped with artifacts or blessings that can counter a dream demon’s Charm.
A lovely contented smile curved on her rosy petal-like lips when a memory resurfaced within her mind, the time when Atuc was embraced and loved by Fearless in the absence of Charm against the time when Lajara repeatedly infused him with her demonic power. Her dream demon angrily cursed her harsher usual, but surprisingly agreed with Atuc’s opinion regarding which of the two felt better, “Looking at you, of course. I have always been looking at you,” Atuc replied affectionately.
However, her husband misunderstood the meaning of this smile of her, which only made it sweeter and lovelier.
Atuc blinked her long lashes once, letting a tear of pure happiness rolled down her ashen cheek, “Can you feel how fast my heart is beating? Can you feel how happy I am?” she guided Bloodbeard’s rugged hand to her full bosoms.
“Yes,” Bloodbeard’s voice was drenched in lust, dripping with carnal desire.
Through the rough and thick texture of her funeral gown, Atuc could feel the itches and the craving within Bloodbeard’s twitchy fingers as well as his slowing bulging lust. Pain was all she felt when those fingers formed an iron vice on her full breasts as if to rip them apart, roughly handling the prided symbol of her womanhood with utter selfishness. It was different from the tormenting pain she felt and suffered when Fearless touched her body. His tormenting touch impregnated her with an addicting craving for more.
Atuc subtly sent her accomplice a sidelong glance, only to discover that he was not even looking at her. He was talking to his emotionless doll with a childlike innocent smile on his lips.
“What a joke! He totally saw through your cute attempt to make him jealous from the beginning,” Lajara cackled like a demon within Atuc’s mind, hollering as she hugged her astral belly, getting back at her own host for the previous slights.
“Shut up,” Atuc hissed heatedly within her mind.
She guided Bloodbeard’s reluctant hand off the ensnaring of her womanhood and toward her scarred belly, “You owe me a child, remember?” Atuc asked sweetly, loosen the firm grip of Lajara’s demonic power on Bloodbeard’s mind, giving him the clarity to remember his promise to her.
“How could I not? Since you keep asking me, but I kept telling you that, I would have killed you with my strength…”
Atuc revealed a lovely smile, “This reminds me of the first time we met. You told the same thing. It was snowing back then as well.”
“But, now, I don’t have to worry about that... that’s right, I have to thank my uncle to that…”
Bloodbeard turned his head toward the other direction, allowed only by Atuc’s generous permission and vengeful malice. She returned sound to his ears, and sight to his eyes and time to his thought.
“You wish that you would have never turned back,” The dream demon darkly cackled but only Atuc agreed.
Bright was the sky, white was the soft falling snow. Yet, the scene unfolded before the bulging eyes of the petrified giant was the very manifestation of Kharigan. Bloodbeard probably wished that he was blind and deaf like the god he worshipped rather than witnessing such scene.
“Don’t judge my home base on the lies of your gods, insane bitch,” Lajara rebuked angrily.
Atuc did not make her comeback nor could she. Her eyes were drawn to the malevolent red before her, hypnotic was it. The red moon of Kharigan, the plane of the Demon Lords came crashing down on the surface of Escana with impunity. Amidst the crippling red world, one man stood. His cloth a mourning jet-black, his hair a night without a star, his eyes dark as the abyss but the lovely smile on his lips was even darker.
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“Erinys, close your eyes. Don’t open it until you have my permission. It’s better if you don’t look,” I told my sweet innocent girl, putting two little rolls of rag into her ear canal. I guided her hands to shut her earholes as well. Letting her know the hints of the event that was about to transpire was enough to make her understand my future lessons, any more would have scarred her mind forever.
“And the two of you brothers, welcome to my world,” I told Narik and Narse, my voice more sarcastic than usual.
With my opened eyes, I saw pain. With my sharp ears, I heard pain. With my crystal-clear mind, I perceived pain… in the absence of disillusion to reinstall the understanding that I was worse than the demons that I broke and the worms that I squashed.
This was my ironclad principle, unchanged in the last six years and would remain so until the day I became nothing.
Pain had no form and yet many. Pain was Dragon Bane. Pain was the Kiss of Death and the unquenched desire to be reciprocated by the magnanimous love of Death.
Pain was an abominable red cherry popped on top of the vanilla world of fuzzy warm snow and sunlit sky.
Pain was the writhing worms on the muddy ground, paralyzed by the curses running through their liquefying veins. Pain was the insidious spiraling of joints, muscles and cracking bones that stretched a human body beyond the physical boundary. Pain was the aberrant molten flesh that seeped from inside out, the sizzling viscous crimson that stained the pristine white snow. Pain was the vileness of white of bone revealed in the absence of skin and flesh, the grim red and bastardized yellow of oozing gluey marrow.
Pain was the insidious invisible greater blessing that barred one’s mind from going mad. Pain was the dark hollow sockets of self-dug-out-eyeballs, the presumably maddened fingernails that viciously clawed away the melting skins and fleshes in the fruitless search for the merciful touch of insanity to escape pain.
Pain was the unrecognizable mess that was the half-digested breakfast that Atuc made for me, the murky white and greenish slime that kept spilling out beneath my shaking feet. Pain was memories of redden summer days that resurfaced.
Pain was the mirrored white of terror on drained faces, the blissful confusion that eventually turned into a malevolent prophetic drop of tears in red bulging eyeballs, the manifestation of self-realization.
Pain was the survival instinct of the quick-wits, the fingers that tugged deep into one’s throat, the desire to retch, the euphoric hope on one’s face when one retched and continue to retch until they succeeded and the moment when that euphoric hope turned into a lucid world of reddened despair.
Pain was music to my sharp ears, the worst kind of music, an insidious dissonant orchestra of chaos in the total absence of rhythm or chord, an amalgam of everything that was pure evil and vile. Pain was the infecting bestial howls of the writhing worms from their melting vocal cords, the never-ending crescendo of the thousands to their endlessly long descent into the loving embrace of Death. Pain was the quietly splashing retches of two brothers amidst the grandeur of the most unholy orchestra. Pain was the hollow shouts and screams that eventually became winded and bubbled in the end when the lungs were all but a puddle of spilling red. Pain was the cowardice begging for forgiveness, the seemingly repentant prayers to the gods and goddesses who administrated the world of Escana from the above.
Pain was the tearful “Master Advisor, save us,” not knowing the one they begged was their ender.
Pain was the blissfully ignorant “Please, save us” as the worms started to claw at their skin to ease their itching hell, not knowing that it was just the beginning of an end.
Pain was the bemoaning “Gods, spare us.”
Pain was the attachments to one’s life, the invisible rope of self-preservation, the instinct existed in all the livings that squeezed on one’s lucid mind, the fear of Death while not knowing that the merciful embrace of Death was the greatest blessing.
Pain was hell and heaven squashed altogether in an unholy union, an abomination of a creation. Pain was the beginning and the end.
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Pain was the perfect fuel for nightmares to come and to suffer.
Pain was the clear apprehension that what transpired inside that abode of Ekar held no candle to this abomination, not in quality or quantity. Pain was cruelty manifested for the sake of cruelty alone, an example, a warning.
Pain was the phantom chirping of cicadas at the back of one’s mind as the worms’ screams getting louder.
Pain was the cheap wordless smile on my lips to reciprocate the worms’ begging. Pain was the same familiar soundless eulogy that echoed within my head at the end of every hunt for the worms I squashed.
Worms, did you spare your victims from pain and torment when they begged you?
Did you stop violating on your victim’s dignity and virtue when they cried?
Have you ever heard the choke of one’s heart when their joy became ashen in your hands?
Have you ever seen the fragmented life your victims whose future you have robbed and violated?
Have you ever cried in remorse when you looked at the scars that you inflicted on your victims?
You didn’t. You haven’t. That’s why you can continue to live as worms.
Maybe, I should spare you.
Maybe I can help you to redeem yourself, to be human again.
No, not maybe. I can without a doubt, make you human again, one way or another.
Maybe, you don’t deserve to be squashed by me of all the people in the world, just maybe.
However, I know for sure that none of your victims deserved to be broken, be hurt, or robbed of their future and beloved.
I know for sure that your victims did not deserve to suffer, deprived and scarred.
I know for sure that your victims would have cried and begged you the same way you are begging me.
And yet they were never given a chance to be whole, unharmed and unscarred.
Hence…
I took a deep breath and lifted my chest. I used my thumb and middle finger to trace the curvatures of my cheekbone and chin, drawing the sign of a hugging skull, offering a prayer to Mistress Death.
“Death, take them. Let them know that your embrace is their only solace and respite, but only for the moment, only for a short moment. If you could forgive my insolence and arrogance, and be generous, please pass my words and tell them that Fearless of The Alliance was their killer. Tell them that I tricked them, used them and killed them like the worms that they are. Tell them that it was I Fearless who robbed them of their future and hope, the bright future that I showed and promised to them, it was I who gave them such insidious suffering and pain.
Tell them to prepare themselves, hopefully, they would learn what it means to be human again while walking inside your hall. Or they will learn to suffer again the moment I arrive down there and knock on your gate.” I prayed to the Goddess of Death before turned to face Narik and Narse, listening to the gripping horror in their quiet breath.
“Listen very carefully the two of you, especially you Narse, you who questions justice, you who questions Wonten’s intention and identity. I don’t know why you would listen to your brother and choose to serve me. But look and carve this scene into your mind and remember that this is not justice. I am not justice. Never mistake this for justice.
Justice is not omnipotent and absolute like a sun. Justice can be dimmed and weak and as many like the stars on the sky. Justice can appear in many forms but not this, never this.
This is evil curbing evil, poison killing poison.
Why is it the injustice? Do you even need to ask? Look at this hell with your eyes, does it look like justice to you? Listen carefully with your ears, are these screams the sound of justice?
No, I will tell you just in case you are too stupid to decide.
This is the greater injustice that befell upon the injustices.
When justice became too lazy and too ineffectual, this happened, I happened. When justice became too blind, the greater injustice would befall upon this world.
It is just pure luck that you are on my side and our goal coincides this time. The next time, you won’t be so lucky. Never forget that.
Narik, had you partake in an atrocity and injustice as disgusting as this, I would have killed you too, with them. Spend the rest of your life thinking about redemption alone while etching this scene into your mind.
Carve this knowledge into your mind that I, the one who created this atrocity am not an agent of justice, never was, and never will I be.
I will always be the greatest injustice, the worst demon, and the worst worm because unlike them who were born to feast upon human, I was perfectly crafted and designed to destroy them instead.
I will always be their greatest and worst. This is my desire and lifetime commitment.
Carve this scene into your memory so that you will never mistake injustice for justice.
Hold a steadfast belief to your justice, let your heart and belief guide you, let them stay in the right place. Don’t wait or expect any help from a god when you see an injustice. Act upon it before I would arrive.
Make sure that you will never become someone like me. Otherwise, I will fall upon you just like I fall upon them.”
I said the words that I wanted to say to the brothers while knowing that Bloodbeard was watching me in utter confusion and shock, already in the depth of the hollow phase. Soon, he would know agony but it was not my place to decide that or even Dragon Bane’s place.
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“The other person who can smile so beautifully like that is His Majesty Flokí,” Lajara sighed languidly, “It has to be a sin that a man can be so beautiful,” the dream demon kept sighing as Atuc set her sight on the same person that her husband was staring at with his mouth agape.
Atuc has not seen the Smiling Demon Lord. She thought that if a Demon Lord was referred with such title, his smile must be very beautiful. However, to top or be equal to the smile on her partner’s lips, on Fearless’ lips, it’s almost unthinkable.
“That’s because you have never seen His Majesty before. Be glad. Because when you see his smile, you would think that his smile was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life...” Lajara sighed again.
A bewildered voice cut Atuc’s conversation with her dream demon short.
“What’s happening?” Bloodbeard repeated the same question that he has kept mumbling for a while now, this time much louder.
“Oh dear, insane bitch, you must have messed up the control. Your Charm has made your smelly husband stupid,” Lajara snickered darkly inside Atuc’s head, “Better kill him now before it’s too late.”
Atuc ignored the dream demon’s aphotic snicker. She knew that the demonic grip of power that she had on her husband’s mind was perfectly controlled. It was just one of the millions of attempts of the succubus in trying to convince Atuc to end this man throughout the last seven years. The succubus has tried to do the same thing repeatedly since the moment Atuc spared her husband’s life for the first time.
Atuc reined the demonic grip of Charm on her husband’s mind while tiptoeing to put her lips closer to his ear, “He has betrayed you, ”a fleeting smile on her lips as she darkly whispered in her honey-coated voice.
Bloodbeard slowly turned his head at her, “No, he’s not,” the giant’s eyes hollowed of thought because they were trapped in a world of shock.
Atuc almost cackled alongside the ever-louder snickers of her dream demon. “Yes, he is,” Atuc steadfastly confirmed to Bloodbeard the ugly truth.
“No, he’s not. He’s my uncle,” the giant absently replied in self-denial.
Lajara’s sneering cackles only became louder within the depth of Atuc’s mind.
Goodness, for a man who lived to pursue pain, the moment you feel it, you flee from it… Not so brave now, huh?
Atuc sneered inside her head. She too found the self-denial in the giant was hilarious. She fed more demonic energy into her spell, tightened the grip while narrowing down her husband’s escape path. “Goodness, he’s your enemy. Can you not see that?” She asked.
“No, that’s not true. Wonten has told me that he would guide my path.” Bloodbeard absently shook his head.
“Is it about the dream where you met the black owl?” Atuc remembered that her husband has once told her about the strange dream of his.
“Yes, I was lost until I meet the bird. That bird is my uncle. He would guide me through the darkness.”
“Perhaps, Wonten was meant to warn you that you were already lost and that bird would lead you into the darkness and become more lost,” Atuc darkly repeated the dark cackle of her succubus with a perfectly calm demeanor and tone. She loved that interpretation from the dream demon’s perspective.
“No, that cannot be the truth,” Bloodbeard’s voice was weak, like a squeak of a dying mouse, held no resemblance to his usual booming charades.
“Yes, I think so as well. That cannot be the truth.” Atuc nodded her head convincingly, agreed with Bloodbeard, feeding her already confused husband with more confusion. “That interpretation makes no sense at all. See? Why would Wonten warn you?” Atuc asked the enthralled giant as if a mother lecturing her son.
Her husband looked at Atuc as if his enthralled mind could not handle that question.
“You murdered, robbed and raped. You are the opposite of Wonten. He lives to protect. You live to destroy. Why would Wonten support you?
“No, you don’t understand, no. That’s his will. He granted me his strength. He granted me his blessing. He approved me,” shook, the bandit lord desperately appealed with his feeble voice. His rugged hands, tempered and massive, clutched Atuc’s shoulder blade but she felt no force within them. Pitifully weak was his grip, so weak that even a dying child can best him.
“What if that was a mistake? Wonten is blind after all. What if this is Wonten’s way of trying to correct his mistake?” Atuc spoke softly. Bright was her voice and sweet was the lovely smile on her lips.
“No, no, no, that cannot be, no,” the enthralled mind of the giant could only handle so much, “That cannot be,” his knees thudded loudly upon Atuc’s shadow, his towering frame halved. His sunbaked skin seemed pale as snow, his prided battle scars seemed fading with the color of his skin.
Atuc has dreamed of this moment for so long. Slowly, she pulled her husband’s scarred teary head into her generous womanhood, letting the warm smell of her breast milk soothed his enthralled mind. She gently combed his hair with her fingers, as if he was a son of her, the way he wholeheartedly desired, the way he trained her and the other women he picked up to act. She chided him, “Don’t be sadden, dearest husband. Maybe that’s not true. I’m just a stupid woman. Maybe, I am wrong about it.” Then, her voice became sharp, “But, he is your enemy. That, I’m not wrong” Atuc poured a stream of demonic into the giant in amount as her fingers pointed at one man.
“Wait, insane bitch, what are you doing?” Lajara’s cackles ended.
“Kill him,” Atuc whispered, “He’s your enemy. He’s betrayed you.” Atuc grabbed the giant’s head and forcefully turned at Fearless’ direction. “Kill him!!!”
“What are you doing, insane bitch?”
Atuc ignored Lajara and barred the dream demon from its freedom, the freedom Atuc granted out of generosity, preventing the succubus from wrestling over the control of her body. “Just watch,” replied Atuc, curtly.
Bloodbeard’s body shook violently. His thought seemed to be frozen in time. Tears streamed from his eyes. Atuc could feel her husband’s rejection over her demonic suggestion. She could feel his returning will.
“He’s not my enemy. He’s my uncle,” Bloodbeard gritted his teeth and muttered firmly.
“Can you not see for yourself? He’s just an imposter,” Atuc spoke darkly, infusing more power into her words so that the struggle within Bloodbeard’s mind would unravel her power.
She could feel a tear inside the mind of the giant, between the dark grip of her power and the self-denial desire in Bloodbeard. She felt like laughing at his desire to defend the love and family that he gained, and the desire to prove that they were genuine against all the pieces of evidence presented to him. The thought of killing his deceiver and betrayer, the one Bloodbeard called his uncle, was completely abhorrent and vile to the mind of the enthralled giant. Atuc can feel his rejection. He rejected this suggestion of her as if she has just commanded him to kill himself.
Which is it? Have you come to love him so much that you are so willing to deceive yourself, even though you have only known him for four days? Have you been starving for affection this much?
Or perhaps, you believe in your stupid dream and god so much that you became stupid like them.
Or perhaps, he is just that charming…
Atuc asked herself.
“Kill him,” Atuc hissed darkly and she felt the hold of her spell over the giant’s mind became brittle, as she has suspected it would. “He’s an imposter. He’s not your uncle. He’s your enemy.”
Rugged knuckles flew, hammering wordless rejection upon the cold stones of the bailey. The stones beneath Atuc’s feet cracked.
“Where’s your manhood? Did you lose it to a lie? Kill him. He’s your enemy.” Atuc shouted.
Atuc’s demonic suggestion became undone in a thunderous roar, “Shut up”.
Rough fingers violently seized her delicate throat from beneath, forming a metallic vice, “Shut the fuck up. This must be your doing. My god would never abandon me. My uncle would never betray me. This is your doing.” Tears framed the pinkish scars on Bloodbeard’s face.
Atuc twisted her face as if she felt betrayed and shocked, “Even now…” she angrily bit into her inner lips to fight her desire to laugh. Fresh blood seeped out, hot on her angled chin and became hotter when it felt into her mourning dress.
Even without Lajara’s power, Atuc can feel Bloodbeard’s inability to end her. His fingers may form an iron binding on her neck but they did not hurt her, not one bit.
“Must you be so blinded like the god you worship, dearest husband?” Atuc quietly whispered in sorrow. Contrast to her voice, tears of happiness welled from the corners of her eyes, delighted at sight of the giant’s suffering.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bloodbeard thundered.
“You choose him over me. Really?”
“Shut up…”
Atuc lovingly straddled the scars on her husband face with one hand, “You can’t kill me. You know that. You love me,” she whispered, moving her hand to his eyes, blocking his sight, “But must you kill me to realize the truth, do it! When I die in your hands, you will realize the truth.” She spoke coldly.
“Shut up.”
Atuc felt the weakness in Bloodbeard’s fingers. They betrayed the tear in his thought, his suffering, confusion, and self-denial. She smiled, rejoined, drawing a sharp silver knife, forged from the bracelets and anklets her first husband made for their child. With one of her hand still covered his eyes, her knife entered Bloodbeard’s unguarded torso and the giant felt its biting hot kiss with his howls.
The silver knife kissed Bloodbeard repeatedly in maddened red arcs, hot, wet and deep.
Life and strength suddenly returned howlingly to Bloodbeard, he grabbed Atuc by her wrist. His ticking dwarven bracelet snapped and fell off his wrist when it deflected the final kiss of Atuc’s silver blade.
“That’s for my son. Saj is his name. You ordered your savages to feed him to the wild dogs. But I doubt that you would remember it,” Atuc laughed emotionlessly. Her voice was colder than she has thought, as she stared in the shocked eyes of Bloodbeard whose face darkened by her shadow.
Atuc used her other hand to claw across the scarred face of the bandit lord once before it was held down like the other. “This is for my husband,” she sneered as she watched the claw mark on Bloodbeard’s face turned red with seeping blood, “I don’t even love him. But he was kind to me. He was a good husband to me. You burned him alive as an example to make my city to surrender. Saju is his name, remember that.”
Atuc has dreamed of speaking these lines to Bloodbeard for so long. She even practiced saying them in her dreams. In her dreams, they were as sweet as Lajara’s demonic power. But now, when she has finally said them, strangely, they were not as she imagined.
Atuc stared down at the kneeling bandit lord, waiting for his response. She waited, and waited and waited patiently until his mind could come to term with the reality.
“You deceived me? All this time?” he asked weakly. His voice was still full of doubts and disbelief.
“I have dreamed of this moment for so long.” Atuc cackled coldly, spitting on his face. Again, she waited to savor the moment when the bandit lord truly realized that he has just been betrayed by the woman he loved the most.
Fleeting it was, for her, compared to the seven years she has waited and plotted. But for her stupid husband, her bleeding husband, her shocked husband, it must be an eternity for him.
Slowly he raised to his feet, “Bitch,” he cursed, his teeth gritted angrily. He lifted Atuc into the air with his metallic arms as the vice on her neck started to tighten, slowly, little by little, choking the life out of her body.
Atuc shut her eyes, fighting against her instinct to thrash around and about to live. She would not give Bloodbeard the delight of witnessing her struggle and helplessness. On her lips, an anticipated smile.
Her mind started to fade as the pain on her neck slowly dulled. Then, they stopped, everything.
“What the fuck were you trying to do?” an angry voice entered her ears, worried.
Atuc breathed sharply as warm air returned to her deprived lungs. She opened her eyes, “Are you surprise?” she asked.
Within her slowly returning sight, a prince, her prince of passion and adoration appeared. His face paled with worry and anger, a honey treat to Atuc’s eyes. She thought that he has just become a million times lovelier than usual. Atuc gently stroke his princely ashen cheek with her bloodied fingers, staining his face red. Her lips curved, reminding Fearless of the smile he has on his lips when he arrogantly demanded Surprise me! Her fingers amorously traced his lovely lips.
“You gambled your life for that?” Her prince asked Atuc in disbelief.
“Worth it,” Atuc thought and leaned over to taste the sweetness of his lips. She loved the arrogance on his face when she challenged him. She loved the passion and pleasure on his face when he was inside her. She loved the gentle smile on his lips when he whispered her name. But, above all, she loved his furious look that mixed with worry when he rebuked her about calling herself a whore. Atuc sucked on his lips, drawing the air away from his body until there was none left, “You gave me your knife. Now we are almost even.”
“You were keeping a track on the score? You are one terrifying woman, you know that?” Fearless breathed out quietly.
There was something just so beautiful and hypnotic about him whenever he sighed like that. The more Atuc looked at him, the more she understood that Fearless’ sighs were just as magical and skillful as his fingers. If his good look and his beautiful smile had not killed a woman, his sighs would finish them. To kill the creature that knows as women, he only needs to sigh softly. At that moment, millions upon millions of those who were just as foolish as Atuc or her dream demon, they would die at his feet, dreaming of taking away his sorrow with their death. He was the bane of women, born to kill and torment them. Even when he’s not even trying, he still had the power to tug a string in a woman’s heart.
“Yet, you love me for that.” Atuc replied, smiling in a tiny complacent triumphant. She felt his surging passion and lust through the contact of Fearless’ surprisingly strong arm wrapping around her waist. She chuckled softly.
“Uncle?”
A quiet squeak of a dying mouse entered Atuc’s ears, snapping her out of her trance. Reluctantly, she took her sight away from the enthrallment that was Fearless’ pursing lips. In her eyes, a giant was helplessly pinned to the ground by a pair of demons. One of them was smiling at the giant’s helplessness, the other stared at him with contempt and fury.
“Are you really that stupid? He’s not your uncle. He’s an imposter. I have just told you so.” Atuc sneered coldly at the giant before returning her sight back to where it belonged. With her fingers, she caressed Fearless’ hypnotic lips affectionately.
Cold was his expression, like the darkest day of winter, like a solid block of ice. His eyes were not focused at Atuc but Bloodbeard’s direction instead, as if desired to etch this moment into his memory, and Atuc was absolutely fine with it, for this moment only. She wasn’t sure if she could allow him to do so in the future. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he continued to look at somewhere else when he’s with her like this.
“Uncle, please say something. Tell me that it is not true. Please, tell me that you only pretend to go along with her lies.” Bloodbeard’s voice made Atuc doubted her ears, forcing her to turn her head toward to check.
For a man so towering in stature, a man tempered from battles and for battles, a man with the strength to bend steel and break rock with his fists alone, a man who commanded fear with his name alone, his voice was like that of a terrified ten years old boy, sobbingly feeble and helpless. Pinned to the ground, that tearful boy looked at Fearless, begging, and waiting, desperately waiting for but a lie to save his own soul.
And waiting was exactly what Fearless made that tearful boy do, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting… until a burst of primal laughter took that boy like a starving beast when he has finally resigned himself to the tearing sharp fangs of agony. That boy laughed hollowly as agony shredded him into thin pieces of desolate sobbing that drained of strength. The boy’s tears mixed with his seeping blood and flowed on the stones below him, with the pouring red stream his final hope and dream escaped him. Eventually, even the two demons could not find the cruelty within them to pin down the tormented boy. They stood and watched as that boy slowly and painfully crawled into the embrace of Mistress Death, crying for his mother as he turned into an insidious lump of bones and flesh.
Looking at the scene, Atuc felt nothing. She has imagined that this moment would squeeze out the sweetness of her long-dreamed-revenge, but no, she felt nothing, not bitterness, sweetness, peace, anger, or anything. Watching that sobbing boy, Atuc asked herself if she had lifted the hem of her mourning gown to accept Fearless’ erected lust in front of that boy’s widened eyes. After that, she would embrace Fearless like a whore, moved, and moan without a sliver of modesty, turning Fearless into an instrument to carry her vengeance, would it feel sweet?
“Exhausting, isn’t it?”
A warm voice poured into her ears, compelling Atuc to turn her head. Dark eyes gazed into the abyss of her soul, “It only feels satisfying and sweet in our imagination. Vengeance is just a method to find closure. It’s not vengeance that we truly desire, it’s closure. You and I delayed our blow for so long that we have come to term with ourselves before we delivered the killing blow, thus making this thing more hollow and exhausting. It’s like we found our closure and yet not.”
Atuc sighed and resigned herself into Fearless’ firm clutch. She did not even realize that he was hugging her all along while watching the final moment of her enemy. “How did you cope with this empty feeling?” She asked.
“I heard that there was a liquid that makes a man forgetful and stupid. So… I took a dip into it. Work extremely well for a while, and then it just does not anymore on one day. And since, it brought me nothing but trouble.”
“What about this?” Atuc asked flirtatiously, guiding Fearless’ hand into the lifting hem of her gown.
“And them as well…” Fearless admitted wryly.
“Of course you would…. So, do they work?” Atuc asked, purring as she felt Fearless’ hard fingers entered her damp slits.
“Not as I have imagined…”
Atuc felt her body started boiling and stiflled her purring sound, “So I have to live with this hollowness until the day I die?”
“Probably… or finding something else you really want to do to distance yourself from it… or something that matter to you more than it…” Fearless sighed,
“Goodness, just shut up if you don't know what you are talking about,” Atuc sighed while Lajara was telling her something in the depth of her mind. She ignored the dream demon’s screaming, sealing Fearless’ lips with hers as she pushed him down effortessly.