RULES OF THE DAMNED

6. THE TWO STORMS

STANDING BESIDE MY open window, there were two storms hovering on the horizon, preparing to strike. The visible one would arrive any minute from now, with its entourage of heavy rains, hissing winds, and violent thunderstorms.

I crossed my arms against my chest. As the wind roared, anticipation was brewing beneath my calm demeanor. I never feared the vengeance of nature, nor the mourning of the sky. Perhaps because I never develop attachment or deep affection for this kingdom. Its ruination would not scar me, the way its stability right now wounded me.

The first drops of rain hit our roof. Trees and other plants swayed, going with the hostile rhythm of the wind. My lips curved upward, relishing the sound and sight I’d grown to love. The more I stared, the more my thoughts edged to the forbidden cliff. Desperation fueled my mind as I leaned closer. In the comfort of my room, away from the eyes of controlling monsters, I let those thoughts tempt me.

I never knew how the old gods perished because our historians decided it wasn’t worth keeping and worth remembering. However, their lists of atrocities were preserved with utmost care. Those were hung in many offices in bold inscription, portrayed in vivid details in paintings, exaggerated by works of literature, and remained the most favorite oral tradition in the present. Sometimes, like now, I wondered if there were any remnants of their presence in Erideth; not the sins everyone else was claiming, but their power.

“And if there is, I hope they will strengthen the wind, strong enough to wipe the Royal Palace. If there is, I hope the thunder will become louder, and everyone who talks but never listens will lose their hearing. I hope they’ll make this rain almost endless; a duration long enough to stop the games of the greedy.” I sighed.

If someone heard me, without a doubt, I would face death before this storm ended. Ephraim Lorison was my ancestor, and these words would enrage not just my father, but everyone who worshipped the first Damned.

I did not know how long I stayed watching. The storm stopped before darkness started whisking the lingering light away. Its damage wasn’t enough to prevent the second storm, the invisible and deadlier storm. The twilight spread; I closed my window. 

Yesterday, the retreat of Maximus’s regime took place. Tomorrow, the Selection would begin.

“The second storm I can’t stop,” I whispered.

LOUD KNOCKS ON my door woke me up in the morning. Groaning in frustration, I pulled a pillow and used it to cover my ears. I did not need to look at the wall clock right now to know it was still early. My body was accustomed to waking up before six, and now my eyes stung from unscheduled nuisance.

The persistent person behind the noise did not share my reverence for order and schedule because the knocks became louder, too loud to ignore. I clenched my hands and got up. Before opening the door, I took a deep breath. Calm down, Belle. Do not fucking kill the asshole.

“Good morning!”

Ricin’s annoying face greeted me. He was smiling from ear to ear. My brother was a lazy fucker, so it was unusual to see him this early, already done bathing and fully clothed.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my sight before I kick your balls. Next time, if you want to ruin someone’s morning, find another door.”

I was aware of Ricin’s attitude; my threat did not faze him. Rather, it fueled my brother’s creative side in making retorts. His amethyst eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Actually, I’m at the right door. I already greeted Thallium, and he almost kicked my balls, too.” He chuckled.

I yawned. “What do you need, ass?”