Several hours earlier…
As the afternoon sun cast its golden glow over the snowy landscape, Narratha found herself being paraded through the dense forests of the village outskirts. Her trial at the hands of 'Mother Miranda' had condemned her to inhabit this frigid environment, asserting the expectation that she would somehow turn into the very same creatures that she had encountered upon her arrival here.
The fawn's body suffered greatly from its continuous exposure to the cold. With his hammer still locked against her back, wedged underneath her elbows, it felt like the tool was the sole reason she had managed to make it this far. Narratha could barely feel her hands and feet. The air acted like a flame, burning her skin with lifeless energy. Her garments, accustomed to Locwitary's hospitable weather, were unfit for such a place.
Her sword floated in the air before her, its tip pointed menacingly at her chest. It was a reminder of the control that she now lacked, as even her prized weapon was no longer hers to command. Her eyes would fixate on it during their walk. All she wanted was to be able to break free and plunge it into this loathsome man's throat.
"Ah! Damn it!" Narratha shouted as her sandaled feet dragged into a deep patch of snow, coating her wide thighs with the blistering cold fluff.
"Quit your whining," Heisenberg said as he pushed her forward. Narratha's protests were then drowned out by the howling of the wind. It was as if this entire world sought to punish her.
But despite the conditions around her, Narratha had found some hope in the fate that she had been sentenced to. Miranda had ordered that she be dropped off here. The fawn imagined that she would be deprived of her sword afterward, but the implication that she would soon be free of her shackles gave her the determination to not give up.
Wherever he was taking her, they should surely arrive there soon, she thought. They had been trekking through these woods for quite some time. The forest was vast, but it couldn't go on forever.
Heisenberg's humming began just as she started thinking about what her plan of escape would be. With the snap of his fingers, the hammer that guided Narratha had come to a halt. She gasped as soon as her body stopped, a wintery cloud forming outside of her mouth.
This should be it. Narratha eagerly awaited her release.
Approaching her with curiosity behind those dark glasses, Heisenberg inspected the Lycan scratch behind her back. It required him having to pull back part of that large, fur cape of hers—something that caused Narratha to pause and lock up.
"So, you've been in quite the fight, haven't you?" Heisenberg remarked with amusement. But Narratha did not say a word. Her mind could only think about what she would do once she was set free. The majority of her was tempted to lash out and try killing him, but the rational part of her just said to let things be.
She was a vengeful soul, but she knew when she was bested. There was no need to complicate an already dire situation.
A smirk pulled along his face. He spoke slowly, "Not bad…" Heisenberg let go of the cape, allowing it to fall back over Narratha's side. The redhead grunted as she pinched her brow, her eyes pressed shut with those teeth of hers bared. It only made him chuckle. "Still got a little bit of fight in you. I like that."
"Let me go," she muttered.
Glancing over his shoulder, Heisenberg bobbed his head with a short, repressed laugh before he pointed ahead. And just like that, the hammer was back to pushing Narratha forward. She responded with an even louder grunt, which evidenced the magnitude of her displeasure.
"How much farther?!" she demanded to know. Heisenberg did not address her question, but he did glance at her momentarily, wondering how someone in her position could still be acting like they had the luxury of getting answers. His silence only drove her toward more fury, but the cold snow did its job of simmering her emotional flame.
The pain was beginning to become too much for Narratha to even talk.
By the time they had made it to the edge of the forest, Narratha was shivering uncontrollably. Her freckled skin was pale, and her fingers and toes were white, while the skin around it had adopted a bluish/purple hue. Her teeth clattered faster than she could breathe, and the look in her eyes detailed just how defeated she felt.
When the hammer stopped again, she glanced forward, seeing a large building on a hill just up ahead.
It was surrounded by heaps of metal scraps. Piles of the material. She had never seen anything like it before.
"Where are you taking me?"
"We're going where I can keep a watchful eye on you," he declared. Heisenberg's laughter echoed through the icy air, his grin widening as he gazed at the uncertainty that she expressed. Fear was his greatest weapon, and he would do everything that he could to cultivate it.
...
The interior of Heisenberg's factory was a mess of cluttered metal shelves and desks, stacked with assorted papers and strange tools. As Heisenberg led Narratha deeper into his workshop, the scent of oil and steel thickened, filling the air with a dense musk. In the background, the rhythmic hum of distant engines and gears could be heard far behind the walls and below.
This place must have been so large, Narratha thought. Larger than it would have appeared on the outside.
As dreadful as it seemed, she was happy to at least be shielded from the unforgiving wind, but the temperature inside this room wasn't warm enough to stem the effects that the cold had subjected her body to. She was still so terribly numb, and it wouldn't get better without an intervention.
Sadly, Heisenberg did not look like he was in the business of caring for the wellbeing of others. Ironic, she figured, how they were one in the same in that regard.
The bearded man came to a stop just several more yards ahead, withdrawing the hammer that had held Narratha's shackled arms in place once they reached their destination. She felt the cuffs along her wrists and ankles snap at the chain, the sound of the shattered rings pinging on the ground like an eerie melody.
Stumbling forward, her bare feet and legs nearly lifeless from the exposure, Narratha fought to maintain her balance. The pain grew even worse when she was finally able to move. It didn't feel like she had legs anymore at all, and the sting instead had manifested at the seams of where her nerves were still active. She collapsed onto the ground like a sack of dirt, barely able to raise her arms and block her face before the impact.
Narratha yelped when she landed, and then a long groan followed as she shifted around slowly.
But before she could steady herself, Heisenberg's voice spoke out from above her. "Enough of this thing," he said as he tore the fur cape from Narratha's trembling form. She immediately felt the chill of the air land on her back. Her sleeveless vest only covered so much of her skin, and the wounds that she had endured radiated with a fierce vibration that somehow had just now reawakened.
But it wasn't the vicious touch of the cool air that startled her—it was the feeling of having her garment ripped away.
With a frantic glance, she mustered whatever strength she had to scramble forward, desperate to get away from him. The often-vocal killer kept her mouth shut as she directed all her concentration on gaining ground. She had not had her cape torn off in so long. Not since…
"Sit." Heisenberg snapped his fingers.
Before she could react, Narratha was lifted into the air, propelled across the room by an unseen force, only to realize that it was once again the rings of her shackles taking on a life of their own. The metal was driven by such force that her body stood no chance of putting up a fight. The swift motion yanked at her skin, threatening to slice her tissues apart at any given moment. With a strong thud, she landed atop a nearby chair, her body trembling once everything came to a stop. She tried to catch her breath, but as her lungs filled, her eyes reopened, and she witnessed more metal bindings swarming around her.
By the time she fully registered what was happening, the scrap had ensnared her wrists and ankles, binding them to the arms and legs of the seat. They coiled around one another, twisted beyond their original forms. The pieces were too thick to push against, and it seemed that one would have to be incredibly strong to bend them back.
That was the kind of strength that a fawn's magic may have been able to match, but there was no magic at Narratha's disposal. Not since that effort to even the fight with Cassandra in her favor. At the time, she believed that the cost was worth the reward, and indeed, it had been. But now? Now she was left with nothing, and while her abilities should have returned, there was no telling if her crossing of the barriers had somehow affected her body.
She shuddered to believe that she was back to square one, but back to square one she was.
Square one—of everything that started this dark path of hers.
Trapped and helpless, Narratha could only watch in terror as Heisenberg loomed over her, his gaze filled with a strange curiosity. She took note of that sinister smile that was still etched across his face. She had glimpsed those kinds of expressions before, and those were the faces that she would forever relive in her worst nightmares.
He reached down to pick up the fur cape that had been torn off, noting the stains of dried blood that streaked down its interior. His sights then set on her form, scanning her from head to toe. To him, it was her resilience that was to be admired, but to Narratha, his stare was interpreted as another thing entirely.
Panic surged through her veins as her mind became flooded with resurfaced trauma. Gasping for air, Narratha's eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of escape, but the walls seemed to close in around her, suffocating her to no end. Her breathing quickened in response, causing her chest to heave with a rising terror.
It was happening again, she thought.
"Please!" Narratha's tough shell cracked at that very instant. She had convinced herself of the worst scenario possible, plagued by demons so strong that no deity could ever banish them. "Don't do this to me!"
Heisenberg's patience wore thin as Narratha's screams pierced the air. He figured that she was just like all the others. Most of the villagers were so convinced of Mother Miranda's leadership that they followed her will like the worthless peons that he saw them as. But there were some that seemed to suddenly grasp the truth of how hopeless and meaningless their lives were at the end.
Outsiders, like her, were the worst.
They would buckle and shout, causing an uproar that could be heard throughout the halls of the lower levels. His projects downstairs would become responsive to the chaos, which only added to the noise that he despised so greatly. A thinking man like him demanded silence, and cries like hers only got in the way.
"Be quiet!" he shouted, seeking to stem her rising hysteria.
But his words only served to fuel her panic, sending her spiraling further into the depths of her own terror. Narratha had heard those same words spoken to her ten years ago. That group of poils, a name that described the humans of her world, had berated and taunted her during the assault inside that tent dwelling.
She remembered the massacre all too well, having offered herself as a token to avert further tragedy against the other fawns. But the price she would pay was worse than she could have imagined. Rocking back and forth in the chair that she sat in now, she could still feel their hands gripping her most intimate regions. The taste of their skin lingered on her tongue, having never left, even after so long.
She imagined that her present captor would do the same thing to her that they had done. The mere idea that he would strip her of the rest of her clothing and force himself upon her brought back the fear that she had long buried.
"Just kill me!" Narratha sobbed, whittled down to her most primal of emotions. In a flash, she had gone from the ferocious serial killer she was, to the same weak fawn that she felt like on that terrible afternoon. "I don't care if you prolong it, just… kill me."
Heisenberg raised a surprised eyebrow toward her. He still had not picked up on the truth as to why she was so scared, but his intuition kicked in. The man cared little for the well-being of his subjects, but his sadistic mind begged to uncover their plights. This woman's, in particular, were the most interesting.
He responded with a tone of joy, as he often did. "But we just got started!" It was a general statement. He wanted to feel her out some more. See how she would react.
With her heart pounding in her chest, Narratha turned her tear-streaked gaze to him, her eyes seeking to pierce his will. "Your sisters, or whoever they are, do they know?" she cried out, her voice rattling with a mixture of rage and despair. "Do they know what you would do to another woman? Do they take comfort in your presence, or do you keep that part of you a secret?"
Narratha whimpered as more tears rained down her freckled cheeks. She bowed her head with a furrowed brow to signify how helpless she felt. "Is that feeling so important to you? Is pleasure worth what I have to suffer?"
That was when Heisenberg finally realized what she had been going on about. He sighed, averting his eyes in a rare display of humanity. The man waved his gloved hand at her as he turned around, plucking a cigar off his desk to light up. The flame sparked, burning the front. He inhaled a deep puff, blowing it out at the ceiling before he looked back at her. "You've got it all wrong," he retorted. "I can promise you that I have no interest in your body for… those reasons."
He cleared his throat, cradling the cigar by the side of his face as he leaned against the edge of the table nearby. "You look strong," he complimented her, speaking slowly and methodically. It was a subtle approach, still laced with the slightest hint of a taunting tone, but one far removed from a predatory stance. "I'm just waiting for you to turn into a Lycan, and when that happens, I have a few tests that I need to run."
Heisenberg kicked his foot off the edge of the desk, pacing around the room. "Someone like you would do better in my research, compared to mindlessly wandering the forests."
It took Narratha a little while to settle down, her panic attack still raging deep inside. But she knew that if he wanted to rape her, he would have started already. When her breathing finally began to slow, she found herself able to speak more fluently. "Are you telling me the truth?"
"I choose my lies," he mused. "And when to, but this is not one of those times."
Narratha swallowed her distress, her heart still slamming into her sternum. Heisenberg placed his cigar back on the table, now eyeing the fur cape that he had torn off from her back. He could see how cold he was, concerned that she would soon undergo hypothermia if she did not get warm soon. The redhead would be a great candidate for the trials he had planned, but she was of no use to him in a broken state.
In an unexpected show of compassion, if it could be called that, Heisenberg draped the fur cape over Narratha, covering up her body and offering it some form of warmth. Her green eyes widened as they glanced upward at him, her face expressing her total disbelief. But nonetheless, she could not contain her gratitude for the mercy that he had shown her. Even if her fate was still grim, his choice to spare her some dignity in the end appealed to the fawn more than anything else.
She was no stranger to torturing someone who begged for her to stop. Enough lives had been ended at her hands, but the one thing that she never took away from her victims were their bodies. Her thin moral line ended there, but it was a line that was ingrained within her psyche.
"Thank you," Narratha said.
Heisenberg continued to pace around the room, his movements calculated as he sorted through his thoughts. "You should only have a few hours left before the infection takes hold," he remarked casually, dragging a chair over and taking a seat in front of her. He sat down on it and leaned back, placing his cigar into the corner of his mouth. "And when it does, I think everything I have been working on will almost be ready."
Castle Dimitrescu - Later that afternoon…
Daniela lounged on the couch, a glass of wine in hand, as she sat peacefully in the Main Hall. With the fireplace crackling nearby, her gaze fixed on the mesmerizing display of candles on top of the chandelier. The bright fixture was one that she had always admired ever since she was born, and seeing it hold strong throughout all these years brought a sense of joy to her heart. The warm glow of the flames bathed the room in a comforting yellow, which battled the fading sky outside the castle walls.
As she sipped her wine, the sanguine-rich beverage soothed her tongue with the metallic taste of blood. Daniela's thoughts drifted to the promise of spring, when the icy breath of winter would finally be gone and she and her siblings could venture out into the world beyond the castle walls once more and enjoy the beauty of nature. Sadly, the bitter season had only just begun, and it would be a few months before the outside temperature even got remotely close to hospitable for the three sisters.
Daniela's prized book lay beside her, waiting to be read while the wind sung its tune.
But her plans soon changed when a different melody began to play. A pair of footsteps caught her attention, and Daniela glanced up to see Luana and Sorina, Bela's trusted servants, passing by as they were in the middle of cleaning up and organizing the dining room table. "Good evening, Miss Daniela," they greeted her in unison, speaking with the kind of fear that was organic to the forced respect the Dimitrescu family demanded.
Daniela offered them a sly grin, her crimson lips curling as she toyed with the wine in her glass. Sorina trembled nervously under her gaze, while Luana maintained a composed demeanor, as was often the case.
Sorina was a frail young lady, freshly out of her teenage years, with rich dark hair and pronounced cheekbones, which only served to highlight just how skinny she was. The Dimitrescu daughters enjoyed her skitish ways, as she was by far the easiest maid to frighten in any given scenario. The basmele she was allowed to wear would sometimes be pulled forward to shield her eyes from what was around her. Cassandra hated the damn thing, but it was Bela's word above hers when it came to these two ladies, and so it stayed.
Luana couldn't have been more than a year or two older, but she acted like a leader, taking charge whenever orders were handed down to them. She was built like Delia—more filled out yet still slender, with rounded cheeks and equally circular eyes. The dirty blonde hair on the maid's head was always tied into a ponytail, and in some ways, she almost resembled Bela.
Cassandra never liked Luana, either, but the brunette seemed to just hate everyone. Daniela, on the other hand, admired her hard work. It only meant so much, but if Bela was happy, then so was she.
Sensing Sorina's discomfort, Luana took the initiative, stepping forward to address the redhead. "Would you like us to bring another bottle of wine, Miss Daniela?" she asked.
Daniela chuckled softly as she shook her head. "No," she replied, her voice lilting with amusement. "I am not quite the drunk that Cassandra is."
Setting her glass down, Daniela shifted on the couch, her movements slow as she rotated over, digging her knees into the cushions while her forearms leaned over the edge. "Come, sit with me," she urged, her tone playful, almost teasing in some ways. "Keep me company for a while."
Sorina gulped, her worries already taking hold of her, but Luana stepped forward to speak for her. "Forgive us, Miss Daniela," she said with caution. "But Miss Bela has instructed us to finish cleaning up the dishes."
The youngest daughter gave Luana an irritated glare, as if to tell her that she should reconsider her response. Not wanting to upset the redhead but also not wanting to go against Bela's orders, Luana strategized the best way to satisfy both ends.
"Sorina," Luana said, "you go finish up with the cleaning. I'll join Miss Daniela." There was nothing more that needed to be said before the young maid took off to escape the room, leaving her friend alone with the most psychotic of the trio.
With a steady breath, Luana approached Daniela cautiously, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. She only stayed there for a few seconds before that gloved hand patted the cushion between them, beckoning for the servant to move closer, which she did.
Despite the warmth of the fire nearby, a chill seemed to linger on Luana's skin as she sat beside the noblewoman.
"Thirsty?" Daniela offered the maid a sip of the wine she held; a small smile spread on her lips as her amber eyes gleamed at the young woman. But Luana knew all too well the origin of the wine, likely tainted with the blood of her former coworkers.
She also assumed that Daniela must have known that she knew, which made the gesture all the more sinister. With a respectful decline, Luana shook her head, her expression as neutral as she could force it to be. "Thank you, Miss Daniela, but it is yours."
A tense silence rose as Daniela's smile faltered slightly, thickening the air above them with the looming threat of reprisal. "Oh, Luana," she said softly. "I would hate to think you were disobeying me."
Those blue eyes widened at the comment, which turned the maid's emotionless face into an expression of urgency. "Of course not, Miss Daniela." Luana accepted the glass, reaching for it immediately. But before she could take hold of the chalice, Daniela stopped her by pulling it back.
"Allow me," she said, using her finger to press against her bottom lip and pull it down, instructing Luana to part hers. The redhead's grin stretched as she watched the young woman follow her orders.
She brought the glass up to Luana's lips as slowly as possible, making the maid notice every second that the action called for. When the rim of the cup was wedged between her teeth, Daniela tilted the glass, pouring a small amount of the mixture into Luana's mouth.
The taste of blood was instant when it reached her tongue. As composed as Luana tried to be, she could not prevent her eyelids from squinting at the scent. The blonde felt like her stomach would rise up and evacuate at any second, but she fought to repress the urge. She waited until Daniela withdrew the glass before she swallowed it down, pressing her lips as soon as it went down her throat.
As Luana recovered, Daniela took a sip for herself, downing the contents of her glass with delight. "Do you enjoy wine, Luana?" she asked, almost toying with her as she did so.
"I... I never had the chance to taste it before," she admitted, sheepishly shrugging her shoulder. A seasoned maid, Luana knew that it was best to not get too personal with either of the daughters. In truth, none of these vicious ladies cared for her life in the slightest. Speaking about what had been left behind caused the maid to yearn for it even more.
She missed her mother and her father, wondering if they thought she was having the time of her life here. She wished that she could escape this place and confess the truth of her torturous job to them, but it felt like that day would never come. Like so many before her, Luana was afraid that she was going to die here, and with each day that passed, that reality seemed to grow ever closer.
Daniela's lips curled into a cruel smile, her eyes laced with amusement as her eyelids narrowed. "Such luxuries are reserved for those of a higher status," she remarked in a disparaging tone. "You and the others don't deserve such commodities."
Luana's heart sank at the implication of Daniela's words, a bitter reminder of her place in the hierarchy of the castle. "Of course, Miss Daniela," she murmured with resignation. Sometimes, it was the mental jabs that hurt worse than the physical ones. It was one thing to harm someone, but it was another to enforce the idea that they were worthless nobodies.
Depression had been weighing heavily on Luana for quite some time. It felt like the only thing keeping her afloat was her determination to spare the other women the abuse that was aimed at them, Sorina especially. She was aware that there would come a day when she could no longer shield that terrified young lady, but until that day, she had to keep fighting.
Despite her resilience, it was remarks like Daniela's that punched her in the gut. She just wanted to cry, but now was not the time. Hopefully, when the lights went out, she could find a place to retreat to where no one could see or hear her.
Daniela picked up the book resting nearby and placed it on her lap, running her fingers along the edges of the cover. She glanced at the maid, that wretched smile still on her face as her amber eyes drifted over to her. "Do you enjoy reading?"
Luana mouth winched as her stare slumped. "I... I wasn't taught how to read properly," she admitted, embarrassed to do so. "I spent most of my life working to help my mother and father. I guess there was no point."
A frustrated groan escaped Daniela's lips, her eyeballs rolling. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for Luana to hear. "How could you not know how to read?"
Before Luana could respond, Daniela cracked open the book and thrust it into her hands, her tone demanding the perfection she sought. "Read it from the top," she commanded the helpless servant. "You better get it right."
Luana's heart jolted as she scanned the words on the page, her mind racing to decipher their meaning. She recognized several of the most common ones, but she stumbled over some of the more complex and unfamiliar words. If she was ever seen as confident in the past, she was nothing like that now.
"One… one day…" Luana nervously tapped her finger against the page, unable to figure out how to pronounce the seven-letter phrase before her eyes. She advanced to the remainder of the sentence, seeking to guess what the writer was trying to convey, but there was nothing that she could devise.
Ugh! She is taking forever!
Daniela's patience wore thin in record time. With a scream, she hurled her wine glass into the fireplace, frustrated as ever. The sound of shattering glass was what really caused Luana to lock up. Her test was over, and she had failed remarkably. As was custom in the Dimitrescu household, failure was to be rewarded with swift punishment.
Snatching the book from Luana's lap, Daniela struck the maid across the head with it, the force of the blow sending her tumbling to the floor. While it may not have been a sickle or a hammer, the surface of the hardcover book had left its mark.
Pain radiated through Luana's skull as she clutched the side of her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Please, forgive me," she pleaded, curling up into a ball, mortified at the likelihood of death.
But Daniela showed no mercy, her anger only escalating as flies began to swarm around her. They buzzed angrily in the air, mirroring the redhead's uncontrolled rage. There was no rationality to be seen in her display. She was a wild animal. A woman without boundaries, nor care for whoever she cut down.
"Get it right!" Daniela stomped her foot, ready to drag Luana across the marble tiles and into the fireplace. It was a tempting thought. She just wanted to kill this woman right now. But before the situation could escalate further, Bela's voice put an end to it.
"Luana! Get up!"
Oh, Bela's here!
The redhead smiled at her sibling as she descended the stairs, one hand on the banister, the other pointed at the blonde on the ground. With a heavy breath, Luana battled the headache that had just been inflicted on her, clutching her skull as she shakily assembled back on her feet.
Her master shifted over before she could address her, but Bela had not asked for any response. She took hold of Luana's head, pulling the woman in so that she may inspect the site of the impact. There was not a scratch to be seen, much to Bela's relief.
The last thing she wanted was to have to deal with another maid being killed without authorization, and to have to report such an occurrence to their mother was not something she wished to deal with. Not just that, but if any maids had to be murdered, she didn't want them to be hers.
"Go return to your duties," Bela instructed Luana, who nodded briskly before departing. She waited for the maid to exit the room before she set her sights on Daniela. There was a silent exchange between the two sisters, but the youngest noblewoman appeared to be oblivious to the problem. In a blink, her demeanor had gone from unbridled fury to a playful happiness, then to utter confusion.
Why is Bela looking like she's mad at me?
Bela's eyes narrowed. "The days of women lining up to escape the cold and seek refuge in this castle are long gone, Daniela."
Daniela's eyes grew wide. "Oh!" It dawned on her that Bela was referring to Luana, whom she had forgotten was even present. Attempting to deflect, Daniela quickly addressed the matter, "Luana and I were just reading."
But Bela's gaze lingered on the book clutched tightly in Daniela's hands, accompanied by the irritation in her brow. She didn't want to resort to insults like Cassandra often did, but she was growing tired of constantly seeing that book. It had been the source of enough drama for the last few days, and she sensed that things were only going to get worse.
They had in the past, after all. This wasn't the first time Daniela clung to that book. The old thing would pop up every now and again, and the redhead would become immediately attached to it. She'd forget everything that she knew, reading the book endlessly, as if it were her first time. Bela knew that something wasn't right with her sister, but she didn't feel like she could address it.
It had been this way for years, but nowadays, it seemed like Daniela was slowly getting worse.
"There are tasks that need to be completed around the castle," Bela reminded Daniela pointedly, emphasizing her commitment to getting things done. "If you're so bored, you could lend a hand."
Daniela pouted at the suggestion, "But Cassandra never does anything."
Bela's patience ended. "The same applies to both of you," she snapped, her frustration already getting the better of her. This wasn't a spontaneous conversation. This was something that had lived in the blonde's mind for so long. "I'm always taking care of the messes you two make."
Daniela brushed it all off, believing that things weren't as serious as her older sister made them out to be. "Stop worrying about work all the time. Let the maids handle it."
But Bela was having none of it. "I'm busy overseeing the maids," her tone grew sharper.
Daniela's response only added more fuel to the flames, "Find more maids, then."
Bela finally reached its breaking point, her voice rising as she allowed her unfiltered emotions to momentarily slip through the cracks. "What is it that you don't understand, Daniela? Did you not just hear what I said? Wake up!"
She's yelling at me. Why is she yelling at me? Did I do something wrong?
Daniela fell silent, only tightening up as she hugged her book. It was the only coping mechanism that she could cling to. Her bottom lip quivered with the faintest whimper that she could muster, but then, out of nowhere, her concerns appeared to vanish.
Bela always goes on about this 'work.' She needs a glass of wine.
With a huff, she eased up, likely forgetting the exchange that had just occurred. "You're so boring, Bela," she giggled, holding her book out at the blonde. "You know… you should grab a glass of wine and read this book with me. It is so good!"
Bela's expression dragged as she shook her head. She was at a loss and had chosen to give up. The eldest daughter pointed her finger toward the double doors that would lead to the exit of the Main Hall. "Just go."
I guess she doesn't want to read with me then. Boo!
Daniela casually shrugged her shoulder before transforming into a cloud of flies. With no further words to be said, she exited the room, leaving Bela alone beside the couch. With a heavy sigh, Bela took a seat and leaned forward, her head in her hands, as she watched the flames dance in the fireplace.
Her mind was riddled with exhaustion, her amber eyes reflecting the swaying orange light as she sat there. She was just thankful that Luana had not been killed. Cleaning up a mess was easy; cleaning up a maid was a different matter. Groaning, she stretched out her arms, desiring nothing more than to just fall asleep.
Tomorrow was a new day, and with it, another round of breakfast that needed to be prepared. She relied heavily on Luana and Sorina to get the job done, but if one of the maids ever became too gravely injured, she wasn't sure of what would be done after.
Bela peeked over her shoulder once she heard the sound of footsteps in the background. Once her head turned, she glanced at the maid beside the stairs, who was busy dusting the wooden banisters. Strange, she thought, of how it seemed like this one had been watching her.
The eldest of the three rose from the couch, her glare still affixed on the servant, whose gaze was fixated firmly on the wooden rails. The blonde tilted her head, scrutinizing every move that this brunette made.
That large bun of curly hair obscured most of her skull, but that slender body was quite unique. The way she appeared to be staring at the stairs was strange. It was like she was deliberately looking ahead, anywhere but back at the woman across the room.
"You missed a spot," Bela taunted her. "Right above you."
The maid turned around. It was that new girl. "Yes, Miss Bela," she said, those green eyes shining back at her. The expression on her face was soulless, if not coated with some displeasure. Whatever, Bela thought. If the woman wasn't happy, that wasn't her problem to bear.
"And pick up this mess too." She pointed to the fireplace, passing the task off to the servant.
"Yes, Miss Bela," the maid answered, resuming her dusting for the time being. With that, the blonde walked out, on to her next task for the night. Little did she know how Kyia's eyes followed her the entire time, watching and waiting for the moment those doors closed.
"Horrid bitch," Kyia muttered.
The Factory
Heisenberg leaned in closer as he examined Narratha's scratch wound some more. Despite her weakened state, she had regained some of her strength, which allowed her voice to speak more normally without the added respirations in between her words. As he poked at the slash marks on her bare shoulder blade, the redhead tilted her head over to glance at him.
Her face did not give off much of what was going on inside her. Her brow was soft, and her eyes were still, barely moving during the few seconds they set on him. As angry as she was for finding herself in this predicament, she was just grateful that he wasn't doing something else to her.
Her gaze trickled away as she turned her head back to the front, trying her best to ignore the stings that came by whenever he poked at the crimson valleys. At one point, she shut her eyes, asking herself if this was punishment for her actions back in Locwitary. Perhaps it was, Narratha guessed. She knew what kinds of actions she had performed in her home world.
That was what made this situation somewhat relatable. Her mind recalled the fawns she had chained up and relentlessly abused inside that decrepit old castle. While she still believed that her deeds served a greater purpose, her pride prevented her from mirroring their fear.
Admittingly, she was afraid of what her fate would be, but kicking and screaming wouldn't make her look like the woman she sought to become. The fear of violation, however…
That was a fear that she could never get rid of.
She had searched for a new world during her decade of murder, expecting that a new land would have become a safe haven for not just her but other fawns who understood the limitations of forgiveness. The new beginning that she constantly fantasized about was a goal that she had come so close to achieving, but in this place, Narratha felt like it couldn't have been further from her grasp.
Her new world was a new Hell, and she felt like a fool for having been so impulsive to the point where she jumped through the first portal she encountered. Maybe it was the fight with Cassandra that had brought her to the edges of her power. Maybe she was just tired of trying to earn it on her own.
It didn't matter anymore. Her life was in the hands of a group of people equally as terrible as she was. Whatever they chose to do to her was not likely to be a desirable outcome.
"How much longer do I have?" She asked him.
With a puff of his cigar, Heisenberg wondered why her scratch marks had not shown any signs of discoloration, even after all these hours. "You should be showing increased aggression any moment now," he stated, hoping that her transformation would begin. He wanted to bring her down to his greatest creation, eager to see if what promised to be an exceptionally fierce Lycan would stack upon against his chainsaw-faced project.
But with each passing second, that reality leaned more toward the side of a dream. The redhead did not seem affected at all.
Narratha, still maintaining a hint of her age-old sarcasm, chuckled softly. "Aggression is normal for me," she quipped with a smile. The cloud of smoke that the man expelled floated over toward where her head was. The nauseating stench was so heavy, and it made her headache even more unbearable. "That thing in your mouth smells disgusting, by the way."
Heisenberg took another drag of his cigar, exhaling a torrent of gray distaste at the freckled woman. She coughed as she tucked her head, resisting the urge to lash out at him. He had gone through a few of them since he bound her to that chair. "If you hate gross smells so much," he replied, "you should've been given to Moreau."
"Moreau?" Narratha coughed again. "Who's that?"
"He's the ugly son of a bitch."
"Oh…" Narratha instantly knew who he referred to. That soggy fishman was a strange and grotesque site. The way he stumbled about made it look like he would vomit without warning. Even his voice drove her to anger. "Forget it. It's not that bad, I suppose."
Heisenberg sighed loudly and stepped away from the chair. "I'm getting impatient," he warned.
Keeping herself amused, Narratha's sarcasm grew, "Well, if you let me go, I can go outside and get scratched again, if you'd like."
Heisenberg's eyes narrowed at her remark, and he cast a somewhat jarring smile her way. One wouldn't be able to tell for sure if he thought she was funny or if he was just ready to cut her head off. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
"You don't know the half of it," she remarked, a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes as they shone his way.
Heisenberg kept his grin as he shook his head. "There won't be much left to know soon," he muttered as he made his way back to his desk, where he picked up a pen and began to jot down some notes.
Closing her eyes, Narratha couldn't help but mimic the smile that he had. "So, this transformation you're so desperately waiting for... it's all because of a bloodborne infection, isn't it?"
Heisenberg nodded with a hum of joy, his indifference to her life rich in the way his tone carried out. "That's right," he confirmed, wedging the cigar between his teeth and dulling his next words. "And if I have to speed up the process myself, so be it."
Narratha's smile widened slightly at his uninformed determination. "Impatient, are you?" she teased, only to bridge a piece of the gap between the two of them. "But so am I." She was still too exhausted to even mount a fight against this egotistical madman, but her interactions with him birthed a sliver of amusement.
She'd take what she could get in times like these. She began to think about all the things that she could say to him next. There were so many potential statements that could have set the man off. She reveled in the flavors that they offered. But as she watched him tinker away with that little pen of his, visibly annoyed as he pressed hard against the paper, the scenarios she dreamt up in her mind all blended into one.
That was when she laughed at him, and that truly set him off.
Heisenberg rose from his chair, his voice like that of a rageful father, "What the fuck is so funny?!"
Her laughter died down to a troublesome set of giggles, her dark eyebrows lowering above her eyes as she looked at him. "You're so impatient, but you're going to be waiting all night for me to get sick, and then you're going to keep waiting after that." She giggled once more. "It's funny."
He challenged her perceived ignorance, calm, but now void of all friendliness. "It'll tear your body apart when it happens, and you're going to feel every bit of it."
"People like me don't get sick," she remarked.
Heisenberg decided to entertain her response, but inside, he found himself intrigued by what she would answer with. It could have been anything, but something told him that there had to have been weight to her comment, given how much she seemed to believe it. If she was just as full of herself as he thought, then the payoff when she finally did turn into a feral drone would have been worth it.
"What do you mean 'people like you'?"
With a smirk, Narratha leaned back into her chair. "Fawns."
Heisenberg's brow rose up to the brim of his tattered hat. "Fawns?" He was puzzled by what that meant. It made no sense to him, but with how long they had been waiting, it seemed like the infection wasn't about to happen anytime soon. The claw mark on her back was enough to turn anyone into a raging beast in just a few hours, and that was assuming they were lucky to last that long.
There would have been convulsions and growls. A twisted pull to one's face that they could not fight. She should have been pulling against her restraints, ready to leap onto the walls. But nothing. Not even a twitch.
Was she telling the truth?
Moving his seat closer to her, he leaned in, his curiosity getting the better of him. There was something that he did not know, and from the looks of things, she was well aware of the significance of it. "Explain," he said.
But seizing the opportunity to bargain, Narratha decided to test the waters. She straightened out her posture, accentuating her shivering as a means to clue him in to what she wanted. "I'll answer your questions, but I might answer them better if I had some warm clothes." Her smile curved. "And something warm to eat."
Heisenberg only laughed. "I have less patience to cook you a meal. Shit, you'll just be a hungry Lycan when the time comes."
She pressed her lips, muffling her ensuing giggles. "Get comfortable, then. You'll be waiting forever."
The look of control that he had on his face soon subsided. There was no doubt in his mind that the wait would indeed stretch on, possibly amounting to nothing. He debated just torturing her, but he knew resilience when he saw it. She'd take a while a break, and if she did, how could he tell if she would even tell him the truth? The threat of sexual assault was what would get to her, but that was below his will. He had standards, after all.
Relenting with a palpable aura of disdain, Heisenberg tossed his cigar onto the floor. "Don't be picky," he said. "You get what you get."
"How can I be?" she spoke, playfully eyeing him as he walked away. "I don't know what people in this world eat."
That caused him to stop in his tracks, his eyes glued to her. What did she just say?
NOTES:
And the plot thickens…
Daniela is still being her sinisterly blissful self. There wasn't much development of her in this chapter, but I wanted to hammer in some of the cruelty that she shows. A lot of you have commented that most fanfics show her as the sweetest, most innocent, and most lovestruck of the bunch. I'd say that last part will hold true to this story, but as childlike as Dani can be, I'm not holding back on her darkness.
In Flies and Fears, Cassandra and Bela's initial ways did turn a lot of people off to them, but this is a series involving villains (who eventually become better) against villains. Victims like Luana and Delia are there to remind us of where these women come from.
Speaking of villains, Narratha is still a factor in this story. With the first part of her backstory revealed in chapter 28 of Flies, we learned of a very traumatic event that shattered everything she held dear. Even after all the damage she caused later on, that part of her still exists deep inside. I think if there is one thing she still fears, it is the helplessness that she experienced that day. Her panic attack, in my opinion, adds that extra layer to her character.
She's not a good person. She's killed plenty of innocent people, and her final acts in Flies were some of her worst, but behind her power is a very broken woman. She's not in control anymore, and the sides that we'll see of her will explore the boundaries between humanity and depravity.
Narratha is impulsive but not stupid. She's bargaining for what she can get, and it seems like Heisenberg is willing to play ball if there is something in it for him. Is this the start of an alliance? Or, are some weapons best not to be played with?
The next chapter will release in exactly one week, so get ready to see more of Daniela and Delia, Narratha and Heisenberg, and Kyia and Kyia's bad moods.
Thank you so much for making this story possible by supporting me throughout this massive journey! I cannot wait to finish this series so that you will always have it to enjoy! I hope you all have a safe weekend, and I wish you well! 😊