My heart pounded so hard that I felt as if I couldn’t stand straight in the King’s throne room. My legs trembled, the thudding in my chest sinking me further into submission, despite every fiber of my being wanting to resist. I willed desperately to brace my hands against my chest, to feel some form of safety. I stood trembling, my hands bound behind my back, every breath shallow as Captain Gorvyn and a younger, brunette guard loomed behind me.

With a slow, deliberate movement, King Varek stood from his throne, the sound of his boots echoing in the cold, unforgiving room. His presence was suffocating, like a thick fog wrapping around me. The air felt thin, my breath shallow, every inch of me frozen as he neared.

When he stopped in front of me, I could see the darkness in his eyes, deeper than before, like two pits of endless night. Without warning, his hand shot forward, gripping my jaw so fiercely that I let out an involuntary whimper. He forced a vile liquid between my lips, the metallic taste flooding my mouth. I recoiled but couldn’t stop the swallow. 

“How long have you known?” he hissed.

“Ever since after my mother died,” I involuntarily replied, my voice shaking.

Damn it. He gave me some sort of truth serum.

His face twisted, disbelief and fury mingling in his expression. “So it’s true,” he breathed. “That explains your red eye… But how? How is it even possible that you are still alive?”

I felt the words rush out of me again. “I don’t know.”

He began to pace in front of me, deep in thought, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing at me.

“You possess no additional power from your demonic bloodline?” he asked. The question hung in the air for a few seconds.

“No.” I answered, truthfully. Yes, I had Kako, but it wasn’t because of my demonic heritage as far as I was aware. Unless he asked directly, I could keep that a secret– my only advantage.

Relief flickered in his expression, and he stepped toward me again, his fingers grazing my jawline. His voice came out deceptively softer, but no less terrifying. “Did you really think I would never find out?”

I swallowed, my throat dry, and my voice barely above a whisper. “Yes,” I replied. I hated that I was cooperating against my will. I wanted him to know how angry I was at him, how much I despised him. I let myself continue to speak as truthfully as he wanted, “But, I’m still the same as every other Mongrel: oppressed by your stupid–”

His hand cracked across my left cheek, the sharp slap ricocheting through the room. Pain exploded across my face, and I gasped, the sting biting deep. “No you’re not!” he roared. “You’re an abomination! A child of two opposing bloodlines that should have never been born.” His words hung heavy, dripping with disgust. “I should kill you where you stand for your bloodline alone, not to mention your outward defiance.”

My heart stopped.

Should?

“But I won’t,” he scowled. “You’ve already sworn an oath of loyalty to me and what a waste that would be. No, you’re far more useful alive to me now. Marked, but alive.”

My stomach twisted. The room swayed for a moment as the realization dawned on me at his words. “No…” I breathed out, taking a step back, but the guard’s grabbed my arms, holding me in place.

“Yes,” Varek hissed back, a sick smile twisting his lips. “You’ll be marked with both bloodlines for everyone to see, and you will be used as my weapon. My proof of power.”

With a brutal yank, he spun me around, ripping my arms from the guard’s grips, and forcing me to my knees. Gorvyn’s face hovered above, his face radiating with twisted pleasure. Varek grabbed my hair, jerking my head back so sharply that pain shot through my neck. 

“I do this for your own good,” he whispered in my ear, his vile breath causing me to shiver in disgust. “Without me, the world would devour you.” Suddenly, he pulled my head back further. “Do it,” he commanded the guard next to Gorvyn, his voice cold.

Gorvyn’s hands seized my legs and my vision blurred from anxiety. I never forgot the pain from my angelic brand being burned onto my face. I remembered it vividly in that moment and started screaming before his thumb seared into my skin.

Pain exploded– blinding, burning, tearing. I screamed louder, thrashing in their grip, but their hands held me still as they etched the demonic brand into my right cheek. The agony was just as I remembered, endless and consuming. My shrieks filled the throne room, raw and desperate, but they all watched, unmoved.

When it was over, I collapsed, my body spent, trembling uncontrollably. My cheek throbbed, still burning hotter than the sun.

And then, Varek spoke, his voice cutting through my haze. “Your betrothed is Cyrus Seraphiel, is it not?” 

I nodded my head reluctantly through my tears, unable to speak any words.

“Then, consider this my mercy,” he said, crouching to meet my tear filled gaze. His face was still cold, but his voice was deceptively softer. “You will wed him in a week’s time, but you will never bear children. I cannot allow you to pass on your curse. Don’t forget my mercy for as long as you breathe.” 

My eyes widened, disbelief ripping through me. I stared at Varek, trying to comprehend the cruelty of his words. He was granting me a twisted version of mercy, and he expected me to be grateful for it. Did he expect me to thank him? My body trembled with rage, but I couldn’t summon any words to fight him. Tears streamed down my face, hot with anger.

Varek rose, his cold eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before turning to Captain Gorvyn. “Fix her,” he said robotically, as if he was ordering a man to polish his boots. “Now.”

My body acted on instinct, a desperate scramble to escape, but it was useless. My arms were bound and all I could manage was to kick my legs in an attempt to worm myself away from Gorvyn. Suddenly, Gorvyn’s boot slammed into my stomach, the force knocking all the air from my lungs. I collapsed, my head banging into the marble floor as I curled my body. Waves of pain crashed through me, everything shaking. My vision blurred as he kicked me again, then again, each blow landing harder than the last, sending violent tremors through my body.

“Please!” I shrieked between ragged breaths, “Stop!”

But there was no mercy in Gorvyn. His steel-toed boots collided with my ribs, and a sharp crack split through the agony, stealing my ability to even scream. My world– nothing but pain– sharp, suffocating, and relentless.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me off the cold stone floor. My body felt limp as Gorvyn slung me over his shoulder like I was nothing more than a rag doll. Each movement sent shocks of agony through me, but I was too weak to fight.

We moved through the castle halls, the sounds of heavy doors creaking open and voices murmuring somewhere in the distance blurring together. I felt the rough scrape of Gorvyn’s armor against my side, my consciousness slipping as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.

We entered another room, and an older man’s voice cut through the fog. “How many times have I told you not to abuse the patients before you bring them to me, Gorvyn?” he asked in frustration. “It makes my work that much harder when they are already half dead!”

“Ask me if I give a damn, Heath,” Gorvyn sneered. His voice seemed far away now, fading into the background.

I barely registered the cold, hard surface beneath me as Gorvyn dropped me onto a table. My body screamed in protest, but the pain had dulled into a constant, oppressive throb, like a blanket of needles covering every inch of me.

“What does this one need?” Heath asked.

My vision was full of bright blurred lights, and I could barely make out the two figures standing above me. 

The last thing I heard before slipping into unconsciousness was Gorvyn’s words, cutting me like a knife. “King Varek ordered her to be fixed. Remove the reproductive organ or whatever it is you do.”

I woke up in the carriage, the jostling movement sending fresh waves of pain through my bruised and battered body. The fog in my mind slowly cleared as I attempted to sit up, biting back a groan. I felt as if I had been shattered and hastily put back together. 

The carriage lurched to a stop, and I heard the coachmen call out, “Whoa!” as the horses came to a halt. For a moment, I let my head rest against the window, the cool glass soothing my swollen cheek. My mind was still struggling to catch up and remember everything that happened.

The door to the carriage flung open, causing my head to drop from the sudden loss of its resting place, and the sight of Lieutenant Vexe standing there, in the dark of the night, pulled me back to the present. His eyes held something almost like sympathy and regret as he reached in to help me. “Spearhead Vermisial,” he said softly, carefully pulling me to a sitting position. “You are ordered seventy-two hours of quarters. No training– you will remain on bedrest. I have one of your team members here to assist me in helping you back to your barracks.” He stepped back from the door to reveal Cyrus.

His face was pale, his blonde hair a mess, and his blue eyes wide with horror as they took in my bruised, broken form. I wanted to run to him, to collapse into his arms and let him take all of this pain away, but I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. All I could do was watch as his expression shifted from disbelief to devastation. I must have looked like hell. 

Without a word, he rushed to my side, his hands gentle as he and Vexe lifted me out of the carriage. Every step I took sent sharp spikes of pain through my body, but I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay silent. I had to be strong in front of him– I couldn’t let him blame himself for this.

I attempted to walk to help them, but a sharp pain immediately shot from my groin, causing me to seethe through my teeth. And then, I felt it– a hot trickle running down my leg. I looked down, and my breath caught in my throat.

Blood.

The memory came crashing down on me and a sob tore through my throat as the realization settled in. Tears blurred my vision, and I let them fall freely. I was beyond shame now, beyond fear. I was broken, inside and out.

They carried me to my bed, each step a blur of pain and anguish, but no more than the pain in my soul. Once they laid me down, Vexe looked at Cyrus.  “Spearhead Seraphiel, she is required twenty-four hours of constant supervision. You are to stay with her and you are authorized to use your healing magic where you can. I’ll send a runner to bring dinner chow shortly.”

Cyrus didn’t answer, only nodded his head. He was too busy staring at me, his face full of terror. As Vexe left the room, Cyrus knelt beside me, his hands glowing faintly as he reached for my cheek. His touch was soft, his thumb tracing the edge of the new demonic brand now burned into my skin.

“It’s been two days, Nemmi,” he said gently. “Tell me everything.” His voice was thick with urgency, his gaze searching my face for answers.

Two days?

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I broke. I felt as though I was going to sink through the bed with how hopeless I felt. Sobs wracked my body, the weight of everything crushing me all at once.

“I- They– I can’t..” I choked out. “They f-fixed me, Cy.” My voice was trembling with the finality of it.

He stared at me, confusion etched into his angelic features. “Fixed you?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“They fixed me,” I said again, sobbing as I shakily tried to wipe my tears. I struggled to say the words. “I will never h-have ch-ch-children, Cy.” My hand dropped, and I rested it on my lower stomach.

He looked down to my hand, then my legs, and finally noticed the blood that had trickled down my thighs below my uniform shorts. His eyes widened, and I watched the realization hit him like a blow. His hand quickly dropped from my cheek, and he placed both of them on my lower stomach, glowing brighter now, as if he was trying to will the damage away. 

“Oh my God, Nemmi,” he gasped, trembling. “You’re bleeding so fucking much. No, no, no.”

I sobbed louder, even though the physical pain began to slightly subside. I couldn’t even bear to tell him the rest. 

It wasn’t just my body that had been broken, it was my future– our future. The future I didn’t even know I wanted until now. I could have waited to have children. I could have lived without them for a while, until we defeated Varek. But now… that choice is gone forever.

“It’s okay, Nemmi!” Cy said, his voice desperate with false hope. He was still trembling vigorously, but he looked at me with a slight smile. “I can heal it! I can– I can fix this.…” his voice trailed off and his body began to shrink. I saw the hope slowly drain from his face.

“Your power doesn’t r-regenerate organs, Cy,” I cried.

His face grew red as the tears flooded his eyes. His hands trembled even more as they glowed against my skin, and then he crumpled, collapsing against my stomach with a broken gasp. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nemmi,” he whispered, his voice muffled by his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

My heart shattered at the sight of him, crushed by the weight of his sorrow. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in my throat, tangled up in a knot with my sobs and the anguish of everything I had lost. 

And then the truth hit me– the final blow I had been dreading.

How do I tell him that we’re to wed in a week? He doesn’t even know yet, and when he finds out… How could he want me, knowing he will never have children– that he would be subjected to the same fate as me?

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