Violence
Another day. Another injection waiting for me.
King Melic’s every methodical move is examined as I wait for the syringe I know he’s preparing for me. Jeriko’s hulking frame lingers against Basilus’s just across the room. The way his fingers trail across the inky magic that scars half of her face almost diverts my attention but not quite.
The couple’s disturbing affection can’t distract my determination.
My father’s thin fingers pull the thick onyx liquid into the syringe. Slowly, until it fills completely. My heart starts to pound as he studies his work. His eyes flicker excitedly to mine.
I have no idea what the concoction does when my consciousness leaves me. But I’m about to find out.
Slow steps bring him across the room. The dim lighting shines against the gleam in his eyes while I stand in silence with nothing but false obedience.
Does he really think he has broken me? I don’t know how much time would have to pass for me to become the submissive little girl he’s trying to create. It’s more than what has gone by though.
His steady hand rises, the silver needle tilts my way, and for just an instant, he’s distracted by his own alluring power. It’s as if by accident, a heartfelt moment has somehow snuck into my father’s life.
“I know you don’t understand all of this, but when this infusion hits your bloodstream, you’re just like me, Violence. I’ve never been as proud of you as I have been for the last few days.” There’s a humming sort of approval in his tone.
Is it butterflies or hornets that I feel take flight in my stomach?
I want to lash out at him. I want my magic to return in full effect so I can show him just how similar he and I really are. I want to watch his soul leave his body, to be the reason for his death—just as he was to my mother.
Instead, I pass him a pleasant smile that’s held in place with great force. My lips hurt from how tightly my teeth are pressed against them.
“I think I am starting to understand, Father.”
The heartwarming moment is cut short as I grab the infusion from his hand. The smooth, blunt end of his other arm pushes me back, but he’s not physically prepared for my actions.
In an instant, I’ve jammed the needle into the side of his neck. Strands of graying beard tangle through my fingers as I rush to push every ounce of the liquid in, hissing as we push against each other.
His height towers over me, and his fingertips begin to tremble. He’s sedated; right now is my moment to use the information the Book of Severed Souls has given me. If I’m able to use the resources in this lab to create the dark magic the book describes, his frail physical form will not be able to contain it, no matter how powerful he is. It could destroy him from the inside out.
The humid air starts to turn with an unnatural current. It lifts the ends of my hair lightly, and the moment Jeriko feels it, her attention darts to my father. Basilus’s wide gaze collides with mine.
“What did you do?” His voice is an unsteady bellow.
The floor itself starts to tremble beneath my feet. It feels like the building is seconds away from imploding. The vacant eyes of my father drift to me. His pupils are dilated so wide, his eyes are just black orbs staring down on me, past me, through me.
From the injection site, a black ichor spreads through his veins. It travels through him like a snake through the grass. I watch as his face spasms. His eyes shift until they’re more cat-like than human. The tips of his teeth lengthen to sharp points and so do his fingernails.
Crack.
Something black and membranous stretches behind him.
Crack.
Another.
Two wings sprout from his back like he was born from the underworld itself. I have to stifle my own scream as he tips back and lets out a wicked roar that rattles every glass in the room. My ears ring.
Basilus’s storming steps bring him to the table. He opens the top drawer and begins clattering through it. He sorts through it quickly, and I barely have time to realize there are dozens of little vials of my father’s creations in that drawer near the wall.
I’ve never seen those. But Basilus has...
My father races toward me as the oxygen inside the room starts to burn. It stings down my throat with every breath I take. I have to force my magic to the surface. Have to beg my power to fight through whatever oppressive force holds it down. It comes barreling through me like a toddler kicking in a screaming fit of rage. I let it out, and I feel the moment it tangles around my father’s waiting magic. I halt the air just where it is. For several seconds, I push against it, shoving the noxious oxygen away from us.
Basilus is almost gentle as he pushes the syringe into my father’s forearm. The liquid disperses beneath his skin.
