Deathless (Editing)

Chapter 21: The Monster Within

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Author's Note:  This chapter contains a scene depicting a sexual assault.  The scene is not gratuitous, but I thought a warning was necessary to those who may find it triggering.  

Thanks to everyone who has made it this far!  I have appreciated all of your support; it means the world to me, as this story has taken years to complete.   We are about 2/3rds of the way through with this story.  I hope you have enjoyed the ride!  

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I looked up to see the exact moment when dawn broke across the sky. My eyes stung with sleep. Gooseflesh rolled down my arms and legs as I hugged my chest. Stupidly, my gaze flitted to the line where I stood. Three perfectly long lines full of Sullied, at least two-hundred deep, all dressed in paper-thin robes, all being processed for the Harvest. I glanced down to find my bare toes sinking into the gray mud, the dirt caking around my feet.

This mud had not been made from any normal source. There had been no rain. None of the canals had failed. No. The water came from the strange men, with thick necks and broad shoulders, who the Morning Priest had hired to "enforce" the Harvest. The men carried buckets of water, and no matter if the Sullied being processed was clean or dirty, they dumped at least one full bucket of frigid water over our heads. It was a "purification ritual," one of the Kindly Ones explained at the beginning of this ordeal. Some of the Sullied would be purchased as house servants and required to live among nobles. The most beautiful of the female Sullied would be taken into the Houses of the Willow World, where they would become courtesans (at best) or simple prostitutes (at worst). In order to serve nobles, either by working their crops or warming their beds, the Sullied were required to undergo a purification ritual every year to cleanse them of their moral failings.

For some reason, I thought the purification ritual would be more elaborate than dumping buckets of water over our heads. Part of me found the lack of effort predictable. Part of me found the whole thing slightly ingenious because, while most Sullied were well-groomed, some lacked basic personal hygiene due to homelessness. Dumping water over them was a half-hearted attempt at making those Sullied appear somewhat presentable to the image-obsessed nobles.

"Name?"

"Riverly."

"Master?"

"Mistress Daiyu."

The man checking our credentials against his papers nodded. "Go to the line on the left," he said, stamping my paper and gesturing for the Sullied girl behind me to step forward.

I did as bid and filed into line. Aside from the sounds of girls and boys yelping as they were doused with what looked like cold canal water, the whole affair was eerily quiet. No one spoke to one another. Everyone kept their eyes either on the sky or on the mud, likely too afraid of being punished by the enforcers monitoring the lines.

The slow march of time stopped the instant when the Morning Priest wandered through my line to give prayers to the Sullied. My back stiffened, and I swore I could taste the tin of blood when I glimpsed him from the corner of my eye. Revulsion only thickened when he saw me and smiled.

"Riverly," he purred.

My eyes dove down to the thick gray sludge coming up between my toes. I could feel the muscles in my face tense as I fought back the urge to grimace.