Cry Havoc
⑨
Sleep is something of an escape. I do not dream — I haven't dreamt since I was a child — but the blank nothingness of unconsciousness is more than welcome.
However, as I emerge from my sleep, I feel an all too familiar pressure at the edge of my mind.
My heartbeat falters and quickens in fear. Despite the futility of the action, I stay still and quiet in hopes of boring my ‘guest’ to leaving.
“Arise.”
The command is short, simple, and impossible to disobey.
A whimper builds in the back of my throat, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction.
“Step forward.”
I do, hating myself more the closer I get to her. Thankfully she stops me, doesn't do as Abraham did. The relief I feel is enormous, but the gratitude minimal.
“Have you learnt your lesson?”
“Which lesson?” To my utter surprise, my voice is flat, lacking both bitterness and fear. I brush aside my shock. “Not to cross you? Yes. To value freedom more than life itself? Yes.”
She makes an unhappy sigh. “Do you feel no remorse for your actions?”
I rear back as if slapped. “Of course! I'm not a m—” The geas doesn't allow me to claim not to be a monster. Oh no. Oh starless hells, no. Panicked, I try again, only to be met once more with failure.
Through it all, Cassiopeia is silent. “Oh Fates,” I rasp. “Is it you or I who believes I am a monster? Is it truth, or am I the source?”
She says nothing.
“Damn it all! Cassie, answer me! I can't possibly des—” A ragged sob escapes my lips as the geas stops my claim again.
So I am a monster, and I deserve every minute of this torture. And more, likely.
Dropping to my knees, I curl into a ball. Freedom and all promises of it flee my mind. I feel empty and numb.
Still she doesn't speak. Her silence reminds me of Abraham. I wish he were here, instead of her. Abraham. I owe him this much.
“Lady Cassiopeia.” The formal address sounds awkward, spoken by a mouth lacking practice in respectful submission. “A mortal is seeking to save the life of his sister. I beg you, grant him this boon.”
“Why should I?”
I wince. “Because he forced me to speak of a way to save her and it will destroy him.”
“You care for this mortal.”
“I h— despise him.” My voice cracks pitifully. “He has brought me pain, but also company. For that I am eternally grateful. For that reason I cannot bear to see him destroyed so, especially when ultimately his fate is my fault.”
She hums thoughtfully, likely marveling as the god of destruction pleads for protection of anything, let alone a mortal. I try not to think too deeply about my lowly station, about how I've prostrated myself before her for the sake of a mortal who left me to rot in silence for three weeks.
“You are not to speak to mortals, especially none whom you have wronged. Need I bind you to that as well?”
A sick feeling twists in my stomach. I don’t dare breathe a word.
However, her energy signature flares with anger. More forcefully, she repeats her question.
“I’ll obey,” I assure her.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t lie. Sister, please!”
The silence is telling, with a smug aura radiating from her. As ice settles in my heart, I bite back on a pathetic whine. “What must I do to prove my words are true?”
“Admittedly, it is refreshing to hear you beg, after years of listening to your arrogance.”
“Beg? I can beg. Lady Cassiopeia, eldest daughter of Universa and Primus, sovereign of Astrye, land of stars, I beseech you to find in your heart some compassion for a young, foolish mortal.”
She is no doubt grinning, her lavender eyes sharp and dancing with mirth, as she approaches.
“O my lady of order, O protector of life, prevent the needless devastation of a mortal who knows not what he does.”
Her hands breeze across my neck, my cheek, ghosting across scars, but in an instant all vestiges tenderness dissipates and she locks my jaw in an iron tight vise grip. Her fingers are hard as steel and dig unforgivingly into my flesh.
“Content yourself with knowing you’ve sent him to his doom,” she hisses, the words hot and vicious.
“Don’t punish him for my wrong-doing!” I beg. “Even you cannot believe that to be just!”
The subsequent silence is ice cold, laden with threats unspoken but nevertheless heard.
Oh starless hells. Fear twisting in my chest and actively working against the truth spell, I stammer, “I mean—It was not my intention to— You are perfectly—”
She mutters a curse under her breath. Its magic caresses my brain, sickeningly tender, before transforming into an explosion of white-hot agony. Tears carve burning paths down my cheeks. Satisfied with her work, Cassiopeia releases her crushing hold and allows me to twist and writhe on the ground.
A ragged scream echoes and throbs dully in my ears.
However, as I emerge from my sleep, I feel an all too familiar pressure at the edge of my mind.
My heartbeat falters and quickens in fear. Despite the futility of the action, I stay still and quiet in hopes of boring my ‘guest’ to leaving.
“Arise.”
The command is short, simple, and impossible to disobey.
A whimper builds in the back of my throat, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction.
“Step forward.”
I do, hating myself more the closer I get to her. Thankfully she stops me, doesn't do as Abraham did. The relief I feel is enormous, but the gratitude minimal.
“Have you learnt your lesson?”
“Which lesson?” To my utter surprise, my voice is flat, lacking both bitterness and fear. I brush aside my shock. “Not to cross you? Yes. To value freedom more than life itself? Yes.”
She makes an unhappy sigh. “Do you feel no remorse for your actions?”
I rear back as if slapped. “Of course! I'm not a m—” The geas doesn't allow me to claim not to be a monster. Oh no. Oh starless hells, no. Panicked, I try again, only to be met once more with failure.
Through it all, Cassiopeia is silent. “Oh Fates,” I rasp. “Is it you or I who believes I am a monster? Is it truth, or am I the source?”
She says nothing.
“Damn it all! Cassie, answer me! I can't possibly des—” A ragged sob escapes my lips as the geas stops my claim again.
So I am a monster, and I deserve every minute of this torture. And more, likely.
Dropping to my knees, I curl into a ball. Freedom and all promises of it flee my mind. I feel empty and numb.
Still she doesn't speak. Her silence reminds me of Abraham. I wish he were here, instead of her. Abraham. I owe him this much.
“Lady Cassiopeia.” The formal address sounds awkward, spoken by a mouth lacking practice in respectful submission. “A mortal is seeking to save the life of his sister. I beg you, grant him this boon.”
“Why should I?”
I wince. “Because he forced me to speak of a way to save her and it will destroy him.”
“You care for this mortal.”
“I h— despise him.” My voice cracks pitifully. “He has brought me pain, but also company. For that I am eternally grateful. For that reason I cannot bear to see him destroyed so, especially when ultimately his fate is my fault.”
She hums thoughtfully, likely marveling as the god of destruction pleads for protection of anything, let alone a mortal. I try not to think too deeply about my lowly station, about how I've prostrated myself before her for the sake of a mortal who left me to rot in silence for three weeks.
“You are not to speak to mortals, especially none whom you have wronged. Need I bind you to that as well?”
A sick feeling twists in my stomach. I don’t dare breathe a word.
However, her energy signature flares with anger. More forcefully, she repeats her question.
“I’ll obey,” I assure her.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t lie. Sister, please!”
The silence is telling, with a smug aura radiating from her. As ice settles in my heart, I bite back on a pathetic whine. “What must I do to prove my words are true?”
“Admittedly, it is refreshing to hear you beg, after years of listening to your arrogance.”
“Beg? I can beg. Lady Cassiopeia, eldest daughter of Universa and Primus, sovereign of Astrye, land of stars, I beseech you to find in your heart some compassion for a young, foolish mortal.”
She is no doubt grinning, her lavender eyes sharp and dancing with mirth, as she approaches.
“O my lady of order, O protector of life, prevent the needless devastation of a mortal who knows not what he does.”
Her hands breeze across my neck, my cheek, ghosting across scars, but in an instant all vestiges tenderness dissipates and she locks my jaw in an iron tight vise grip. Her fingers are hard as steel and dig unforgivingly into my flesh.
“Content yourself with knowing you’ve sent him to his doom,” she hisses, the words hot and vicious.
“Don’t punish him for my wrong-doing!” I beg. “Even you cannot believe that to be just!”
The subsequent silence is ice cold, laden with threats unspoken but nevertheless heard.
Oh starless hells. Fear twisting in my chest and actively working against the truth spell, I stammer, “I mean—It was not my intention to— You are perfectly—”
She mutters a curse under her breath. Its magic caresses my brain, sickeningly tender, before transforming into an explosion of white-hot agony. Tears carve burning paths down my cheeks. Satisfied with her work, Cassiopeia releases her crushing hold and allows me to twist and writhe on the ground.
A ragged scream echoes and throbs dully in my ears.