Broken in Twilight

by Kim ten Tusscher

  Kim ten Tusscher

  Bound in Darkness

  THE LILITH TRILOGY, BOOK 1

  Published in The Netherlands in 2010 by Zilverspoor

  English edition published in 2017 by Kim ten Tusscher

  Copyright © Kim ten Tusscher, 2010

  Cover illustration & design by Studio Zilverspoor

  Designed and typeset by Studio Zilverspoor

  Edited by Jos Weijmer

  Translation by Rianne Stolwijk, www.spelledout.nl

  Copy editing Terry Clear

  www.kimtentusscher.com

  Facebook: kimttee

  Twitter: @kim_t_tee

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  1

  Seraph held Nander tight. They were crammed into a small hut, together with the other half-bloods. Frightened screams of children calling out for their parents filled the crowded room. The older ones were trying to comfort them. But it was only when it gradually started to dawn on the children that their parents had been murdered that day, that silence crept over the cramped space.

  Seraph tried to banish the events of the day from his mind by focusing on Nander, who was huddled up against him, half mad and shaking with fear. His breath came in gasps. It was as if all life had drained from the boy when the Goddess had sliced his parents’ throats with a wave of her sword. Seraph had caught him when he fell, but except for holding him, there was nothing he could do for Nander.

  The villagers had heard the stories about the Seers long before they arrived. One day, they appeared in Naftalia, out of nowhere. Nobody knew where they had come from or whether they were even human. It wasn’t long before the people of the savannah were converted and became followers of Margal, the Goddess who had descended to earth for them. It turned out that Margal harboured a deep hatred for sorcerers and shapeshifters. Her religion had spread like wildfire and now it had come to the village where Seraph had grown up. There were many dragonshifters in the village, including Seraph’s father. The night before, all shapeshifters had been murdered. The half-bloods, who didn’t have the power to change, were going to be baptized. That was why they were imprisoned in this hut.

  Nander drifted off into a restless sleep. Seraph wished he could do the same, in order to forget about everything for a while. But whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Margal standing before him in her blood-soaked, white dress. Seraph resolved to stay awake to watch over Nander.

  The door to the hut opened early the next morning. The half-bloods were summoned to step outside. Seraph looked around the group and saw people of all ages, but most of them were young children. Seraph wondered what they could possibly have done wrong to deserve to be tortured.

  He looked at Nander, who was still clutching on to him. “Come, it’s time…”

  Because he didn’t respond, Seraph pulled the boy to his feet. He kept supporting Nander as the Seers led them to the village square where the Goddess was waiting for them.

  Margal was a beautiful woman but her green eyes looked wild. She didn’t have any eyebrows. Instead, there was a thick V-shape on her forehead. This was the mark of the Seers. Strands of gold were plaited into her blond hair, and her loose-fitting, white dress couldn’t conceal her pregnancy. She walked up to a girl who looked at her with fearful eyes. She held the girl’s face in both hands and whispered comforting words, “Hush, my child. All of this will soon be over and then you will lead a Purified life. I’ll make sure that the blood that’s flowing through your veins is pure.”

  The girl seemed to calm down. Seraph would have been inclined to believe her words as well, if it hadn’t been for the stories that had preceded the arrival of the Goddess and her followers.

  Margal went along the entire line to inspect the prisoners. Now and again, She held still in front of some of them, only to give them a look of contempt and quickly walk on again. But there were also some prisoners where She stood still longer. Every time that She gave a nod of approval, the priest walking beside her wrote something down on his papers. Seraph knew that the Seers were selecting people who would be taken away after the Purification. He noticed that nearly all of the men and women who were picked were around his own age. Save for one little girl who couldn’t be older than ten.

  At long last, Margal arrived at Nander and Seraph. She looked Nander briefly in the eye and turned her attention to Seraph.

  “Is this your friend?”

  Her voice sounded sincere again. Seraph nodded. Then her slender fingers ran over his forehead.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t separate you. You can start your new lives together.”

  Smiling, She walked away from the row of prisoners. To make sure that everybody could hear Her, She said in a loud voice: “In the beginning, the world mainly consisted of water. This water was home to the Gods, who gave birth to a set of twins. I was one of them, my brother Mórien was the other twin. Our parents told us that the world was ours to do with whatever we pleased.”

  She remained silent for a while. When She continued, She sounded detached, as if She wasn’t talking about herself.

  “Margal swam to the surface, where She discovered land. As She was sitting on the beach, letting the sun dry Her, Her brother surfaced from the deep as well. When Mórien’s head popped out of the waves, Margal took some sand and blew it into her brother’s eyes, causing him to go blind.

  Not much later, Margal fashioned a figurine out of clay and brought it to life. This perfect creature was a human being, the first creation of the Gods. Mórien was jealous and made his own figurine. Being unable to see, however, his figurine was deformed. When Mórien brought his creation to life, it didn’t know what to become: human or beast. That was how the shapeshifters were born. They were the children of Mórien. All creatures live together in this world, but when they die they return to their Creator.”

  Margal was now only speaking to the half-bloods. Her voice sounded imposing.

  “When you die, you’ll go to hell. In heaven your good deeds will be rewarded manifold. But Mórien, being blind, cannot see the good that’s often hidden in small things. Therefore, the children of the devil will suffer the grief they caused others many times over again. For eternity.”

  The child standing next to Seraph whimpered. Seraph couldn’t restrain himself any longer and screamed, “What is it that we have done wrong? Nothing! Let these children go.”

  Margal raised her hands and urged everyone to be quiet.

  “That’s why I’ve come. I will take you from Mórien’s arms and adopt you as my own children, so that you’ll no longer have to live in fear. I care about every human being on this earth.”

  “You didn’t care about our parents…”

  Margal turned to face Seraph. She gave him a pitying look. Seraph stared back angrily. Without saying anything, the Goddess turned around. She addressed the priest, “Start with the boy.”

  The man put on thick, leather gloves, and Nander was snatched from Seraph’s arms. It happened so fast that there was nothing he could do to hold on to his friend. He jumped forwards to attack the men who were dragging Nander away. Four other men, however, threw themselves on him and worked him to the ground. Seraph could only watch as the priest baptized Nander by pouring caustic acid on his forehead. His friend screamed and shook his head to get rid of the acid, causing it to run into his eye.

  Seraph looked away in horror. He spotted Almor, who was watching from the crowd. Almor was a half-blood like himself. Seraph wondered why he wasn’t part of the group waiting to get baptized. For a second, Seraph felt
the urge to betray the young man, but he saw the pain in Almor’s eyes and decided to hold his tongue.

  Someone firmly grasped Seraph’s chin and turned his head. The priest was now kneeling beside him. Agonizingly slow, he raised the jug with the acid. The Goddess was standing behind the priest. She had a wild look in Her eyes. Petrified, Seraph sat stock-still, waiting for the acid to touch his skin and make his face burn with pain.

  Meanwhile, the priest whispered, “With this ritual I deliver you from all your sins. Margal offers you a new life. Freed from the contaminated blood of the non-humans, there’s a life in store for you in which you can dedicate yourself to the Father and the Mother. Embrace Margal’s gift.”

  The acid streamed over his forehead. The pain was even more excruciating than Seraph could have imagined. The fluid ran down his nose and cheek, but still he didn’t scream. He wasn’t going to grant the Goddess that pleasure.

  The grasp on his chin loosened. The priest rose to his feet, but the Goddess knelt beside Seraph and caressed his cheek lovingly. Seraph spat Her in the face.

  “One day, we’ll meet again,” Margal whispered in a merciful tone. “I’m looking forward to that day, because I hope that by then you’ve realized what an incredible gift I’ve given you. Perhaps you’ll even thank Me then.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to that day as well, because the next time You see me, I’ll have my revenge,” Seraph hissed in response.

  Margal calmly wiped the spit off her face and got up. He only just heard her whisper, “Put him with his friend.”

  Two Seers picked him up by his arms and dragged him away. They threw him down next to Nander as the screams of the next half-blood sounded from behind him. Nander was completely losing it. He kept rubbing his wounds. Seraph tried to stop him, but Nander was too strong. By focusing all his attention on his friend, Seraph managed to push aside his own pain. He pulled Nander close and held him tight. All the while, the air was filled with screams, but Seraph tried to block them out.

  Only when someone poured cold water over his head, did Seraph notice that everything had gone quiet. The Goddess and her followers had left the village. Seraph’s mother was sitting beside him with a jug of water, ready to take care of him. Seraph insisted that she help Nander first, but the woman was determined to cool his burns as well. Ever since that day, the deep scar on his face showed the world that he had been Purified.

  The sound of screaming and growling reverberated through the caves. Seraph was thrashing about in his bed. His blankets had fallen to the floor. His arms and legs were sprawled out and his limbs pushed into the mattress, as if someone was keeping them down. His head and torso were moving wildly. Nander turned up the oil lamp and dampened a cloth. He sat down on the edge of the bed and held the cloth against Seraph’s scar.

  “Calm down, Seraph. Wake up. Open your eyes and everything will be all right.”

  Seraph started to calm down. His muscles, however, were still tensed up and his breath came in heaves. Nander kept repeating his comforting words until Seraph bolted upright.

  Nander gave him a worried look with his one eye. They had both become older. Just as Seraph had stood by the young lad during the Purifications, the adult Nander stood by Seraph when his nightmares took him back to that fateful day.

  “That’s right, Seraph, take your time. It was just a nightmare. Nothing happened tonight,” Nander said, as he removed the cool cloth.

  Seraph, however, grabbed Nander’s wrist and forced his hand back to his forehead. “Don’t take it away just yet. It’s burning as if the acid has just been poured onto my face,” he gasped.

  Nander did as he was asked. He caressed Seraph’s lower arm with the calloused fingers of his other hand. Seraph slowly calmed down. When he had his breathing back under control he growled, “It’s been 35 years, but the memories don’t fade. Nor does the pain.”

  Nander could only nod in agreement. “I’ll bring you some water. Do you still need the cloth?”

  Seraph nodded and took the cloth from Nander. He watched Nander poor a glass of water and return. Seraph’s hands were shaking. It wasn’t easy to bring the glass to his mouth, but he drained it in a single draught.

  Meanwhile, Nander picked up the blankets. Seraph took one more deep breath.

  “I wanted to save you, Nander. I would have done anything to save you, but I couldn’t. I felt so helpless and humiliated when they performed the ritual. First on you and then on me.” Seraph was still shaking.

  “There was nothing you could have done, no one could do anything.”

  Nander got up to rinse the cloth that had turned warm, and softly pressed it against Seraph’s forehead again. His friend was leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed.

  2

  Winsu sat on his knees in front of the little altar in the corner of his bedroom and lit the candles. The flames illuminated the golden hair in Margal’s portrait. The priest looked lovingly at his Goddess and started to pray.

  He had gotten up early, because today was the annual Feast of Purity. Winsu had been looking forward to this day for weeks. As always, the service was focused on the veneration of Margal. Today, however, was specifically about the commemoration of the Goddess’s message: the task to Purge the earth of non-humans. The service was to be followed by an impressive offering ritual, meant to strengthen the worshippers’ faith in Margal.

  Before Margal, the Naftalians had never wondered about the reason for their existence. Life in the arid regions was hard. So all their energy had been focused on survival. But Margal had explained to them that their suffering was only temporary and a way for the Parents to test their faith in Them. The promise of a regal welcome in heaven – after all their hardship on earth – obviously appealed to the people, and it hadn’t been hard to convert entire villages.

  From that moment on, it was the survival of the fittest. Those who actively performed Margal’s duties gained standing. Naftalians who didn’t, were judged as traitors and suffered the same faith as their impure compatriots. It was a time where fear spread across the savannah like wildfire, and people were prepared to go to even more extreme lengths to survive. Winsu knew that this was the way it worked. He had, after all, used it to his own advantage.

  During his prayer he whetted the sword he was going to use during the offering ritual. Priests had used the sacred artefact to Purify the world since the very beginning. The weapon felt heavy in his lap, almost as if its size emphasized the weight of its task. Winsu wondered how many non-humans had been killed by this sword. Hundreds? Thousands? It was a shame that the ritual had been changed by order of the last Pontifex Maximus. Nowadays, animals were sacrificed instead of non-humans. Margal’s teachings made no distinction between them, but Winsu knew that sacrificing a shapeshifter or a heretic made much more of an impression. And Margal’s followers needed to be impressed badly, as an increasing number of families didn’t attend all the services any more. Winsu had even heard stories about other villages where the people had converted to a new religion.

  Shaking his head, Winsu rose to his feet. That would never happen to his village. “You can count on that, My Lady.” Winsu bowed at Margal and chopped a candle in half with one swell move. The top of the candle rolled over the floor, leaving a trail of molten candle wax.

  “Tonight, everyone will be reminded that they shouldn’t even so much as think of abandoning You.” Winsu looked at Margal’s portrait again. She seemed to be giving him a contented smile.

  Winsu ended his prayer. He put on the white chasuble he’d had made specifically for this occasion and rushed towards the church. There were many preparations to be made.

  Dusk was falling. Worshippers from the village and its wide vicinity were flocking into the church. Winsu gazed upon the gathered crowd. He smiled when he noticed a family that was hesitantly looking for a place to sit. They hadn’t attended a service for a long time. They weren’t the only ones, all around him Winsu saw people he had believed lost to the fai
th sitting in devoted prayer.

  After Mass, the priest took a moment for himself. He girded on his sword and calmly walked outside where Margal’s followers were waiting. The flames of dozens of candles flickered in the evening breeze. The people took a step back to let him pass. A man’s gaze was drawn to his sword and he gulped audibly. Smiling, Winsu stroked the sword’s pommel. This man was sure to be a loyal follower again before the night was over.

  Singing songs in honour of Margal, the crowd followed him to the village square where dishes of oil were lighted. The fire illuminated the entire square. A group of women had spent all day making a tapestry of sand that depicted the story where Margal was sent back to earth by the Parents to redeem mankind.

  In the middle of the sand tapestry stood a pole from which a live wildebeest was hanging. It had been hung there in the afternoon but still hadn’t given up its frantic attempts to free itself. The rough rope had cut into the animal’s flesh. The priest walked up with his sword in his hand. As if knowing what was about to happen, the wildebeest started kicking at the priest. Winsu thought he could see the fear of death in its eyes. Maybe there really isn’t all that much difference between animals and non-humans.

  “Margal, today we honour You with the blood of non-humans. As You can see we haven’t forgotten the task You have set us. After today the world will be a tiny bit more Pure.”

  Winsu raised his sword as the people thanked their Goddess in a joint prayer.

  Seraph stood still in the shadow of the houses and motioned the four others to stop as well. In front of him, people were crowding together on the small square. Seraph climbed onto a cart to be able to look over the throng of people.

  Without any hesitation, the priest slashed the wildebeest’s throat. The blood turned the sand tapestry red. Seraph’s breathing quickened. It wasn’t the wildebeest he saw hanging from the pole any more, but his own father. The life poured out of him through a gaping wound in his throat. Seraph wavered and sought support against the wall. He felt Nander’s hand squeezing his shoulder. He pushed away the images of his father and looked at the ritual in front of him again. Anger replaced his feelings of pain. Even though the Naftalians only sacrificed animals these days, the essence of the ritual had stayed the same.