Burnt Truth

 

As I stood before them, an electrifying tension filled the air, for both the Queen and the King fixed their penetrating gazes upon me with an intensity that surpassed any mere curiosity. At that moment, their eyes conveyed a message, one that spoke of an overwhelming significance assigned to my presence.

 

However, a subtle shift resided within their stares, an undercurrent of emotions that set them apart from ordinary intrigue.

 

The Queen, known for her regal poise, displayed an uncharacteristic uneasiness, her once serene countenance now betraying traces of anxiety. In her eyes, a flickering fear danced, hinting at a deeper vulnerability.

 

As for the King, a figure renowned for his unyielding authority, a touch of insidious yearning glimmered within his gaze. Together, their eyes became windows to a clandestine realm where fear and desire intertwined. It became clear to me that my very presence had summoned forth this dread and longing, stripping away their façades to expose the intricate tapestry of their true selves.

 

My stance faltered in their presence, for their scrutinizing gazes unnerved me to the core. The intensity with which they observed me sent ripples of apprehension through my being. Their penetrating stares bore into my soul, leaving me feeling unsettled and vulnerable as if every fiber of my being was under their relentless examination.

 

With a gentle smile adorning her countenance, the Hara drew near, reaching out to touch my cheek in a tender gesture. Her hand made contact, and as her warm palm met my skin, she embarked on a careful scrutiny of my eyes. Her intent examination delved deep, as if she sought to unravel the very essence of my being through the windows to my soul.

 

"Fascinating," she remarked, her interest momentarily piqued, before redirecting her focus away from me. Her attention shifted towards the Queen, and with a curious tone, she posed a question, "Do her eyes bear any distinction?"

 

"It is indeed different. But it's not as close as what the High Priestess once had. Her eyes were chilling, and cold, and full of void. But here, this young lady's eyes...they're...alive."

 

"How dare you bring this monster to my palace, Simon?" The King spat at my master. He also added, "Wasn't she the one who disturbed that night? This must not reach the ears of the others. She will surely die for this. This is very careless of you, Simon."

 

"Your Majesty, that is what I beg of you. My bride is transitioning. Later on, I will not be able to hide her from the people. Lady Catherine already knew of her existence."

 

The Queen shook her head, not knowing what to say. To lighten the situation, the Hara took my hand and pledged, "I will promise half of my army to protect her if there are any means of threat. You know how to summon me, don't you?"

 

I opened my lips, stuttering, "I don't know..."

 

"You will know. You...and I are part of the first magic in this world. I was created with it. And so shall you be."

 

Silently, I conveyed my gratitude to her through a wordless gesture of the mouth. The Queen, though burdened by anxiety evident in her eyes, offered a reassuring confirmation of her assistance.

 

It remained unclear whether this was the sole purpose for which my lord had brought me to this juncture, or if there were deeper motivations at play. The true extent of it all eluded my understanding entirely.

 

That night, I found myself led to our chamber ahead of Lord Minir, surprised by the arrangement of sharing a single room in this vast and age-old palace. It sparked a thought within me—had the palace truly run out of available chambers?

 

Lord Minir, left behind as the Queen and King sought a private audience with him, added another layer of curiosity. It was apparent that my presence didn't inspire enough trust for them to freely discuss matters of politics and the various concerns they faced.

 

Although my knowledge of ruling a kingdom was lacking, the King's characterization of me as a monster failed to provoke even the slightest offense within me. Perhaps, it was because I had grown accustomed to such labels throughout my entire existence that being branded as such no longer held any power to disturb me.

 

Reclining on my bed, contemplation consumed me, fixating on their varied responses to my presence. Did fear grip them? Was it pure terror that coursed through their veins? It seemed as if my very existence posed a threat, if only momentarily, shaking the foundations of their composure.

 

Despite the audaciousness of the thought, I found it invigorating, as it propelled a surge of confidence within me. The way the eyes of those who had once subjected me to humiliation now reflected a sense of profound inferiority only served to bolster my self-assurance.

 

The door swung open, emitting a distinct creaking sound, followed by the hushed footsteps that discreetly infiltrated the room. With my back turned, a sigh escaped my lips, tinged with a hint of weariness. Lord Minir, do I burden you so greatly?

 

"Master?" I whispered, breaking the silence, only to be met with an eerie absence of a response from the mysterious figure lurking in the shadows. If it were indeed Lord Minir, he would have surely acknowledged his presence. Yet, an unfamiliar scent permeated the air, one that stirred a sense of familiarity within me.

 

 

In an instant, my eyes blinked, and the world transformed around me. The tranquil setting vanished, replaced by a scene of vulnerability as I lay upon the bed, a chilling knife positioned menacingly against my throat.

 

Hovering above me, her presence filled with malicious intent, was Lady Catherine, her sharp dagger poised to rend my flesh apart with a single swift motion.

 

As her menacing gaze fixed upon me, my eyes widened in disbelief. Lady Catherine's once-normal features seemed to distort, her fangs elongating into the hungered visage of the most voracious vampire I had ever encountered.

 

Within mere seconds, the room was infiltrated by the arrival of two shadowy figures, their hands gripping indistinct sharp objects, rendered blurry by the veil of darkness.

 

"L-Lady Catherine..." I stammered, my voice quivering as an overwhelming sense of dread consumed me. Thoughts scattered, leaving only the all-encompassing grip of fear clutching at the depths of my soul.

 

"Hello, blood slave," she spat out with disdain, her words oozing with a repulsion that made me feel like the most repugnant creature to ever exist.

 

"What... What are you doing?" I managed to utter, determined not to let my tears betray my profound fear.

 

"Seize her," Lady Catherine commanded the men, and they forcefully restrained me against the bed.

 

I fought fervently, struggling to break free from their grip. The fear that had gripped me before now paled in comparison to the defiance welling up within me.

 

I felt a newfound bravery, a sense of safety and security. It wasn't because I knew my master would come to rescue me, but rather because I realized that, no matter what Lady Catherine intended, she could never become someone like me.

 

"What... What are you going to do?" I forced my voice to sound courageous, despite the imminent danger I faced.

 

Lady Catherine straightened her dress, handing the knife to the other man before planting a kiss on his cheek. Then, she headed towards the door.

 

"Kill her," she commanded, her words cutting through the air mercilessly. Yet, in that moment, as she glanced back at me with a flicker of fear in her eyes, it became clear how deeply threatened they were by my existence.

 

I had been a slave my entire life, but now, I refused to be that fragile, helpless girl who constantly needed saving. I could save myself. I would save myself.

 

From that point on, not even Lady Catherine or anyone else in the kingdom would ever be able to inflict harm upon me again.

 

The man from my right side ran his fingers across my pale skin as he said, "What a beauty. "

 

"Indeed. It's not worth taking care of the dead now. She will feel much better alive."

 

In that moment, a surge of emotions enveloped me, an intense concoction of anger, fear, and an insatiable longing for justice. It awakened a raw sense of vitality within me, an overwhelming desire to protect myself and never again succumb to weakness.

 

This profound sentiment eluded my control, yet it imbued me with an unwavering sense of power, as if I were capable of single-handedly navigating through the ordeal that lay before me. Fixing my gaze upon the flickering flame of the candle on my bedside table, I closed my eyes, allowing the strange hands of those men to roam across my body.

 

As they attempted to restrain me, an unyielding determination surged within me. Gripping onto their limbs, my mind fixated solely on the flame, and in an instant, their eyes turned pitch black, their very beings consumed by the fire that raged from within.

 

They fell beside me, upon the bed, and onto the floor, their lifeless and charred forms testament to the power I had just unleashed. Embracing myself, I comprehended the immense strength I had harnessed, acutely aware of the consequences and the vast implications it held.

 

The room became shrouded in a thick haze of smoke, carrying with it a putrid stench of burnt remnants. Uncertain of how to respond, I propelled myself away from the bed, distancing myself from the bewildering spectacle.

 

Yet, amidst the confusion, one undeniable truth emerged—when I glanced down at my hands, an ethereal blue light radiated from my palms, vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared. A profound emptiness engulfed me, leaving me devoid of any discernible emotions.

 

I directed my gaze towards the mirror before me, and there, staring back at me, was the reflection of the High Priestess.

 

I know what I am. And that, I fear.