39 Lullaby For A Sadist

Sleep forsakes me, and I open my eyes. My breaths, shallow. With each inhalation, deep anguish throbs through my ribs. Vying for dominance, a burning agony engulfs my face. The swollen masses bulging from my cheeks pulsate their damage relentlessly into my awareness. Not to be outdone, a stabbing intensity slices through my brain, denying me any hope of relief.

'You're awake!' Jolting from her chair, Emma throws her arms around me, aiding the torment ravishing my ribs in its quest for supremacy. I grunt my discomfort, and the girl releases her hold. 'Sorry, sorry!'

'Where are we?'

'We're in the academy's healing centre.' Turning my head to the side, I confirm the accuracy of her words. Surrounded by deep-blue curtains, laying atop a hospital bed, the answer to my question couldn't have been more obvious.

Without warning, the memory of my return to the academy assaults my mind. Wracked with pain and sleep-deprived, I rode day and night through the Planes of the Oswald region. Unable to stop, lest the mercenaries found me; unwilling to rest, for fear I'd fail to wake up, it was through sheer stubbornness that I made it back alive. Perpetually on the brink of collapse, I burned through my rage to fuel my escape. My strength depleted, the moment I passed through the golden gates into the academy, I collapsed to the ground.

'How long have I been unconscious?' Behind her thick, rounded glasses, Emma's eyes begin to dampen. Removing her spectacles, she runs her sleeve across her face.

'It's been three days. I wasn't sure if you'd wake up. I tried to find help, but there was nobody here. You saved me, Nero. I don't know what I would have done if you didn't wake up.'

Saved you?

I saved myself, you just happened to be there. Whatever, I'll accept your gratitude so long as it's exchangeable for benefits.

The Vespertine Clan…

I have new enemies now. If your indebtedness to me aids in my pursuit of vengeance, then I'll gladly play along. I will drain all the marrow from the bone of your naivety, and noirish myself with everything your Clan has to offer.

With a sharp squeak, the curtains encircling me are drawn apart. Walking through the gap, an indigo-haired woman wearing a lab coat, Nettle Bloom. She slides the curtains back into place and approaches my bedside. With all the grace of a stampeding rhino in a restaurant, she jerks the thin, white blanket off of me and inspects my body. Prodding and probing, wherever her fingers touch, exacerbated pain follows. Sucking air between my teeth, I bear the pain and allow the woman to complete her examination.

'Twelve broken ribs, skull fractured in seven different places, your face is all kinds of messed up, and you have deep swelling everywhere. On top of that, I imagine you've suffered some brain injury. All in all, if you want me to heal you, it'll set you back five gold.'

Mouth open, eyes wide, Emma spins her head towards the dishevelled woman. 'Five gold! You can't be serious! He almost died!'

'Yes, that's why it's so expensive. Nothing in life comes free, you know?' Emma opens her mouth to speak again, but I raise my hand to stop her.

'It's fine. I have the coin.'

'You can pay me after the procedure.' Emma stretches out her arm, hovering her hand over me. A green light radiates from her palm, and concentric circles form on her hand. Between each ring, runes materialise, drawing complex formulae into her flesh. When the carvings are fully formed, she places her hand onto my chest and channels the energy therein, through me.

My ribs snap back into place and meld together. I feel the structure of my face break and remould itself. Though only seconds pass, the scorching intensity raging within me slows the ordeal to a grind. From behind, I hear the tick of a clock, but in my mind, hours pass before its subsequent tock. Gritting my teeth, I squeeze my eyes shut and allow the molten sensation to ravish my body. Unrelenting, it tears through my chest, face, and head, making me long for the time the pain was merely excruciating.

'You're killing him!' I hear Emma shout.

'Shut up! I know what I'm doing.' Nettle shouts back.

A blaring cry assaults my ears. Feeling the strain on my vocal cords, I recognise the shout as my own. All thought lost to suffering, I focus only on protecting my consciousness from the portentous darkness threatening to consume it. Gradually, the pain subsides. As if submerged in a heated, soapy bath, a soothing warmth supplants my searing affliction. Springs of vitality swell up inside me, banishing oblivion's encroachment into my mind. My lungs rejoice as I breathe deeply for the first time in days, and I open my eyes.

'You're lucky I made it in time. While your ribs and your face could have been treated with a mid-grade healing potion, the damage to your brain was worse than I thought. I'm surprised you regained consciousness at all. I had to expend one of my most powerful sealed healing Arts to fix you, so I don't want to hear any complaints over the price.'

Pressing my hands down on the mattress, I push myself into a seated position. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and allow my bare feet to touch the cold, tiled floor. Straightening my back, I relish the satisfying crackling of my spine. Holding my chin in the palm of my hand, I bend my neck to my shoulder and appreciate the pop. I direct my eyes first at the open-mouthed girl by my bedside, and then to the sadist standing next to her. Though her treatment was agony, I can't fault her results.

Standing overhead, Nettle sniffs the air above me and scrunches her face. 'You can wait until you've had a chance to bathe and burn those filthy rags of yours, but I do expect payment before the end of the day.'

I don't much want to hear the take on sanitation from the mouth of a woman with a bird's nest for hair. Despite her striking beauty, as always, Nettle presents herself as a vagabond. Her clothing, creased and ruffled. Her hair, infested with all manner of foliage. Her scent, earthy and unwashed. To criticise anyone for their similar aroma is simply too shameless. Nevertheless, the woman saved my life. If the price of her assistance is a few gold and withstanding her less than optimal bedside manner, I can only consider it a bargain.

Nettle Walks through the curtains partitioning my bed from the rest of the healing ward. I hear the scrapings of metal on tiles from where she had gone. Seconds pass and the woman returns holding a chair in her hands. She places it next to my bed, reseals the curtains she had parted, and sits, legs over seat, chin and arms rested on the back of her chair.

'So then, how did you get messed up like that in the first place?' Emma opens her mouth, but no words come out. She glances at me before swiftly looking to the floor. No doubt she's hesitant to admit to shirking her obligations to the region during this past crisis. I have no such reluctance.

'We were tasked to defend Belford city from a horde of mid-tier beasts. I sustained my injuries while escaping the battlefield.' Silence engulfs the space. Only the clock on the wall makes a sound. The three of us sit in noiselessness as time ticks, slowly, away.

Picking twigs from her hair, and dropping them to the ground, Nettle breaks through the quietude. She sits straight on her chair and directs her eyes at mine.

'You do understand that you're admitting to defying an order from the Peace-Keepers in a time of crisis, do you not?'

'Perfectly, but the alternative was to stay there and die. I don't much care what authority they purport to have over me, I'm not going to throw my life away for someone else's cause. If they take issue with the choice I made, they know where to find me. Of course, by the time they do, I doubt they'll still have the authority to enact their judgement.'

Chuckling, Nettle resumes resting her face on the back of her chair. 'You're not wrong there, kid. Honestly, in your situation, I would have done the same. I was stationed elsewhere, but I heard news of that battle. Other than you two, I don't think a single person survived. Once the abyssal wraiths showed up… well, suffice to say, Belford City is no more. It's a shame, it really is. I promise you, you'll never find better noodles than in Belford City.'

'Sorry, did you say abyssal wraiths, as in plural?' Hearing Emma's words, Nettle raises an eyebrow.

'You were there. There's no way you could have missed a giant skeleton in the sky.' Once again lost for words, Emma flaps her mouth open and closed but no sound is made.

'She was unconscious, and by the time the wraiths appeared, we had already left the battlefield.' Looking down the back of her seat, Emma scratches her hair.

'I think it's better if you two say that you escaped after the wraiths showed up. The Peace-Keepers might not have the authority to punish you directly, but they can make things very difficult if they want to. No one can blame you for escaping a high-tier Tension-beast. I imagine everyone there tried to, but if they discover you fled before the beast appeared, it's not going to look good for you.'

'I thought rank-five experts were dispatched to suppress the wraith.' Emma's words inspire a round of laughter from Nettle and myself.

'Rank-Five Tension Masters are the leaders of high and mid-tier Clans. You can't be so naive as to think they'd put aside their own interests for the sake of the mortals in this region. Most of the powerful Clans were entirely unaffected by the Tower breach. Their strongholds are constructed to withstand forces much more powerful than a high-tier beast or two. Regardless of the authority granted to the Peace-keepers, without the power to impose their edicts, their orders were just words, and they knew it.'

Jumping to her feet, Emma stands to the side of the purple-haired woman. 'Are you saying they were never coming? That the Peace-Keepers sent us into an unwinnable battle knowing that reinforcements would never arrive?'

'That's exactly what I'm saying.' Nettle replies. 'Don't get me wrong, however, Tension Masters were sent to combat the wraiths, and to maintain the appearance of cooperation, the higher-tiered Clans sacrificed a few of their less vital members to the cause. But mostly, the abyssal wraiths were fought by low-tier Clan leaders and a combined army of their clansmen. Basically, every Clan without the strength to resist the Peace-Keepers were ordered to their deaths.'

'What about you?' Emma asks. 'You said you were stationed elsewhere, were you ordered to assist in the suppression effort?' Twisting her hair around her finger, Nettle deeply inhales.

'Yeah, I got the order, but I wasn't expected to comply, so I didn't. Pretty much every high-born Tension Master stayed out of this mess as best as we could. Most of the professors and upper-set students went back to their Clan's strongholds to wait this all out. Of course, now that Belford city has fallen, I'd imagine the higher-tiered Clans will step in of their own accord.'

Naturally...

The deaths of a few morals are of no concern to the high-born bastards, but the deaths of hundreds of thousands of them cut into their bottom line. After all, without the mortals and the nameless, who would they enslave to mine resources from the Towers? Our lives may be as cheap as grain, but that doesn't mean a farmer would allow his whole crop to burn.

Emma retakes her seat. Removing her glasses, she, once again, wipes the sprouting tears from her eyes. 'What about the lower-set students?'

'Apart from the few that were in the Tower when this all took place, as best as we know, they were all on the same battlefield you escaped. It's unlikely any of them survived.'

Silence once again fills the air. Breaking the stillness of our environment, I stand.

'Where are you going?' Emma asks

'There's nothing more to be gained by staying here; I'm going back to my dorm.' Scraping their chairs on the ground, the two women stand to their feet. I part the curtains, and the three of us leave. We walk through the ward, down the staircase, and out of the building.

In every direction, the aftermath of the Dread Mother's incursion greets my eyes. Though there are signs of repair, the crumbled buildings and scorched earth mar the once-majestic landscape. With Emma by my side, I turn my back to Nettle and begin to walk. Before I'm able to take two steps forward, a hand catches my shoulder from behind.

'Don't forget, five gold by the end of the day.' Acknowledging her words with a nod of my head, I shrug off her hand, and with Emma by my side, leave her presence.

Navigating the charred remains of the once-great campus, we arrive outside the manor, housing the lower-set dormitories. Having been prioritised in Lucas' bargain with the maverick, the mansion stands unscathed. I walk towards the entrance, but Emma runs ahead and blocks my path.

'Nero, what are we going to do?'

'Nothing's changed. We stick to the plan. We ascend the Tower.' The girl stands in place, but I walk past her. I enter the building and reach my dorm. Throwing myself on my own bed, I stare blankly at the ceiling.

The ceiling…

Cracks appear above my head; a beak breaks its way through. Expanding the breach, a single pitch-black bird bursts into my dorm.

A void raven…

The raven flies above my head before resting on the side of my bed. Tied by string around its leg, a rolled-up piece of paper; I untie the note, and the raven flies back through the crack it had come from, sealing the fracture on exit.

Unravelling the note, I read what it says.

"Nero XIII, We have your bitch…"