/=|= The Lost Raven =|=\
16
"The Chains of Desire and the Shackles of Addiction"
Nightmare's massive arm snatched the weak mortal from Tira's grasp. The girl hopped back with a gulp, watching with wide eyes (still unable to get over that freaky eye in the middle of his sword.) Holding the limp body of Arthur in one hand, Nightmare drove Soul Edge into his heart with one vicious thrust that left Arthur impaled. His mouth opened to scream, but only blood came out. His whole body tensed, his arms reached invisible hand holds, his fingers closing into tight fists but, alas, they grasped only air. No miracle. No salvation.
His blood ran down the massive blade. The veins in Soul Edge's massive eye pulsated. The eye itself seemed to react, looking straight at Arthur with a freakishly intense gaze (made doubly weird coming from only one eye, and infinitely weird given the eye was on a sword.) His body began shriveling, and the boiling blood gave off a faint aura. And like that, Arthur was no more. His soul consumed. His body an empty shell impaled on Soul Edge. With a massive swing, Nightmare discarded the worthless remains of a human being. His unrecognizable body flew clear across the court yard and over the cliff to disappear to the darkness below. Forever.
Nightmare gestured to the gypsy corpses littering the courtyard. "Dispose of them," he commanded, and departed deeper into Ostriensberg.
"Yes, master," Tira said, bowing her head, wearily (but promptly) beginning her assignment . . . until Nightmare had disappeared down the corridor at which point she sighed heavily rolled her eyes and mumbled to herself, "beat up a little girl, threw her off a cliff. Beat up her dad, threw him off a cliff. Beat up a bunch of gypsies, dragged them up here. Beat up that guy. No, Tira, you haven't done enough today. Why don't you drag all these bodies over to the cliff and throw them over? Oof, this one is heavy."
One by one, she pulled them over and rolled them into the black abyss. She pulled something in her back, slipped on one of the underwater stones and twisted her ankle (hurting her wrist too, stopping the fall), not to mention exhausted herself performing these midnight cleanup duties. Her friends chirped at her from above, and gave her encouragement. She answered back, but she shooed them away when they tried to land. "No, not with all the weird things I've seen," she warned, "better keep a safe distance. I dunno what I'd do if anything happened to you guys."
And so, barely able to stay up, she weakly and stiffly walked with a very heavy limp through the corridors of Ostriensberg. Alone. Not in too much of a hurry to find her new master, she didn't bother calling out, opting to quietly search. Nevertheless, it didn't take long to find him in the throne room, which, despite all logic, remained amazingly well preserved. Stained glass windows still intact. Decorative (and probably expensive) furniture still occupying the room. How it survived the destruction and ruin the rest of the castle suffered? How it eluded thieves and looters? She had no idea. Maybe a curse? She didn't believe in curses, but then again she didn't believe in Soul Edge two hours ago either.
Nightmare sat upon the thrown, Soul Edge laid across his lap. The strange being gazed at her as she entered and commanded, "come."
Weakly, Tira made her way over, somehow sensing impatience on his alien and emotionless face. She tried to pick up her pace, but a sudden devastating pang of pain floored her and it became a struggle just to stand back up and continue on.
"Pathetic human." Nightmare commented.
Oh bite me.
She finally made it to the steps in front of the throne, and all but collapsed into a kneeling position.
"Come here," he gestured for her to come to kneel beside the throne.
Swearing in her mind, Tira crawled up the three steps and obediently seated herself next to her master. Nightmare reached over and, with a surprisingly gentle and caressing touch, stroked Tira's hair. She gulped. Somehow this made her more nervous than being choked. A big freaky thing with a monstrous arm? Those are supposed to smash stuff and choke little girls. But this? This was just creepy!
Ew, I hope he doesn't expect … he's not trying to … ew!
As if answering her thoughts, Nightmare took a fistful of her hair. Tira gulped (again). And he lead her to the eye of Soul Edge, bent the girl over the sword and brought her face point blank with that massive orb of ultimate abominations.
Help.
The eye gazed at her. Glared at her. Peered through her soul. Consumed her like a vast pit that she'd been thrown into. She couldn't look away. Everywhere she looked, Soul Edge looked back at her. She felt its essence, its presence, its soul envelop her . . . and then it spoke to her. Whispering in the back of her mind. Inaudible at first, but then the whispers grew louder. Caressing her into surrender. Persuading her to let go. Encouraging her to abandon herself. Seducing her to embrace Soul Edge and its power, its mysteries, and its temptations.
Tira felt her defenses abandon her one by one. Her will, her sense of logic, her sense of pride, her sense of survival. Staring into that massive eye, Tira felt all of her defenses stripped away from her. Guided by the will of the sword, she closed her eyes, opened her mouth . . . and licked the eye of Soul Edge. And as her tongue travelled across that smooth moist surface, absorbing its tears she felt a strange euphoria enter her. Reaching the eyelid, Tira retracted the taste organ, returned to her starting point, and licked the giant eyeball again. For a second time, the euphoria came, travelling deeper into her. Her head buzzed with sensations, thoughts, and feelings not unlike hallucinations. Like her being started to leave her to become something better. Approaching the end once again, Tira backtracked, placed her tongue upon the moist eye a third time, and consumed more of those beautiful tears. The euphoria dripped deeper and deeper down her throat with every journey across the eye. It touched her heart, her lungs, she felt it spread through her veins, and throughout her body.
She felt … renewed.
Tira shuddered from a bizarre inexplicable pleasure. She had no idea why she began this bizarre ritual, and now she couldn't stop herself. As strange, creepy, and outright disgusting as it seemed, she didn't care. She wanted this feeling. She needed this feeling. She couldn't live without this sensation.
And all the while, Nightmare stroked his slave's hair. Every lap of her tongue, every tear she consumed, every moment of contact tightened the noose of hopeless addiction. Her anxiety, her uncertainty, her doubts would now melt away. Now that she'd tasted Soul Edge's tears. She would put up with any abuse, she would obey any command, she would do anything. Anything! So she could return to this spot right here and drink in Soul Edge's tears. She wanted them. She needed them.
Shackled and imprisoned by a physiological addiction, her body belonged to him now with no hope of escape.
She belonged to him. Forever.
Writer's Note:
For this story, I imagine Tira looking like my version of her from SCIV's editor. Link to My Tira pictures located in my profile. (I would link here, but won't let me for some reason.)