Kaerith's eyelids fluttered open as a soft, hazy light reflected on her face. For a moment, her eyes struggled to see clearly, as the jumbled shapes of the room blurred her eyesight. The last thing she could remember was her encounter with the beast.
Did I survive it? She knew there was no way that would happen, she was certain she was half dead while at it, so how?
Am I in the afterlife?
A sharp pain traveled through her body as she tried to twirl around on the bed. Every small twitch sent a raw shriek through her thighs, and her cunt felt like a fresh wound. Tears stung in her eyes as she wondered what she had done to go through whatever this was.
She hated that she was living a cursed life.
Everywhere on her body hurt so bad. Her legs, thighs and vagina throbbed so hard, as fragments of the beast's brutality flickered in her mind, and a wave of sickness rose in her throat.
She felt like her body had been torn into shreds.
Kaerith groaned as the rough linens of the sheets scraping against her skin while she adjusted on the lumpy mattress.
Her eyes scanned the room. It was plain, stripped down to bare bones.
The smell of green, bitter herbs filled her nostrils.
Across the wall, shelves held jars, curved knives, small saws, and bowls filled with viscous liquids. A wooden table stood in the center, stained dark.
Kaerith tried to move again, but a low, choked sound escaped her lips. Every movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her. Her body felt… used, and shattered.
In the far corner of the room, a woman stood with her back to Kaerith. She was busy at a stone bowl, her hands moving with quiet purpose as she ground something inside.
Her hair, a waterfall of gold, fell down her back in a smooth curtain, almost hiding the simple, beautiful blue dress she wore. The cloth moved with her, outlining her curves as she moved. Even from across the room, Kaerith could feel a sense of calm strength from her.
Kaerith forced herself up, her weight resting on her arms. She swallowed hard, her throat tight.
"Where…" Her voice cracked. She tried again. "Where am I?"
The woman stopped, gently placing the pestle down. She turned, and Kaerith felt a sudden catch in her breath.
Her face was an epitome of beauty, her sharp cheekbones, and full lips made Kaerith's jaw drop. Her eyes were the color of deep green jewels. She was the most beautiful woman Kaerith had seen since her arrival in the kingdom of Murnokh.
A faint smile played on the woman's lips, but somehow, it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Fleshsmith Hall," she said, her voice was melodic. "Still inside the kingdom of Murnokh. I am Velcira…Lady Velcira."
Her gaze travelled over Kaerith, lingering for a moment on her hair plastered to the beads of sweat on her forehead, the grime smudging her cheek.
"You have been unconscious for two days."
Two days.
The words hung in the air, heavy with fearful implications. What had happened in those two days? What had they done to her?
Kaerith's fingers clenched on the rough sheets, her knuckles white. She tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she sank back against the pillow with a groan.
The pain was a constant, insistent thrum, but aside from that, she felt strange… emptiness.
What has the beast done to me?
Just then footsteps echoed on the stone floor, the sound grew louder as they approached.
A figure appeared in the doorway, and Kaerith's heart leaped.
Mia. Kaerith never thought she would see Mia again after they arrived Murnokh. They were all unfortunate.
But Mia's face was pale, streaked with dirt, as she carried a bowl of water and a rough towel.
She hurried to Kaerith's side, her dark eyes dulled with dark circles, flickered to Kaerith, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Then, she set the bowl on the table beside the bed.
Without a word, she sat on the edge of the bed and dipped the towel in the water, then gently dabbed at Kaerith's forehead.
Kaerith's hand twitches, as she reached out to Mia. Their fingers brushed, and Mia rested her hand on Kaerith's arm.
Velcira's gaze lingered on them for a moment. Then, she spoke, her voice sharp. "You are… fascinating, Kaerith."
Kaerith's head snapped up, and Mia grasped the towel.
"The beast…" Velcira's emerald eyes gleamed. "Most girls… they don't survive him. They die at the mere sight of his… his length. Or when he… takes them. Or shortly after. Their bodies simply… just give out."
Kaerith's hand stilled on her arm as her breath hitched, a wave of nausea rolling through her as the memories flooded back again— the monstrous form, the agonizing pain, the feeling of being torn apart even when bleeding…even when at death's bed.
"But you…" Velcira's gaze intensified. "You endured. Multiple… rounds. Your screams echoed through the sanctum, and yet, you clung to life."
She paused, her eyes scanning Kaerith as if she were some strange specimen.
"The other girls… they undergo the full moon rites. It strengthens them, prepares them. You had none of those rites. And yet, you survived. It's… unprecedented."
Kaerith's fingers curled into the rough blanket, her knuckles turned white. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
What could she say? How could she explain the horror, the violation, the sheer… wrongness of what she had endured?
Mia resumed cleaning Kaerith's arm, her touch gentle. Her movements were quick, almost frantic as she avoided Velcira's gaze.
Suddenly, the heavy wooden door crashed open, slamming against the wall with an echoing thud.
A figure stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light of the hallway.
Lady Vythea.
Her face was tight, her eyes blazing with a cold, possessive anger as prominent lines appeared on her forehead. Her gaze swept over Kaerith, lingering for a moment with undisguised contempt.
"What is she doing here?" Vythea's voice was sharp, accusatory. "Why is this… this creature in Fleshsmith Hall? Who dares to show her favor from the Hollow Sanctum?"
She took a step into the room, her hand resting on the hilt of a dagger at her belt. The threat was clear and she was ready to pull it out and plunge it into Kaerith's heart.
"Take her out of here! This moment…"
Before Velcira could answer, another figure appeared behind Vythea, his presence filling the doorway.
Rhazien.
His dark eyes swept over the room, his gaze settling on Mia. A flicker of something predator and dominating ignited in his eyes like he wanted to devour her right there…the hunger.
Mia's breath hitched as she swallowed hard. Her cheeks flushed as she lowered her eyes, her movements becoming even more hurried.
Rhazien stepped further into the room, his gaze still fixed on Mia. There was a hunger in his eyes, a raw intensity that made the air around him crackle.
"I came as soon as I heard," he rasped, his voice dangerous. "She made it alive?"
Vythea's hand fell to her side.
Rhazien's gaze shifted, sliding from Mia to Kaerith. The change was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The predatory gleam softened, replaced by something… else. A curiosity that was different from the lust he had shown the other girls.
Kaerith's heart skipped a beat. Her skin prickled with a strange heat. It was as if an invisible thread had snapped taut between them, a silent pull that defied explanation.
She tore her gaze away, focusing on the bloodstained sheets beneath her fingers.
"She does not belong here," Rhazien crossed his arm behind his back. "Kaerith is of the Sanctum. She will be returned there. That is where her kind are… treated."
Velcira's lips curved into a faint smile. "She has been unconscious there for three days, General. Three days, she lay at death's door. The moment she showed signs of consciousness, Gorvane himself demanded she be brought to Fleshsmith Hall."
Vythea's eyes widened, her carefully composed mask cracking. Shock, disbelief, and something akin to fear flickered across her face.
"What?" Vythea's mouth fell open.