Chapter 7
LORD REVANDREL
In the solitude of my private quarters, my body thrummed with sexual satisfaction, my bloodlust sated.
After bathing and changing into fresh black robes, I approached the old shelf tucked in the corner and withdrew the Moonmirror.
A magical relic that was beautifully ancient and deceptively delicate. Its surface shimmered faintly even in rest.
I carried it to its mount beside the chamber's wall. A position that allowed me to view it clearly, whether I was working at my desk or lounging in bed.
The Moonmirror was one of the most expensive things I had ever purchased. A rare, nearly extinct relic from the Yurellian age. I rarely put it to use.
Pouring the sacred water that came with it into a shallow ceremonial bowl, I dipped the mooncloth in and wiped away the fine layer of dust that had settled on the mirror's surface.
Then, I pressed both palms against the glass and whispered the activation words: "Aikan'zarr elst vele'."
The mirror flickered once... then rippled like liquid mercury before stabilizing. A scene came into view, a real-time image of one of the brothel rooms.
Baevera Eldareth and her first client.
They had already begun. Or, rather, he had.
Baevera lay beneath him like a corpse. Heavy-lidded, desire-filled eyes watching him as he worked himself into a frenzy.
The Moonmirror had no sound, but it did not need any. The image was clear enough.
I folded my arms and leaned back slightly, watching and observing. Supervising the performance of the female who was supposed to be my most lucrative asset.
The Baron looked like he was experiencing divine bliss, his face slack with pleasure as time bled by.
Then, the two exchanged words. He spoke gently to her, and she smiled at him, saying something in return.
I snorted. Fucking pretentious Eldareth.
For someone who had screamed and kicked and pleaded, she certainly looked like she was enjoying herself now she thought no one was watching.
Baevera had always been such a whore. When we were younger, there were always males orbiting her, worshipping her, doing her bidding, and praising her like a goddess.
Memories stirred unexpectedly. As unwanted as a knock past midnight. Uninvited like fleas at a feast.
"M-Make them s-s-stop, Bae... please..."
The stuttering voice was mine. Younger and frantic.
A sharp pain pierced through my skull, and I staggered back, grabbing my head.
"He has always been so weak. So dumb and spineless," a male voice said, laughing. "I do not know how your family puts up with him and that whore of a mother."
"My family is a saint, Yesta," Baevera's familiar voice answered, holding annoyance. "They are my father's worst mistake. Shut up and have fun, Evan."
In the present, I snarled. My knees buckled, my eyes squeezing shut as my skull screamed.
My younger self flashed behind my eyes again, naked and trembling. Tied to a tree, tears falling down my face as I begged.
Mean, young males, at least a hundred year older than I was, circled me. Laughing and mocking me, the lit torches in their hands taunting me with fire.
I dug my finger into my head, trying to hold it together, to keep those memories away. No, no no no no we don't do that anymore, remember? I locked them up for good!
Yesta, the cruelest of them, finished his smoke and sauntered toward me, the carved bone pipe swinging between his fingers.
The instinct to run burned in the younger me. He thrashed against the ropes, but he could not escape. He was so afraid of Yesta.
In the present, my feet stumbled backward. "Fuck." I shook my head violently, trying to shake the recollections away.
But it kept flashing, and flashing. The taunts, the abuse, and their sick laughter. Until it came together to form a full picture and I was suddenly catapulted back into the past.
"Baevera... p-p-please," I tried so hard to speak through my stutter. They got worse when I was terrified. "M-M-Make it s-stop." She could stop them. They were her friends. They listened to her.
Baevera tore her lips away from her boyfriend long enough to glare at me. "Stop calling me."
Yesta held the pipe over the fire until it glowed red-hot, then stalked toward me like a predator. Smiling like one. Pointing the pipe like a weapon.
I screamed, begged, shouting louder in hopes someone outside the woods might hear. No one did. No one ever did.
The others laughed, scattered around, drunk on the thrill of it.
As Yesta brought the searing pipe closer, panic consumed me. I called her the one thing I was never supposed to.
"S-sister! No, no, sister help!!"
"Do not call me that, you moron!" she shrieked angrily. "I am not and will never be your sister! You retarded little fool, with your choked-up tongue that cannot say a word without tangling all over them, how dare you call me your sister!? What the hell is wrong with you!?"
"You know what is funny?" Jaze, another friend of theirs, laughed. "The fact that this dullard is an Eldareth. Bae has a moronic brother."
"He and his whore of a mother will NEVER be a part of our family, you son of a bitch!" Baevera shot back.
Yesta pressed the burning pipe to my chest, dragging it slowly down. Then came the burn. Sssssss...
I screamed so loud as the pain exploded across my skin, spreading through every nerve, through every inch of my body. "BAE-BAEVERA HELP!!"
"The spineless piece of shit keeps calling you, Bae." Another jeering laughter. "When will he get it through that dumb skull of his that you do not give a fuck about how we play with him?"
My chest scorched, my belly hurts so bad, as Yesta kept trailing that smoke pipe...
One of the males cleared his throat, "Uhmm, Yesta, wait, you are taking it too far, do not burn his junk-"
A pain that was soooo bad, so excruciating, it cannot be described rose in my groin. And I screamed so loud even the birds in the trees took flight.
My eyes rolled back into my head, and the world faded around me.
•
My eyes popped open.
I was alone. Collapsed on the floor of my private chambers, sweat pouring off me. My chest heaved as if every breath might be my last. Ukrae, I could barely breathe.
My heart also thudded too loud in my ears. I fucking shook from the strength of that memory. Almost like the millennial was watched away and it was happening right now.
The Moonmirror was black now, its glow gone. How long had passed? How long was I dragged back there?
Gods. I ran a shaking hand over my face, squeezing my eyes shut until stars pricked the darkness, but the memory stayed. Everything was still too goddamn clear, dammit.
I slammed the back of my head against the wall, pain splintering through my skull. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
So I drove it back, again and again, until all I could breathe, all I could feel, was the present agony. I slapped my face once, twice, again and again, until I lost count.
Slowly, the ghost of the past receded. The memory dulled, leaving only the battering I was inflicting on my skull and cheek.
Ah, the oldest trick in the book still works like magic, I see. Using present pain to smother past ones.
Not wanting to take any chances, I allowed time slipped away as I continued my assault on myself. Thud, thud, thud of my head against the wall, and the sharp smack, smack, smack of my palm on my cheek.
I even went as far as making music. Thud, smack, thud, smack, balancing the rhythm out.
And only when I was in such blinding physical pain that I just know everything else had gone away, only then did I stop.
I was right. My inside had gone still, the memories hidden way beneath the pain. The fist crushing my chest had finally eased.
I assessed myself. My cheek was swollen, throbbing a mean one, and my head continued to drum on its own with a giant headache, but at least the whirling inside had quieted. Definitely worth it.
The back of my neck felt wet and I knew I must have split something open. But that was fine. It was nothing that would not heal.
It'd been centuries since the flashes came this strong, Leaning my head back on the wall, I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes in the darkness.
Fucking Baevera Eldareth.
I should have ended her the moment she stepped back into my life.
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