Page 30 of Anatomy of the Immortal Species
Kathrine glanced at Sevar, hoping to meet his eyes, but he refused to look away from the Queen. Anger had twisted his features, turning the man she knew into an insipid forgery. She didn’t want to leave him, but she had no choice. Sevar was, after all, the Queen’s favourite, Katherine reminded herself. She would never be too harsh with him.
“Don’t worry, child. You will be together again soon enough,” the Queen said.
Despite everything, the words soothed Kathrine.
***
The Queen surveyed the creature before her. Oh, if that poor servant had any idea how much she could perceive just from his pathetic appearance. But no one suspected she was a lot more than a girl who her ex-husband, King Arius, had chosen from the crowd. And it better stay that way.
Sevar’s clothes, once neatly lined with graphite threads in precise perpendicular patterns, now lay in tatters. Stains of blood mingled with traces of wounded pride and unspent rage, and something else – an unfamiliar, potent energy undoubtedly from the manticore. Beneath these superficial scars, the faintoutline of Sevar’s reptilian nature was barely visible.
“I asked your fiancée to leave because I do not wish for you to lose her respect. A weak man repulses a woman,” she said.
Sevar’s eyes burned with emotions –unresolvedemotions that should have been discarded long ago. “I am not weak. I am furious. And I don’t care what Kathrine thinks of me.”
The Queen rose, her black dress wrapping her body with a thousand soft tendrils that interlaced and enveloped her. Approaching Sevar, she could sense a foreign energy mingling with his own, more pronounced now. Sevar was an extraordinary specimen, yet the other man’s trace reminded her of her brother. The man who had betrayed her. It was crude, brute force.
The Queen slapped Sevar across the face. He remained motionless but failed to conceal his surprise. A red imprint of her hand began to darken on Sevar’s cheek.
“I want Kathrine to be in love with you,” she said.
Sevar’s heartbeat sped up – an exquisite reaction. His blood surged, responding to her touch and command, flowing as she willed it.
“Both your mortal and immortal forms are intact, yet your ego boils over. You have failed.”
Sevar took a deep breath. “I would not have if I’d known about the Oracle’s relationship with the manticore.”
“You were warned he would protect her.”
“But not that he was in love with her. An immortal in love, especially those beasts, would die rather than let her be taken.”
The Queen placed her hands on her hips. “Then why didn’t you kill him?”
Sevar straightened his spine. “I intend to do so at the next opportunity.”
“Bring me the Oracle, Sevar. Do not make me regret choosing you to command the army with which I will conquer the earthlyrealm.”
His jaw clenched. “You chose me because you know I never give up until I complete the task, no matter how daunting it may be. This time is no different.”
“You are mistaken, Sevar. I chose you because, of all the filthy children from the suburbs, you were the proudest. Everyone wanted to be chosen – they were ready to do the impossible to catch my attention. But not you. You stood aside, seemingly uninterested. Yet your desire to stand out and to secure the position, which even then you felt belonged to you, was obvious to me. You are an arrogant egotist with no scruples or limits – qualities I value in you. But never forget that I pulled you out of misery and gave you the name and story that makes you who you are. And if I so decide it, you will not be the first creation of mine that I destroy.”
As any creator, she knew which of her creations’ pain points to push. She was sure she had pulled the right strings this time.
Sevar bowed his head. “I never forget.”
10
Constantine was eleven years old, at the threshold of Hell. The orange-red circle of energy surrounding the World of the Damned resembled fire. At first, Constantine feared the flames would burn his flesh, but as soon as he dared approach them, a pleasant warmth invited him onwards.
So, he continued. And then he was in Hell. It was a dense world, like the earthly realm, with grey stone paths and towering walls that disappeared into the foggy sky. Massive staircases wound up between cobalt streets and seemed to lead nowhere.
A tortured cry reached his ears, piercing him deep and causing unpleasant vibrations through his stomach. He turned towards the source. An old woman in black rags stood before him, her body nearly folded in half by a giant hunchback, and two dirty soles stuck out from under her clothes with fingers like an eagle’s talons. A thick belt circled her waist, connecting her to a small metal cart filled with rocks.
“Please, I have repented… I am atoning…” she cried, not lifting her eyes from the ground.
“Repentance happens in the other worlds, sinner. It is too late for that in Hell!” the deep voice – belonging to a portly man standing beside the old woman – echoed, followed by the sound of a whip hitting flesh.
The old woman’s flesh. She yelped again, but moved the cart slowly up the hill.
