𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

Never before did I crave for the succulent taste of thick, silver blood as much as today. An anticipating sweep of my tongue over my dry lips savouring the opaque reminiscence of the latest throat I've ripped open. Euphoric cries for help shroud my mind as I keep my claws from suffocating the life out of the malicious old woman standing before me, her glare ebbing away all thoughts of reconciliation.

"And what do you say when he asks you to lay with him?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Had I known that today would ever come, I would've pierced the poison-dipped dagger an inch deeper in my chest. Not that it would've helped in the slightest, since my mana would remain trapped in the in-betweens of this Realm by chains that run far beyond mortal comprehension.

But still, I would've tried. At least a bit more persistently than I did.

Would've stabbed myself deeper.

Would've let my head float in the frosting water just a tad bit longer.

Would've, but didn't.

"Even when you're tired?"

"Yes, Madam."

That's why I now have to feel the condemning stares of all those bidding us farewell to the Feather Clan burning holes in my back. That's why I'll have to abide by yet another dictionary of unnerving restrictions. And that's why, for the rest of my nights, I'll curse the Heavens for this miserable existence of mine.

To kill or to be killed.

We've been taught, generation after the other, that our fates are at the mercy of our Gods, who've written them in the Stars long before the first of us was even born. I'm fully aware that it's far too childish for me to be pointing fingers at Deities - immortal creatures whose rule extend far beyond what we consider as our world. It's just that it's the safer option for any sane person. Because, if not the Deities, I'll have no other person but him to blame for my agony. And unlike the Deities he is very much alive and capable of having my neck the second I dare to utter the words I've lived by for the years my wounds sutured to ragged scars.

I will kill you. May it be in this life, or the next.

"You will never go against his wishes?"

"No, Madam."

If he had been more of a King than a lethargic tyrant, I would've never have to serve as rebound for his mistakes. Had he been a ruler, beings like me would've never been born. Creatures who've never had the fortune of being blessed by the Holy Temple.

But he wasn't. So, here we are.

"Even when you're on your Blood Moon Cycle?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Good. Now go, and my Lady. What did the Holy Priest teach us?"

"In the eyes of the Moon, only an unworthy woman denies the will of her husband, for she rejects the will of the Stars with him."

"Are you unworthy?"

Yes. If it means escaping this hell on my own two feet, I'm prepared to denounce myself in front of this so-called Priest everyone follows the words of without any second thoughts. As if the mere mortal can speak for the constellations tied above us. The idea itself should be a joke, but it seems that no one else here gets my sense of humour.

"No, Madam, I am not."

The wrinkles on my old teacher's forehead crease, and her old eyes, who've watched my mother and grandmother growing up, look at me in skepticism. We both stay silent as everyone around us continues to hastily prepare for our departure. The normally voiceless Travel Room now booms with hurried shouts from all bricked sides. The fetid stench of blood and decay coming from the cells nearby overshadowed by the sweat soaking the servants' rags. My words may sound obedient, but unlike my mother and her ancestors, I don't buy any of this nonsense. Meaning that I have spoken a lie. Either of us knows well enough what lying would normally bring me. My poor stomach still recalls the saltwater I've had to force down my throat the many times I was caught in the act of something considered insolent for a high born such as myself. Nevertheless, unlike anything else, I savour them. These precious memories of my otherwise tedious childhood. Because it's that pain, grave enough to ache yet not damaging enough to awaken numbness, that brings me back to life every time death's fingers graze over mine.