GRETA
The night is calm, we walk the remaining distance to the palace in silence. New marble steps lead up to its entrance.
Guards step back, allowing us to enter.
Adler used a lot of glass to preserve materials during its construction. Still, it is strange to see my own statues around as I go through the halls. Thankfully, I am not bald in any of them. I suppose many assume my hair has been cut. The truth is, it has fallen out.
Never before have I felt so anxious. I thought getting power would instill confidence within me. In the wake of the day, I still am afraid internally.
The last thing I want right now is to have to look into Adler's piercing silver eyes.
"Are you truly a descendant?" I ask.
He smells strongly of bint oil. Silver and burned minerals lay splattered across his armor in intricate swirls.
"We are all descendants of the same nebula."
"Then, why is it you are allowed to sleep with many women, whom, I'm certain, must touch one another?"
"You are very confused." No. There was nothing confusing about that night. He dropped me, and ignored me, letting all those women touch not just him, but each other. I jerk my chin away when he tries to caress my face. He speaks with a catch in his voice, for he must already know himself, "What is the matter, Empress? That is a normal night for a man. My wife at the time fully agreed to it."
"Her name was Cephine," I say, looking through him as I fall back into memory, "And you killed her-"
My heart thuds with nothing more than a dull echo as his eyes turn to slits on me. His hands are heavy, settled on my hips as a smirk grows on his face.
"Do you think I plan to kill you as well?" His question clogs my throat making my lungs close slowly under a heavy weight. His next words are whispered softly in my ear, the same old baby-like tone that makes me feel belittled, "My sweet, nameless, wife."
"I do!" I rebuke while hugging myself. My voice grows louder filling the silence of the empty street, "I do! I do!"
With a racing heart, I swat his hands away and move with clumsy footing. Where is my god now? My real god. In the darkness of the vacant city street, the evil liar grasps the hem of my tunic in his fist, forcing me to walk with him into the shade of a vendor stand roof.
I can feel the fear hundreds of women before me have felt. I want to be a man, but instinct makes me return to the ground. The clean market street crumbles into hot sand beneath my hands. My stomach is empty again, twisted in a tangled knot. My mouth feels dirty, filled with something bitter. Blood.
My parents, I can hear their weeping. Their faces stare down at me, their sobs burning my ears and branding my soul, as I scream to the top of my lungs at the unforgiving black sky through tears.
My hands go to my head as I scream harder, closing my eyes. Someone must hear me. Someone will come for me. No one does though. My hair is no longer. In a fit of madness, I tear my clothing off as some force fights my movements, however, I am successful. My tunic lays shredded around me giving me access to the insufferable searing pain throbbing in my chest.
"No...no! Stop it! No!"
I gnash my teeth, clawing to no avail at the source of my misery for my hands are grabbed and moved above my head.
Relief leaves me anyway, I smile down at myself satisfied to see the new trails of blood leaking down my chest. The biggest trail of liquid forms from my latest re-opened cut.
My nails still ache to continue my handiwork. My warning sounds, growls, go ignored as I glare up at Adler, hissing through my teeth.
Eventually, I come to my senses and become very cold physically and mentally as I take notice of the source of the sobbing I heard in my delusional panic attack.
He did not take my clothes off. I did.
Now I remain crouched in my nudity like the whore Enoch thinks I am. This distorted God has the nerve to pretend to cry, pretend to pity, my misery here.
"You don't care!" He wipes his face but does not let go of my arms. "Let go of me. Just drop me and put me out of my misery for good, man-whore."
His scrutiny makes me feel ugly for I know he is a god of some sort as despicable as he is.
Adler begins unwrapping his robes. "No!" I scream like the hysterical incubator they all think I am as he tries to cover up my body by bringing me into his forced embrace. No longer are we alone. City dwellers have adventured outside their homes to witness the entertainment on the street. Me.
My whole reputation is ruined.
They will all think I have lost my mind. They wouldn't be wrong.
Why won't he watch the crowd? He carries me onto his voltak. The scaly beast lurches forward when he kicks its side.
***
ADLER
My chamber here is nothing like the immersive temple made in my name. That is because my son planned the design of this palace. My space now is meager to suit the simple needs of an advisor.
Stress has made her hair fall out. She looks like a corpse in my small chamber pool. I do not wish to upset her so I have remained outside the bathwater, managing to clean her wounds from over the ledge.
"You know it is not just me. Within yourself, there is guilt and suffering. It cannot be fixed. It is enough to make the rational, especially an incubator, irrational. You cannot keep hurting your body like this."
Blood stains the water red. Her chest is clean enough at least. Her eyes remain glassy as I scoop her out. I lay her on my clout, wishing she would at least look at me if not speak a single word.
"Why would I want to kill you when you have already tried to do so multiple times?"
When did her soul die? Something far worse than death has corroded her mind.
I already killed her long ago. The body dies much slower. My very own dead incubator. There is something very addicting, and pleasing, at being able to control them.
For a long time, I have been doing it. I'm not certain when I began to. All women are the same. I have had very many.
What does she see when she watches me? No woman has been by my side for this long. I wish she would stop trying. Stop making me happy to see the pain I have created.
There is always another woman waiting.
I told her I am addicted.
Never before did I consider it as a bad thing. Yet, I found myself questioning my own logic.
Bruises line her waist and cluster the awful new lacerations across her chest. This isn't an ordinary incubator. Normal incubators know their place. They do not spend days, let alone months, trying to fix my mind. As far as I know, none have ever noticed any workings of my mind and I prefer to keep it that way.
Dread makes me check her womanhood for if she desires to ruin her chest, she must desire to ruin it too. Carefully, I lift up her leg, and quickly lay it back down. Was it like this before?
No wonder she did not enjoy herself.
She must have been in so much pain. Large cuts, bumps and raw infected skin covers the entirety of her intimate lower region.
Her eyes are open now. Watching me as she did when much smaller and tucked in her noyk. I know her heart is fragile and my previous wife must have saw this herself the night she disrobed and shoved my sweet into the commune lake.
What kind of incubator is this?
I have forgotten my sweet understands my mind better than myself. She knows what I have seen and how much I am struggling to keep it together.
She knows my smile isn't real.
The feeling between us is nothing I've ever felt before. I watch her soft eyes dart down to the ground as color leaves her soft face.
She knows exactly what I am thinking. She can hear it in my silence.
"I know," she whispers. Her eyes, bloodshot, she speaks to my soul, "Cephine made that same face when she saw it too. I didn't want you to see all the bites and lumps from the bugs. One day, I tried cutting the ugly skin, thinking new skin would heal over it. It only made it look uglier. I stopped caring about the look of it and focused on just the feeling. I haven't been feeling well lately, Adler."
"It hurt you when we had sex. It did, didn't it?"
"Hida told me it is supposed to hurt. I didn't want her to see down there yet. I don't think she would want to see me again if she did. Besides, you told me before all that matters is a man is pleased. It made me feel good knowing that what I felt is normal for all women. It made realize how worthless sex is to me because you don't walk away feeling used or sore. I do. I don't plan on having it again...with anyone. I don't want that kind of power. It's a filthy thing you men do, feeling pleased and empowered by our suffering. Sex is very important to you and you are very emotional about it too."
"Fine then, yes, sex is about power, my sweet-"
Her voice is weak, "All I want in this life is a connection with just one decent soul."
"You are looking for perfection in an imperfect world, that may I remind you, I did not create but have simply chosen to indulge in."
The only reason she chooses to smile is to hide her horror.
Our eyes lock and her mustered smile falls into a hard line for I do not know what else to say. I have failed her...made her wish for death when now is supposed to be the highlight of her youth.
If it must be Brommy, I will try by that way to make her feel loved. We cannot be together, that much has become fact. I just don't know why I bother to grow jealous at the thought of her with my brother when I trust him more than any other man.
He will be good in her eyes. I suppose he has been waiting long enough.
☁️