Starkeeper of the Fractured Crown

There was only one light hanging from the ceiling above her, blood crusting the walls, even a few bones scattered around. If Norella was brave enough to beat her own daughter, then this should be noproblem. She should be able to handle anything I threw at her.

But abusers were fucking cowards. They were weak. Pathetic. They were the scum of the earth and this one? This one was about to understand everysinglerumor she had ever heard about me. I had used a lot of magic too, so she would get me at half strength, maybe less, but it wouldn’t be like this forever. Once I had my strength back, she would know what it was like to anger a god. She would understand exactly why the world feared me.

She struggled against the restraints, her breathing labored, her eyes wide with fear as she searched. “Help!” she screamed, looking for a way out. “Help!”

I stepped out of the shadows, even my steps exhausted. “No one is going to help you.”

She gasped, her head whipping around, her hazel eyes locking with mine. She pulled at her restraints again. “Who are you? Where am I?”

I couldn’t even bring myself to give her a taunting smile. All I could see was her hand wrapped around the pan she was about to shove into myfuckinggirl. “Trick Michael and you are the woman who made a brave decision. Harming what’s mine?” I clicked my tongue as I came to a stop in front of her. “It was a bad choice.”

“What?” she breathed, her heart pounding, her fear filling the room. “Are you speaking of that bitch who stole my son? She deserved it.”

I waved my hand, a tray of human tools appearing beside her, causing her eyes to widen. “Did you know that she cataloged every single injury you gave her?” I asked, reaching for the pliers. “Every single one. She wasvery diligent, and I intend to maintain that diligence,” I informed her, a journal and ink appearing on a separate tray. “Out of respect, of course.”

Her panic grew as she fought and struggled, her eyes wild. “She’s no one. She’s not even my fucking daughter!” Norella cried as I walked up behind her. “Why do you care? Why does it matter what happens to her? Her own parents didn’t even want her!”

I pulled her head back until I could look her in the eyes again. “You’re not blood?” Well, that was an interesting development, and we were only thirty seconds in.

“No!” she screamed, staring at those pliers. “I found her in the woods when I was 19! I didn’t even want her, but I couldn’t leave her alone. She was just a baby. Please, please, don’t do this. Please.”

I felt nothing. No remorse, no sympathy, no anything. “Well, now that I know you’re not blood related, whatever worry I felt for her hating me for this is gone. Open up.”

She screamed.

My hand gripped her jaw as the other carefully slid the pliers into her mouth. It took no strength at all to rip out one of her teeth, blood immediately pouring from her mouth.

I was going to revel in this, I decided as I dropped the tooth to the ground with a click. I wanted to make her bleed. I wanted to make her scream until her throat was so shredded, she could never speak again.

My longest Session had been Cole’s father. I had been inexperienced then. Most of the time had been caused by trial and error, but this one? She washuman, so my goal was three weeks. Three weeks of sleep deprivation, starvation, torture. I was going to bleed this bitch dry, bring her back from the dead, and start all over again. Three weeks minimum, but I was going for an all time record.

“You shouldn’t have touched her,” I stated coldly, trading the pliers for a knife. I pointed the tip at her eye. “You shouldn’t have fucking touched her.”

She was already sobbing, the smell of piss meeting my nose. “Because you’ve put somesickclaim on her? On a fucking whore?”

She was so fucking weak.

I shook my head, although that was most of it. “Because she’s a person and she didn’t deserve that.” I slid the tip of the knife into her eye and twisted.

~~~

Kyra

I inhaled sharply, the fear slamming into me like a ton of bricks.

Without thought, I scrambled up, hearing a voice far off in the distance as the roaring grew in my ears.

Mark.

I had to get to Mark.

Pain screamed through me as I spun around, only to fall straight off a table onto the chairs and then tumble to the ground, the chairs coming with me.

I grunted in pain, my head pounding.

There was my name again. Spoken miles and miles away.

Breathing was difficult. Moving was impossible. “Mark,” I rasped, the world spinning as I grabbed the edge of the counter and forced myself up. I didn’t know how I was alive. Maybe I wasn’t.