On Death's Honor

Chapter 29: A Nymphtan's Confrontation

Tanryn had told her a sacrifice would be provided, and provided it was. The ancient nymphtan knew the moment someone had torn through the guard spells she'd set in place, even if she hadn't reached the entrance to her home just yet.

It wasn't often she'd hear word from the banished god she'd dedicated her life to, so she knew it was something great for him to have come to her in a dream, instructing her to continue with the plan against Canden even though Igna was now dead.

Mutnya had planned on doing it, anyway, just to show them that killing her ward would do nothing to deter her. All it did was make their deaths a simple waste, needlessly watering the soil with blood that would have otherwise gone to the troubled nymphian girl.

To have Tanryn himself reach out . . . Well. Something great was coming, indeed.

She would prepare this yearly ritual for her lord, playing the gods' game, even though she knew that she would eventually lose. It didn't matter. She still enjoyed playing it, all the same. There was something curious, something enticing, about the things she set her heart on.

For every individual she killed was a person of their own, and yet all their screams sounded the same in the end. There were only so many ways a person could cry out for the pain to cease, and it was a sound that Mutnya pondered each time she heard it.

What, exactly, were they hoping to save if they survived? A lifetime of dismemberment, of terror and madness that would never truly leave. Surely they knew what would be in store for them should she decide to spare their lives. Mutnya still hadn't figured out the answer, and at times, she scarcely cared anymore. But it was a question unanswered, all the same.

One that was worth the creative slaughters she'd spend years setting into motion.

It was dark by the time she reached her pond, her limbs moving in slow, relaxed motions that would give any onlooker the impression that for all the faults in this mishap of a world, nothing could ever come to plague her.

For there was a fly in her trap, and she was in no rush to finish the end-of-autumn tradition her practice called for. Not because she didn't want to, but because there was nowhere for her prey to go.

The nymphtan smiled, her ebony skin reflecting off of the pale moonlight above as she waded into the small spring that had hidden her home for centuries.

It was time to see what her god had wanted her to give.

-.-.-.-

I thought my head was going to explode by the time I became aware of the nymphtan's presence. With the vines cutting into my body, holding me firm to the wall behind me, I could feel their toxins snaking into my bloodstream, forcing my muscles to go limp as my mind spun into a frenzy.

Holy shit, I was not expecting this. I knew this was going to hurt. I just had not expected the vines to be poisonous. Sacrificial targets were supposed to be alive, after all.

Strength. Find your strength.

Ugh.

Sweat dripping past my brow, I forced myself to look up when I sensed that I was no longer alone.

Her cerulean blue eyes glowed softly against the dimness of the cavern, as so did the symbols she had painted across her body. For a moment, she looked confused, as if not quite believing the person stupid enough to fall for her trap was an armed hunter.

"And they say Tanryn does not bless his followers," she finally spoke, her voice such a clear, swift contrast against the coarse breaths that came from my chest. "Are you the one who killed my ward?"