The Trials of Ruin and Longing

Davon

Davon was stunned. Gerald was the one who killed his mother. Not himself, but Gerald. It felt like the world had fallen from beneath Davon as he took deep, steadying breaths.

"What did my father do?" Elda laughed with savage delight.

"Gerald was going to kill you too, but your father enchanted you so that Gerald couldn't kill you without killing himself. When your father tried to take you, Gerald tried to stop him, and of course, failed."

"So why am I with Lord Gerald?" Elda snarled.

"He used his considerable sway in the political world to get you back. Your father had no choice but to hand you over or face the consequences. So he did. But when he dropped you off, Gerald placed spells around the property to keep him well away from you. Your father couldn't so much as enter the grounds. Hence," Elda said, waving her hand around. "You living here."

"He tried for many years to get you back. Still does, I think."

"So who is my father?" Elda opened her mouth only to close it into a thin line.

"Lord Gerald, it's nice of you to join us." Davon stilled and slowly turned to look at the lord.

Lord Gerald's ruddy face had a big smile plastered on his face, but when he looked at Davon, his eyes darkened. The look vanished as soon he turned back to Elda.

"Hello, Lady Elda! It's been too long! How does the House of Thorn treat you?" Gerald walked past Davon to shake the female's hand.

"Wonderfully." Elda's voice was cold again.

"I see you've met my son, Davon."

"Yes. He's a wonderful boy." Gerald laughed.

"Don't let his manners fool you, Lady." Gerald waved his hand. "He's truly a piece of work."

"No more than you." Elda said. Gerald's face darkened at her words. She began to walk past Gerald, but paused a few yards away. She turned back to them. "It was a pleasure, Davon." And with that she left.

As soon as she had vanished from view, Gerald turned to Davon.

"What have I told you about interacting with guests?" Gerald snapped, the rage taut in his voice.

"I'm not worthy of their attention." Davon stared at the ground as he said it.

"Exactly. And yet here you are." Gerald grabbed Davon's collar. "Doing the opposite of what you are told."

Davon held his breath as Gerald yanked his face closer.

"What's the punishment for this, half-breed?"

"Ten lashes and vodka poured onto them." Davon was trembling now.

"At least you listen occasionally." Gerald let him go. "Go to your room. Now."

Davon nodded quickly, his hands shaking. He turned around and began walking to the door that led inside. Once he was out of sight of the lord, he sprinted for the door. He slammed the door open and flew down the elegant halls. Davon turned down his hall and abruptly came to a stop. Outside of his door, a servant was there, a big burly human with an evil smirk plastered on his face. In his hands, was a black bag and a jug of clear liquid.

Lord Gerald purposely hired humans who hated the magic folk so they would find joy in punishing Davon. As Davon approached, he slid his shaking hands into his pockets, hoping to seem unafraid. But the man's smile only grew into a grotesque grin.

"Come on, you half-breed piece of shit." The man took the bag and slammed it into the back of his skull. Stars exploded across Davon's vision, making him sway. The human shoved him down, making Davon's chin crash into the cold marble floors. He tasted blood as the man grabbed a handful of hair and slammed his fist into his face.

Davon groaned, the man cackling as he hauled Davon up and half-dragged him into his room. The room was derelict, blood and dirt covering the once beautiful carpets. There was a moth-eaten mattress on the floor, covered in threadbare blankets. The large window was covered in grime and cobwebs, the faded crimson curtains looming like monsters in the dark.

The man led him to the post that was set up in the middle of the room, blood staining an almost perfect circle around it. The human shoved him to his knees in front of it, chaining Davon's hands to it. The carpet felt crackly underneath his knees as Davon tried not to flinch as the man cut open his shirt, nicking Davon's back with the knife. The cold air slammed into his bare back.

Davon started trembling, making the chains rattle. He closed his eyes, trying to relax. Davon listened as the human opened the bag with a zip. He heard rustling and a slithering sound. He listened for the footsteps to approach but heard nothing.

A crack sounded from behind him, and Davon's back exploded into pain. He screamed. The man cackled.

"Not so tough, huh." The human snarked. Another crack and pain lanced across his back. Davon screamed as he felt the blood stream down his back.

Another crack. Davon fought the darkness that threatened to sweep him under. He began to cry, tears streaming down his face. The whip cracked, slamming into his back.

Davon sobbed. The whip cracked again, slicing through one of the other lashes. Davon screamed again.

And again. And again. And again.

He was on his last lash. Davon was shaking, his back slick with his blood.

"Lord Gerald was right, you know," the man drawled. "You are useless. No wonder your Fae bitch of a father didn't want you."

"Well, clearly no one wants you either, but hey, who cares?" another voice quipped. Davon opened his eyes in surprise, lifting his head. The voice was female, but he couldn't smell or see anyone else besides the man.

"Who's there?" The man demanded. A laugh from the darkness. The man grabbed a gun from his pocket. "Come out! Now!"

"If you insist." Shadows roiled in one of the corners, letting a short female step out. Her crimson red hair was pulled back, white streaks framing her face. The female was smirking.

"Who are you?" The human demanded. The female's smirk transformed into a wolfish grin, revealing two long sharp canines.

"Well, today, I'm your murderer."