IMMORTAL SECRETS: THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB

CHAPTER NINETEEN - NICHOLAS

Steps behind my father, Solom, I walk with my head down. My wrists are bound together in front of me like the criminal I am. My heart is elevated against my bare chest from anticipation. My marks are dimmer from shame. I focus on my bare feet instead of what I've done or what is about to be done to me.

All of my father's mix-breeds are marching behind me, thousands upon thousands. Even the purebreds are here, of course by my father's orders. Did you think they lived with my father of their own free will? No. Each is a prisoner used as pawns to ensure mix-breed life.

It's dangerous for so many to be outside the castle, but every mix-breed insisted on witnessing my punishment. They were calling for my life, but my father understands I made a mistake. He told them I merely delayed our freedom by helping Accalia escape. "Nicholas should be given the chance to set things right," he had said. But the mix-breeds shouted I was a traitor who should be executed. My actions endangered us all. "He will be held accountable and pay for the setback," my father had said, throwing his voice around the castle, to quiet the discontent. "My words are final!"

We trudge through the tall grass in front of the castle. A crisp breeze runs along my bare chest. I shiver, because soon the breeze won't feel cold. It will be painful along the lashes I'm about to receive. I clear my head of the thought and stay close behind my father. His magic over illusions are blinding and deafening anyone who has ill intent, who may be searching close by for us. He keeps us safe and alive. For a girl, I almost destroyed it all.

With the castle still in sight, my father stops but doesn't turn around. In unison, everyone stops. I release an unsteady breath then glance up. My father raises his hands, the sleeves of his black cloak dropping to his elbows, and two metal poles materialize to stand firmly in the ground. Illusion at first, you can see through them. Seconds later, they solidify. I inhale a breath, as a third smaller pole forms in between the first two creating an H. My father has mastered turning his illusions into reality, thanks to their Book of Life and Alterations he stole.

My father finally turns to face me and the crowd of angry mix-breeds, his cloak swirling at his heels before settling in the tall grass. I quickly glance back down and drop my head farther. To see the disappointment he has for me, again, I can't bear it.

My father steps up to me and places his too pale hand on the rope binding my hands together. He leads me to the metal poles. The crowd of angry mix-breeds spit words of betrayal and disgust at me. I find it harder to breathe.

Standing under the H, my father raises his free hand for silence. He speaks to the crowd, projecting his voice louder for all to hear his warnings. "Let my son Nicholas's punishment serve as a reminder – if you threaten our freedom, no matter who you are, consequences await." My father talks about dishonor, indignity, disgrace, embarrassment. He says I'm not these things, my actions were. The crowd is slow to agree. Some call for my punishment. Others demand to know why I helped Accalia escape.

Hearing her name, the accusations, and the hatred for her is like a knife to the heart. A part of me still wants to protect her, and wishes to tell everyone to shut the hell up. The other part wishes she never kissed me in the first place. It was easier when thinking of her as a mere object, as disposable for the greater good.

My father rushes to my aid with words of reassurance and a warning for all to fall silent. He agrees with some of their nasty comments – more daggers to my heart. Condemns the harsher ones. I'm not mad with his agreements, because I know it's to keep their trust. How is he to win the war if his mix-breeds are divided or can't trust their leader.

I stare at the leaves that had shifted to orange and brown laying in the tall grass by my bare feet and try not to allow the harsh words to break me down too much. But they do, because of what I've done.

My father wins the angry crowd of mix-breeds over completely, when he talks about Accalia's death being our new beginning. Our freedom. We will fight the angels harder. Be stronger. Our lamb Accalia will be hunted day and night, until brought back to the slaughter. A wave of cheers sounds. He reminds everyone I am only forgivable, because my actions can be reversed. The cheers halt and the crowd again calls for my punishment. This time, my father nods.

To steady myself from the nervous wave rooting itself in my muscles, I inhale a deep breath and raise my head. With a jerk of my father's chin upwards, a chain with a hook materializes in the middle of the H and drops down in front of me. With his free hand, my father grabs it and, with his other hand, lifts my bound hands to place the rope in the hook. My arms are stretched, firmly forced above my head. Breathing becomes more difficult, inhales and exhales are noticeable through my bare chest, waves in and out. My bare feet remain hidden in the tall grass. The nervousness rooted in my muscles shifts to fear. The shaking is involuntary, as I brace myself for the beating.

My heartbeat has become wild against my bare chest and drums rapidly in my ears, as I anticipate the first sting and scared out of my mind for it. Looking over at my father with no intention of making eye contact but to beg for his forgiveness, I see my once vibrant marks are so pale they're almost white against my copper skin. Fear dims them farther as it paralyzes me.

If this is the only way my father can forgive me, so be it.

I made the choice to help Accalia. I sealed this fate for myself.

He must see how scared I am; my father simply caresses my cheek lovingly with his hand, but then shakes his head in shame of me, and then stands behind me. I hear a whip forming in his hand. The crowd approves. I hear the heaviness of my father's heart in his sigh. The crowd cheers him on. I hear the whip extend backwards.

As his hand lunges forward, the first lash cracks the air and then stings my bare back. Instinctively, to flee the pain, I lung forward and holler out. But my bound hands keep me in place. The second lash stings more. Again, I unsuccessfully try to flee the pain. With the third, the fourth, and the fifth lash, I holler out louder, the lashes are on top of each other swelling, burning. Tears brim my eyes and cool my red-hot cheeks, as they spill over. I'm standing on my toes leaning forward, as much as the chain will allow. By the fifteenth, my back is on fire, my breathing is unsteady, shallow. But my heart continues to race wildly.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

By the twentieth, breathing and crying out are impossible. I'm not leaning forward in a vain attempt to escape the fire engulfing my back, anymore. I'm so weak that my knees buckle; the chain is what keeps me standing. The rope binding my wrists is squeezing the blood from my hands, turning them purple, burning my wrists as they dig in deep. More tears run down my cheeks as, in my head, I beg my father to stop.

Solom is relentless with the whip, as he should be.

I remember why I'm being flogged. I betrayed my father. I put many innocent lives in danger to save one innocent life. The shame that hung my head low earlier brings me to a darker place where a man gives up, becomes hollow. What was I thinking? I can't save Accalia. I will only hurt myself and many more. She has to become nothing again to me but a sacrificial lamb.

As the lashes continue to split my skin, warm blood is felt streaming down my back, I hear Solom becoming tired. The hatred for what I've done gives him energy to carry on, though. I hear the crowd screaming for more. But, I can't take much more ...

Nothing will be the same after today. How do I look Solom in the eyes after my betrayal and his beating? I'm mad at myself but also at him for not stopping, or freeing me of the pain through his magic over touch. This isn't an act of a loving father. It's abuse. How can he call me his son after this? I can't look at him again as a father, only as an abuser.

With the last of my energy, I lift my head. Through teary blur, I stare at the puffy clouds and blue morning sky. They seem peaceful. A peace I wish for myself, for all mix-breeds. A peace dead if ...

I make a vow, if I survive this flogging – I'll bring Accalia to Solom myself.

When the thought is finished, the world becomes black and no more.