Damned

by K R Leikvoll

  “Guinevere will tend to you during that time. Each day will be a different form of sacrifice – and on the third day you will be reborn. Are you ready?”

  “I can think of no higher honor than being bound to you,” I told him honestly. It was easier than lying or fretting over my fear.

  Vince’s lips met mine, kissing me for a while and holding me close. It is hard to tell whether or not he ever loved me. There were moments like that, where I could have sworn he cared. The deliberate, passionate touches on my skin to keep me from parting; the way his heart beat synchronized with mine. It was believable that we were two beings created for each other, but the other moments… it was impossible to determine what he felt deep inside the endless chasm that was his mind. I doubt I will ever know the truth, even in death.

  He kissed up my throat to my cheek, then my forehead before he embraced me. He buried his face into my neck. His actions would have normally sent me into my own nirvana; instead, I was dissociating. Raven’s words of being the prophet were replaying repeatedly. I was fearful of disappointing not only Vince, but my other kin as well. The stress alone made me feel ill.

  My Master lingered around a bit longer to leave an impression on my fragile mind. He spent time holding me, brushing my hair and telling me a story about dragons. Despite my hang-ups, I absolutely enjoyed his company. When it came time for him to leave, my heart felt sickened. Our bond had been nurtured with doses of blood and intimacy. I was addicted to him no matter how much I wished to be free from rules.

  “Get some rest,” Vince stated before pausing. “You’re going to need it.”

  Guinevere, the Luxian, blonde demon from the dinner party, was the person that woke me many mornings later to tell me the day had finally arrived. The first part of the Dark Sacrament would not take place until that evening, but I needed all day to prepare myself, or so I was told.

  She led me to the northwestern tower where she had the entire place to herself. It was peculiar to me as to why she did not have any demonic companions or even servants and courtesans around with how lonely it seemed. Her bedroom was gorgeous, like everyone else’s, but it was far too large for how little occupied the space. Everything was in dark blue and in a style common in Lux. It appeared as though she might have not always been alone in that tower. She did not care for books like James or Raven. Rather, a long scroll was unraveled on the floor where she was painting a portrait of someone. Paintings were not popular in Kaeda outside of Femora, so it was very foreign. Her skill was the best I had ever seen; it was a picture of a man with white gray eyes.

  I sat on her circular, black bed while she fussed with her belongings and tidied her supplies. My heart began fluttering the moment I opened my eyes that morning. I was worried about every aspect of the Dark Sacrament. Would it be painful? Would I be accepted? What would the Void tell me? Was I truly the prophet?

  Eventually Guinevere left and returned with an ornate silver chest. It was ancient and rustic like it had not been used in recent memory. Her sharp nails stroked the runic engravings near the lock until a faint click made her pause. A tiny, red wisp wove its way around her fingertips and into the bolt of the lock. It snapped open, seeping shadows like smoke into the room.

  Guinevere reached into the darkness and removed a black robe, shutting the chest immediately afterward before it clouded the entire room in smog. It was a rather plain, hooded gown that would hang too loosely on me as it was tailored for someone far taller.

  “Wearing the robes of Lilith is not necessary for the process, but they will protect your soul from splitting in the Void,” she explained to me while I undressed. I was sick from her words. I was still poor at concealing my emotions at this time, and her rose colored eyes noticed. Hesitantly, I pulled the robes over my head.

  Despite how wispy and light the fabric was, it was pressing into my body with force like a constricting suit of armor. I could hardly breathe; whether that was from the clothing or my emotions, I am unsure.

  Guinevere guided me to a chair she had near her open window, facing the gloomy Everglade. A gemmed basin was brought near my feet, filled with clean water. She whispered a few words, closed her eyes and blessed the bowl. I was confused, but most of my mind was focused on breathing in the density of my clothing.

  “No person can enter the ritual chamber without being purified.”

  Much like temples of the light, holy places were sacred, even to demons. She cleaned my feet, hands and face before herself, as I was told my Dark Sacrament was a coven affair.

  “Have you performed the Dark Sacrament with anyone?” I asked her when she brought paints to mark runes on my skin. Her face always appeared so strained and unhappy, like she was sitting on a hot stove. Her lips frowned even more than usual.

  “Once.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Without a mirror, I never glimpsed what runes were marked on my forehead, as much as I would have wanted to translate them. I believe it was the runes of Naazvaba collectively, but I will never know for sure. It was a sacred practice to have your forehead marked by an unknown symbol that would aid you in the Void. At that time, I thought they were simply for decoration.

  Guinevere looked out the window for a moment, studying the buildings before she felt content to answer and continue her work.

  “He’s in Naadea.”

  “I did not think our Master’s influence spread beyond Kaeda.”

  “He is a traitor and not a member of our coven. He serves the blasphemous light now.”

  She stood back and admired her work on my face, neck and hands before she began to fiddle with my hair. I hated it being fussed with constantly and made the mental decision to remove it as soon as I had the opportunity.

  “Why must it be tied up?” I questioned as I rubbed my thin face. At least my black cloak of hair hid how sickly I still appeared. Even having a steady supply of food and rest had not fixed the decades I spent starving.

  “You don’t wish to get blood in it, do you?”

  I looked at her questioningly over my shoulder. At the time, I am not sure what I thought my first day would consist of. Sacrifice, yes, but what sort of sacrifice?

  “How does our Master pick the sacrifice?” I asked genuinely curious.

  “He doesn’t decide – the Void does. The sacrifice is what you care about most,” she said with a sorrowful tone. She was far more destitute than any other person living in the palace, and I still did not yet understand.

  “What was yours?”

  “My memories.”

  “And his?” I gestured to the painting of who I assumed her demonic child to be.

  “His connection to the light.”

  “How does a demon worship the light when that is what he sacrificed?”

  “I wonder that too sometimes.”

  After a few painstaking hours of having my hair pinned up by Guinevere, my Master came for me. She reacted somewhat startled when he opened the door, moving quickly from my side to the corner of her room. Vince glared at her with hatred, but it was momentary, for when his gaze met me it instantly softened. I was almost too paralyzed to move when he held his hand out for mine. Regardless of my fear, I bowed and followed him away from the northwestern tower.

  The light outside shining through the tinted windows of the palace dictated that it was still too early for us to begin the Dark Sacrament. Instead, I was led to the formal dining hall where there were only two seats at the heads of the long table. Vince released my hand and took his seat, while I did the same. Before either of us could speak, we were joined by Sendrys and her demonic children. Each one of them carried overly stuffed trays of food and vases of wine. They were placed before us, bowing in unison.

  “The Dark Essentia has long awaited its final soul. Our era has begun, and it is thanks to you, brother.” She shot me a viciously delighted grin over her shoulder.

  “Let us hope she is what we have been waiting for,” the Kaz’moran man with pale, purple hair added.


  “Have no doubts, Fevith. The Void selected her specifically,” Vince replied in a curt, dismissive tone. The twins glanced at each other with apprehensive stares but ceased speaking.

  Sendrys came to my end of the table and grasped my hand in hers; her flesh was icy like Raven’s. The quivering of my fingers made her chuckle. It was humiliating, as I wanted to appear calm and ready for my ritual. She traced the runes on my palm and whispered a few dark sounding words. The frigid touch of her lips brushed the marking. With another bow from the trio, they left us alone. I did not realize that I wanted them to stay until they were gone.

  The look in Vince’s eyes across the table was rather frightening. He was concentrated on me with apprehension and curiosity, as if I were an experiment and not a person. His hands picked at his food, only lifting the smallest fragments to eat without bothering to look anywhere else.

  “Are you going to enjoy your last meal?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. I numbly glanced at all the special delicacies I had been given, but my sickened gut wanted anything but food at that moment.

  Hesitantly, I took a bite of bread and sipped on the wine. It was unlike normal wine; it was the magical substance I had been given the first night I stayed with him, shimmering in the torchlight. Despite feeling faint, I slowly ate my food piece by piece, agonized by every bite. My Master was not content to leave until he felt I was properly nourished – I would not have another filling, satisfying meal for the rest of my life. Looking back, I should have tried to enjoy it more.

  I believe my mind was broken before I was led away to the ritual chambers for the first time, hand in hand with my Master. The thought of going to the Void, the thought of pain, the thought of being reborn – I was terrified. I held Vince’s wrist in an iron grip, trying to coax myself into believing I was doing what needed to be done. I had fought and spilled blood all in his name; I tried to focus on the feeling of his skin against mine.

  I loved him. I had to be strong. I had to become the prophet.

  The ritual chambers were in the dungeons, though not the dungeons I had visited previously. It was hidden behind a secret passageway leading downward into the depths. There was not a single light, though my Master had no trouble leading me deeper into nothingness. Whispers speaking a language I did not know filled the space around us. It was drawing us closer to the door at the end of the passage. My Master reached out his hand and charmed the chamber open without ever touching the entrance.

  The chamber was far bigger than it needed to be. It was as cold as winter; dark stone surrounded us on all sides. The few torches on the far wall illuminated four separate statues. Each one of them was alien in appearance, but all were individual and startlingly vicious. The chamber was rather empty. The only thing that occupied the space besides a prisoner was a strange triangular symbol etched on the floor. The man was bound with chains on their arms, preventing them from fleeing. Through the darkness, I could not discern who it was at first.

  The moment they lifted their head to see who had joined them, I froze. Initially, I was rooted in place, but it was only momentary. I turned around and attempted to leave as fast as I had arrived, but Vince blocked my exit. I could do nothing but stare up at his eyes in desperation. He knew immediately what I was feeling, and to my dismay, a wide grin grew on his face. I shook my head no. I tried once more to leave, but his painful grip on my hand prevented me from going anywhere. With dread building into the pit of my gut, I watched as the chamber doors shut with a loud, echoing slam.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Go to him,” my Master commanded, releasing me.

  I think I began crying before I approached the man in the center of the room. I kneeled by his side, daring to brush his ratted, bloodied hair out of his face. His weakened, tortured eyes stared at me with defeat.

  Vince approached us both leisurely like he was entertained by our mutual dread. In his hands he held an onyx blade serving as our ritual dagger, carved from gleaming stone. I was worried that he might cut Illyswen’s throat without warning, but instead he stood behind my trembling form.

  “I want you to tell her what you told me,” he stated to Illyswen, who looked between us with apprehension.

  “Nyzara,” he whispered with a bloodied cough. “I thought you were dead.”

  “No,” Vince said sharply. “Tell her why you returned to Kaeda. Leave out no detail; my beloved does not deserve to hear any of your lies.”

  I ceased being able to breathe.

  “What is he saying?” I whispered to my former lover. His eyes were wide and fearful. Besides the obvious, I could tell he did not wish to discuss what my Master asked.

  “Speak!” Vince demanded. “Tell her the truth of your intrusion.”

  Illyswen shook his head and lowered it toward the ground.

  “I returned to look for my sister,” he finally replied.

  That was all he needed to say for me to understand my Master’s point. His pale haired Evyan sister Cyndre, whom I only had mild memories of, was an occupant of A’roha just as we were. Vince’s form crouched behind me. His lips brushed against my ear.

  “He never bothered to search for you. His sister was always far more important,” Vince whispered.

  “I thought you were dead!” Illyswen yelled at me with fury in his voice. “If you think for a single moment that I did not grieve, or that I did not wish to find you, you are a fool!”

  “No. Instead of searching, you spent decades leaving her to rot. You never looked for her – not once, not even now,” Vince fired back. Illyswen shook his head in despair again. His shoulders began to quiver and shake.

  “Nyzara, by the Divines, I swear to you, I did not know you were alive. I would have never left you with this monster,” he responded weakly, trying to show remorse on his tear stained face.

  I was left numb by their words. My heart was shattered no matter how he tried to justify his actions. Every night spent wishing he would return to save me was all in vain – he never intended to find me once he forced me to leave his side during the battle. His brash and foolhardy sister was always the most important thing to him, even before the attack. Though I did not recall more than flashes of Cyndre, I remembered enough to know that he likely worried and thought more of her fate than mine. I was always second to her, even if I was blinded to it in the past.

  “I would have searched for your body,” I whispered through my grief. “I would have never rested until I knew the truth.”

  Illyswen was nearly speechless. He kept fumbling with the words to say, but it would not leave his lips. I think perhaps he did feel true remorse for leaving me to die, though it did not matter in the slightest.

  “You know my love for you, I know you do. I should have searched for you. I see that now,” my former lover said.

  The black, stone blade was pressed hard into my hand.

  “I offer you a choice, my sweet beloved,” Vince whispered. “Leave with him and return to Evya –”

  My hands wrapped around the blade, entirely numb. Part of the jagged stone cut into my palm, but even that sting I did not feel.

  “Or stay… with me… so I can give you eternity,” he finished, pushing his lips to my cheek.

  I began to weep at his words. Even then, I knew I was being given the illusion of a choice. There was no way he would let me leave that chamber with Illyswen; he merely wished for Illyswen’s blood to be on my hands. Such is the way of sacrifice.

  “Nyzara, let’s go home,” he said, desperately hoping he could reach me. His pleas fell on deaf ears. The situation was purposefully stressful, designed as the ultimate sacrifice needed to be.

  “Become my Queen so you can seek your destiny,” Vince cooed over my shoulder. “You know what to do.”

  “There is no home for us to go back to,” I whispered to Illyswen.

  His chained hand reached forward and brushed my grasp wrapped around the base of the blade. Despite the grim expression written on his face, he was still hope
ful there could be a chance for us. He was a fool, truly. I turned and glimpsed at Vince’s form behind me.

  “All I do, I do for you,” I told him decisively. I had made up my mind.

  Filled with all of the darkness I held, I stabbed the blade into Illyswen’s chest.

  It began to leak shadows from where it pierced, surrounding me and my Master from every direction. Illyswen looked down at his wound with a shocked groan. My Master’s hand wrapped around mine, twisting and pushing the dagger further into his body before removing it. His grip took over and we ran the blade across Illyswen’s throat before I could stop it.

  His warm blood coated me as I sat in shock. I wished to reach out and touch him one final time, but his form was beginning to disperse. Starting at his fingertips, his body began to crumble and turn to ash as if he were made of stone. I let out a gasp of horror. One moment he was there, the next he was seized by the Void.

  My first payment for divinity.

  Vince pulled me into his arms and kissed me, tasting the blood of my lover from my face. The shadows grew, whipping around us like flames of ice. His embrace was one of death, war and misery. One I would never escape. One I would never wish to part from. The torture he put me through was my gift. A beloved, hallowed gift.

  And Illyswen…

  He will forever remain in the Void, atoning for his sins.

  In no book in Duskwraith’s library would one ever find details of what it is like to endure the Dark Sacrament. The last memory I had before I was embraced by shadows was that of my Master’s touch. One moment I was trapped in his arms, the next I was somewhere else… or perhaps only unconscious.

  Everything was coated in darkness, as if I were separated from the plane that I normally inhabited. I was frightened at first, for my Master was nowhere to be seen. In his place, I was faced with the shadow of a being tall enough to scrape the cosmos.