“It’s because of the strange mix of the magic, the Aurum, and myself that makes it hard for them to determine what you truly are,” Emrys explains.
“Let's visit an auction; there are usually plenty of humans there. Also, Harlot, my apologies for what you are about to witness; it will be horrendous, all of this is, but Verdant Fields does have the most humans roaming around. If we are going to find this… person… this would be the place.”
Emrys is not exaggerating; the moment we enter the compounds, my senses get overwhelmed. The disgusting, intoxicating air inside. The warmth of all the mingling bodies pressing into each other. The sounds, laughter, wails, and shouting all blend into a sound of pure chaos. All of it feels suffocating, making it hard to breathe, and I cling onto Emrys, holding him tightly. Sensing my unease, he casts his shadows around me, creating an aura where I can breathe, and the sound softens, taking away my lightheadedness. He wraps his arms around me, ensuring no one presses or walks against me. His growls are enough to make creatures shuffle away from us.
The imagery I see comes straight from my worst nightmares. The floor is covered in mud, hay, and blood, which makes a crunching sound as I step on it with my leather boots. The area is dimly lit, casting shadows everywhere, giving some comfort. Humans are hanging upside down, as if they are shot game, buckets underneath them, as they are bled dry, their cries ignored. A man, I assume, wearing a black leather mask and donning a leather apron, like an executioner, operating a station where he cuts up human body parts, grinds them to a pulp, and serves them in glasses. Women are passed around, savagely raped, no one cares about their tears, and some are murdered on the spot in a frenzy of bloodlust as they are assaulted. Those who survive, will die later from the wounds they suffer, their lives worthless. I see a person being burned alive amid laughing spectators; the smell of burning flesh thankfully did not enter the air within the shadows, the screams nothing more than a muffled sound.
A crowd shouts in the middle of a fighting area, urging those in the ring to make a move. As we get closer, I notice that there are two vampires, both holding a rattling metal chain with a collared human on the end. A leash. They kick them like stray dogs, forcing them to fight. I avert my eyes from the sight. On the side, a large stage, I can only assume for the auction that will take place. Humans. Emrys had told me about it earlier. In this forsaken place, humans are only worth as much as a darkling is willing to pay for one. Here, they can bid on human flesh and do with it whatever they want once they’ve won. This place is solely set up for the destruction of my own kind, and the disturbing part is that my kind helped build it and aided it, earned from it. I see the hungry gazes of the night creatures, and humans alike, before the understanding settles that I am not on their menu,ever. Emrys appears more violent, vicious, and even more intimidating than he already is, ready to attack whoeverlets their sight linger too long on me as we wander around. His shadows coil around us, murderous and protective. Every being in this place knows that one wrong move will result in the burning pits of Hell, a territory that is his.
The auction is as nightmarish as all the other activities surrounding us. Perhaps not in violence, but it shows once more how worthless subservient humans are to those fueled by the darkness. A product to use and abuse to their liking, not one creature telling them to stop. I’m sure those living in Valorya look down on the vampires and witches living here, but not for their heinous acts. Men, women, and children are sold for a few coins, their value less than that of cattle. If they are lucky, they stay alive and serve as slaves, or are sent off to the breeding farms. A decline in humans would mean a decrease in the food and magic supplies; the farms ensure my kind continues to exist and serve.
Emrys explains to me that there are breeding and blood farms on the outskirts of Verdant Fields. Both farms serve as sources of food and magic. The breeding farms consist primarily of young teenage females, who are forced to become pregnant repeatedly; the younger, the better, as fertility decreases with age. Unfertile male and female humans are disposed of at the blood farms immediately. The only positive thing about the breeding farm is that you are well-fed, which ensures your health.
At the blood farms, hundreds of humans, or perhaps thousands, are chained up, row after row, needles in their arms getting their blood tapped to the maximum, then kicked back to their cages to recover. A new batch of humans is hooked on the machinery, and the ordeal will repeat itself until they either die, because too much blood is taken, or they are sold off when they’re considered too old, to function as food or organ donorsfor rituals for the Blood Witches. Those offered at the auctions come primarily from these farms; they end up in Verdant Fields for various reasons, as silly as pissing a guard off at a farm, the decision can be made to sell you off. Some might do it on purpose, hoping for a better life, or simply death. Others who end up being auctioned off are abducted from small villages or humans who have traveled and are intercepted by these beasts, brought here.
If my cursed soulmate is here, finding joy in these sorts of acts, I’ll cut him open myself and leave him to bleed to death. The thought that my forced soulmate could be here despises me. I refuse to believe I will find him here, that any of these abominable beings can be worthy of my love, even if it is pretend. The city and its inhabitants are gut-churning.
The longer we stay here, the sicker I feel. Everywhere I look, there is despair and violence. None of the darklings seem to be impacted by my presence, but perhaps it’s because of Emrys’s shadows shielding me. Part of me knows something is wrong, but I refuse to give it any thought, being in this place.
It’s but a mere brush of my skin against the skin of a vampire, the cold seeping into my body. The beautiful creature glances at me, retreating its arm, a scowl on its face—my touch nothing more than an irritation, not a hint of pain on its features. I have a hard time breathing. Why didn’t it fall on the floor, crying out? Why is its flesh still intact? Why can all of them stand to be near me?
I need to leave.Please, Emrys, take me out of here; I can’t stand it anymore. I’m begging you.
The moment we return to the castle, relief washes over me as the safety of the building envelops me. I finally feel free to speak my mind and express the worry I experienced being in Verdant Fields. Emrys beats me to it, sorrow engraved on his face as he says.
“The magic is waning. I noticed it as we moved through the group of creatures and humans. I saw the sneers on their faces, the disgust, but being near you was not as bothersome as it is supposed to be.”
“I accidentally touched one, a vampire. It scowled at me, but its flesh did not melt under my touch as it was supposed to. It frightened me, Emrys. What does this mean?”
He doesn’t know either; it most likely has to do with the fact that Fynn has found his human soulmate, and I am still searching for mine. For Fynn to find Jodelle was a crossing of fates, one that is forcibly destined, unlike Emrys’s and mine. The curse has led her straight into the woods surrounding the fortress, hiding her, a secret, like only nature can, a world in itself. Which makes me wonder whether the curse has a preference for Fynn? Maybe it had led me straight to Emrys as it wanted me to fail? No, that makes no sense; it’s supposed to be neutral. I want to believe that our love was meant to findone another; curse or not, our destiny was inevitable—my storm and his shadows, completing each other. As long as we can, we will deepen our bond, cement it, melt our bodies into one every night, and lay our souls bare to witness.
We are supposed to travel to Eldririn today to seek out the blood farms, in hopes of finding my soulmate perhaps there. The farms there are run by humans rather than vampires, making them more civilized than those in Verdant Fields, but we visit Valorya instead. A traveling party arrived the day before, seeking a place to stay—an odd occasion, to say the least. It piques Emrys’s attention, as it concerns humans. He suspects the citizens of Valorya don’t care much about them, as humans are harmless to them.
When we arrive, the square is covered in decaying carcasses, some bodies already returning to the earth, displaying blood-stained bones. Next to it, fresh corpses, the metallic scent of blood still in the air, the maimed bodies cannot be older than a few hours. A shiver runs down my spine as I trail through the puddles of scarlet life essence; my steps leave bloody footprints on the cobblestones as we continue to walk. Emrys seems unfazed by it all, stepping through the ruin without batting aneye, especially at the blood spilled on the ground, as his hand is on the small of my back, guiding me. I glance at him, his calm demeanor. The scent of blood does not affect him because of our regular feeding sessions.
After feeding on me last night, his eyes returned to their usual dark gray color this morning. It’s another way for us to strengthen our bond, me allowing him to drink my blood, and I taking some of his. Strangely, the taste is divine in a way I never experienced before; it is a flavor I savor.
My mother is relieved to see me, yet strangely reluctant to question me about my whereabouts. Possibly afraid I'll disappear like I did before.
“Where do all these people come from?” I ask my mother. “It’s like a herd of sheep walking straight into the wolf's den. It’s so strange. It’s like new ones die each passing day.”
Mother sags on the bed, her shoulders slumping. Tears fall silently on her hands.
“It’s my fault. It’s because I brought both of you here. People are drawn to you two; subconsciously, they are led here. For these predators, there is no easier prey. The prey is literally sitting in the open, unable to fight back.”
Mother is crying loudly now, and I’m unsure whether this is the right time to address her concerns or ask her to elaborate on her statement. The thought of bluntly asking for the books crosses my mind, but her tears could be a trap—a ruse to gauge how much I truly know. I need to read more than the few pages I laid eyes on; I want to understand my heritage, and the idea that I might never know if Fynn wins this race is one of distress. I have a feeling that those books will reveal the scratched-out name—the one who started this all, the one responsible for this longing hunger for despair and death.
“Where’s Fynn?” I ask instead.
“Out with that girl, that traveling party that arrived, they are some sort of fair,” she says. “Harlot, we need to put that stray down. She and Fynn, it’s not healthy. This is not how it’s supposed to happen. I want her gone.”
“You want her dead?” I frown at my mother.
“No, no, of course not, I just… she needs to leave Valorya and never come back. Never set foot here again. Go back to that forest of hers.”
My mother’s words sink in, and I wonder if Fynn would commit suicide if Jodelle were to die or be killed. I suppress a smile at the thought of his suffering. I suppose he will be able to live with the pain of a severed soulmate. I don’t know if her death would translate to his as well. My thoughts travel deeper into the darkness, and I’m unable to stop them. Would it hurt worse ifIwere the one to kill her? If I rip out his heart? Mother wants her gone; perhaps this way, I can kill two birds with one stone. Would fate grant me such an opportunity?
I mull over what it’d mean if I am able to get the upper hand in this silent battle he and I are having. The magic will be mine, and Fynn will find a tragic death from heartbreak, or at least, I hope. To kill her, I will need to get close to her and befriend her.Earning her trust and her affection can be another key to my own survival in this wicked game.
