She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
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Those hideous scars across his stomach and back were always there when he looked at himself in the mirror, mouth tight and eyes thin. He could never understand why they appeared on him, tortured and rendered something so horrible and nauseating in his soul. Why bother, when there was going to be nothing left of him soon?
There were five lines in total on his abdomen: one running straight across his chest and down to his thigh, one intersecting the first and parallel to the third, one shallow but thicker than all the others. The last one, he made out with a grimace, was small, but when he gazed upon the swollen bit of flesh and the sloppy stitching of the wound, it brought up memories of such ageless blackness that gnawed and chewed at him, fangs digging into his skin, retracting, and then digging in again.
His finger traced that thin and short pale line that stood out against the golden tan of his chest. It rested in the very center of his torso, a clear reminder of what had occurred that night. He winced as his fingers pinched the scar, foolishly, deliberately, testing whether he could still discern the pain and hadn't lost all feel in his body.
Gently tugging the rest of his shirt down, he draped it over the back of the chair behind him, twisting at his waist to examine the other cuts on him, fresh but clotting. They were too damaged and thrumming to be bound just yet, in case the blood made the gauze attach to his back and arms.
What had he done to deserve this? He would always ask himself that, and then end up getting no answer in return. He chuckled humorlessly.
He'd been stupid to hope for a reply – too stupid and blind to notice how his energy was draining, how the life in him was slowly being stolen away by the beast that slumbered within him, some days calm and collected, other days ravaging him, grinding and dicing him up from the inside, his heart contorting and convulsing as the agony shifted him, turned him into something he never wanted to be. When he'd agreed to this, the pain wasn't what he had been expecting.
The thirst for demolishing everything – everyone – was overwhelming, and he had drunk himself with the shapes and petrification of those weak humans' faces as they were bisected and turned from a body of blood and bone to a clattering hill of remains that incinerated to ash with one glance from him.
But those nights of dismantling and wrecking weren't always vivid in his head. He only remembered bits and pieces, like shards of a broken mirror. The monster inside of him either didn't want him to know, or it was part of their little agreement – him only obeying orders and receiving power that never seemed to be enough, and the beast doing whatever damage it wanted to his dilapidated, grief-stricken life.
He stared down at his hands – so rough and calloused. He remembered getting blisters once from training too hard, but he'd gotten over it, knowing the only way to reach his goal was to strive forward the better – for that someone he wanted so inconsolably to become.
A fire that felt too familiar, too immortal and sinful, guttered within him, a strange and terrifying sort of feeling that he experienced but had never quite adjusted to. His body went numb with fire and ice all at once, a dark and evil presence lurking in the pit of his stomach. He was ready for the Shift.
Poisonous, incurable silence drenched him and he inhaled through his nose, breathing in the scent of flames, ash, and snow. His senses heightened, and he heard everything, felt everything, tasted everything. There was the chatter of courtiers and guards, the laughter and music of late-night celebrations, the flavor of sweat and cheeriness and desire perching on his tongue. Such interesting taste – so smooth and silky that he wanted more.
Hushed whispers murmured words of annihilation in his ears and he hunched over, feeling the quaver in his bones as they splintered and moved into place with sickening cracks that echoed in his illuminated room. A growl rumbled out from the back of his throat as he curled and broke and fixed himself back up. Talons drew out from his fingertips and feet, the brutality of it matching that of the tail and horns that lengthened from his tailbone and head.
