Chapter 26
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, but Kyra was my idea.
When the black orb deposits Kyra and Jambarl on the soil of her home, the sorceress takes one look around and knows at once that something has changed dramatically. And not for the better.
She is standing in the city's center, the hulking pirate waiting next to her as Law had ordered only moments before. The buildings around them should be spotless, perfect, richly built to denote the rank of those living within them. They should not look like the fractured ruins of a warzone with black scorch marks dotting their surfaces. They should not have enormous holes blown out of them, boulder-sized chunks of rubble strewn upon the ground. There is not a person in sight; the entire area appears completely deserted.
Obviously something has happened here since Kyra last visited.
She encases herself and her guard in a protective bubble for the sake of caution, not wanting the quiet Jambarl to get hurt because he has been instructed to keep company with her on this errand. They have appeared right outside of the building that clearly should be the shaman's home, despite the awesome amount of damage and the crumbling state of the place. Kyra knows that the mansion sits in the exact center of Veneficus - which, according to the book about the mysterious Divine, is where the creature is buried. She will have to enter the house, will need to descend into the dungeons in which she was tortured for those three hellish months.
The fear in her gut is no small twinge.
"This is the place," she informs Jambarl quietly, glancing over at him while trying to work up the courage to go forward. "We have to go inside. I want to get to the lowest point in the building, so we'll... we'll have to head for the dungeons. Stay close to me, okay? My shield should protect us from just about anybody we run into, but I don't want to take any chances."
Jambarl nods, moving closer until his hand can settle on her shoulder. He looks down at her from his considerable height, rough features softening slightly. "All right?"
The mage knows that he can feel her trembling, his long fingers gently squeezing to offer comfort. She shakes her head, tries to summon a smile for him and fails miserably. "Not really. Let's get this over with, yeah? I want to leave as soon as possible; I hate this damn place."
The massive fellow nods once more, following close behind her as Kyra steps towards the wrecked building. His hand does not retract from her person, and she is extremely grateful for the reassuring touch. Thank the gods she doesn't have to do this alone. And thanks too that Jambarl holds no grudge against her for almost killing him way back when this particular mess started. Apparently the former pirate captain could forgive fellow crewmates. Other people... well, let's just say any Tenryubito he met should not rely on the threat of an Admiral to save them.
The doors to the shaman's mansion are blasted to pieces, white rubble amongst black. The two pirates pick their way through the wreckage, senses on high alert for any possible danger. At the moment there does not seem to be any; the building feels empty, deserted. Dust lies in a thick layer over everything, and Kyra wonders how long ago the place was trashed. Who did this? Surely not any of the villagers, who all worship that damn shaman and would never even consider going against him. Was it Merrick? Is the damage around the city's center the proof of his ire at Kyra's escape from his clutches nearly two years ago? She cannot know for sure without someone to question, and as they descend into the bowels of the mansion proper, it becomes clear that there is no one here to interrogate.
The skeletons they find along the way are proof enough of that.
They are strewn haphazardly along the corridors, piles of bones dressed in the decaying uniforms of the Proeliator troops. Others wear the ragged remains of dresses; probably the shaman's household servants. Kyra does not pause. She very much doubts that it is within her ability to return a skeleton to full health, and even if it were she would not do it for these people. Not after everything they allowed to happen to her in this hellish palace.
She wonders if the shaman's bones are lying around here somewhere. If anyone in this damn building deserved to die, it was that decrepit old bastard.
The dungeons are pitch black, the torches set in brackets on the walls all burned out. Jambarl digs into his pocket and produces matches. Several minutes and much cursing later finds the pair edging cautiously forward, the flickering light of a flaming brand held high in the large man's hand to show them the way. The dank cells are all empty, the floor clear of debris. Apparently whatever fighting was done never came down this far. It looks exactly the same as it did the day Kyra escaped, minus the heavy coating of dust. She half expects Merrick to appear in the light's path to continue her torture as though no time has passed. The thought forces a shiver through her; Jambarl's grip on her shoulder tightens.
"What exactly are we looking for, Kyra?"
"Not sure," is the vague answer. Blue eyes scan the room, looking for any kind of clue that might point her in the right direction. Maybe a sign reading "Entrance to Divine's Burial Pit' or something of the sort. Since Fate hates her, it is no surprise when such help is not forthcoming. Moving into the center of the dungeons, her attention is caught and held by the appearance of a stone table.
Well, fuck. She could have gone the rest of her life without seeing that fucking thing again. The shackles once used to restrain her arms and feet are still there as well. For just a second, in the flickering firelight, Kyra can almost see herself strapped to that slab of rock. She is half-convinced she can feel Merrick's hands as he shoves his fingers through her skin to play with the bones of her ribs. The shaken sorceress takes an unconscious step away and collides with Jambarl, snapping her back to the present. She turns from that thrice-damned chunk of stone and tries to collect herself as her companion waits patiently with one warm hand still reassuringly firm on her shoulder.
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all," he offers in his low voice, giving her another gentle squeeze. "Maybe we ought to just go back to the captain. Nobody would think less of you for not being able to handle returning to this place; we all saw what kind of condition you were in when you came back to the crew last time. You don't have to do this."
"No," Kyra croaks before giving herself a shake and clearing her throat. "No. I'm not leaving yet. I want to do this. Just... bear with me, okay? I'll try not to take too long."
Squaring her shoulders, the Demon Witch spins around and marches up to the stone slab. After only the barest of hesitations, she hoists herself up and sits upon the table, facing Jambarl and stiff as a body in rigor mortis. Nothing happens; no one appears out of thin air to grab her, Merrick does not materialize to torture her. There is only Jambarl in the dank chamber. Some of the tension drains out of her, and Kyra relaxes ever-so-slightly. "Well that was anticlimactic."
The most physically imposing of the Heart Pirates snorts his agreement. "So what now?"
She beckons for him to come closer. When he does so, Kyra manipulates her powers so that only Jambarl is covered in the protective encasing, which is hovering only inches from his skin. The big man gives her a most displeased look. "Captain Law is not going to like this, you know."
Kyra shrugs. "I don't care. He's not here right now, and I'm more worried about your welfare than my own. You can tell him it was my fault. Anyway, I'm going to see how far down I can push my magic to get a picture of what might or might not be under us. If some kind of amazing creature is down there and my prodding pisses it off, I want you protected. I'm going to ignore arguments," she adds as he opens his mouth to do just that. "I don't want you hurt because Law wanted me to have a babysitter. Just deal with it, Jambarl."
She doesn't wait for his reply. Kyra folds her legs up so that she is sitting cross legged on the stone slab and grips her knees tightly, closing her eyes to concentrate on what she wants to do. Slowly, carefully, the witch lets the power within her uncoil so that she can sink it into the floor. This is something Law has taught her, actually; her magic can be used to detect the presence of living things if she concentrates hard enough. The Dark Doctor suddenly had the idea over a year ago, and then proceeded to order her to practice as often as possible. It came in handy a few times, what with ever-present sea monsters seeing a weird yellow thing floating around and trying to eat it. Kyra had suggested once that perhaps this was an indicator that painting the submarine yellow might have been a bad idea; Law had told her very politely to shut up.
Now she extends her focus deeper and deeper into the island of Veneficus, waiting for some hint that this little trip hasn't been a pointless waste of time. For a long moment it seems as though her search will be just that: fruitless, as all that is below them are worms and dirt. Damn; Law's going to be all smug and superior if Kyra shows up empty-handed. She can already hear the mocking tone he will use as he teases her for chasing a bedtime story.
And then her magic hits a wall.
Kyra jerks, nearly tumbling off the cold table as the impact reverberates through her body. That shouldn't be happening; she's never physically felt it before when her power collided with something. She shouldn't feel like the idiot who just ran into a sliding glass door. What is that? A wall several miles underground? The sorceress carefully extends her magic towards the obstruction, trying to get a picture of it.
LEAVE ME BE, HUMAN.
This time Kyra really does fall off the table. Her head is screaming in protest, an unbearable pressure tearing at her mind as a voice speaks from within.
And it is very angry.
YOU THINK TO TOY WITH ME, PATHETIC MORTAL? YOU WHOSE ANCESTORS DAMNED YOU WHEN THEY PLACED ME IN THIS PRISON? YOU OVERSTEP YOURSELF, HUMAN. LEAVE ME BE IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE.
Kyra can hear a voice that might be her own shrieking in agony, is vaguely aware that Jambarl has hold of her and is shaking the sorceress repeatedly. This is as nothing compared to the all-consuming agony rising from below. She tries to bring defensive magic to her aid, tries to block off the presence that has taken control of her consciousness. These attempts are swatted aside like flies.
WHY DO YOU TRY TO FLEE? YOU WISHED TO PLAY WITH ME, YES? THEN PLAY, HUMAN! HAVE A TASTE OF THE SUFFERING THAT SHALL ONE DAY BE YOUR DUE! REAP THE REWARDS OF YOUR ANCESTORS' CHOICES! FEEL THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL, THE LONELINESS OF MILLINEA OF ISOLATION! SUFFER AS I HAVE SUFFERED!
Pain of a level never before reached by man or magic. Nothing can compare to this torture. Kyra gags on her screams, magic exploding out to go beating against the underground walls in a desperate bid to offer protection. Jambarl is yelling, the floor beneath them is quaking. Something rips inside her and suddenly every memory she possesses is racing behind her eyelids.
WHAT GENERATION OF SCUM ARE YOU, HUMAN? HAS THE DODDERING MALE AT LAST PASSED ON? YOU WOULD BE HIS OFFSPRING THEN? IT IS A PLEASURE TO CAUSE YOU PAIN, WOMAN. YOUR FATHER BOUGHT MY WRATH FOR ALL HIS LINE A LONG TIME AGO.
Kyra is going to die. The thing inside her will tear everything apart until there is nothing left. It takes her memories and tosses them aside at will, flipping through the images of her life like a bored child with a picture book. Faces flash across her awareness to disappear a second later. Law; Aaron; the crew; Fire Fist Ace; Straw Hat Luffy; Lihla; the shaman; Merrick; Naomi. Kyra screams as the image of her mother's slack face hanging like a rubber mask in Merrick's hand freezes in the forefront of her mind. Gods, stop it, stop it, just fucking stop it!
Everything pauses.
You are not like the others.
Slowly, shaking with the aftereffects of the horrible experience she has just been subjected to, Kyra comes back to herself well enough to register that she is being held tightly against Jambarl's chest. They are on the floor of the shaman's dungeons, the lit torch sputtering at her left. Kyra's entire body feels as though she has just gotten her ass handed to her in a fight. Her eyesight is tinged red - there is blood coming from her tear ducts, as well as her nose and probably ears.
What is your name, little human? Speak and I shall hear you.
Kyra flinches, blurting out her name on command without a second thought if it will keep the thing from attacking again.
You are in the company of an outsider. Where is the one who calls himself shaman?
She has to swallow several times before trying to speak again, her voice trembling as much as the rest of her. "I-I... don't k-know. E-everybody's dead. I don't know h-how."
And what has led to the events of this day, human-Kyra? Why have you disturbed my slumber with your powers? Where do you come from, that you control such darkness while all usurpers of my domain may only command light?
"I'm from here," Kyra whispers hesitantly as Jambarl tightens his hold on her; she wonders for a moment if he can also hear this voice. "From Veneficus. I have the other powers, too. I... I read about you in a book. I wanted to see if the stories were true."
Stories? Is my suffering now used as a cause of entertainment? Did the traitors spread tales of their great victory over me? Did they confess how I mourned their choice? Have I been painted as a villain?
She is not given the opportunity to reply. The answer is yanked from her mind like an old band-aid. Through the renewed surge of pain she can feel the creature's satisfaction.
Adequate. You have said that you wished to see if those tales held truth. Now that you have received confirmation, what will you do, human-Kyra?
Hell if she knows. Kyra has no earthly idea what in Roger's name to do now. This... thing that speaks with her is frighteningly powerful. Just feeling its rage has put her in a state such as this, hardly able to twitch now that it has released her due to the lingering pain in what feels like every damn muscle in her body. What does it expect her to do? Let it out?
Do you not know what it is to be a prisoner as I am, human-Kyra? To face betrayal as I did? Will you leave me here to suffer alone for eternity?
Memories return as a result of this question. The shaman's 'disciplining' every time she made the smallest of mistakes as his apprentice. Sengoku handing her off to Merrick and his team. Spending all those years locked up in the labs. The three months in this very chamber enduring unspeakable horrors.
...Well, shit.
"What do you want me to do?"
Stand, human-Kyra, and place yourself once more atop my tomb.
The Demon Witch slowly climbs to her feet, knees still shaking like those of a newborn animal. Jambarl rises with her, ready to act as support should it be needed. She seats herself once more upon the stone slab, crossing her legs again and waiting to see what will happen next.
Brace yourself, little one.
And then Kyra is falling into darkness.
Kyra's heart is fluttering wildly in his hands.
Trafalgar Law sits alone in his room, hat on the desk in front of him and a pensive frown on his face. In his hands he holds the heart of his magician. The woman herself is currently absent, as he has allowed her to return to her home island in the company of his strongest fighter. Kyra has been most curious for the past week to see if those stories of some creature buried alive on her island were true.
Judging by her heart rate, the Dark Doctor thinks it safe to assume she has found something.
He grips the pulsing organ lightly, pondering the situation. Perhaps allowing Kyra to go back to Veneficus was a mistake. She had assured him that the chances of Rear Admiral Merrick still being present on the island are slim to none. She had sworn that no one else she might run into will give her any trouble if she needs to kill them. Law has sent Jambarl with her as added insurance, brushing off her adamant protests. Kyra is a Heart Pirate, and Heart Pirates do not go into enemy territory alone.
The Surgeon of Death strokes gentle fingers over his magician's heart and tries to ignore the uneasy tension in his gut. He would have liked to go with Kyra himself, but had been loath to leave the rest of the crew waiting for him in this dangerous ocean. He is therefore stuck here waiting for her to return, sitting idly while his woman puts herself in danger.
Law detests waiting.
Everything around her is pitch black, and Kyra is terrified.
Calm yourself, human-Kyra. I shall not harm you.
Yeah, sure. That's real assuring coming from the thing that just tore her mind apart and then put it back together. She can't see a damn thing, it is extremely difficult to breathe, and she has been separated from Jambarl. This is just fucking fantastic.
Something - are those feathers? - brushes against her arm. The sorceress jerks backwards, wrapping dark magic around her in a close shield as she shies away from whatever that is. It follows, going right through her protection in a way only Law should be able to pull off, softness wiping gently over her face before moving down. More of the feathery things insert themselves behind her back, what feels like a freaking wing curling around to draw her forward.
Come closer, little one. Let me view you.
Kyra immediately starts to struggle, attempting to duck under the limb pushing her and flinging both arms out in search of a wall. Her fingers hit moist soil, reminding the mage that she is underground. Fuck. How is she going to get the hell out of here? She does not have time to dwell on this question, as something is pressing up against her back and what she's positive is a snout is currently sniffing her hair.
You are young for a human. Your memories led me to believe that you had seen more years. You have known much suffering, human-Kyra. It has stunted your control of these powers. I will rectify this matter.
What the hell does that mean? Kyra tries to shrink further away from the thing, tries to block its voice from her mind.
Why is the fear so strong in you? I have said that you need not expect further harm from me. Why did you come here, human-Kyra? Was it not your intention to free me if your storybooks were correct? Why then do you tremble so? It is your purpose to free me, as I told those who placed me in this coffin of earth and fear so long ago. You will guide me to the light of the sun, little one, and I shall reap my vengeance at long last.
One day a child will be born who shall be gifted with the true scope of my powers! It is this child who shall return the order of this land to its proper state, and they shall lift me up from my prison to take vengeance against your descendants!
No... fucking... way.
Those feather things touch her all over, pushing gently until her spine connects with something warm and... furry. It rumbles against her, the snout in her hair still sniffing away as though her scent is some intoxicating fragrance.
Guide me, Kyra.
It's dropped the human part.
Guide me to light and warmth and freedom. Free me, and I shall gift you with your dreams. I shall lay the world at your feet. Only free me, and all shall be yours, little one.
"H-how... how the hell do I guide you anywhere?" the overwhelmed sorceress croaks, holding perfectly still as the soft things brush ever-so-lightly over her face and torso. "How do we get out of here? What do you expect me to do?"
Only think, little mortal. Think of freedom. Think of the outside world. Think of where I long to be. I shall do the rest.
Okay... that doesn't sound too difficult. Kyra concentrates on the dungeons she has just recently vacated, thinks of Jambarl's quiet support and comforting presence. She remembers the chill of the stone slab against her hands, the dank stench of the air in her nostrils.
That will do. Prepare yourself, Kyra.
A whirl of crushing pressure, soft feathers, an explosion of light, and Kyra finds herself sprawled out on top of Jambarl. The big man curses wildly as she scrambles off of him, whipping her head around in search of the thing that has come here with her. Blue eyes land on the destroyed rock table and every breath of air in her lungs evaporates.
How in the name of all the gods had her ancestors considered this... creature human? Or beautiful?
The... thing crouches in the rubble of the table, gigantic wings of deepest black tucked close to its back. Its legs are akin to those of a gorilla, covered in fur of multiple colors ranging from light red to sky blue to deep brown. Its torso is hidden beneath yet more fur of the purest white, while its arms and hands are composed of glittering silver scales like the flesh of a lizard. Lethally sharp claws cap each finger, and Kyra is abruptly thankful that those appendages have yet to touch her. A tail made up of alternating patches of fur and scales is wrapped loosely around one leg, the tip flickering slightly.
But it is the head that terrifies the Heart Pirates' magician more than anything else. It isn't the canine-like snout full of razor-sharp fangs, or the pointed green ears that swivel like a feline's. It's the eyes. Green orbs that stare directly at her from that hodgepodge collection of animalistic features.
The eyes of the Divine are human.
She throws up a shield to protect herself and her comrade before she remembers the fact that this thing can bypass her magic. There is no protection from it but to flee. She reaches over to grab Jambarl and get them the hell out of there, only to freezes when a cold nose is suddenly pressed into her cheek.
Thank you, Kyra. You have freed me. Now at long last I will to extract my revenge. You will accompany me.
Fuck, no, Kyra isn't going anywhere with this freak!
Its arms are abruptly embracing her, pressing the sorceress against its fur-covered chest and standing tall. Kyra thrashes about frantically in its hold, Jambarl jumping to his feet and lunging towards them. He bounces off of thin air with his fingers mere inches from grabbing her and is thrown across the room to bash against a wall, sliding down to the floor in a heap. He does not rise again.
The outsider will remain here. He has no business in my vengeance. Hold tight to me, little one. We shall fly.
"Let go of me!" Kyra shouts, skin crawling from this monster's extreme proximity. "Get the fuck away from me! Let go! Let go!"
The Divine actually pauses, its grip loosening significantly. You are afraid? She can feel it rummaging around in her mind, replaying the last few minutes through her eyes. My appearance is not pleasing to you? I shall rectify the issue.
She is set back on her feet and released. Immediately Kyra hurtles across the room, throwing herself into a protective crouch in front of Jambarl's unconscious form. She can hear the pirate breathing, thank the gods, he's at least still alive. She covers her shaking hands with magic, ready to fight to the death to keep that thing across from her away from her crewmate. The creature does not seem the least bit offended. It begins to glow as though lit from within, the light becoming more and more intense until Kyra has to close her eyes to keep from being blinded. She ducks her head and waits, tense and afraid, wondering what the Divine will do if she tries to teleport out of here again.
"Gaze upon me now, Kyra. My features will be most pleasing, I assure you. I have no wish to frighten you. You have freed me; I shall bring you great pleasure in thanks." It takes a moment before the sorceress realizes that the voice is no long inside her head, but rather in the air of the dungeons. The monster is actually speaking to her. Kyra shifts nervously before hesitantly cracking open one eye and risking a glance.
She immediately wishes she hadn't.
A man is standing proudly where the Divine had been crouching seconds before. He is bare but for a length of white cloth wrapped around his hips to preserve his modesty. His skin is darker than any Kyra can ever remember seeing, like the chocolate Neil uses occasionally in his fancy desserts. He is beautiful in the most primal sense of the word, his body begging to be touched even as it warns of extreme danger to any foolish enough to get too close. Those impossibly dark wings are spread wide like a bird preening for attention. His face is perfection, every inch of it formed to a godlike cast. He smiles at her, revealing even rows of perfect white teeth.
Kyra thinks this form even more terrible than the last, simply because it draws her to the man-not-a-man as though they were a pair of magnets. It is a physical and mental struggle not to go to him. She reaches back and grabs hold of one of Jambarl's limp arms, horrified by her body's urge to touch the Divine.
"You are frightened still?" That flawless head tips to the side in evident confusion. "Why do you cower away from me? Come to me, little one. Let your fingers explore my flesh as they please. You have nothing to fear. I will not allow harm to befall you, mortal child. Your enemies shall be my own from this day forth. I shall present their hearts to you as a gesture of my gratitude and affection. I shall take you to my breast and teach you the feelings of pleasure. Once I have cleansed this island, I shall give it to you as a gift. You will want for nothing under my care, that I promise you."
He moves towards the, slowly crossing the room until he kneels in front of her and lifts a perfect hand to touch her cheek. Kyra is frozen on the spot, fingers digging into Jambarl's arm so that she does not reach out in automatic response, trying desperately to work up the wherewithal to force her magic to get them out of here. She wants Law. She wants him now.
One powerful arm goes around her waist, gently tugging her unresisting form into the creature's muscular chest. Warm fingers pry free the death-grip on her comatose crewmate before the magnificent being tenderly slides his other arm under her knees and stands, cradling Kyra like a newlywed bride. The girl's hands are instantly bunched in the fabric of her shirt, as she absolutely refuses to allow them to caress the flawless expanse of skin hovering so close. She tries to find her voice, to demand the Divine release her to leave safely with Jambarl right this instant. No sound escapes her parted lips as a gentle kiss is pressed to her forehead.
"I shall hold you secure, Kyra. Do not fear. Enjoy the experience of flight."
And with that they are airborne.
Fear leaps into Kyra's gut - they're going to hit the fucking ceiling! Shit, why isn't he stopping! They're going to crash, they're going to -!
They pass through the stone into the next level of the house, phasing through floors on their way to the surface like air brushing through fabric. In no time at all the Divine is flying out of the wrecked doors of the shaman's mansion and hovering in the air over the city's center, beating his powerful wings lazily to keep them aloft. Two more beats and he lowers his feet to the ground, folding those onyx wings to his back and gently setting Kyra down. She is shaking, her legs buckling immediately to collapse none-too-gently on her behind. The creature looks down at this, a rather indulgent expression dancing upon his features.
"You will learn to enjoy it, little one. But for now there is business to attend to."
The Divine steps past her, head moving from side to side very slowly as he takes in the view. The center is just as deserted as it had been when Kyra and Jambarl arrived, and the liberated entity cocks his head to the side once more.
"They believe hiding will save them," he informs Kyra without looking at her, his wings once again snapping out to their full length. "They think to avoid the punishment that is their due! FOOLS!"
The air thickens dramatically as waves of pitch black magic burst from the Divine, shooting out to blanket everything within sight. He throws his arms wide as well, bellowing in the ancient language as more and more power pours out of him before Kyra's petrified eyes.
"ADEO MIHI, MISELLUS HUMANUS! EXORIOR QUOD SUSCIPIO ULTIO ULTIONIS VOS HEREDITAS EX VESTRI PRODITOR PROIORES!" the creature roars.
Come to me, pathetic humans! Come forth and receive the punishment you inherited from your traitorous forefathers!
Kyra can do nothing but watch, open-mouthed with shock, as bodies begin floating through the air towards them, pulled from whatever meager shelter they previously sought. The islanders are screaming, terrified at this turn of events, calling out to each other frantically as they rush ever closer to the awesome being standing straight and proud in the ruins of the city center. Men, women, children; old and young; sick and healthy; rich and poor. In due time every single living native on the island has been deposited at the feet of the Divine.
He speaks to them, using the common tongue and easily making his voice heard over the screams and sobs of the terrified mob.
"YOU, THE DESCENDENTS OF THOSE WHO BETRAYED ME, SHALL NOW PAY THE BLOOD THAT IS OWED! DIE, AND KNOW AS YOU ENTER THE AFTERLIFE THAT THE ACTIONS OF YOUR ANCESTORS ARE TO BLAME FOR YOUR SUFFERING!"
Right then the world explodes into screams of agony and a hot shower of blood. Kyra curls in on herself, hides her face in her knees and smashes both palms over her ears in a useless attempt to stop the sounds. Oh gods, what has she done? What manner of thing has she unleashed on the earth?
Hands touch her, drawing the disbelieving pirate up and pressing her back against a slick chest. Her arms are grasped at the elbows and tugged down, allowing the blood-curling screams that rend the air around her full voice.
"Why do you hide, little one? Revel in their suffering. These scum allowed your childhood to be one of pain and humiliation. They would relish your death were your positions reversed. Do not pity them. Scorn them; drink their pain and enjoy its flavor."
"KYRA! KYRA, PLEASE!"
Her eyes snap open at the sound of that voice, scanning the writhing mass of bodies in search of the source.
"PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! SAVE US! WE'RE YOUR FAMILY! HELP US!"
Jericho. Her cousin, somewhere out there in the throng of screaming people, possibly with her uncle, dying. This living force of vengeance holding her so tenderly is killing the last of her family.
"Your family, is it? Do you wish to see them before they perish, little one? I shall bring them to you. You may kill them yourself in retribution for their betrayal."
How does he know about that? He must have seen it in the memories when he was rifling through her brain earlier. She has no more time to wonder; two figures are rising up out of the mob and floating towards them.
Oh, gods.
Her uncle Malachi is little more than an empty shell - Kyra can see this with one glance into his empty brown eyes. He is horribly thin, looking much as she did after those three months of captivity in the building behind her. He gazes back at her blankly, showing no reaction to their impromptu reunion or the terrible screams from those dying at his back.
Jericho is another matter altogether. He thrashes about madly in midair, reaching out in a vain attempt to grab her. His eyes are wild, spittle flying from his mouth as he screams at her.
"SAVE US! DON'T LET HIM KILL US, PLEASE! WE'RE YOUR FAMILY!"
"Ah, yes," the Divine purrs, his muscular arms tightening slightly around her as he whispers in her ear. "The cousin who sold you to your enemies. I can see into his mind, little Kyra. He despises you. He and his father returned to this place to liberate you and the mother you love so much, only to find her alone with no idea where you could be found. They were dragged before that disgusting fool who dubbed himself a shaman, and when your mother was killed in front of him he wished that it was you who was dying instead. They took his father as insurance for his cooperation and sent him off to find you. It infuriates him that you survived the torture heaped upon you by the shaman and the outsider. He would kill you himself were he able. He is no family to you, little one. I will be your family now."
Kyra's mind is reeling, trying to take in all that the creature is telling her. Jericho hates her. He watched her mother die. He wants Kyra dead. She looks at her cousin, holds his gaze with her own, silently begging him to tell her that the Divine is lying.
He does not.
"SHE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!" he bellows furiously, screaming into her face with hate plain in his eyes. "AND WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE ALL NEEDED YOU? YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE FOR US! IT'S YOUR FAULT MY DAD'S LIKE THIS! THAT THING'S RIGHT, YOU FUCKING BITCH! I HATE YOU! I WISH YOU WERE DEAD!"
Blood suddenly floods from Jericho's mouth, flecking Kyra's cheeks owing to how close they are. Her eyes widen as her cousin begins to choke on the scarlet liquid, his hands clawing frantically at his throat as the mage is gently pulled backwards several steps.
"He will suffer as is his due, both in inheritance for his ancestors' treachery and his own betrayal of you. His death will be slow and painful, Kyra, that I promise you."
She can't watch this. She can't take any more. She wants it all to just stop. Where the fuck is Law when she needs him? She watches a child's skin peel itself from his body out of the corner of her eye and tries hard not to vomit. She wants out of here. Kyra jerks out of the monster's gentle hold and spins around him, sprinting towards the decimated mansion in search of Jambarl.
They're getting the hell off of this island, now.
Where are you going, little one? You would leave me?
Kyra ignores the voice, racing down the stairs one level at a time, desperate to get away.
You may do so if you wish. I will find you shortly. Know that you have my eternal gratitude, Kyra. The world is yours for the asking. I am as your slave.
She doesn't want a fucking slave. She'd be thrilled never to see that goddamn thing ever again. Kyra jumps the last ten steps down to the dungeon and bolts across the length of the room, where Jambarl is stirring feebly from his crumpled position next to the wall. She wastes no time with words, just grabs hold of the large pirate and teleports them back to Law's sub, the echo of the Divine's parting words reverberating in her mind.
Goodbye for now, little one. I look forward to our next meeting. Await me in your dreams.
Law looks up sharply as the door to his bedroom bursts open, ready to reprimand whichever of his men has dared to enter without knocking. His words die in his throat at the sight of a blood-soaked Kyra dragging the much-large Jambarl after her, an expression of absolute terror stamped across her face. He is up and at her side in an instant, not prepared when she all but collapses into him and begins to cry. Shocked, the Surgeon of Death switches his gaze over to Jambarl where the fighter leans heavily against the doorframe.
"What happened?" he demands, grip on his magician tightening at the glazed look in his subordinate's eyes. Jambarl slowly shakes his head as Bepo rushes in, barely catching the quasi-giant as he abruptly pitches to the side.
"Dunno, Captain," he slurrs out, his mouth apparently not wanting to cooperate. "Got thrown 'gainst a wall. Knocked out."
Which probably means he has a concussion. Law will have to monitor him, keep him in the infirmary and make sure he doesn't fall asleep. He lowers his eyes to the shaking female trying to crawl her way into his chest cavity and gives her a light shake.
"Kyra," the surgeon calls sternly, waiting until she flinches and meets his gaze before continuing. There is dried blood under her eyes and ears, fresh blood all over her clothing and hair. "Are you hurt? Is any of this blood yours?"
She shakes her head, hands scrabbling at the fabric of his hoodie. She is trembling violently, her blue eyes wide and frightened. Law keeps hold of her biceps, locking their gazes locked so that she will focus on him. "Where did it come from? What happened to Jambarl?"
"It - it wanted him to stay out of the way," his magician blurts out, speaking so fast Law can barely distinguish individual words. "It slaughtered them all. All of the islanders. They're all dead, it killed them all right in front of me. It wanted me to watch, it thought I'd enjoy it. It wants to thank me."
"What is it?" Law demands calmly, moving one hand up to her neck and feeling her pulse. It is pounding much too fast, her adrenaline well above the norm. "Why does it want to thank you?"
Tears are sliding down her face, mixing with the blood and dripping off of her chin to further stain her ruined shirt. "The Divine. From the books. It's real."
"And you found it?" he guesses, wiping at the scarlet tears with his thumb. "You set it free?"
"Yeah," is the chocked response. Kyra suddenly lurches forward, burying her head in his chest as she shakes with sobs. "Oh fuck, Law, I let that thing out! It killed everybody! I watched it, I watched them die!"
The Dark Doctor could honestly care less about the dead islanders. His magician is safe and unharmed. Jambarl looks like he will be all right after a short observation period. That is all that concerns him, except -
"Where is this creature now?"
For a long moment Kyra does not answer. Law is just about to demand a reply when he hears her voice, low and watery and absolutely terrified.
"It said it would find me later. It's still on the island. It's going to come looking for me. It said it wants to show its gratitude."
Shit. That could be a problem. If this thing is strong enough to overcome Jambarl so easily and frightening enough to reduce his magician to such a state, then the peril it represents could make everything seen so far in the New World seem like a child's birthday party.
What a fine kettle of fish Kyra has dumped them all into this time.
A/N: Please review. Beta'd by Tomas the Betrayer.