When I was a kid I climbed a tree, and that was the end and the beginning. I had legs and had arms, and I had the minimum courage to rough my skin and tire my limbs in order to jump to the highest branches and attain the ripest apple. Naturally I had all kinds of fruits at my disposition if I so wished, my servants were always at my beck and call, but I couldn’t truly appreciate that fact until I obtained the apple without their interference. It would be absurd to claim I was thankful for the hard work conducted by my people, they were simply doing what they were supposed to do, just as it is absurd to thank my hands for being part of my body and doing their function. What I felt that day when I grabbed that apple my servants would not understand, because the apples they picked would never be theirs regardless of their efforts, whereas I was just discovering the wonderful truth that they were always mine and not given by others.
On another note, that realization made me so happy that I made a point of claiming the apple as my favorite fruit, and to this day apple wine is the liquid that constitutes my holy grail. As it is, I happen to be drinking it from the sweetened lips of a man, a lion of a creature that nevertheless possesses the softness of water in his teary eyes. I don’t find much pleasure in sentimental types, usually, but they do bring that will to plunder and conquer inside my heart, which is why their sadness is so delectable from time to time. I sit on his lap and open my eyes fully as the sun is revived outside the window, stirring me to leave the bed.
It has been a long time since I’ve last seen the true face of the sun in this land, everything appears to be covered by a thick layer of fog that diffuses the rays of light. Today, it is one bit more focused, perhaps something good awaits me at court, perhaps adjourning the court will be the good thing. But before anything else, I must finish yesterday’s matter while the corpse is somewhat fresh, so I leave the beauty alone and call the servants to dress me.
My long robe drags through a large space on the floor, accumulating dust and dirt that falls from the pillars. My little palace is in ruins, but I don’t dislike this aspect of decay. The smell of mold and earth that should belong in the crypts is only smothered by the scent of liquid roses, wine, and flesh, but anyone with a keen sense of smell is capable of detecting the raw that runs deep into each of these things, vines that reproduces faster than bacteria. One day this entire structure will fall over my head and bury me along with the lilies I’ve been cultivating.
The tails of the robe, with time, produced rocks that made it difficult to walk on my own, so instead of doing something so tiring and useless I must float, let them hang on mid air as I tuck the robe inside the carriage, and two sturdy oxes will lift this iron cage to the countryside, where the Duke has an outer manor. The place where the woman died is not so far from the palace, nevertheless she ought to be buried closer to earth while far from my domain. After all, anyone could’ve known her, but not me – as such, she is undeserving of such honors, nor do I plan to grant them. The dead child is another story.
There are many interesting things to take note along the way, but I’d rather pay attention to my long nails that I’ve extensively polished. Big things and shiny trinkets are most attractive on my eyes, and longer limbs covet them better. What matters is that this little trip takes longer than I’d like it to be, and I don’t hide my satisfaction when reaching the damnable mannor. I flip my fan, an unwilling gift from Michael, to cover the bottom half of my face and close my eyes, smiling. The scent of decay is as strong here as it is inside my palace, though the Duke did not bother to conceal it. One would think this to be quite discourteous, but for each place there is a different rule, and the most dangerous nobles are those that hide their deeds from my eyes. I mostly ignore them.
I’d love to pay attention to the gruesome monsters of architecture that constitute the mannor, alas, Duke Farhad chose to present me his personal army of feeble youths, fresh from their mother’s wombs and sick from drinking pale blood. It is not really a wonder how kids my own age grow to be such wastes, the raw ingredients are hardly good, it would take a great cook to make a supple meal that feels, at the same time, unique. Being born into nobility didn’t seem to do them any better, quite the opposite.
The army of weaklings part in the right to greet me with the sight of the Duke. I smile to be polite, and it happens that I hide my urge to laugh at his furious face. One would think my person to be his worst enemy.
-First Princess, it is an honor to receive you in my humble house. To which wind do I owe the pleasure of your visit?
-I come to recover something that I’ve lost.
-To my knowledge, the First Princess has never set foot on this land, how could she recover something that doesn’t belong to her?
I smile sweetly, closing my fan to showcase my peerless white teeth and my sharp canines.
-Which plot of land under the sky is not a part of the Empire? Everything belongs to me, I need only find it.
Farhad crunches his teeth so hard that I hear even at this distance. His tongue rolls out of his mouth like a snake entwining on a branch, a mouth that produces forked words is the trademark of liars and thiefs. His army of weaklings showcase their sharp and deadly swords in a display of force.
-Each plot of land, though yours, is ruled by a different master. It has been like this since the birth of the Empire, and we have prospered. I know your character very well – he smiles ingratiatingly – why work so hard to reinvent the wheel? You can stay inside your sanctuary in the palace, surrounded by beautiful men and women, covered in jewels and conserved in alcohol. Things will put themselves in place without you doing anything.
I stay silent for a moment and curtsey, hiding my face which is distorted to a point where I cannot show any hint of a smile, substituted by absolute disgust. What I abhorr the most is a person who claims to know something, specially if it is about me.
-The old and sickly, the feeble and stale, the weakling and the coward, all of them I despise. My Empire has no need for you.
Waving my fan, I close my eyes. My eyelids are heavy, as if I’m falling asleep and it is difficult to wake up again.
-Duke Farhad, you asked which wind brought me here? It is the one that comes from the west and is most brutal, circling the north and the south to warp the air into blades.
Farhad sends forward his small army, hiding behind the veil of bodies.
-You are insane! Once you start this, you will be going against all nobles! Even unknown kingdoms and empires, lands ruled by strangers that don’t understand the inner politics, will come forth to smite you for this act of defiance. You know nothing of justice! Nothing of law!
-I never knew them, and it shall continue that way. My law doesn’t restrict me, it frees me to do whatever I please. Only, I will never disgrace myself and deign to do something inferior to what it allows me.
With one vertical swipe, a howling hurricane crashes into the side of the soldiers and devours them. One bat, time slows down. Two, and their bodies are shattered into bloodless chunks with no vitality, repulsive slabs of fat left on a perpetual state of putrefaction. But it is also good, let the vultures devour them, some part of them will thus rise to a higher station. As for Farhad, I will let him live, despite his ferocious struggle and opposition. He will make for a sufficient scar.
The final moment I bat my eyelids, time resumes.
-Farhad, where are the ashes?
The ex-duke stumbles and runs to his manor, I swipe my free hand horizontally and a wall of vines entwines his feet, making him fall. That doesn’t stop him from going insane with laughter, it seems.
-I told you, didn’t I? I know your type very well... The ashes are scattered throughout this world, you can search every corner of the land and there will always be a missing piece. Give up!
Feeling the sleepiness overcome me, I wave the fan and strip the mannor of its walls, revealing its ugly flesh and rotten lugs, a heart of black with veins of ink, spilling dreadful words and images of all kinds that have no purpose except for a small number of people.
-If it is part of the Empire, I will naturally find it. For starters, I will take this black dot.
Floating the tiny speck of ash up to my fingers, I draw the blood from my lips and encompass it, swallowing the black with the red. A putrid smell accompanies it before morphing into a tiny eye that I absorb on my forehead.
-If I cannot have the complete child, I will take first the right eye. As for you, Farhad... I don’t really care what you do.
I turn my back on him and lay to sleep inside the carriage. As my vision blurrs, I notice a thin streak of light pierce through the heavens and trap Farhad in place, like a boulder crushing an ant. He is still alive, as nothing truly dies in this land, though I don’t expect to see him again so soon, it would be a most unpleasant encounter. Truly, this morning has already turned out to be quite satisfying.
I slept pretty well on the way back, it is a given. At least one third of my life should be spent dying to maintain my beauty, and the remaining two thirds are better put to use seeking death. I yawn and stretch my leg languidly on the cushion, my head rested on the laps of a woman. Another feeds me purple grapes, and they cheer me up in advance to a really boring session at court.
Back at the palace what welcomes me is a squadron of the yellow guards under the direct command of my brother Michael. Since we are connected, it is only natural that he would find out about Farhad’s situation, upping the security and preventing some of the nobles from returning to their castles and preparing an uprisal. Michael himself descends from the left lane, hiding his face behind a mask and his true allegiance with a veil of black.
Smiling insincerely, he brushes past me and whispers. I stop to have a short chat before ascending the stairs.
-You should’ve talked to me before doing that.
I raise an eyebrow, amused.
-You don’t agree with my actions?
-Of course not. In your place I would’ve tied him to a pole and stabbed eighteen holes through his skull so that he wouldn’t find his way back to us.
-And give him a chance to bleed himself to death? You’re too kind. I’d rather have his misery.
-That which is suppressed will grow stronger. It is the most obvious thing.
-That which dies is born renewed. I don’t have the energy to buy a bitter struggle, do you really believe Farhad won’t flee to another Empire and sharpen his fangs in concealment?
We reach the entrance to the courtroom and Michael begins to fade to the sides.
-I'll bother you to act your part today as well. Though I don’t mind your absence, it’s tiring having to prepare a body double every time you want to vanish. Dear sister – his tone softens – if you want to permanently disappear, that can also be arranged.
His guards open the gates and I glance at the figure atop the stairs decorated with seven petal flowers. I must admit he did a splendid job finding such a fine woman, I will have her immediately introduced to my rooms, we can be friends and more than friends. No matter how much I love and admire another’s beauty, the one I love and admire most is myself after all, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I clap my hands twice and all attention is gathered to me. They don’t seem in the least bit surprised, my participation in court is almost zero, neither me nor Michael care for half that is brought to our eyes by these useless fools, so that my presence or absence holds little impact. At least until they figure out what happened to Farhad.
I’m feeling specially lazy today, so instead of climbing the stairs to the throne, I float it to my side and sit down, I wave my hand and summon two men to massage my feet. Finally I gaze at what’s in front of me. There are six people, half are male, half are female, surrounding the decaying body of other three: a giant, a young woman and a dove with a serpent’s tail.
-Care to explain the situation?
-Yes, dear sister – Michael appears from a different set of curtains, his voice clearly enraged. Approaching my seat, he continues to whisper – even if this is all a farce, you must play a beautiful farce. Don’t think I don’t dare to remove you.
Laughing, I wave him off.
-Like I care about rules I haven’t invented. If you’re that capable then run off with my head. But I know you’re not, otherwise I would never know I had a head full of beautiful hair to begin with.
Snorting disdainfully, he proceeds to explain the situation.
-These men and women are inheritors to the legacy of the giant, the bride, and the serpent-dove. The collective last will says: to the most capable, earth’s rewards. Since it’s a large dispute, the highest authority in the matter needs to solve it.
Glancing at my nails in boredom, I stifle a yawn and point one finger randomly.
-You, the one who wears blood on his shield and a warrior's helmet. Why do you think yourself capable?
Going forward, the muscular man slowly puts his large shield on the ground and supports himself with it.
-Greetings to the First Princess. I come from the ranks of the Timeless and there I was taught how to walk properly, neither slow nor fast, and to look straight ahead, neither too high nor too low. My path is one and I don’t waver, thus I must be the most qualified.
The nobles discuss in hushed tones while my brother whispers.
-I’m not particularly fond of him, but it would be a safe choice. No one can be dissatisfied with a Timeless one.
-Oh, is that so?
Personally I hold the same opinion, but since he has thus spoken, I feel the need to go against him. Dear hateful brother, you should stop being so sure about everything.
-Wherever you find safety, you find weakness. When stillness is achieved by a lack of action, there is decay. Those who aren’t prepared to die have not been living. You are unworthy.
I hear the cough of my brother and feel a brief sense of satisfaction. The warrior doesn’t issue a complain and merely returns to his position, as if the treasure would ultimately fall on his lap at the end of the day. I point my finger to a woman with a lustful body, wearing a feathered cap.
-You, who is bountiful in vitality and with eyes burning with an inner fire. What say you? – I smile provokingly.
The woman goes forward and twirls a lock of her ebony hair, responding my smile with one of her own and a seductive voice.
-I am not Timeless but my strength is endless, endurance indefatigable and energy explosive. Whatever is needed to be done, I am willing to do it and will waste no effort to accomplish it.
Perhaps captivated by her sex appeal, and her characteristics which would no doubt serve me well in bed, I feel inclined to choose her. That aside, I like the lass very much, and my smile widens to show that.
-A good woman – I succinctly say, to which her cheeks blush with a healthy red and her eyes shine like stars.
-Your tastes are as unrefined as always. In what way is that woman different from the beasts I control? Nothing but savagery and undirected will, indiscriminate creation power that breeds both good and evil. It might be needed at first but if left unchecked, will become a monster. No matter what you say, I won’t agree with it – brother says.
Frowning, my temper flares up and I hurl at him a dozen profanities before hammering the nail.
-The decision is mine, you have no right to interfere.
-Watch me – he sneers.
I wave my fan to send a gust of wind, I want to carry her away. Michael chuckles.
-Did you forget whom that thing originally belongs to?
Instead of helping her, the air surrounding the lass turns into blades of air that decapitate her head and thoroughly mutilates her body. I stare at the lifeless remains, anger rising to my chest, that matter is not over. I point to another woman in the bunch.
-You, woman with the hat whom I have no impression of. Make your statement.
Slightly trembling and gulping a mouthful of saliva, the woman bows down, nice and proper for her position, and obeys my order.
-Everything I have earned was due to my own skills and through applying the proper techniques, I can join the different parts and make them work together to achieve my true purposes. Regardless of the way this blessing appears to me, I will be able to use it to further my purposes, and because of this I am most suitable.
Before Michael gets a chance to speak, I wave my hand and both her tongue and her hands are petrified, quickly falling off. I wait a few seconds for her to notice her condition, and in her eyes, unveiled, lies pure despair.
-Those that deceive others ultimately deceive themselves. Without your tools you’re nothing, where is your true purpose now?
I hear the crackling of my brother’s fists and grin maliciously. If you take that which is more valuable to me, I will take that which is more valuable to you.
Lifting my chin towards another, I beckon him to show himself.
-You who wears a crown and is king of nothing, what have you to show?
The middle-aged man doesn’t bow in reverence or cower in fear, which I appreciate if only a small amount. In his eyes there is not the wisdom of age, rather the curiosity of a child.
-I know nothing and qualify for nothing, what others may have already obtained I am yet to create. I have no gifts and no misgivings, and I can be anything. In that way, I can also be qualified.
Looking back to see my brother’s reaction, I see it is the same as mine, which is to say nothing. The man heads back in silence.
-You, the boy with hair of wheat and emerald eyes, you’re next.
The boy quietly makes his way forwards and speaks crisply. One would take him for a girl.
-The serpent-dove is my friend, I will follow it wherever it leads me. The serpent-dove never lies and never leaves - he smiles sheepishly.
I put a finger to my lips and ponder whether to bring him back home or not. Such a cute kid, makes me want to hold him on the palm of my hands.
-Too much trust in sentiment. It disgusts me – Michael whispers.
-Then we shall keep him for now. Little boy, you may retreat – I wave my hand – the last one, you, old woman with the silver cape. What is it you have at your disposal?
The old crone unhoods to show her head full of white hair and recites monotonously.
-I can see beyond the veil, like the First Princess does, and through these weary eyes things come large and foggy. I know the infinity that lies before truth, and will not be led by reason.
Those words irk me away, I cannot stand to even look at that thing. Who would dare claim to be able to see like I do? One’s world belongs to himself and no one else. One’s path is unique and cannot be treaded by another.
-Words of true understanding, well spoken – I spit poisonous words.
A fierce wind strikes the lady and beheads her, accompanied by my brother’s irate voice.
-Today dies one who has seen the scope of the horizon but does not know what is behind the mountains, and whose eyes were cast so far away she couldn’t see what lies immediately in front of her.
-Take it away – I wave my hands and the guards come to collect the corpse and clean the mess.
Glancing around, there are three corpses for three different candidates. I open my fan to freshen my appearance and throw a suggestion.
-How about we let them choose a corpse. If their wills are similar, the person will get a share of the reward.
-First Princess, aren’t you being too biased to the child? – a yellow coated youth says.
-This is a judgement of who’s more worthy, not about fair distribution – an orange robed elderly woman rebukes.
-The judgment is what should be fair, I said nothing of distribution! – the youth continues.
-Everything is corruptible, any sort of judgement is unfair – the elderly again rebukes.
This continues for a while, and I let it happen while staring at my nails. I don’t intend to deal with any other matters that arise, and my brother surely appreciates this kind of debate. I only intervene when both sides are exhausted.
-Now that we have all arguments laid out, I’ve found a way that will leave no party dissatisfied.
-May the First Princess bestow her judgement – all the nobles bow solemnly and await for my answer.
-All of you can just go die – waving my fan, a gust of wind blows and tears apart the child, the middle-aged man and the warrior into strips of mangled flesh and blood that scars the ground. The nobleman stand shivering, horrified at me and my brother’s display. Some even puke, disgusted, and those I promptly excuse from my realm.
Getting up from my seat, I remove parts of the five. From the warrior, the brain; from the middle-aged man, the lower body; from the fiery woman, the upper body; from the glib tongue woman the sensory organs; from the child, the heart. The rest I crush between vines and let the blood spill in a perfect circle, entwining the green of nature with the dark red liquid of life.
Moving my hands ever higher, I close my eyes and envision the ultimate creature, which lacks but one ingredient to purify the mixture.
-Dance, dance and break the legs, crush the bones, crack the scales with sharpened stones. Let us shed this skin so fake, let us game a deadly play. Honeyed words soak flesh in sorrow, bleeding light conjures the pain.
Sweet blood flows from my lips and my will is carried by the wind. They flow through the body parts, reshaping, connecting, separating the waste and leaving something entirely pure. If it is capable of sadness, it must feel it, for the creation of something greater is always preceded by the destruction of its lower components. It is sad for it must abandon itself.
-Rise from the earth, my black phoenix.
A creature that is both male and female and shares the traits of both, and that is internally what it is externally, with all the qualities attached, removed the wastes. If I didn’t know that I was the creator of such masterpiece, I would’ve felt jealousy.
-How it she, brother? Nothing to complain I suppose.
Silent for a few seconds, Michael mutters an assent.
-A beautiful creation indeed.
Waving his long sleeves, he conjures a suit of bladed feathers to cover the creature’s naked body. I close my eyes and clutch my chest to endure the raging desire of capturing this marvelous half woman. One day maybe she will visit me, but like a bird it is most beautiful when free from shackles.
-Still unrefined, but for the earth’s rewards you qualify. A third of each corpse shall be served to sate your hunger. As for the remaining, me and my brother will each take another third for our troubles.
Batting her moistened eyelids, like butterflies fluttering in the wind, the creature devours with her sword-like teeth the heart of the dove and the head of the snake, and of the giant and the bride it takes that which is most nourishing to its body. Her lips are painted scarlet and her breasts shine bright red, as the nobles collapse on their chairs it raises its arms and ascends into the skies.
I put the palm of my hand back, and my brother inputs his. We leave together, forgetting the trembling, weakened and flabbergasted nobles. Their reaction would make me feel disgust had I not witnessed such a marvelous banquet today, this useless bunch know nothing of the art of necromancy, of creating life from death.
-You did well – Michael murmurs, his tone sounding sincere.
For the first time, I feel like he’s not so loathsome after all. But on a second thought, it’s probably because he’ll get to partake in the delicacies. He was always a staple for equal distribution, and at least in necessity we hold the same position.
-Likewise.
I head back to my palace and as I approach the rusty iron doors, a crack in the ceiling widens and a ray of light pierces the large hallway, illuminating my body for one moment before I walk away. My robe is lighter, as the light caused a rock on its tail to crack, so my floating is smoother and easier. I grin, feeling my heart beat with renewed vitality. Holding court is a chore, yes, and seeing Michael’s smug countenance everyday, just the idea makes me choke. But sometimes it feels very rewarding, it appears.
The doors are opened with a creaking sound, my smile is pure as I watch the orgiastic screams echoing from the four directions. Joy, wild creative energy that basks in both the bountiful and the barren, but anyone who can distinguish between the two will prefer the bountiful one note more. That woman with fiery eyes, it is a pity she is not here to share this moment with me, but one part of her still lives in the creature, as it will live in me, in Michael, and in everyone else.
The substitute me awaits in the altar at the lowest level, wearing gold and silver on her supple breasts and deadly rubies on her lips. Her clothes, see-through satin decorated with the fur of a fox and a peacock’s feathers, her legs of the same strong flesh which molds the earth at its core which is metal, hot, sturdy and maleable. In her eyes lies the same eruption of fire from a volcano, destructive and imponent, and on the tip of her tongue the breathe of men and women in the thousands, full of undeterred lust.
I was planning to have my feast on those corpses from earlier, but looking at myself in flesh and bone in front of me, I discard the idea. If Michael is any smarter than he appears to be, he’ll figure out the answer, too. I drop my robes and crawl on naked fours to her side, and we kiss and we laugh, and I enjoy for the first time my own scathing taste. Blood flows from our lips and our flesh binds and mends, melting into an unrecognizable mess. Our legs trap each other and work into the most pleasurable nightmare and the most terrifying dream.
After hours of screaming in pain and pleasure, I retract my fangs that have removed from this woman which is me every drop of fire in her blood, drained all the heat in her flesh. Feeling my eyes heavy, I cradle myself on her bosom and sleep on her thighs, her cold hands enveloping my hair. I fade into the land of the dead
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