Chapter 8 #2
"You will find that you will not grow accustomed to it," I continued, the words delivered with the quiet finality of a grave.
"You will be consumed by it. And when the fracturing begins, I will be here to collect the exquisite, delicate pieces.
Not to mend you, but to witness the perfect ruin you were always destined to be. "
I did not wait for her to reply. I turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the centre of the grey room.
I felt her behind me, a small, courageous presence that refused to be silenced. She thinks she’s fighting for her freedom, I thought, the realisation settling like lead in my gut. She doesn’t realise I already trapped us both in this beautiful, hollow cage.
I strode down the corridor, the strong thud of my armoured boots against the stone felt heavier. I needed distance. I needed the crushing, absolute silence of my study, the one place where the air didn't taste of wildflowers and defiant Aenite magic.
I reached the double doors of my private sanctum and shoved them open with a burst of magical force that cracked the varnish on the frame. I stormed inside, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me with a satisfying, tomb-like boom.
I reached up, my gauntleted hands fumbling in their haste, and tore the obsidian helm from my head. It hit the desk with a deafening clang, rolling to a stop against a stack of unread treaties. I ran a hand through my damp hair, exhaling a breath that rattled in my chest.
The silence I craved was there for exactly three seconds.
“She is too loud,” Rhana’s thought prowled into my mind, as she materialised from the shadows of the bookshelf, hopping onto my desk with fluid, predatory grace. She sat on top of a pile of death warrants, her golden eyes unblinking. “Even when she does not speak, her core hums. It itches.”
“Then stop listening,” I snapped aloud, pacing the length of the room. My cape swirled around my ankles like agitated smoke.
“I cannot. She is bonded to the Pack Leader,” Rhana countered, her mental voice a low, guttural growl of annoyance. “You have tethered a sun to a shadow, Cain. It burns.”
“She is not a sun. She is a mere stabiliser,” I corrected, pouring myself a glass of amber liquid from the crystal decanter, my hand shaking slightly with repressed energy. “She is a functional necessity to prevent me from going mad. Nothing more.”
“You stared at her neck, you kissed it,” Rhana observed, her tail flicking dismissively. “You wanted to devour her. That is not functional. That is hunger.”
“I was not STARING! I am a Pain-Eater! I am always hungry and that Aenite is drowning in pain!” I roared, slamming the glass down. “It has nothing to do with the female!”
A scratching sound came from the window ledge—the sound of stone grinding against stone.
“Oh, please,” Friedrik’s voice drifted in, muffled by the thick glass. “Open the window, you brooding turnip. I refuse to shout through leaded glass.”
I groaned, looking at the ceiling as if begging the Void to consume me right there. With a flick of my wrist and a little fumbling with the latch, it clicked, and the arched window swung open.
Friedrik was hanging upside down from the eaves, his grotesque stone face appearing in the opening like an unwanted gargoyle jack-in-the-box. He swung himself right-side up and perched on the sill, dusting off his wings.
“The big cat is right, for once,” Friedrik announced, peering into the room. “You were staring. And honestly? Good for you. About time you brought something home that wasn't terrifying or depressingly submissive.”
“Get out,” I warned, my voice dropping to a lethal octave.
Friedrik ignored me completely, settling in as if he were at a tea party. “I have scanned the perimeter of the estate, my Lord, and I have come to a wonderful conclusion. The Aenite is going to be a wonderful addition to this cursed pile of rocks you inherited.”
I stopped pacing. I turned slowly to face the gargoyle. “A… wonderful addition?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Friedrik chirped, his gravelly voice filled with genuine delight.
“She called me intelligent, Cain. Do you know how long it has been since someone in this house appreciated my intellect rather than just my ability to crush intruders? She has taste. She has manners. And she has a spine. What fun we will finally have around here.”
He leaned forward, his stone eyes twinkling. “I’m going to love her. I can tell already. She is exactly what we needed. A bit of light to chase away the cobwebs in your soul.”
My vision actually blurred with rage.
It wasn't enough that she had invaded my mind and my home. Now, she was seducing my defence systems with politeness?
“She is not here to be loved!” I bellowed, the sound shaking the books on the shelves. “She is not a pet! She is not a guest! She is a hostage of the estate, bound to me by a bloody contract to ensure I do not level the realm in a fit of psychotic rage!”
“Well, she’s doing a poor job so far,” Friedrik noted dryly. “You seem quite levelled right now.”
“Because of YOU!” I slammed my fist onto the desk, cracking the stone surface. “I did not bring her here for fun! There will be no fun under this cursed roof! There will be silence! There will be order! And there will be absolutely no fraternising with the prisoner!”
I glared from my familiar to the traitorous gargoyle, my chest heaving.
“Leave me,” I commanded, pointing a trembling finger at the door. “Both of you. Get out of my study. Go guard something. Go haunt something. Just get out of my sight before I crumble you into gravel and try to turn Rhana into a rug!”
Friedrik sighed, a long, dusty sound of disappointment. “So dramatic. Fine, fine. I’ll go check on Little Ophelia. She probably needs better conversation anyway.”
He dropped backward out of the window, vanishing into the gloom.
“He is right. You are loud today,” Rhana thought, hopping down from the desk. “I will go watch the prey. She smells better than you. And do not ever threaten to turn me into a rug or I’ll eat your pathetic staff.”
She padded out of the room, her tail held high in arrogance.
I stood alone in the centre of my study, the silence finally returning. But it wasn't the heavy, comforting blanket I was used to. It felt thin. It felt fragile.
I looked at the empty window, then at the opened door, and realised with a terrifying jolt that for the first time in a long time, the monsters in my house were no longer on my side.