Ruptured Light: A Destruction of Gods, page 14
Alister wore a smile on his face the whole time, even as his Guards emerged from the shadows around the room. The men hid behind the pillars that held the ceiling so high in the air, and when they appeared, the smile on Orien’s face disappeared.
Alister watched in triumph as she sat in the center of all those innocent beings while his men used their swords to cut off their heads. Some men even went as far to just wound an animal and then watch it scream in agony.
Orien sat perfectly still during the slaughter, and by the time it was over, she was painted red from all of the blood. Alister knew by the look on her small, freckled face that he had won.
“This is what happens to things that you care about.”
Alister can still feel the way the words felt when they moved across his lips and it still feels like a victory to him.
Now though, the reaction he has seen from Orien over this stupid human girl makes him nervous, but it does give Alister Altair leverage over Orien.
Every piece of him will enjoy playing with Elisiah just to get a reaction out of the monstrosity that he has housed and raised. The pleasure that thought brings to him makes him want to torment Elisiah even more.
As he makes his way back to his royal wing, he starts to rack his brain for any information that will cause them unrest on their travels to Thundaria.
“Malcom.” He calls to one of the many Guards that walk behind him. “Find Evadne. Tell her I need her on an urgent matter.”
“Yes, your highness.”
Alister does not turn around as he hears the shuffle of armor behind him. If anyone can give him information about what to do next it will be that woman.
Making it to his bedchamber door, another Guard pushes the door open for him. Right now, he needs to wash and change before someone sees him. The last thing he wants to do is explain himself. Even though he loves telling a delightful story of his secret weapon that is nothing more than a blood-drinking monster.
If it were not for his stories, then the whole Kingdom would not be afraid to question his authority. He guesses that is one good thing about keeping Orien around; always having a fall back.
A throat clears from behind him as he starts to take off his boots.
“What is it?” The King says as he lets his boots fall to the floor with a thud.
“Your, highness, I just wanted to inform you that we have not seen or heard from Lady Evadne since you last called for her.” The Guard is the youngest of all of them, and his voice wavers just enough to tell Alister that he is still scared to be in his company.
Such weakness from the boy.
He should not be left in charge of protecting a life, let alone a King’s if he cannot even speak a sentence without his voice breaking. Alister turns his face to the Guards.
“Then where is she?” Alister walks slowly towards the young Guard as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Such weakness.
“We have looked for her, sir. Every place has come up empty. The last anyone saw her was in the library with Elisiah.” The Guard swallows but holds eye contact.
“The one working the archives said Lady Evadne left after an argument, but no one saw her in the hallways after.” He sounds confident with his information, and all Alister can think about is how someone can leave a room, never to be seen again.
Orien.
All the information points only to her, and if Elisiah and her mother did get into an argument, then it is possible. That big pain in his ass is going to get what she deserves, and he plans to use Elisiah for just that.
Walking up to the Guard in front of him, the one who reeks of cowardice, Alister smiles at him. Reaching up and placing his hands on both sides of the young man’s white and gold protective helmet, the King slowly raises it off his head. The others keep silent and look straight forward.
With the helmet in his hand, he holds it down to his side as he says, “For that information I think you need a much-deserved break, soldier.” The boy's shoulders drop just slightly, and his mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out as Alister grips the helmet in his hand and swings it full force at the now exposed head.
The metal vibrates through his hand and up his arm as the sound of crunching bone fills his ears. Bright red blood splatters across his face as his smile grows sinister. A small laugh builds in his chest as he watches the youngest of them fall.
No one moves an inch. No one makes a sound as the metal of the suit of armor slaps against the ground.
“Your break will be taken in the infirmary.” Alister drops the helmet on the ground by the boy’s feet as he turns and walks to his washing room.
“Hershel, take him away and grab one of the servant girls and bring her my way. I need a much-needed stress release.”
“Yes sir, your highness. Right away.” Hershel, one of the King's longest working commanders is always by his side and has always been one with unfaltering loyalty. If the King cared about anyone, it would be him, but to his knowledge, no one knows that information.
As the commander shouts the orders to the others, Alister closes the door behind him. Left alone in the silence of the washroom, he runs his water and strips off his clothes.
Once he gets done cleaning himself up, he will have the company of a young female to warm his bed, and then he will decide what to do with Orien and her new plus one.
14
ORIEN
The walk back to the sitting room is one of torment for Orien. Pain claws at her back, but more than that her mind races with the memory Elisiah shared with her. She knows that as soon as she is able, they will be packing what they need for their trek across the two Kingdoms.
Thundaria is almost two whole weeks away, and that is with the weather being tolerable. The animals are a whole different factor, but Orien has made the passage several times now for a few varied reasons. It was never anything remarkable for her.
Orien found the blankets of pure white snow to be blinding. With Elisiah by her side though, maybe she can keep herself distracted which will make the time go by swiftly.
Getting back into her room, she immediately pulls off the half-buttoned shirt and the remainder of her leather binding.
Lying face down on the black couch that still smells of flowers and vanilla, Elisiah sits by her side as she holds out a hand over Orien’s damaged back. The warmth of her palm sinks into the exposed flesh, and Orien’s breath catches in her throat. It was not from pain but from the way her pulse quickens; she has never let someone so close to her when she is so vulnerable.
The only connections she makes with anyone are only from the women at the brothels.
It has already started healing, Little One. Get your things ready for the journey. As soon as this body can stand, we will set out.
The voice of the beast soothes Orien right now. It is a sound she does not know she needs until now.
It is normally not something surprising to her due to the beatings they have become accustomed to over the years. The beast always speaks to her during and after the times just to make sure Orien has not gotten too lost in her own mind.
Orien has only just started blocking out the beast during their times of torture because she feels like she owes it to the beast. It is the one thing that stays consistent in her life, and the beast has tried to protect her.
She managed to keep it at bay during the duration of the beating earlier, but as soon as Alister wanted to push the limits with Elisiah, she could not hold on anymore.
Everything in her and the beast raged in the confines of the cage that has been built in her mind.
All she could do was let the beast say what it needed to say and show the King that she would not back down so easily. The shadows on the other hand came of their own accord and have not been back since they felt the threat was gone. It was almost like they just needed to make sure Elisiah was safe before they went back to their hiding place again.
Orien cannot remember the last time she went so long without them being wrapped around her. It is like they think she does not need them as much now.
“Can I do anything for you? I mean you look really pale, well, paler than I would think you normally are.” Elisiah sits on the very edge of the ornate lounger and folds her hands together in her lap.
She has not looked anywhere but at Orien’s maimed, bloody back.
Orien cannot even find it in her to care that this woman sees more of her than anyone. A part of her feels comfortable being so exposed with her.
Alister, Evadne, and a handful of his Guards are the only other people who have seen her like this.
None of which was with her permission. Alister has taken many things from her and none of those things she will ever forget.
No. We will be moving in a couple of days. You need to worry about what you will need to keep you warm and comfortable.
The beast brushes against the space it takes up in Orien’s head, like it is comforting a small creature.
Also, make sure you pack your boots.
Orien closes her eyes as the beast speaks to Elisiah, and all she wants is to see the light lavender flowers surrounded by bright green leaves and light brown bark again.
She does not know if the memory was meant to appear in her mind’s eye when it was being told, but it did.
It was like she was there. The colors were vibrant and soft to her eyes. It was like looking through a separate set all together, because she has never seen the world as colorful as that. She could smell the fragrance of the multi-layered petals. Orien was sure if she reached out, she could have felt the touch on her skin.
The couch shifts, and it draws her out of the vivid world she desperately wanted to see again.
Opening her eyes and angling her head towards Elisiah, she watches the woman run her hands through her hair. The tips of her fingers get caught on many of the curls that have fallen from the leather wrapping.
“What all do I need to pack? I have never left Univier. Hell, I have never gone beyond the forest besides maybe only an hour out. What do we have to get through to get to Thundaria, and how many coats do I bring?” She rambles and her hands keep rubbing each other like she is trying to start a friction fire.
Orien knows this day has been absolute shit for both of them, but her mind has been made from stone, while Elisiah’s has not.
She will try to never judge the woman in front of her, but Orien can feel how bruised and broken her heart is.
Her back starts to tingle, and she knows from the way her small hairs on her arms rise that some of the shallow cuts are closing themselves. The bigger ones, like the one that cuts down to bone, will take time. The others will heal rather fast or so she hopes.
Pack your winter attire and a dress or two. Any of your hygiene things as well. We will go to Fredrick before we leave to grab some satchels of basic foods, the rest for which we can hunt. Now, leave us to heal and go pack.
The beast sounds frustrated, and it does not mean to.
The pain and suffering that Orien has been through has of course run its way into the beast. For the longest time, it would try to seal her in her mind like she now does to it, but it never worked.
Orien is strong willed when it comes to something she wants. Most of her life, she wanted to feel the pain. It is the main reason she did not flinch when getting her lashings; a part of her still needs the pain to feel alive. She may not feel other basic feelings, but pain has always been the one she felt the most and until now her most craved.
Whatever she feels being around Elisiah is what she wants to feel every day until she stops breathing. It was not until she came around that Orien wanted to find a way to get her muzzle off; Orien wants to know her face for once. The thoughts of seeing what lay behind the mask scared her, but not more than the reason for wanting to reveal the mystery that it covers.
We will find the answers to the questions we ask, Orien. Do not worry, do not think. We need to heal so we can get Little One out.
Orien hears the beast, but it does not stop her now never-ending thoughts.
“Why do you call her Little One?” The answer she truly does not know but is curious as to why the beast gave Elisiah a nickname. It chuckles in her head, and it sends a fuzzy feeling across her skull.
What else are we to call her?
“Well, I mean, she has a name.”
Yes, she does, but Little One fits her. Does it not? Everything about her is little to us. Her hand on our face should answer the question for us. She is a lovely Little One.
Something taps the side of her brain again, and it makes her think that this thing in her has a tail.
“She is rather small I suppose, but her curves are magnificent.” What did she just think about? She has no idea. Her cheeks grow warm, and Orien is baffled at the fact she is blushing. What is happening to this stone-hearted, cold-blooded killer? The beast laughs, and it sounds more like a howl than anything.
Remember the conversation we had about being a pervert? We are one and the same. Now we grow extra warm and something swims in our middle when we think about Elisiah.
“I am not a pervert; I just know something made by Lixtis’s hands when I see it. That woman was made slowly and with all the care in that God's hands. Have you seen the way her skin seems to glow?” Orien has never spoken the name of the God of Souls before, but it is the only explanation for how this being could pop up in her life so suddenly.
The changes in the way she has felt in just these two days is enough to spin her head off her shoulders.
Do not speak of that absolute incompetent fool. He is better off forgotten for all the hardship he and that nebulous brother of his have caused. Centuries of war for nothing. It is a waste and a pity.
Irritation crawls over her skin, and she slowly sits herself up on the couch.
She cannot completely straighten her back, but the tingling has amplified, and the feeling of tugging is enough to tell her the large wounds are starting to heal.
Her healing has slowed since she was a child. No more bright white light, and no more instant healing. No one could tell her what it was or why it happened.
Now, she is left with what was left behind, but it is still a much faster process than that of a normal Fae.
Orien looks around the room and finds Elisiah on her knees folding her clothes in tight little rolls on the floor. The concentration shows in the way the lines appear between her eyes.
Her white blouse has blood streaked across the shoulders, and from what Orien can see, down part of the front. Grabbing the discarded shirt on the floor, she slips her arms in and starts to button the top buttons as she walks over to Elisiah.
She does not stop the rolling of her clothes as Orien steps to her side. Her face shines in the Water's Light from the tears cutting a path down her face.
Orien slowly kneels by her and gently wipes the falling tears from her cheeks. They are warm on her hands, and she can smell the salt in the air; a tug pulls in her chest.
At the same time she feels the tug, Elisiah looks up at her face and places a hand over hers. Orien breathes in the scent of her and looks into her eyes as she tries to find her own voice to tell her it will all be okay.
No matter how hard she tries, she cannot get that part of her back. She hopes Elisiah can see what she wants to say by the look in her eyes. One day she will be able to say all the words she needs to say, but that day is not today.
Elisiah takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.
A picture of steaming sticky iced buns pops into Orien’s head, and she can smell everything about them. The warm smell of fresh baked pastry. The white sugar glaze lightly drizzled across the top. Orien is shocked by the sudden sweetness that overtakes her mouth. It tastes just like she imagined it would from the picture Elisiah created in her head. Even the familiar smell of the fire in the kitchen’s burner does not compare to the small taste she just had of the sweet yet imaginary bun.
She watches Elisiah as her shoulders relax and she lets out her breath slowly. The light chocolate brown eyes open, and Orien’s heart skips in her chest as she rubs her thumb across the beautiful brown skin and loses all her own thoughts in her head. She takes a breath in just like Elisiah and lets it out just as slowly.
Orien is not sure if Elisiah knows that she was placed in her memory during their traumatic time earlier, or if she knows that Orien can taste the sweet food she must be thinking about. Right now does not seem like the time to tell her, but it is the right time to get her stuff together so she can grab a whole tray of those buns just for their Little One.
I told you she is our Little One. Do not question me again about the things that I know.
The voice is smug in Orien’s head, and with that smugness, she reluctantly pulls her hand from Elisiah’s face.
Standing up and heading to her bedroom, she begins to pack a brown leather bag with all her fighting leathers and extra weapons. The beast may think Elisiah is theirs, but Orien knows that can never happen.
15
ELISIAH
Elisiah cannot help but watch Orien as she walks away. There is a tightness to her stride, and it makes her tears feel heavy as they fall down her cheeks again.
Between what she sees when she is asleep and now the images of Orien being beaten, she does not think she will be able to live through it.
Leaving her clothes where they are on the floor, Elisiah stands and walks into the bedroom just on the other side of the wall.
The door is open, so she steps through to find Orien sitting on the side of her bed, facing the far wall.
Walking to her side, Elisiah slowly sits down on the bed beside her.
Orien keeps looking at the wall with blank eyes, her hands resting on the bed. Elisiah places her right hand over Orien’s left and sighs.
She cannot help but to look at her back again; her shirt is visibly damp from the blood.
Standing up from her spot, Elisiah turns to face Orien. The size of the assassin has them face to face, even with the taller one of them sitting down.
