Author's Preface
Merkra: We’ve got an expert coming on next week to give us a little more insight on what we’re about to go into, but I didn’t want to end the episode without going back to Atania.
Solana: Sure. She has just suffered serious physical and mental trauma. Unfortunately, that seems the way of life for the life of a King’s Blade. We’ll be referencing this character later, but Rekk the Grand is a perfect example. He’s a generation before Atania, Benicio, and Penelope, but the King’s scribes at the time seemed far more thorough in their record keeping.
Merkra: This is the guy who they claimed shot a kraken with a crossbow and pulled it out of the water?
Solana: The same. While I agree that sounds like nonsense, he was a Blade before he aged out. The first record of his accomplishments is he and another Blade thwarting a rebellion in The Riverlands.
Merkra: Just two people?
Solana: They burnt a village to the ground. I did a little more digging, and it turns out that is where Rekk was born.
Merkra: So there’s a decent chance he murdered his whole family because the King told him to? brief silence Fucking fantastic. Back to the story…I guess. Atania has gone through the ringer. She’s been physically devastated, which has stopped her from feeling the emotional destruction of losing who she considered a brother. Unfortunately, things aren’t going to let up.
Atania groaned, jaws clamped around a wooden spoon and wrists and ankles strapped to a steel table cool against the radiating skin of her chest and thighs. Gerard had told her this was going to be uncomfortable, but the extent of that pain was becoming apparent. Apparently, the damage was so severe that healing the flesh was out of the question. He’d have to regrow it. To his credit, he’d done his best to numb her up, but she could feel every movement of the hot blade cut away at her ruined flesh.
“So sorry…” The gravelly voice of the massive Orc muttered over the sizzle of the blade carving away her flesh as if she were a fresh ham.
She let out a muffled scream, muscles tensing as a weight lifted from her. It must have been a particularly large hunk. The door in front of her opened, and her stiff neck hung off the edge. Only one person was vile enough to walk into this room willingly, and the sound of skipping feet confirmed it.
“Atania, I’m so happy to see you.”
Atania growled but didn’t reply.
“We tried to look for you, but it turns out our new orb stopped our diviners magic from working. Curious, isn’t it?” Penelope knelt, making sure that her face was directly in front of Atania’s. She took hold of the wooden spoon and pried it from her jaws. “I’m assuming Benicio not returning with you means he’s dead?” The smiling face looked particularly pleased at the question.
“Well, you sent us into a literal fucking dragon’s lair with no time to prepare so—SON OF A BITCH, GERARD!” Atania tried to crink her neck in his direction as a deep lancing pain shot through what remained of her left glute.
“Sorry…” The deep voice repeated the apology.
Penelope didn’t flinch at her sudden explosion, but continued to stare directly into her eyes. “Had we known there was a dragon, we obviously would have sent more Deviltouched. Its heart is far more valuable than any orb, though it seems quite promising so far.” Penelope tapped the tip of Atania’s nose with the spoon then tossed it haphazardly over her shoulder. “You did well, but I have a few debriefing questions.”
“Are you serious?” Atania blinked. “I’m a little busy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Penelope stood up suddenly, looking over her shoulders. “Oh my, It seems you’ve been burnt.” The grin was in face again within moments. “A shame really. Your backside was something to behold.” She pushed a curl behind her ear and nodded. “Now then. Who was it?”
Atania took a deep breath. “Who?”
“Reports said you were carried into Raven’s Crest by a Null. Who was it?”
She scowled at that. “I wasn’t carried anywhere.” She dipped her head in hopes of not having to look at the grotesque grin any longer. “A traveler found me a day out of Raven’s Crest. Cleaned my wounds and helped me back to the hnnnnggh…” she groaned as knife found raw thigh muscle.
“So sorry, so sorry..” The big man muttered.
“Who was it?” Penelope repeated, completely unbothered.
“I didn’t get his name.” She lied. “Just a traveler as far as I know.” Atania had very little respect for Penelope, but not fearing her was foolish. Which made her instinct to lie and protect the Halfling bard more curious.
“That seems unlikely to me.” Penelope reached around her hanging head, grabbed her chin firmly, and eased it up to force her to look her in the eye again. “A common traveler stops to help a Deviltouched? That’s what you want me to believe?”
“You know.” Atania gave her a defiant glare even as she felt shavings of her thighs being removed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hoping I would have died out there. Why does it matter to you? He helped me get your stupid orb here.”
“I’m sorry.” Penelope’s eyebrows rose farther than should have been physically possible on such a small face, making the unsettling grin even worse. “Did I miss the moment in our relationship when we decided I needed to explain myself to you?”
Atania swallowed hard. Pushing further was a bad idea, and she knew it. What she was uncertain about was the safety of a single weird Halfling if she uttered his name. Her self-preservation thwarted her uncertainty in the end. Strapped to a table was not an ideal position to defend yourself from.
“If he gave me a name, I don’t remember. He was a bard. Halfling.”
“Explains the small clothing.” Penelope nodded. “Think hard. You sure he didn’t give you a name?” Her fingers traced Atania’s cracked lips, a nail digging into a scab and prying it free of her skin, drawing fresh blood.
Atania’s nostrils flared, but she kept from reacting to the obvious power play. “I don’t remember.”
“Do you remember what he looked like?” Penelope asked, breaking another scab from her lips. “Sandy hair perhaps? Tattoos? An aura about him that makes you want to dive into his pants and never leave?”
Atania screwed up her face at that. “Yeah, except that last one I guess.”
“Fletcher Lightfoot. He did the New Year’s Gala. Ashorian, so I guess that explains why he took pity on you. Ashorians let the Nulls mingle with us.” Penelope made a gagging gesture. “Did you not find it odd that a stranger stopped to help you, especially with the smell.”
“I wasn’t exactly in a position to turn down assistance.” Atania snapped at her. “I didn’t see you sending anyone after us.”
“I’m going to take your tone as a result of pain and exhaustion and not hold that against you.” She patted her cheek softly and stood. “Thank you for the information, dear.”
Atania let her head hang again, but her thankfulness that the conversation was over came short lived.
“Oh, before I forget, Father wants to speak with you. Favorite daughter home at last. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” She spat the last words at her before spinning on a heel and skipping from the room.
Perfect. Get her back peeled off layer by layer and then go talk to Father. Atania sighed. “Gerard, can you get my spoon for me?” The table shook as the large man jogged around and wiped the spoon on his filthy robes as if that would do any good.
She clamped down on the filthy wood and let her eyes close again. Gerard continued to work for what felt like hours. She had never endured an injury that the Orc couldn’t at least make bearable. Once he finished for the day, she was far from one hundred percent, but she could walk. They’d have to do this several more times over the next few weeks before she was back to normal, and even then he couldn’t guarantee it would be perfect.
Taking the stairs in awkward steps, she pushed open the door to her quarters and closed the door behind her. Atania took in a deep, sputtering breath and collapsed against the door. Her nails dug into her ravaged thighs, the pain the only thing keeping her from screaming as days of emotions crashed down.
She’d not just lost Benicio. She’d watched him lose himself. Her best friend, her brother, had become blooded. And somehow, even twisted, even gone, he still found a way to protect her. He’d fought a dragon alone so she could crawl away with Penelope’s stupid fucking trinket.
She tried to choke down a sob as it hit her, but another came, raw and jagged. Then another. She slid down the door, physical and emotional pain knotting together into something unbearable. Her fingers tangled in what was left of her hair, and memories fired at her in choppy fragments.
Benicio laughing until he cried, half drunk on cheap rum. His arm slung around her shoulder after a battle, blood trickling from his nose into his warm smile. His voice— “I’ll never let you go, little sister. I promise.”
Each memory broke her a little more until a cry burst into a strangled scream, which tipped into laughter and eventually curdled into retching, painful sobs. Her chest heaved as she gagged, hands shaking so violently she nearly tore the tight curls that were left from her head.
Atania dragged herself across the floor to his bed, each movement tearing another sob from her throat. The frame creaked as she collapsed on it, burying her face into his pillow. Sage. His smell was still there. It flooded her lungs as she clutched the fabric. She screamed into it, tears soaking through, until she could no longer breathe without choking on his scent.
Why him?
Father had done this to him. Funneled power into him until he was bursting at the seams.
If she was his favorite like everyone thought, why had this happened to Benicio and not her?
He could have broken her. Corrupted her.
Then she would be in Benicio’s place.
Better her than him.
Her throat closed on the thought.
The smell of sage faded into smoke and brimstone. She’d not meant to fall asleep, but when she opened her eyes again, midday sun was piercing through the windows.
“Fuck.” She lurched up, immediately regretting it as pain surged through her entire body.
Father was anything but patient, even with her. If he’d gotten word that she was back and had not gone to see him immediately, there would be hell to pay. She rushed to the wardrobe on her side of the room, pushing the clothes aside and shedding the robes Gerard had given her.
Atania was not one for dressing up. If she wasn’t in armor, it was shorts and a sleeveless shirt or nothing. However, Father had given her a gift that he demanded she wore whenever they met. She wasn’t sure what variety of weird perversion it was, but she was not going to get on his bad side.
She pulled the sparkling sapphire dress over her head, ensuring the single strap sat snugly on her shoulder. With large chunks of her flesh in her back, ass, and thighs missing, it didn’t fit quite right, but it would have to do. She pushed her curls around, hoping to hide the brunt of the damage and checked the mirror.
Even after Gerard had healed the minor burns on her face and the front of her torso, she still looked an absolute fucking mess. The skin around her amber eyes puffed unnaturally from a night of crying, and mixed with the lack of eyebrows, she looked more fish than elf. This was as good as it was going to get, though.
She left the room, trekking through the castle to the lower levels and avoid every passing glance she could until her hands fell on the wrought iron doors. Hinges creaked up their weight as she pulled them open and stepped into the oppressively dark room and closed them behind her.
With each awkward step toward the brazier in the center of the room, sconces on the walls twenty feet in either direction flared to life on their own. She placed her hands on the dark metal lip of the ornate brazier and took in a deep breath, smell of brimstone infiltrating her nose.
“Father?” Her voice was small, quiet.
The empty brazier fired to life. Brilliant, familiar white flame licked over her fingers harmlessly. Whites, oranges, yellows, and blues all danced around lighting her face before shifting to black. A massive horned head emerged from the flame, followed closely by the torso of a humanoid man. Just half his body dwarfed her frame, easily ten feet in height. His skin a deep scarlet with a full head of slicked back black hair. Above each temple shot out ramlike horns that curled to sharp points around his ears, framing his handsome face to perfection.
“Dearest daughter.” Teeth too white gleamed between crimson lips. His hands emerged from the fire to dust off the black jacket he wore before reaching out to trace her cheeks with fingertips so hot they should have ruined her skin all over again. “I felt your grief. Benicio is gone?”
“Yes, Father.” Despite herself, she leaned into the hand on her cheek.
Father paused, his face taking on a contemplative look before returning to one of pity. “My deepest condolences. I know the two of you were close.” The crackling flame behind his whisper gave her a strange, otherworldly comfort.
“Thank you, Father. He will be missed.” She whispered as she looked up to meet his eyes, but took a very subservient stance with her hands behind her back.
“Indeed, he will.” Father’s words were smooth and slow like honey drizzled over a hot bun. “I understand you procured an artifact of some import for Penelope?”
She nodded silently.
“She doesn’t know it yet, but that orb is quite powerful. It took a full dragon heart to create and harnesses bits of the Hells. I’ll have you keep an eye on it.” His hand left her cheek finally, resting on the edge of the brazier. “It may have to be taken from her.”
“Yes, Father.” Atania bowed her head. “Whatever you want will be done.”
“Your superior.” He scoffed, the exhale so hot she felt sweat bead and evaporate on her forehead in a moment. “Penelope was instructed to bring me a child that was born on your realm within the last week. She claims that she is still trying to recover her, however, I believe that she’s gone rogue. If I could fully manifest through this gate, I would handle this myself.” His fingers gripped the iron with a sizzling creak. “I need you to locate the child and bring her directly to me. She needs to come home.”
“You think Penelope has her already?”
“I do, but I can only say with certainty that she knows I believe she’s lying.” He reached out, the pointed nail of one finger pressing into the center of her collarbone. “Which means you will be at risk.”
A deep, radiating pain shot through her, and a burst of orange light pushed through his finger and into her chest. She felt a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. Then the pain faded into Benicio’s soft chuckle.
“Now you will always have a piece of Benicio with you.” His crackling whisper drew a single tear from her eye, which evaporated when he went to wipe it away.
“Thank you, Father.” She whispered, though the daze that came over her left her on sketchy footing. “How do I identify the child?”
“You will know her when you see her. She’ll be the one with the horns growing out of her head.”
Atania blinked wide eyes and chewed on her lip. A blooded infant? Was that even possible? “I’ll start my search immediately.”
“Atania, listen carefully.” He lifted her chin to stare down into her very soul with eyes like wildfires. “This child is incredibly important to me, darling. You are the only one I can trust with this task. I don’t know what Penelope has planned, but if you need to kill her to get the girl…let nothing stand in your way. Do not make me complete this task myself. Do you understand?”
Her lips said, “Yes, Father,” but as the thrumming beat merged with her own heart, something deeper screamed no.