Damned

by K R Leikvoll

  Eve was brought to our tower on an almost daily basis, whenever Vincent was not sleeping off his drinking binges. For a while, that was all that would happen. There were enough noises to suggest they were being intimate, but Eve did not cry as if she were being tortured. Though we tried to figure out what the purpose of having sex with her was beyond a power fetish, the answer evaded us at that time.

  No… it was not until things grew violent again that we discovered the answer.

  Whatever brief grace period kept Eve safe was over the day he did not bring her up as usual. My brothers and I were on guard, ready to evade any attacks sent our way, as it was obvious when he left his room he was infuriated. We silently watched him storm down the stairs and gave each other clear looks. It was not too long before Eve began to scream again.

  It was unbearable for me. It was not the sounds of pain – it was the sound of violations. There was something about her copulating with our Master that was meaningful, as he did not seem remotely inclined to stop. It was almost as if it had to continue no matter how appalling it might have seemed to the rest of us. It was disgusting to think of fornicating with the light and it took us an embarrassing amount of time to put it together.

  It feels like yesterday I was listening to the usual wailings of, “stop” and “no more” when it dawned on me. We were all in my room, as usual, even Guinevere. She had been around more once she was assured that our Master’s full attention was on the Divinus. She was usually silent, but her company was refreshing. The more that surrounded me and were willing to aid my cause, the better it would be when the end of the world came.

  “The Nephilim,” I mumbled, staring at the Black Sea through a bloody mist in the air. The ball of fire that was summoned from my sacrifice of Duskwraith still traveled across Azra, marking the sky like an unholy comet of death.

  “Yes, what about it?” Raven’s voice responded. I felt his cool hand brush my shoulder. I shook my head, overcome by my thoughts as I began to pull everything together.

  “It’s not a weapon.”

  I turned around and peered at James and Guinevere who had also gathered to hear my words. I gestured to the air as Eve let out another horrific shriek.

  “I don’t understand,” James said, confused.

  “Do you think our Master is using this as a torture method? Truly?” I asked them all mutually. I paused, waiting for them to contemplate my words.

  “I have had my theories,” Guinevere piped up first. She was pale and looked as though she might be sick. “I think… he’s trying to –” she stopped, unable to finish. Tears slipped from her eyes and she covered her face in James.

  “He’s trying to impregnate her,” Raven finally uttered, visibly disgusted as he figured it out. They all looked to me to see if I agreed, and I did, for I offered no response. Guinevere sobbed a bit harder. I’m sure she was still of the belief that she might find her home in Treachery for her brother’s sins.

  “But why?” she asked. “What could possibly be the difference between killing her now and killing her as a reborn infant?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “The Nephilim is not a weapon… don’t you see? It’s a person.”

  Everyone had their own reaction of disgust and understanding. My words were the truth. A being such as the Divinus, destined to reincarnate through rebirth, mixed with someone like our Master, the first demon, could only result in a polluted spawn, but there was more than that.

  The Queen Divinus Eve was the incarnate of the light essence, Vynir.

  Vincent Azra Lyon was the incarnate of the dark essence, Azotl.

  Their child, in theory, would be of both – a Nephilim.

  A weapon of light and dark.

  “But… the Divinus only passes on her powers through death,” James began, drawing our attention. “Vince would have to do something equivalent to produce such a being.”

  “Exactly,” I whispered. Exactly. It all made sense now.

  “Madness!” James yelled suddenly, standing. “You are suggesting that Vince would sacrifice himself to Treachery just for this child! How could he control it if he was in Lord Baelarius’ grasp?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied evenly, in monotone. “But their foul spawn would be strong enough to destroy the Void.”

  “Do you really think he would sacrifice himself?” Raven asked. “It sounds a bit too selfless to me.”

  “To be able to declare that he won, even in eternal nothingness, yes, he would,” Guinevere muttered.

  “We have the benefit of the Divinus’ resistance. If she can refuse his energy and refuse to reincarnate, our Master will be powerless,” I told them all. “And if she can’t – if he succeeds – he will perish, and we will have control of the Nephilim.”

  Though the tone I spoke in sounded indifferent, I was feeling quite the opposite internally. I was enraged at the idea of Vincent’s only heir being mothered by someone as despicable as Eve. It was unfair! Had she stayed by his side for almost a century? Had she been blood-bound to two men because he told her to? Had she destroyed countries in his name? Had she created a paradise for herself with only his company for eternity beyond the grave?

  No! Not even remotely!

  I deserved to bear his child, not her. I suffered for years! I bled for him. I cried over him. I obsessed and lost sleep over him. Who was better to raise his heir than me in his absence? If I could not be his child’s mother, I would make it believe otherwise. Neither Eve nor Vince would be around to stop me. I would make it into a weapon – a true weapon, drawing it into the shadows and sending it to destroy the cursed Imperium for the Vast Dark.

  “Why sit here like cowards, then?” James snapped, starting to pace. “We should confront him and make him stop.” His statement made me laugh.

  “Yes, because it is that simple: walking up to him and telling him to cease. I would like to see you try.”

  “Let’s go then, Queen Lazarus,” James hissed back, opening my door and gesturing for me to follow him. I glanced at Guinevere and Raven before I left, giving them the silent order to keep attentive. James was angry enough to start a fight, and I was not feeling merciful.

  We made our way to the freezing dungeons. Eve’s screams and pleas grew louder as we got closer. My insides twisted when I heard Vince laughing at her verbal attempts to make him stop. I knew all too well what sort of situation she was in, but I felt no sympathy for her. They were equally evil in my eyes.

  We stopped outside the door and James peered inside with the scrying orb. After a split second, he removed his hand with a disgusted look on his face. It was difficult to tell if it was because he was as repulsed by the act of having sex with the light as I was, or if it was the forceful nature of the situation that disturbed him. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. He opened the door, and we slipped inside.

  Vince ignored us completely. Eve was mangled, more so than I recalled when she was coming up to the tower. She appeared like someone had tried to beat her to death. The effects of Vince’s torturous magic was written in the black veins that decorated parts of her bare skin. Her crying had stopped, as she was beginning to fall into unconsciousness. That did not deter Vince from continuing.

  “Master,” James muttered, trying to get his attention. His expression was both horrified and furious. There were no words that could undo the blasphemy Vince was committing. Rather than respond, Vince moaned and buried his face in her hair, licking the remnants of silver blood off the back of her neck.

  I shared a look with James – a look that said, “I told you so” before I reached out to stroke Vince’s back. “Master,” I whispered, feeling mildly underwhelmed when we made contact. There was something different. Though he was still powerful, it had lessened enough to be noticeable.

  “What could possibly be so important that you would interrupt me, James?” Vince snarled over his shoulder. I stepped back sharply, toward the door as to not be in striking distance as James was. Vince detached himself from Eve and k
icked her in the ribs hard enough to make her sputter and gasp for breath.

  “This is sacrilege! Against Nakarius, against Naazvaba! The Void Lords have our souls; how can we fight the light and our own masters?” James asked, his voice consumed with desperation for answers. Before that encounter, I was convinced James knew more than he really did. It was obvious by how he spoke that he was genuinely clueless to Vince’s motives.

  Our Master put on his robes while James talked, smoothing out his hair vainly as if he did not care that we were seeing his treachery in action. When he finally gave us attention, I was on edge, ready to flee lest I be his next victim.

  “I suppose that means you have to choose who you are loyal to. I have given you everything – a taste of immortality! If you wish to serve anything but my cause, you’ll be seeing your Void Lords a lot sooner than you think.” He brushed James’ arm and kissed his cheek while James stared back at him in shock. Before either of us could continue the conversation, Vince evaporated out of the room in a cloud of shadows.

  “It is not wise of him to dismiss the Void Lords that easily,” James mumbled, holding his face near his strange, circular scar where Vince’s lips touched him. At that moment, it seemed as though James finally understood that our Master was far beyond redemption.

  I leaned down to examine the Divinus, searching with demonic sight for a fetus, no matter how small. It felt distorted, yet I could sense nothing. I even dipped my fingers into her silvery blood and tasted it for some possible insight. It was foul – a taste I can hardly describe. It reminded me of the lost flavor of decaying meat or rotten fruit. I spat it out, immediately regretting it.

  “All will fall before Nakarius eventually,” I declared to my brother quietly. “Naazvaba will feast on this cosmos regardless of Vince’s petty games. And you… you must choose.” James was still staring at Eve’s broken body, unresponsive. “Do you wish to rot in Treachery with your Master, or do you wish to join us in ushering in the Vast Dark? The universe will only know peace once Azotl’s work is completed. You could watch it happen, by my side with the rest of our family.”

  “It’s not too late,” he muttered, still in clear disbelief.

  I could have tried to further convince him, but it was not worth my time. All of my focus had to be on the fast-approaching end of Vincent and Praetis. If he loved this pitiful land so much, he could suffer for it in eternity. Stopping him was no longer a concern of mine. If the Nephilim – his unholy heir – was to arrive no matter what, I needed to prepare.

  That weapon would be mine, and the universe would know the word submit.

  MISERY

  Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had never encountered Lord Vincent Lyon. To have never known him was a bittersweet thought, both terrifying and freeing. How was it possible for someone to love another as much as they despised them? Why do I long for the sweet taste of his lips beneath the stars, while also wishing I could tear him to pieces and watch him bleed for his sins?

  Toward the end of Eve’s pitiful existence, everything gets foggy to recall. My kin and I were in disarray, for Vince had climaxed in his bad behavior. After being confronted, he no longer felt the need to hide his intentions. It was not just in his actions. He did not care to smother any part of his thoughts either.

  He stirred me from my sleep one night, as I heard an odd banging coming from his bedroom. When I pulled myself from Raven and Guinevere and peered through the walls with demonic sight, he was alone, which made the noise confusing. Though I could not make out his words clearly, he was muttering to himself. It was a low hum, drawing me to his door.

  I reached to grab the doorknob and it was yanked open with my Master glowering in my face. No matter how many times I reminded myself he could not kill me, I still held my breath and expected my throat to be slit in his presence. One of his hands, torn up with unhealed bite marks, drummed on the door’s threshold expectantly.

  “What do you want?” he whispered. Despite the physical annoyance on his face, his tone was even, completely unfluctuating.

  While I sensed the slight decrease in his power months previously, this was the first time I noticed a significant decline. He was not back to normal – he was less than that – or perhaps I had grown stronger than he was before the andvara. The deep puncture wounds of Eve’s normal teeth should have healed with relative ease, like any other scratch or bruise. Instead, it appeared nearly infected. It was equally shocking and puzzling. Demons did not get infections, as they never allowed an injury to fester for long.

  My eyes traveled from my Master’s feet back to his face. He was wearing a bloodstained tunic and black pants that nobody had bothered to wash for him, though the blood was dark gray so it was not as unsightly. There was still some dried to his skin and patches of his neck. What I could see before his collar was riddled with nail marks, too. Eve knew she could not win, but that did not mean she did not try. Past Vince, everything was a disorganized mess. He was in the process of moving his furniture around, hence the banging and disturbance.

  “What are you doing?” I asked gently, moving past him into his room. He did not try to stop me. “What’s all of this?”

  The table that once held endless wine bottles and scrolls were gone. Two of his armchairs had been removed, and the remaining one was resting against the far wall near the balcony. In front of the fireplace, there was a cradle carved of black stone. A ruby blanket was bundled within. I could not help my hands that gravitated toward it to feel it between my fingertips. He had lined up various glittering trinkets and baubles on the mantle, sparkling with each vacillation of the fire, creating shining spots of gold and silver.

  “What’s this?” I repeated, keeping my back to him to hide the tears that were welling in my eyes.

  “A cradle.” Indeed, and it was the most beautiful cradle I had ever seen. I had no semblance of an idea where he found it, as he certainly did not make it himself and our palace had no reason or need for such a piece of furniture.

  “But why is it here?” I asked firmly. It was a war in itself to keep my voice from shaking.

  “For the baby.” He was finally comfortable admitting that he was trying to impregnate the Divinus. We had not openly discussed his future heir at that point, merely his traitorous actions. Hearing it for the first time was heart-wrenching.

  “The baby,” I whispered, savoring the words. It was like poison on my tongue.

  When I turned toward Vince, he was studying me with a look I had not seen since before Eve arrived. It was part of our bond, biting at him to touch me. He moved closer, but he still stayed a couple of feet away.

  “Yes. That’s what I said.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit soon?”

  Eve was not pregnant despite Vince’s many months of trying. She was fighting his seed with every ounce of magic she still possessed inside her. To prepare before she was with child was holding onto the hope that it would still happen. In the meantime, Vince was growing weaker by the day (albeit still formidable that night). His life was the trickling sands of an hourglass, about to run out. He did not intend to stop until it was over, no matter how close the end seemed.

  “It’s never too soon to plan for the arrival of a higher cosmic entity, nor my only heir. No… everything has to be perfect for her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “My precious Val.”

  My hands and legs started to tremble. Now he was naming it! And how vainly he named his heir! It was customary for the Divinus to take on a piece of her previous incarnation's name. Instead of choosing something of the sort, or something befitting a Kaedan, he used his own.

  Val – I despised her already.

  “‘Perfect’?” I wondered next, in disbelief. “Yes, Vincent. This is the perfect world for your perfect heir!” My statement ended in a yell; I could not help it. He scoffed and finally made contact, brushing my cheek. I flinched away and took a step back, but he foll
owed me until I could move no more.

  “Are you jealous?” he asked, pleased, as he shifted my face from side to side. “Don’t tell me Queen Lazarus has suddenly developed a maternal bone in her being!”

  Shamefully, I started to cry.

  “Did you really think you were a prize next to someone like the Divinus?” he murmured in a sweet voice as he wiped a tear away. “Did you truly believe that we would end this as tragedy-struck lovers?”

  “Stop,” I demanded, attempting to push his hands away.

  “Beloved… you destroyed my home just as your Gods desired. You even get to watch me suffer in Treachery… and I knew you fantasized about that but –” he paused, leaning his face close to mine. “Bearing my child? I don’t know whether to laugh or be sick.”

  I was stunned into absolute silence. What did I respond to: his declaration of his own mortality, or thoughts I never voiced? I wanted to call for help – for Raven, James, even Guinevere. Someone needed to hear his words other than me. I was superior to all, yet I felt insignificant and exposed.

  “I hate you,” I whispered, as it had become impossible to find my voice. “I hope Eve and this child are worth your immortal punishment.” I tried to maintain strength through my statement, but it faltered, cracking at the end.

  Could I despise a child born of his blood? Yes, only because it was not mine. I wished horribly that I would awaken from that nightmare and the Nephilim would still be a far off object – not my beloved’s light-tainted bastard. Why, out of all things, did it have to be a child? It was so much more personal than a sword.

  “You don’t hate me,” Vincent whispered back. “You hate yourself.”