The weight of a person climbs onto my back, perched atop my shoulders. The claws continue to push deeper into my skin, drawing blood.
My heart thuds dangerously in my chest. Still, I cannot move.
The wounds bleed. First, it’s small drops. Then it’s rivulets.
Wet patches appear on my shirt before it becomes entirely soaked through.
“It’s all your fault,” the voice whispers. So close to my ear, it’s almost as if its mouth is stuck to it. “It’salwaysyour fault.”
A whoosh of air strikes me in the face, pushing me backwards. Finally, my limbs are freed from whatever chains were holding them immobile.
But that relief is short-lived.
I fall on my back, my head hitting the floor.
The weight shifts. No longer on my back, now it’s atop me, pinning me down.
I squint to make sense of what’s pressing on me, but all I can see if a haze of red. It’s barely there, almost see-through. But it’s clearly sentient. Once it sees my efforts to figure out what’s going on, it releases a loud bout of laughter, mocking me.
Your fault.
Your fault.
The voice continues to echo, louder each time.
As my eardrums are about to split open from the nauseating sound, a spurt of liquid squirts on my face.
Bitter. Thick.Red.
My eyes roll back in my head as sleep claims me. But just as before, the nightmares never stop.
7
Year 12,801 of the House of Silla Reign
Office of Central Administration.
Sattoriya, Tartareia.
It is noisy. Far too noisy.
The courtyard of the Central Administration building is full of those hopeful applicants, waiting for the exam to begin, and praying to get a spot in their desired department.
To my disappointment, I am also one of those hopefuls. After all, it is the only position that will allow me a modicum of independence.
The Central Administration is the only governmental body in Tartareia that does not answer to any of the Houses, and thereby that makes it the most objective one.
Due to my birth, I was expected to take my exam at the Administration office of the House of Jubal. But with my mother being there as well, that is out of the question.
It has been over a thousand years since I have last been alone with her in the same room—something deliberate on my part. Despite her ardent desire to see me dead, which has probablyfestered over the years, she cannot do anything out in the open. Cursed or not cursed, I am still a member of a noble family—a potential Son of Tenebreis, considering my pedigree—which means she would be punished if she tried to harm me. Not only would she be prosecuted for harming another immortal, but she would also gain the ignominy of trying to kill her own son.
It is still a wonder how she managed to cover up father’s death, or how anyone believed he had been killed in a hunting accident.
At the time, I was too young to know better, and I had tried to go to the elites in the House of Jubal and report her crime. But it had gotten nowhere, especially since it was my mother’s word against mine, and hers held more weight.
Yet that faux pas cost me. Whereas before, people were barely aware of my existence, afterward, the rumors started swirling around.
Jealousy. Frustration. Delusion.
