The Essence of Balencia

The Blood for His Gain

The king, unperturbed, dipped his hands into the crimson pool of blood. With a twisted smile, he raised his hands to his face, smearing the blood across his skin and running his fingers through his hair, the red staining him like war paint. "What did I do?" he echoed mockingly, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "I cleansed them. I freed them from this miserable world, Lalzari. Can't you see? This is power."

Lalzari's heart clenched in horror as she watched the king revel in the blood, his madness on full display. She fought the urge to scream, feeling trapped between the king’s madness and Mareeb’s silent distress. 

Lalzari’s mind whirled, memories of her mother flooding her as the warmth of the blood soaked through her dress. "You have to suffer sometimes..." The words echoed like a haunting lullaby, a bitter truth her mother had once told her. Mama’s soft touch, her glittering hands on her cheeks, the promises of safety that were never kept, all of it resurfaced now, like a wound torn open. She had begged, pleaded, but no one listened. Her mother had left her, and the only answer Lalzari ever got was the sight of her corpse hanging for the world to see. That night had sealed Lalzari's fate, locking her into a life of suffering.

The warmth of the blood in the tub contrasted with the icy numbness that filled her heart. She felt as if parts of her were slipping away, pieces of her soul dissolving in the crimson bath. Lalzari knew the significance of what she was doing, the line she was crossing. Sitting in the blood of innocent girls was not just a physical act, but a violation of everything she believed in. But she had to endure this. For now. She couldn’t reveal her disgust, her hatred for the king. Not yet.

"I will keep my dress on, master," she had said, her voice steady though inside, she was crumbling.

As she lowered herself into the tub, the warmth engulfed her, the thick blood clinging to her skin like a suffocating shroud. She didn’t look at it, couldn’t bear to. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the wall behind the king, focusing on anything but the grisly scene she was now part of. 

The king sat across from her, his eyes studying her with that twisted amusement, pleased by her obedience. He didn’t see the war raging within her, the internal scream that echoed in the silence of her soul. But Lalzari knew better. I will survive this, she told herself, clenching her fists beneath the blood. And when the time comes, I will make him pay.

"BRING HER" the king roared at Mareeb as he pointed at a piece of black cloth on the floor. As Mareeb walked over and lifted it up it became clear... It was a little girl covered in a black dress and hijab... She's from... The warriors in dresses. Mareeb placed her body between the king and Lalzari whilst his face was in complete horror. He wiped the blood on his hands off his pants as he slowly walked backwards shaking profusely. 

"Mareeb.... Go outside and wait" Lalzari ordered knowing the horrific sight was too much for the servant boy. Mareeb dashed for the door knob. 

"She sacrificed herself for us, my love," the master whispered, his voice slithering like a serpent's hiss. He licked his lips slowly, savoring the words. Lalzari’s stomach twisted violently. A wave of nausea, thick and relentless, surged through her like a rising tide. He's trying to turn me into him, she thought, her mind recoiling. I can't! I won’t!

Without a word, the king rose from the tub, water cascading off him like droplets from a cold, stone statue. He wrapped a towel around his broad frame and strode out of the room with the unfeeling grace of a shadow. "One...two...three...four..." Lalzari counted, each second a heartbeat of dread. When she was certain he wouldn’t return, she sprang from the tub, her body folding in on itself as she leaned over, retching again and again. The nausea was like a firestorm, tearing through her with no mercy.