The sense of inebriation was so overwhelming, even in the depths of unnatural slumber, she felt it. The world tumbled and tilted, swam and shimmied, even after hours. Days. She wasn’t sure how long anymore, and it ultimately didn’t matter.
Slowly, Aiyool opened her eyes. They rolled around in their sockets as she reoriented herself, fighting against the sickening sensations of movement despite knowing she was perfectly still. With great effort, she evened out, staring forward between slanted eyelids.
Tired. Woozy. Drugged, then; sedated by the feel of it. Nothing new. A floating thought reminded her of when she had her first bouts as a juvenile irratai, back when her parents had to sedate her out of necessity. It wasn’t until she was much older that she fought to control the bloodthirsty beast inside her.
She blinked again and raised her heavy head to look around.
Everything was blurry, absolutely impossible to make out even when she fought to adjust her sight. Impressive. She would’ve tried to figure out what drug she was given but that would require too much effort than she could commit to right now. Her other, fullyfunctioning senses told her enough.
Jasmine. Spices. Incense. Candle wax. Premium silks. Expensive dyes.
What the fuck am I doing in the palace? she thought with a weary groan.
She thought back. After fighting for hours against the imperial heir, Shabbir Raakhirah, and one of the Grand Generals at the foot of Rendu Mountain, she had collapsed. Her ira, the potent, nearsentient force within all irratai, had overwhelmed her then, which wasn’t normal for her, but she knew why.
No reason to think about it now.
They had her.
At last.
She was certain Rakshal was safe, but there was no telling what he was doing by now. Hopefully nothing stupid. Probably something crazy.
She huffed to herself, but with a touch of solemnity.
Closing her eyes, she focused on the heaviness around her body. Her torso was suspended, wrapped in layers of tight, gleaming chains, each of which probably weighed twice as much as she did. Her knees touched the floor, weighed down by the chains, but she wasn’t numb despite the still position or the lack of padding beneath her. Her arms were pinned to her sides, limp, as it was, and she could barely twitch her fingers.
She managed, however, and it caused a ripple of movement through her body, as if it recoiled in shock from the fact that she could move at all, and the chains softly jingled in response.
Only then did she realize someone was in the room with her; light footfalls approached. Not a good sign if she couldn’t even tell that much.
Cracking her eyes open a slant, she saw a blurry figure dressed in black and gold nearing her. She didn’t bother trying to speak, aware she’d probably only slur words out if even that, and watched them reach to place something behind her neck. The sensation was brief, just a little pinch, and then the person wordlessly walked around a corner.
Mere seconds passed before she felt the urge the sleep again.
She was too tired to disobey.
As her eyes rolled closed, she heard a familiar hoot from Hihin.
The call from her companion echoed into the ether before she could form a response.
From nothingness, her eyes snapped open.
A loud gasp of shock brought her attention to her left where a man was backing away from her. Her upper lip curled with a growl as she looked him over, nose twitching.
Servant. He could be nothing else, dressed in the rich blue, gold, and silvergrey of the empire yet not quite lavishly decorated as one would expect of nobility or royalty. He didn’t carry the scent of either, and after a moment of scrutiny, during which they merely stared at once another, she scoffed and put her attention on a soldier in the room with them.
Not just any soldier. A general. He nearly froze upon meeting her wideeyed gaze.
His lips twisted. “A monster, indeed,” he murmured. To the servant, he said, “You’re dismissed.”
The man was more than willing to obey, and gave a swift bow before scurrying away.
Fixing her eyes on the general, she smirked. “Let me guess. That’s my new handler,” she chuckled, her voice lethargic but amused. When narrowed eyes was her answer, she tutted, “It’d be wiser if at least a ye’an kept an eye on me.”
After a brief moment, the general scoffed and crossed his arms. “It wasn’t my decision to have him as your handler, but I agree. Regardless, it is the case, and I will prevent you from harming anyone in the palace.”
“What the fuck am I doing in the palace?” She glanced away. “The vermilion brat takes her enemies lightly—”
Her face snapped violently to the side from a smack, and blood dripped from her face to the ground. She laughed outright, licking the blood from her cheek with a long, gradient tongue. The black, tapered tip slithered back into her mouth, bringing a deep, disgusted scowl to the general’s face that was tinged with horror.
She hummed, looking him in the eye while dissecting the taste of her blood. “Nice cocktail of drugs you’re giving me.”
“Enough,” a voice ordered.
The general went stiff and moved aside as powerful Faifethin forous swept through the room. Seconds after he moved and left, three soldiers appeared out of jooryovaa.
One of the three was a Grand General dressed in the similar gold and black as the person from before, and he stood at the side of none other than the one person Aiyool wanted dead above all others: The Faifethin Empress, Saynab Raakhirah. Glowing vermilion eyes stared intensely at her, scanning her with interest. On the woman’s other side, the second Grand General stood with her arms behind her back.
Aiyool’s lips twitched as she repressed a snarl. “So close…so far away,” she muttered, eyeing them.
A soft sound of interest emitted from the empress. “This is the first time I’ve seen you. The famous Wasihl…” She began to approach, humming softly. “You’re surprisingly beautiful for all your many scars and your disfigurement,” she remarked, reaching to take long silverwhite locks into her hand.
Large eyes narrowed as Aiyool softly growled.
Letting her hair go, Saynab looked her over, lingering on certain parts of her body. “I have yet to decide what to do with you. I was told a boy with a monkey’s tail was near and called your name during your capture…”
Aiyool didn’t remember any of that, but she denied the younger woman even the slightest of reactions.
More of her white strands were taken into the empresses' fingers. "Is he a relative? A friend?" Saynab brought the strands to her face, taking a curious sniff as though she had never seen hair before. "A son?"
“Woman, I am going to go back to sleep if you have nothing better to say than stupid questions,” Aiyool huffed. “I’ve lived too long to play petty games of a petty sovereign; you think I was born yesterday?”
A violent smack snapped her head to the left from one of the Grand General. “Tenk’ha, may I gouge out this thing’s eyes?” he asked, a growl vibrating in his throat.
The empress, who no longer had the hair in her hands, slightly leaned back. “No, much as I imagine you’d be better off without them,” she said to Aiyool. Moving closer, a sly smile formed on her face. “The boy has hidden in Chicheol, which was smart of him. If not for that, we would have dragged him before you and tortured him to death…”
Aiyool rolled her eyes, readying to close them.
“…much as we had with them.”
She stilled, watching the woman turn to walk back between her guards.
Yellow eyes widened, first with shock. Then, horror.
The images and smells of halfburnt bodies of children and family and friends rose to the surface of Aiyool’s mind.
"You..." she whispered, lips trembling in spite of her desire to maintain composure.
The sudden overwhelming memories forced her to shut her eyes. She hadn’t thought of them in a while, or of the event that took everything away from her. She loved Rakshal, and that would never, ever change, but—
A wretched, painfully familiar smell reached her nose. With a growing feeling of dread, she slowly opened her eyes to see the empress standing behind a stretcher on the floor. Placed just paces in front of Aiyool, a black, charred form laid upon it.
A body.
A burnt, mutilated body curled on its side, hands visibly missing, nothing but stumps.
“The girl fought hard until the bitter end,” Saynab sighed with faux sentiment. “She didn’t cry for mercy…”
A heavy weight settled in Aiyool’s core, tilting between sensations of poignant horror and sadness.
“She didn’t cry for it to stop…”
It took far too long, but she recognized the body as her youngest daughter, Kokiyo. Young woman, barely out of her 300s. Tears welled in her eyes, fast, hot, and blurring her vision from the horrible sight.
“She only prayed when she wasn’t screaming.”
The blurriness swiftly turned to red.
Pure, blinding red.
Hands curled into bleeding fists, every muscle in her body grew taut as a roaring growl emitted from her. Saliva dripped from her open mouth as she spat, and she fought against her bonds with the desire to attack.
Easily, she broke free, hands like talons that reached for the empress’ neck.
Irratai always went for the neck.
Snapping back, barely missing a long dagger that would have sliced her hands off, she redirected her attack at one of the Grand Generals. Grabbing their neck, she spun and threw them into the other before diving for the empress again.
Death.
She froze, nostrils twitching and mind reeling.
Death…?
What was that smell…?
Her mouth watered with a croon. Desire overwhelmed her anger, sudden, confusing, wrong. She spun around, body shuddering, teeth gnashing.
Where is death?
She backed against a wall.
No, no…this…this isn’t right? What…
“Uncanny,” a voice scoffed, warbling in her ears. “Such a strange creature…”
Another voice growled, “What shall we do with her, Saynab’ha?”
“Leave her.”
More tears, heavy, unwanted, poured from her eyes as she lowered to the floor.
Confusion seeped in, bringing a soft whimper from her throat.
They were using blood…some body liquid…or…something to redirect her ira, her fucking ira, to it. Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, she shook her head.
“S…stop,” she choked out, her voice a whisper. “Sso good…so good…no…”
Her face twisted as a stronger smell of burnt flesh reached her nose. What was happening? Why couldn’t she see? Why was her vision red? It wasn’t normal, not anymore. Not since she was young.
“Whwhat did you…do…?” She curled into herself, holding her head. “No no no no…”
She began to mutter, rocking back and forth, while she internally fought. Against her memories, against the feelings, against the sensations.
Against her desire.
Against her own body.
Her accursed body.
AFTER THE CHAPTER
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