51. Kyros #2
There are stories among the Neer people.
Stories of monsters who have haunted dreams. Stories that date back centuries tell of a creature that was manifested and brought to life through nightmares.
Deals made with souls. A creature who fed on the souls of those sleeping.
I thought that was who haunted Astraea’s dreams. One creature that needed to be exorcized from her subconscious.
But there was never just one monster after her, was there?
There is a whole race of magick users that are nothing but a whispered secret in the dark.
In reality they are just men like me and women like Phaedra, both who crave the power that isn’t theirs to claim.
Except they aren't me, and they’ve never been claimed by her. They don't feel the mirrored fire that lives inside both our chests. Just the thought brings that flame to flare; heat licks at my heart.
I lift my chin as the creature continues to eye me.
His long blade-like, bony fingers click together like an insect scenting the air.
It's disturbing, but with practiced restraint, I keep my composure as he continues to get closer.
I can feel the magick that bleeds from him in waves of undiluted power.
It makes the already oppressive air even harder to pull into my chest, but one after another I somehow manage.
The clicking intensifies as he leans in, his mouth right next to my ear.
He speaks one broken word in a language mostly lost to this world.
“Veeerrrr—ummmm” His voice is a low groan as though it pains him to use.
Verum? He stands again, back to his full height.
The shadow magick that binds around me remains unrelenting.
Confusion claws at my mind as I try to recall why that word seems familiar, but I keep my lips firmly pressed into a line.
My eyes are sharp as I continue to stare back at him.
He says nothing else but begins easing away.
Spooked by something, he looks toward the open door only a moment before I hear the click of heels on stone.
Phaedra’s silhouette then darkens the doorway.
“Mmmm,” She nearly moans as she drinks in the sight of me.
I’m bruised and bloody, but not yet broken.
“My dark prince,” She purrs at the nickname she’s called me from the beginning, and it takes every ounce of power in me not to curl my lip back in disgust. My subconscious always knew that something was off about her.
I should have known by the way she regarded me even as a young man.
I was not quite old enough for her to sink her teeth into, but that didn’t stop her from doing everything she could to ensure when the time was right her teeth would be sharpened enough to sink to the bone.
“You are such a hard one to break, aren't you?” She walks further into the room, her rose scent trailing in with her. Her hand lands on my chest, and I eye it vehemently as her touch turns my blood to ice. As soon as I was old enough, she made her intrigue known. It’s only grown with every single interaction since.
“You’ve always been so strong. If you need some motivation, I can surely oblige.
” My eyes flick up, meeting hers, and I silently plot where about I will bury a blade in her fucked-up face when I get the chance.
She sighs when she doesn't get an outward reaction from me, turning to the creature.
She stares at him silently for a long moment before relenting just the same and turning back to me.
My brow twitches as I try not to furrow it.
Does she know that I can move? Did Nolan tell her I can talk again with my own free will?
“Up. I want you washed and presentable. It's beyond time we address the people as a united front. Since you are still unwilling to play nice, you will stand silently at my side while I feed the swine their slop.” She demands with annoyance as she rolls her eyes before turning and snapping her fingers.
The nightmare creature lurches forward at the sound of her fingers, so I try to do the same.
Although the thought is easier than the actual motion.
Every muscle in my body protests my movements.
Pain sears across my skin as I peel myself from the chair I was slumped in.
I’m barely able to keep the hiss of agony from slipping from my lips.
Swallowing hard, I take a step. Then another.
I grit my teeth, hard as I keep my bare feet slowly moving forward.
The creature eyes me in a suspicious way.
I wonder if he can see through my facade?
Regardless, he turns forward without any indication and pushes me onward to follow Phaedra.
I can do this.
For her.
I will do this.
The palace that was once my home feels like nothing but a distant memory.
I walk through the sandstone halls below the main levels, a prisoner in my own kingdom.
No windows and only dim torchlight to see by, but I keep my gaze locked on Phaedra as she saunters along like she has no cares in the world.
Perhaps she thinks she doesn't. To her, she must feel she has already won.
She has two of the most powerful beings at her heel like muzzled dogs.
Only she doesn't realize sometimes dogs can slip their muzzle, and when that happens, the cruelest hand is usually the first to get bit.