I looked at the worn, tanned, and scarred skin of 'Mark,' feeling nothing in the moment. I watched as something moved beneath the surface of his flesh it reminded me of Frederick, and what had happened to that poor man. My thoughts drifted to that group of mercenaries and whatever fate they met after escorting me. Realistically, they were probably all killed once they left down the other path in the city, but… I hoped they had found some way to carve out a better life elsewhere.
Looking back at Mark, I rolled my tongue across my teeth. Clenching my shoulder blade, I slowly began to shift my sword, little by little I'd need to keep their focus on my words instead of my hands, so I turned to the princess and for the first time, truly addressed as what I would say an equal to her. I was far past just living as a slave. I had already shown that. So why not speak like a freeman, and say what I truly thought?
"Does my action cut through to your dim little mind?" I asked, my tone like that used for a toddler. "Or would you need to join your family to finally understand?"
She looked at me and seemed to assume I was merely bantering with her. With a small nod and a step forward, she gently moved Mark aside to get a better view of me.
"Edric… I understand now. Your mind feeble as it was—was clouded, twisted to think ill of me. But fret not. This little outburst, and the unintended actions you've taken, can all be brushed aside. I can and will shape you into your full potential. So please, drop the sword and come here. No games. I forgive you… and I trust you'll use your mind to see the truth. I am your destiny."
I felt bile rise in my throat as I looked at her. What kind of head injury could she have suffered to make her like this? She'd always had… something for me, but I assumed it was purely physical. Maybe it was guilt or some repressed reaction to murdering her own family that was making her this desperate?
I wasn't sure. Her words confused me, her actions even more so. But ultimately, I was grateful. She was distracting herself better than I ever could have.
"Princess… I can't move closer with Mark in the way," I said, keeping my tone steady. "But you're right—I… I've seen the flaws in my own thinking through your words."
I tried to sound as sincere as possible.
It seemed that Mark was content to let her do as she pleased, so long as she wasn't in immediate danger. If she got too close—close enough that he couldn't react in time…
"Princess, I wouldn't do that… I know your plans. And now is far too soon."
Mark didn't look at her as he spoke, but she seemed instinctively inclined to listen.
"You're… You're right," she muttered, hesitation flickering across her features. "Now is too soon."
She turned to me again, her tone more clinical than emotional now.
"Disable him… but only enough for transport. Nothing permanent."
Then, to Mark, she added with a smile, "Oh, and you're free to draw on our bond if you need to. I'll allow it."
With that, she stepped back toward the exit, her guards moving in to shield her in the absence of her attendant.
Mark's face began to shift, his features warping grotesquely as something tore beneath the surface. His expression never changed—he kept smiling.
With a sickening crack, his teeth spilled from his mouth like shattered porcelain. Two bumps pushed up beneath his scalp, stretching the skin until it tore. It looked as though his skeleton was growing faster than his flesh could keep up. Then came the sound of tearing—wet and violent—as the meat peeled away in chunks.
What stood in his place was something monstrous.
A dark red figure emerged, only slightly taller than me, but far more imposing. Two straight horns jutted from either side of its skull, like spears forged from bone. Its eyes burned with an unholy yellow glow, and its mouth was lined with long, needle-like teeth that curled into a grin too wide to be human.
Its body was lean, every muscle carved with unnatural perfection full of sharp and hard angles as if it was like a statue sculpted for cruelty.
I was momentarily stunned by the transformation, from the wiry old man I once trusted to this abyss-born thing. That hesitation cost me.
Before I could react, its fist slammed into my chest.
The impact lifted me off the ground, hurling both me and my sword to the far end of the chamber.
Feeling a tight pressure in my chest, I parted my lips and blood poured out alongside a vile stream of vomit. I tried to shift, hoping to stop the choking, but every movement lit my body on fire. Agony. Pure and simple.
The clinking of metal footsteps forced my eyes upward. I saw red skin, sharp hooves, and Mark's twisted form approaching. Panic forced my body into motion, and I scrambled backward awkwardly landing on my back.
"What's wrong, champion? You look tired. Was killing Kushim that hard?" His voice curled with mockery. "I thought I softened him up nicely for you… maybe I should've diced him instead. Oh well."
The anger surged, but it wasn't enough. My body refused to move. I tried to will myself forward with rage alone, but I had reached the limit.
Mark stepped in close, grabbed me by the neck, and lifted me like a doll. Then, with one hand, he seized the base of my wing.
He looked into my eyes and smiled. Then frowned.
"Edric, I'm getting bored, you know. I might bend the princess's orders just a bit. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, you being fully intact isn't necessary."
Then I felt the cartilage snapping under pressure.
White-hot pain shot through my spine. My head whipped back, and a guttural cry tore from my throat. Blood sprayed from my mouth.
"Hey! You're alive! I was wondering for a second there… you looked dead. Glad I'm not talking to myself." He chuckled. "Here. I know you can't use your sword right now, so use this."
He forced my fingers open and shoved his shiv into my palm.
"Now stab me. Come on, angel boy."
I didn't need more encouragement.
I pushed my body beyond what it should've been able to do, forcing it to act. The shiv struck Mark's skin and shattered instantly.
With that I felt no pain. No triumph. No hope. Just exhaustion.
So when his body suddenly flew across the room and slammed into the stone wall, I didn't even flinch. I just watched.
It wasn't only him as more massive stones rained down, smashing through walls and furniture like paper. The room was crumbling.
"Mark… let us go. While I want my prize, I've waited this long. What's a little longer?" The princess was already moving, though she paused to give me one last lingering look. "Besides, we still have the other thing to collect."
Mark took a moment to rise. His chest was now discolored from the impact, the bruising stark against his red skin but otherwise, he looked unharmed. He muttered something under his breath and turned to follow her, not even sparing me another glance.