Sylia, the Dark & Light Saint

Jezielus sat upon a large and weathered boulder, observing Saint Sylia, while balancing a large plate in his hands. He had confiscated that dish from the children Sylia inexplicably spared earlier. The brats had already eaten far too much. He ought to get rid of them or else find them some better use, much as he had done with one of their half-siblings, whose mother he had only recently buried with the assistance of his half-brother Bezerios.

He regretted ever taking in the children of his late brother Sigern.

The wailing brats that his foolish sibling had left behind had been of no help. They had done nothing but clamor for things, just as their equally useless mothers had done.

Two of the women were dead. One he kept for his own pleasure. She was a pretty thing, and from time to time she could still be of good use.

The foolish woman had followed him months earlier, deceived by his lies concerning the Saint, and now lived to regret it. It was hardly his fault if she had been so naïve and witless. He still owed her something, since he had managed to shake off his ugly tormentors by selling her to them. When she had complained, he had disciplined her. And despite the healer's best efforts, she still bore the marks left by both him and his brother.

What they had done went beyond mere beatings. They had simply reminded her of her place. She was nothing more than a sexual toy to be used at their will whenever they desired. She had no choice but to follow them. The Saint would not take her, nor would her allies. Nancy had made her choice and now lived with the consequences.

Jezielus felt no remorse for disciplining her, though he did regret what had ultimately followed. His half-brother Bezerios had gone too far. He had sold that Yoma nephew of his to those men.

Sylia had somehow learned of it, likely through a Death Spirit who had collected the boy's Soul. She had taken immediate action against him, against his brother, and against the Province Lord's men who had recently joined their colleagues in the Region. These newcomers were not yet aware of the Saint's power or of her influence over the area.

They had foolishly believed, as he once had, that the Region Lord held dominion there.

How mistaken they had been.

Sylia, it seemed, visited the Region Lord regularly to whip him. She made him kneel and bark like a dog as she restrained him with a magical leash.

Whatever had remained of the man was likely gone by now. She had already rebuilt the Region Lord from so many Souls and fragments of Fallen Celestials that little of him was left.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Even the Dark Celestial Ezlekios, who had once contacted Jezielus and his brother, was now nearly obliterated. The Saints were known to preserve fragments only for the sake of anguishing torture, while destroying the rest in terrifying fashion.

Jezielus himself had made many mistakes that had brought him to his present state.

Several of his organs were ruined, and he had been emasculated by Sylia's Lady Bunny, who had altered the very wiring of his body. He was no longer deemed entirely male. The fate he had sought to escape was thus rendered certain, and crueler still. His body now demanded what the curses had imposed. He required a male partner almost every other day or else he suffered unspeakable pain.

He no longer resisted the Province Lord's men, who had been forcing themselves upon him for months.

The cruel Bunny Lady had cursed him so thoroughly that they seemed to enjoy him more than Nancy, which made escape even harder.

He wept over it at night. The creature had even confined them to a small pocket Enclave of her own making, where time passed much faster, so that he would suffer more keenly.

His half-brother Bezerios remained under torture, and Jezielus could feel his pain several times each day, for they were partially bound with Magic. He did not know what else the Saint and her allies had done to him.

Still, he sensed he was no longer himself. He had overheard Sylia and her Bunny Lady speaking of a Soul reconstructed from the remnants of various wicked Souls.

Jezielus shivered and cast a hateful look at the cheerful Saint who had transformed him only days before and even sent photographs of his altered body to his father and siblings as a warning for what would befall them if they ever walked the same path he had followed with Bezerios.

Looking at her now, no one would have guessed she had so recently divided him then enjoyed cutting his Divisions piece by piece. She appeared so innocent and holy at the moment.

The evil witch was even flirting with that Tamren fellow and with several of Jezielus' own relatives, who gazed at her in utter adoration.

She had returned to her adult form and had likely locked Masha away completely for the day.

Jezielus' father regarded the scene with nearly as much disgust as Jezielus himself.

He quickly schooled his expression, unwilling to give her further cause to torment him. But deep down, he nurtured vengeance. He would find a way, even if it was the last act of his life.

Before Ezlekios' imprisonment at the hands of the Saints, the Dark Celestial had revealed to him, to his father, and to Bezerios the existence of others like himself who would gladly aid in bringing down the Saints…starting with Sylia.

Jezielus decided he could wait.

He could be patient.

One day, he would bring her down and make her suffer as she had made him suffer, by taking something she held dear.

He smiled to himself.

Yes. He would take one of her precious children. Someone less dangerous than she.

He would help ensure her imprisonment, even if he could not act against her directly.