As he reached Layla, he grabbed her roughly by the back of her long hair and yanked her away from Mato’s body. She shrieked in renewed pain, her hands reaching to the back of her head in an attempt to rid the pressure at the base of her skull.
“Shut up, witch bitch,” the soldier growled in Layla’s ear, but the girl heard the words echo throughout the entirety of her being. Layla did not heed his words and continued to scream, whether from the pain of the soldier’s rough handling, or the death of her husband, the girl wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure it mattered.
The soldier dragged Layla by the hair through the blood of her husband,just out of reach of his corpse, his Vessel dutifully trailing behind as he continually channeled his magic into her. The girl could see the Vessel visibly shaking as she absorbed the magic, hatred clear in her eyes, and the girl couldn’t help but feel a pang of kinship with the Vessel.
The soldier palmed the back of Layla’s head and thrust her to the ground. Layla landed, belly down, with an audiblesmackagainst the cobblestones that led toward the front of her home. She let out a deeper groan of pain as she rolled to her side, clutching her belly.
“My baby, my baby, my baby . . .” She brokenly whispered the mantra over and over as she folded in on herself in a desperate attempt to protect her unborn child. The soldier reared his foot back and aimed a kick directly at Layla’s spine, his booted foot making her scream in pain.
The soldier’s face radiated savagery as he raised his boot again and again, repeatedly kicking Layla anywhere that he could reach—her back, her face, her belly. The girl gazed at the soldier and felt nothing but utter contempt and pure hate, it coursed hotly through her body, lighting every nerve ending. She committed his face to memory—everything from the slight frown lines on his forehead to his thin nose—he wouldpayfor what he was doing to Layla, the girl would ensure it.
Eventually, Layla’s body went slack, and the girl wasn’t sure if she had given up or the soldier had knocked her unconscious. Unsatisfied with her reaction, the soldier ceased his kicking and stared at Layla’s battered and still body. He let out a growl that didn’t sound quite human and drew from his Vessel, the Essence coursed through the woman attached to the soldier’s side and into the soldier’s outstretched hand. A dark purple, almost black, viscous liquid-like substance pooled in his palm and shot into Layla’s body when he squeezed his hand.
Layla’s body bent nearly in half, her back bowed toward the sky, shoulders and heels pressed to the ground as she opened her mouth in a silent scream. The soldier watched in pure ecstasy as Layla’s body continued to convulse in front of him. Abruptly, he opened his fist and the black liquid retreated into the Vessel, and Layla’s body slumped to the ground.
He stalked toward her and used the toe of his boot to nudge her body. She let out a soft groan as her head lolled from side to side. The soldier lightly pressed the tip of his sword to her chin, lifting her head so she could see his face.
“Open your eyes, Deceiver,” he said in a chillingly calm tone. When Layla didn’t immediately comply, he dug the tip of the sword into the soft skin beneath her chin, just hard enough to draw blood.
“Kill me, please,” Layla’s broken voice begged as tears tracked from the sides of her eyes and down her face. “Please,” she begged and tried to nuzzle her chin onto the tip of the sword. The soldier removed the sword, not letting her impale herself before he was ready.
“No need to beg, Deceiver, I will give you what you ask for,” he said. Layla whimpered and her lips wobbled as more tears found their way down her marred and bloody face. “But not until I take everything from you, first.”
Layla’s eyes flew open at his comment. “No,” she whispered. “Please, no!” It was a broken keening sound that came from her and was something the girl would never forget.
The soldier’s evil grin was back as he slowly traced the tip of his sword down her neck and between her breasts as it came to a halting stop at the apex of her belly.
“Leave her alone, let her die with me.” Her shaking hands came to rest protectively over her swollen stomach, trying in vain to protect her unborn child from whatever the soldier had planned.
The soldier clicked his tongue in admonishment.
“I’m sorry, but my orders are to leavenonealive.” He didn’t sound sorry, he sounded almost gleeful.
Layla began to struggle against the ground, desperate to get away from the soldier standing over her. In one swift movement, he viciously brought down his boots onto each of her arms. The girl heard the snap of the bones, even over Layla’s screaming. She rolled side to side, trying desperately to find some relief from the pain.
The soldier stood over Layla’s writhing form, straddling her hips and clutching his short sword in both hands. “The more you move, the more it hurts.”
Layla was beyond comprehension at this point and the girl figured that the words meant nothing to her anyway. The soldier prodded her eyes with the tip of his sword.
“Watch. Watch as I take everything from you, just as you took everything from my Master,” he said in a tone laced with hatred.
Layla’s eyes fluttered open and all the girl saw in them was resignationand pure, undiluted hatred. She offered no more words to the soldier, simply tilted her chin in defiance as tears flowed freely down her face.
The soldier moved the tip of his sword reverently across her belly before scoring a deep incision from the bottom of her ribcage to the top of her pelvis. Blood gushed from the wound, coating the cobblestones and creating a river between them. Layla’s scream pierced the air, drowning out all other sounds. Even the crackle of nearby fire and other screams of pain were nothing in comparison to the sound that was wrenched from her body.
The soldier dug his sword deeper, piercing through every layer of muscle, skin, and organ. He wrenched the blade free before tossing it to the ground, just within reach. He knelt on either side of Layla and placed one hand on each side of the deep wound on her belly. The soldier grasped the open sides of the incision andpulled.
The girl thought Layla’s screams before were loud, but they were nothing compared to the new sound exploding from her throat. Layla screamed until her voice broke and she could no longer make any noise. Even still, her mouth was open in pure agony as the soldier reached his hands into her belly and pulled out her unborn child.
The babe was no longer in its protective sack and was covered in blood and fluid. She was small in the soldier’s hands, and Layla looked at her with pure adoration and love even through the immeasurable pain.
The baby didn’t move, didn’t wail. She was lifeless before being removed, which the girl felt was a small blessing. The soldier slapped the baby’s butt, attempting to check for signs of life. When none presented, he tossed the baby’s corpse on top of Layla’s chest. Instantly, Layla’s broken arms came around the body of her lifeless child, cradling her to her breast. She pressed reverent kisses across the baby’s crown, muttering words that were private between mother and child.
The soldier stood over them, apparently content to watch Layla’s slow death take her, showing no mercy and giving her a quick end to her pain.
Layla’s eyes snapped open and focused on the spot where the girl’s soul was cemented. Her lips didn’t move, but the girl heard her voice clearly in her mind.
“Remember this. Remember us.”
