I close my eyes.
There, in the black of my mind, a vision forms: an iron door, set deep in a wall of stone. The air simmers with heat, the kind of heat that eats into bones and boils marrow. I feel all over again the revulsion that door inspires, and part of me wants to turn on heel and flee. Instead, I stand my ground as the door slowly opens.
A cloud of pungent stink belches from the dark within—the stink of suffering. Of putrid ruin and despair. For a moment, I cannot make my feet carry me forward. But I do not let hesitation rule me for long. Hesitation walks hand in hand with fear, and fear is a luxury I gave up long ago. Ducking my head, I thrust a torch before me through that opening. The light flares, casting a red glow across the shadow-cast space, revealing the secrets that chamber holds in its heart.
My brother hangs from the wall.
Chains grip his wrists, holding his arms spread above his head, while a large fetter wraps his waist. His head sags low so that I cannot see his face. He seems at first not to be aware of meand the torch I carry, as though the darkness in which he dwells has seeped so deep into his soul, he can no longer fathom the presence of light.
I take him in slowly, every last detail. It has been years now since my goddess allowed me to look upon him. Not since the last time I failed her, when she dragged him forth from his cell, ripped the thumb from his left hand, and ate it in front of me while he screamed. It wasn’t the first time she exacted payment in my brother’s flesh for my debts.
Though I do not speak, a spasm seems to pass through my brother’s body. Slowly, he lifts his head, revealing gaping eye sockets. His eyes she took long ago. Back when I first entered into her service and struggled to be all she asked of me. I could not save them. But I learned. Gods damn me, I learned.
“Valtar?” Arun says, his voice raw and low. “Is that you?” He never fails to recognize me somehow. A flicker of fear crosses his tortured face. Then he rolls his head a little from side to side and breathes out a long sigh. “It’s been a while.”
I nod, though he cannot see me.
“And how have you been?” he continues, his tone oddly congenial. “Keeping out of trouble, I trust?”
My teeth grind, but I utter no sound.
“I guessed you must be doing well. After all, I’ve not lost any limbs or hunks of flesh in quite some time. Testimony to your success and favor in Mhoryga’s eyes.”
A sick twist tightens my gut. He’s right—it’s been years now since I failed my goddess. When she sends me on her missions of death, I return triumphant with whatever token she demands: heads, hands, tongues, eyes. All of these I set before her feet, paying the price of my brother’s existence.
Arun shakes his head slowly. “It must be an important taskindeed, if she’s let you see me again after all this time. Who are you meant to kill? That pirate queen who keeps getting in the way of the dracori land invasion? Or perhaps the High King of Belanor himself, Alderin Aumanus…she’s got quite a vendetta against him, or so rumors have it.” He grins awfully, revealing the gaps in his teeth from various extractions. “My guards are terrible gossips, you know. But it makes the time pass down here in the dark.”
I hold my tongue, as I always do. There is nothing left to be said between us, only the promise I made all those years ago:I won’t let them kill you, Arun. I won’t let you die.
I may have been a child at the time, impotent and small. But I meant that vow with every fiber of my being, a solemn promise which came to encompass the entirety of my existence. I won’t let him die. If that means I myself must become something new, something dreadful, something damned, so be it. Arun would live. And I would know that at least somewhere, trapped in a dungeon, hidden in the dark, broken, battered, and bruised…some good yet remained in this hideous world.
“It’s the Dragon Princess,” my brother says abruptly, lifting his head a little more. He has only one ear, the other long ago bitten off. He tilts it my way, listening for whatever revelations my breathing might offer. “Isn’t it? The one Alderin stole as an egg. I’ve been thinking about that—she’s got to be twenty or twenty-three perhaps by now, if I’ve kept track of the years correctly. Old enough to survive manifestation.” He twists the chains over his head, shifting in vain effort to find a more comfortable position. “So let me guess: You’re meant to kill her and bring her heart back to Mhoryga. And as reward for your obedience…what? Is she promising to let me go at last?” A bitter laugh rumbles in hischest. “You cannot possibly think she’ll give up her leverage over you so easily.”
Arun was always a bit too knowing for his own good. I cross my arms over my breast.
With a heavy sigh, he shakes his head. “You can’t do it. You know you can’t, don’t you?” He sags to whatever extent his chains will allow. “It isn’t worth it, brother. This existence of mine is no life. It would be better if I burned.” He turns his head to one side, breathing in deeply. “I’ll admit, I doubt there’s any real hope of the young princess rivaling Mhoryga. It’s a fool’s hope at best, and yet…” Here he leans forward as though trying to catch my gaze with his empty sockets. “I would rather die in flame than be the reason that hope is stricken from the world.”
I look at him, long and silent. I contemplate the digits missing from both hands, the right foot severed entirely, the left crushed and mangled. That hideous face, ruined over years of torture and abuse. A broken wreck of a man.
And yet nothing Mhoryga has done to him can break his spirit. Even now, down here in the depths of her dark stronghold, in this chamber of festering despair, that spirit shines. Noble, great. Uncaged by the physical form to which it is tied.
My father was a great man. My brother is his equal; a worthy successor to the bold king who stood in the face of hellfire and never faltered.
I am not a great man. I am a coward. I cannot bear to exist in this world without my brother in it. If I was brave enough, I would die alongside him and end both our suffering…but in death, we will be forever separated. For Eidolo, the Great Spirit, will surely gather so worthy a soul as Arun’s to the glory of Paradise.
As for my soul? I am dracori: branded and reborn. I am bound for the fires of Dracora, there to burn for all eternity.
So I will fight. To keep him in this world, to keep us together for a little longer. I will fight to make sure my goddess inflicts no more harm on his body. I will fight to the end for the chance to free him. If that means I must kill yet again, so be it.
I turn to go, my footsteps brisk as though in flight. Even as I reach the doorway, escaping from that cell, Arun’s voice calls after my retreating back: “Let me burn, Valtar! Do not serve her any longer; do not let yourself be made into her weapon. Just let me burn!”
The cell door slams fast behind me.
I open myeyes. The strands of cursed memory break away, depositing me back in this claustrophobic present, crouched in the darkness above my prey. I gaze down through the lattice at the girl where she sleeps—deeply drugged, I suspect, judging by the rhythm of her breaths.
The dull ember glow plays across her features. Features I recognize. She is not an exact replica of her mother. It is almost as though a master artist was given a description and painted what he was told without having seen the original. But the resemblance is strong. My goddess is present in the face of her daughter. Beautiful, strange…demonic.
And yet, in this girl’s features, all that should be hard and harsh and cruel is rendered soft, delicate. Innocent even. Who could ever imagine a creature like her standing up to the flame of Mhoryga?
