Like a symphony on cue, the door swung open and in marched Prince Arian, thronged by four guards. The look on Prince Arian’s face would have been more appropriate for frolicking. Maliciousness radiated like a beacon off that smile. Those spotless leather boots of his halted mere inches in front of Sebastian, who refused to look up and acknowledge the presence.

“Well hello my precious Sebastian. Don’t you look a wreck?” Sneers gloated from within Prince Arian’s voice and he knelt down, forcing Sebastian to make eye contact. “Have you seen yourself recently? If I did not know better I would have thought you were a corpse.”

“Gee,” Sebastian said. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Prince Arian’s fist, smiling with heavily jeweled rings, backhanded Sebastian’s face faster than he thought possible. Blood rushed into his mouth. “Don’t be smug. I’m growing tired of it. You just chewed up two of my soldiers. I don’t appreciate it, especially after I gave you a nice girl to snack on in that prison. Which I’ve heard you haven’t even tasted. I’m disappointed, terribly disappointed.”

“Fine.” In a quick decision, Sebastian rolled the blood around in his mouth, and looking Prince Arian directly in the eye, he spat into that handsome face.

Silence throttled the overly huge room and loathing warped Prince Arian’s once joyous face. Yet disregarding his fury, Prince Arian stood calmly and wiped a clean handkerchief across the blood and spit oozing down his cheek. An irritable twitch curled his lip, and he turned away. “I will take that as a refusal.”

“Did you just come to that conclusion?” Sebastian said, his voice as lifeless as a marionette.

Prince Arian chuckled. “You have a great opportunity to help your kingdom and those you love. Yet you refuse because of a simple accident. It is foolish. Are you mad that I gave you this great power?”

Sebastian glared at that proud back. If he could only rip out that man’s heart “I will never help you.”

“Is that so?” Prince Arian shrugged. “Well, struggle all you want Sebastian. This is going to hurt.”

The next hour he could not remember every minute detail. The varied sets of pain reminded him of the courses at a feast. One after the next. They were all different, but similar at the same time. One was hot and branding and the other was cold and bitter. Some were as dull as monotone old men, and others were as vibrant and vivid as dancing girls in green skirts. Yet they all passed on and on. They all filled his mind with nothing. There were moments of flashing searing colors as bright as walking into a circus, and there were moments of utter darkness like thick velvet drapes drawn shut against dawn peaking over mountains. Yet the darkness would leave him as quickly as it came. They never let him fade out for long. Whips, cracks, snaps, splices, lashes and flogs . . . he was conscious for them all. He never saw as much vermilion blood on his skin as in that one-hour. It burst around him like lethargic, never-ending fireworks, and only when they stopped could he finally sink into the ceaseless nightly oblivion against the corner of the barren room – alone.

Seconds, minutes, and hours maybe passed, but it felt the burning agony never ended. Numbness was his only hope. He wished to drown in anesthetics, to be sedated with countless drugs. It was his only wish. There was nothing but that hope. The pain stretched to every crevice of his body, and that pain leisurely ripped apart his flesh with salted fingernails. Nothing compared to this. Nothing he ever experienced. This was too much. This was starvation, sickness, emptiness, and depravity twisting around him and squeezing every breath from his lungs until they might whither away into eternal wrinkles. All those gunshots into his abdomen could not compare to this. Watching his parents being disfigured before his eyes could not compare to this. Even the horror in Lily’s eyes as he lashed into her throat could not compare to this. This pain was the epitome of horror. But he would survive this. He would not give in. Did they know that?

The scraping of the door penetrated his fading hearing, but he remained still. If they thought him dead, would they leave? Would they leave him here to remain in limbo? Or would they chuck him into a hole and bury him in maggoty dirt?

Two pairs of feet marched in and stopped just short of the door frame. There was no sound then, and Sebastian found it too much effort to open his eyes.

There was that familiar clicking of leather boots, and he listened until their pitfalls stopped just a foot away from his slumped over frame. The prince did not speak. There was not one sound. It was too quiet.

Echoing pounds raged in his head. He counted the beats of his struggling heart. One, two, three, four, five, six – a grinding shriek. His heart retched. That shriek bore into his wounds. There was scuffling feet. Shrieks and shrieks. It tore his wounds open to lay bare his insides. Those cries hit every frail part of his skeleton. Everything shattered.

This could not be happening. He forced his eyes open through all of the agony. That beautiful face was contorted in misery. Never before had he seen such horror on that face. He wanted to reach out. He wanted to say it was all right. Her pain was something he could not survive. He could not escape it. He wanted to scream. He couldn’t do this. How could he? No. DON’T DO THIS! A snarl lashed out of him.

Prince Arian laughed. She cried out. “Sebastian!” She broke away from those holding her. He wanted to blend into the wall. Her touch would burn him. He would die of want. He would die of embarrassment. He could not do anything. He was useless, worthless. He didn’t want her to see him like this, in this pain. He didn’t want her to be used. He couldn’t bear it.

She crumpled beside him. Every part of her was broken in tears and trembles. Yet those white bandages against her throat made his heart race. A reminder. Her trembling hand stretched out. “What did they do to you?” Avalanches invaded that tranquil voice he so loved.

Fuzziness blurred his speech. Protect her, his head screamed to his body, but he could not move. Not any part of him could move. He knew what they would do. He knew it. He would die. It would surely kill him. Her fingers brushed across the blood covering his pale face, and her soft eyes stared into his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and those lithe arms wrapped around him, pulling him into that angelic embrace. He sank against her touch and felt for a moment the pain was never there. He wanted to stay here.

“Ah, now isn’t this touching?” Prince Arian knelt behind Lily, those hostile green eyes declaring war as she cringed away from him.

“What did you do?!” She spat.

“I don’t think you understand, my dear Lily.” His fingers latched out and snatched a handful of her hair. Her spine stiffened, and he wrenched. Sebastian dropped to the ground with a groan, as she was jerked backwards into Prince Arian’s grasp. Her eyes peeled open in fright as his hand gripped her chin and he trailed his fingers down her cheek. A startled gasp broke out of her. “Does this anger you, Sebastian?”

“D-d-don’t!” Lily choked out.

“STOP IT!” Sebastian yelled, forcing his hands to push himself up. He fought through all the pain that penetrated every inch of him and managed to push his body back against the wall. His breath panted out of him so fast that it made him dizzy. The room spun and black dots threatened to consume his remaining vision just from that little effort. He sagged against the wall, his fingers grappling with it to stay upright. He had to stop him!

“See this.” Prince Arian pressed his lips close to her ears. “See, you are his one weakness. He would do anything for you. He would kill his reigning prince all for you. Don’t you feel special?” He breathed against her neck, and his fingers wove around her hair, tangling it into his grip. “Isn’t she captivating when she’s frightened?” His eyes slid up to Sebastian’s haggard face and an instant growl ruptured from Sebastian.

Lily’s petrified eyes rushed to Sebastian’s face. “Sebastian . . .”

“Don’t touch her!” He charged. Every scream he locked inside and lunged toward that hideous man. A hand smashed into his jaw and his head smashed against the wall. Dots as large as tarantulas sprang into his sight, but he struggled against the hands that bolted him to the wall. “Lily!”

“He is my lovely experiment, Lily. He’s going to change the world. He’s the most powerful thing imaginable, but right now he can’t even save his love. Isn’t that pitiful?”

Gnashing down on her lip, she defiantly shook her head as if trying to mute the discourse around her. “No, no, no, no.” She repeated it over and over, shaking her head. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?” Prince Arian’s baffled grin spread in loops around his smug face. “Well I didn’t do anything. If Sebastian would just learn and accept what has been given he could protect you, my dear. He could protect millions. He’d be a hero.” Prince Arian stroked the hair lethargically like a cat kneading. Sebastian’s body felt heavy. He would sink. He couldn’t do anything. He wanted to calm her. He wanted to hold her. He struggled against those hands, but pain lacerated through his veins.

“He’s upset because he’s a monster.” Prince Arian laughed. “He’s upset because he pierced into that fragile neck of yours. Do you know how much you torment him? Your very existence is a hinder to him. Every time he fails is because he’s watching you, guarding you like a loyal dog.”

Her eyes filled with an internal terrifying fear that darkened those amber eyes as the information slowly ate away her thoughts, and her lips opened in a senseless revulsion. He found himself shaking his head. “N-no.”

The howling laughter pouring from Prince Arian’s lips vibrated in that room. “It’s true, and even Sebastian can’t deny it. Without you, he would be complete. He would have not one weakness. He would be a beautiful engineered killing soldier. You are a stitch in his side, but if I got rid of you he would never listen. It’s a problem that I think I am going to solve.”

“Don’t you dare!” Desperate, hysteric, he yanked against those hands. Worthless.

“I only have one way to make him listen though. He’s dying. Don’t you see it?”

A hiccupping gasp choked out of her, and she shook her head again. “S-Sebastian.”

“D-don’t listen. I’m f-fi . . .” An elbow slammed into his gut and the air went out of him. Coughs convulsed out from within. He brought a hand up to contain it all, but blood, thick with saliva and bright as violence, spat over his palm.

Dread in his voice made her shrink. It hit her like a dead weight to the chest. Sweat perspired across her forehead in tiny dewy beads. Her fear made his stomach knot. Hunger twisted through him like a hot springing coil, and he realized then that he could smell the fright seeping out of her pores. The arms around his loosened, and his legs buckled. More blood shot out of him as his knees connected with the pavement. The room danced around him.

“What did you do to him?!” Lily snatched Prince Arian’s sleeve and mangled it, forcing him to back away as she advanced on him, tormented.

“You want to help him?” Prince Arian grinned.

“Please!” Her fingernails sank into his skin with panic.

Her face swirled in Sebastian’s vision, but he tried to move toward her, tried with every fiber of his being. “No!”

“See, he’s more animal than human now. As much as he loves you, he has to follow what his needs are. Animals do not care whether you’re their mother or friend or lover, if they’re starving . . . they will eat you.” Prince Arian stood, prying Lily off his arms and throwing her down like a pestering cockroach. “You really should have taken that thing in your cell and devoured her, Sebastian.”

From behind, a man’s thick arm wrapped around Lily’s neck and wrenched her back like a raggedy doll with no worth. Shocked, a yelp strangled from her lips, as her hands automatically tore at the stranger smothering her. Prince Arian chuckled. “Do it.”

Blood it was the only thing Sebastian could separate. Lily’s shrieks as she was dragged across the cement meant nothing. The blade. Flesh carving apart like slicing into soft warm cheese. Panic. Accelerating heart rate. Maniacal laughs. Tears that reminded him awfully of dewdrops on metal. But then that silver against ivory flesh and the carmine that exploded, ravaging the ivory. Blood. It stood out bluntly.

That carmine was everything. It ingested the scene and spat out more carmine. There was crimson everywhere. Every sense in him was nothing more than that delicious smell of blood that popped from her flesh. It severed his rationality and filled him with the worst desire ever known. Nothing could compare. It erased all the pain and stuck to him like damp bare skin, aching to be touched.

He could do nothing but stare at the arm shoved in front of him. Blood trickled down the sloping curves and slipped to the floor, splashing against the dull tile like a moment of color against black and white monotony. His mouth salivated from thirst. His stomach wrested with craving. Yet he hauled himself away, forced himself against the wall, as far away as possible. Sweat slid down his face from that small exertion. Yet it seemed the smell followed him. The blood remained in his vision even when he shut his eyes, and the haunting taunt of Prince Arian stabbed him.

“Drink my soldier. Drink.” Sharp indistinct laughs. “She’s offering.”

Simply his teeth sank into that cleft of her arm as if seduced by commands and agony. Blood poured into his mouth like a flush of water breaking from a dam, devastating everything in its path. Yet this sensation was sweeter than the sweetest strawberry syrup. It swept down his throat heavy and methodical, in rhythm with the estrange pulse of the wrist.

When she was torn from his viper grip, he heard only the scream as he sank down to the floor, collapsing in tremors that heaved through him like pounding waves of a storm. Blood drenched from his mouth, and he buried his eyes in his hands. He didn’t want to see. He knew what he had done. He knew. And he loved it. He loved that blood. His body ached, begged, shrieked for more. Yet he could not bring himself to look up. He did not want to see those crying eyes.

He heard her pleas of “it’s all right.” He heard her entreaties from far away like a soft echo fading and with the passing seconds. He curled in against his misery. How could anything be all right? He believed that when he was a child, but he could not believe that now.

Then he heard the blood chortling shrieks, shrieks that would attach to the feelers of the mind for centuries. He would hear those in his most peaceful nightmares. Her shrieks were the end of his sanity.

His head whipped up, but images floated around him as if he were drugged with morphine. He only saw giant indistinct shapes snatch her and haul her away like a worthless, disposable rotten peel of fruit. They would torture her, and when they grabbed him, his own protesting hollers bled black across the worn walls.

Transitioning from that room back to the prison cell crashed by him in a complete blur of screams and blows to the gut. When they threw him to the ground, he heard nothing but silence. It was bizarre for that girl to be silent. Perhaps he was truly dead. Or perhaps she was reveling in her joy that he was like this, that he was useless and numb. He heard a slithering movement, and something landed beside him. Was it a grenade? Maybe someone would end this desolation, this emptiness?

A drop of water plopped on his cheek, and confused, he peeled his eyelid open to stare through the clotting blood that rendered the room into vague shapes and colors of a kaleidoscope. That girl’s head bowed above him. Tears welled from her periwinkle blue eyes and rolled off her high cheekbones onto his face like healing raindrops. Tremors burned through her tiny frame, and he thought for a moment to feel disgusted but he could not. When her hands lurched out and wrapped around his stinging fingers, he thought to push her away but he could not. Was the pain so bad that his judgment was clouded? She was a Verdurist. Why was she crying? What did she have to cry about? Her enemy was maimed. How could she cry?

A sob broke from her trembling lips, and his insides clenched tightly. Opening his lips even hurt, but he managed to without so much as a groan. “Why?” He didn’t understand.

Gasping, she shook her head. “Why what?”

“Tears – ” Hacking coughs spat out of his mouth and the girl jumped as he doubled in on himself. He brought a hand to his lips to lock in the coughs but wet glistening blood cascaded over his already torn palm. Hordes of curses teemed on his tongue but his coughs did not seem to end. He thought he would drown in them until her small palm touched his cheek, and disregarding the grime, her other hand squeezed his free one. A violent shudder kicked through him, but he did not flinch in revulsion. Peculiar calmness sank into him and the coughs died away until he was able to breathe, even if it stung.

He shut his eye. He wanted to sleep until he felt nothing anymore, but that lulling voice of hers spoke again. “You didn’t kill that boy, and if nothing else, I owe you for that.”

His head nodded slowly. She didn’t know that he would have killed that child. He had planned to murder that boy but her blood had driven him mad and he carelessly forgot his mission. Had something good come out of that? No, he had failed his mission. His eyelid began to droop, and he knew he was falling unconscious. There were too many thoughts and too much excruciating pain. Yet he deserved this, every bit of it. He harmed Lily again. Nothing could be worse than that . . . she would hate him, loathe him . . . Ah! He remembered. This girl’s name was Meiran! His eyelid fully shut, and before he drifted into a state of darkness, a saccharine scent glided over him, something detached from blood but just as comforting.