NOVEL NEXT Chapter 35: Violent Delights Have Violent Ends. How Far Are You Willing To Justify Heinous Crimes For Love?
Soril POV
Rheana swore at him at first. With all the malice and rage of a thousand burning suns. She bit down her lips, told him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her screams. As if that’s what he’s looking for. It may be more therapeutic if she’s quiet. Then the moment the blade slips beneath her skin. A sheltered miss who has never known pain is quick to retract her words. He makes sure to be careful, not to sever any veins that’ll cause excessive blood loss. Have her watch, tremble, as all her nasty innards are agonizingly revealed. The same as removing fur from a rabbit or pelt off a bear. It’s all red and fleshy inside.
But pride won’t let her give in immediately. He’s seen this countless times. They always like to resist. Resist. Tell themselves, soon, if they can pass out from shock and agony then the suffering can end. She is no exception. Her pupils are beginning to smudge. She’s lapsing from consciousness. He swipes a wine glass off the table, slowly emptying it over her raw sinewy legs. Shocking her wide alert to plead,
“Stop! Stop. No more! Please.” The tears had already dried up on her cheeks. Sticking her fringe to it. Her lips chapped and bruised from being chewed on,
“Just kill me... Please.” but instead, he digs his fingers into the exposed muscles and tendons, pulling at them fray by fray like dried jerky,
“So? Do you feel like confessing?” She sounds so hoarse now. Blew her own throat out, and like a dying frog’s croak, she finally says,
“G-go to my room, third floor first room. Beneath the vanity table, second drawer.” He sends a soldier to retrieve it for him. The soldier comes back with a tiny ornate box. Wood of Eldentrees from icy climates that exists only in Rothingale. He opens it, there’s a card inside, signed with nothing but, courtesy from the Red Moon Tavern. It looks like a woman’s handwriting. The two cushioned slots where he presumed the Crying Nightshade are kept are both empty,
“Where is the other bottle?” she simply begins cackling beneath her breath. It sounds rather deranged. Then another soldier bursts into the room, hyperventilating,
“Lord Blaine! Come quick! You need to see this.” but the low zombie like rattling already informs him what’s going on when they reach the balcony. The city beneath him, consumed by black smoke reaching all the way to the gates, and his heart stops,
“Lumeria...” he turns towards the guard, gripping at his shoulders to shake him,
“The red hair girl. Where is she?” but he only closes his eyes and shakes his head,
“It started from the banquet area...” The cloud is rapidly growing bigger like a brewing thunderstorm. Whatever soldiers remaining in lower grounds are desperately trying to escape to higher altitudes where the smoke does not reach. But they can’t outrun it, instead they’re getting devoured by a blackened mist of death rolling forward faster than horse race. He’s vaulting over the balcony before he’s abruptly stopped by the soldiers,
“Going down there right now will be certain death!” Rheana’s laughter echoes through the room,
“Oh. How unfortunate!” she seizes his gaze with a wicked smile,
“You got the weapon, but now your men and your lover’s dead. If only you have accepted my peace proposal.”
“It’s your sister who did this!”
“She’s finally useful for something other than crying.” God fucking dammit! He knew he shouldn’t have showed mercy to that conniving little bitch! He whips his wires out, but he stops himself before he’s able to take Rheana’s head. A quick death is too generous for the likes of her. Instead, he commands,
“Open that barrel of wine.” Flicking his head towards the giant ornate tub displayed on a podium at the opposite side of the room. He wordlessly approaches to slice her Achilles tendons off. Then both her arms. She screams. He ties the stubs with wires to make sure she doesn’t bleed out. The soldiers carry the tub over. He plops her in, fitting her snugly before smashing a head sized hole into the lid to cover it over her, locking the clasps,
“Your wounds will not fester; you cannot attempt to drown yourself. You will instead, die a slow agonizing death from starvation.” He gouges both her eyes out with his dagger. Plopping it onto the ground,
“You can wait out your last days in the dark.” Rheana has completely snapped from hysteria at this point, her voice is a jumbled mess between deranged laughter and tortured screams,
“Retribution will come for you, evil motherfucker! Retribution!” He can’t stand it anymore. He commands the soldiers,
“Take her away and lock her up in the tower.” but they aren’t moving. Instead, they’re trembling. Stunned from the grisly sight, one of them just threw up by the door at his post.
“Now unless you want to end up in a wine barrel too!” He waits for everyone to be gone before punching his fist into the wall. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck all this!
A scratchiness inside his chest that he can’t get rid of. He runs to the balcony before slouching into the bars, burying his face into his hands. Please. Not again. He doesn’t want to lose everything again. Not like this... And for the first time, he tries to pray to the hypocritical prick Lumeria serves.
Please you condescending bastard. She’s your child. Don’t kill her. Don’t take away the only glimpse of goodness and happiness I found in this wretched hell.