Jurian's Curse.


It's a tearing pain this time.

The likes of Jurian has never thought imaginable.

The aggressive magic rips through him.

It is worse than watching Miryam leave him for the second time.

Pain like this should not be realistically possible, but it is, she made it possible.

Amarantha has saved the best torture for the captured mortal general Jurian. It is given carefully, methodically, and she reminds how "special" this round will be compared to the marathon of nights she prepared for him. Jurian wouldn't call it special, more likely she has found something truly terrible, and her glowing smile of a demoness tells him just that.

Letta, van dur nata, en la una letta orgamura.

Jurian feels it sink in.

The curse is like silver-tipped serpents washing through him, breaking and remaking his bone from the inside out, his skin vibrating from the invisible flames that ripple right under the surface, metal being stuck under his fingernails, and it is unbearable to think of nothing but the pain.

He is on his knees and hands, like a dog, and then his spine gives out again, and he falls in his own blood, vomit, and other undesirable things that his body released upon the trauma.

"Give in Jurian," the Deceiver whispers coyly in his ear, the red-haired demoness, enjoying his grunts and moans more than she lets in. "Just give in to the pain. Scream for me."

The pain abates for a moment, just a moment, and it is enough for him to speak.

"You know what," Jurian tempts her fire, and knowing nothing can be worse than this. "Killing Clythia was the best thing I ever did."

Her ferocious growls give way to a beating from her soft hands.

Jurian tells her so, just to be satisfied again when she calls for reinforcement instead of getting the job done herself.

Then it is her vindictive human-hating guards that have him, and then the dark beasts that have no inhibitions, tearing off his legs, feeding off the parts of him they found delicious, and yet it is worth saying so, taunting Amarantha, getting her to know how pathetic she really is. Every awful and utterly horrific moment is worth it, and Amarantha sees it, of course she did, attune with Jurian's pain to the point that she is everywhere, and that is the worse part. Having her there through it all… a reminder that meeting and fucking Clythia was one of the worse decisions he made.

"Save an eye and a finger. Burn the rest."

That was is when Jurian feels dread.

Why would she need that?

Amarantha's cruel smile takes over his clouding vision. The one that promises worse things to come, and he knows there are worse things than torture, a thousand moments of torture are nothing compared to what she has in store for him.

He wakes not to his body, not to the pain, but something worse.

Jurian wakes with the flip of his eye, just the one, and can see Amarantha hovering over him, caressing his eye, and the enjoyment pulsing from her sickening, sickening doesn't even cover what she says next.

"Now we will never be parted Jurian." She cackles, "doesn't that just sound wonderful."

All Jurian can do is blink.

Blink, when all he wants to do is roar at her, tell her fucken ass to go to worst of hells, blink, blink, that the day she dies will not be enough for what waits for her in the other world. But all he can do is blink, hate, blink, curse her, blink, dread that he will be stuck in this prison, blink, and some weak part of himself mourns the release his body once gave him, and the release that his death might have given him. Release is so far now. Jurian dreads having no rest from her sadism, and having to be forced to see it, to be stuck with her always. She knows this. The demoness knows, and he can't do a single thing about it.

"We will be together Jurian," she promises him in a vicious whisper. "Always."

Jurian can only blink.

He blinks at the Fae bitch that got him.