Oriana hated the look on Garren’s face. Pity.
Yes, her father was a tyrant, but she wanted no pity. She had willingly agreed to her current situation in order to finally free herself from him.
Whereas Orrick embraced the part of their father that churned within him, Oriana suppressed it. And she had been successful at suppressing it for thousands of years, even since the decimation of the halflings. Where she and her father had single-handedly slaughtered each and every one of the half Gods. It was then that she realized the true hunger and power of her bloodlust. It was unstoppable; when it was unleashed, it left nothing in its wake but death and decay. So, she had locked it down until it was nothing more than a low rumbling growl, like a sleeping lion that, with one wrong move, would pounce, transforming into a beast of snapping fangs and shredding claws.
If it hadn’t been for the wretched curse, she may have been able to keep the bloodlust at bay, slumbering contentedly for another millennia or two. But as soon as those words had spilled free of Anthes’s lips, set into motion from the core of his power, her control was gone.
“I was born with my father’s thirst for death,” she began. “But my mother’s love for life and beauty. As you can imagine, the two don’t exactly mesh well together. My entire existence has been a struggle, a constant war battling deep within. I hated the bloodlust; it was like a stranger taking up residence in my body, constantly tearing through me for control. My father knew this. He resented that I did not embrace the bloodlust–the part of me that was him. He wanted me to destroy worlds, wipe out entire nations by his side. He wanted me to be his right hand, but I refused to let that part of me reign free. I didn't want any of it. I don’t want to be a goddess, an eternal being with these powers of destruction. I wish to be mortal.”
“So he cursed you,” Garren whispered.
She nodded. “What you saw in the forest, that was my bloodlust. What you see now, this is the rest of me, the good of me. During the full moon, I completely transform. The curse has divided my two consciences into fully separate beings. When the bloodlust takes over, I am helpless, unable to stop it.”
“How many years has it been?” he inquired, voice sullen from all that she had just dropped into his lap.
“Over six centuries.”
“Will you tell me the curse? Do you remember the words of it?”
She almost laughed out loud. She had permanently etched those words into her mind centuries ago. Oriana recited it for him word for word.
“In the cover of night’s celestial glow,
A lust for blood left hidden will grow.
Two halves at war, broken apart,
Each vying for command over the heart.
The weakness of man your only satiation,
A single choice made will be your salvation.
When the power of crimson reigns free ten times,
Only one can survive and take over the mind.”
She watched as Garren mulled over the words. “And there is truly no way to break it? Nothing that your own power can do to stop it?”
“I have tried all I could think of. This”–she motioned to the Phantom Wood behind them–“is all I could do to help ease it. To keep the monster within me at bay.”
“The forest is your doing, then?”
“Yes. When I was first cursed, I awoke just outside of Sardorf. My bloodlust had ravaged its way all the way to this town, and I woke up surrounded by bodies. At the time, I didn’t understand what my father had done to me. Had no idea what it would cause me to do every month. Looking back, I think I was just in denial, trying to ignore what I knew would happen. So, I created a life for myself here in the town, hoping that I would be able to make it a new home and start over. But when the next full moon came and I turned into the bloodlust once again, I understood. It was right there in the words of the curse all along. ‘In cover of night’s celestial glow, a lust for blood left hidden will grow.’ I knew that it would happen every month and that my bloodlust would grow tired of the town, migrating through Svakland, feeding on every town until no one was left. I had to contain it.”
“So you created the forest, enchanting it to be a cage for your demon?”
“Yes, and it worked. I realized that once I transformed into my bloodlust consciousness, I no longer had the ability to use my enchantment magic. It seems that by separating the two into their own bodily forms, Anthes separated the power of those consciences as well. So, on the next full moon, the monster couldn’t find its way out of the forest. It roamed, enraged, through an ever-changing maze of mist and trees. Except, Anthes made it so I couldn’t escape the curse, not truly, anyway. On the blood moon, my forest no longer worked, and the monster broke free to feed on the innocent lives of Sardorf, and it has continued to do so every seventy-five years until, ‘the power of crimson reigns free ten times’. On the tenth blood moon, I will be no more. The bloodlust will be all that is left.”
When Garren said nothing in response, she added, “In a way, Anthes did me a favor by separating the two. I no longer have that internal battle. The struggle of right and wrong, good and evil warring between themselves in my mind. But it cost these people and me greatly and will continue to cost me for the rest of eternity.”
Garren remained quiet for a long time until he released his hand from hers and pushed himself up without a word, heading into the forest.
“Garren?” Oriana scrambled to follow him. “Are you alright?”
He just continued to walk–faster than she could keep up with–until he came to an abrupt halt and looked around at the thick, menacing trees.
“Garren–” she began, but he held up a hand to silence her.
