//Author Note: I would strongly urge you to read Rotten Æther | Scribble Hub alongside this story. Shared world and setting, with crossovers coming!//

 

What is a monster to do on a night so fine as this? No nobles dare to tread on this land that they have surrendered to the common man, land then stolen by gangs of criminals who rule not by any divine dictate, but by violence. I cannot blame the criminals; the common man will always revert to the simple tribalistic ways without proper guidance.

The nobles are responsible for this.

Piper is right to call me a monster, ‘You are a monster not because of some strange magic, and not because you came back from death, but because you were born with noble blood.’

The rich scent of blood in the air is only further evidence of the nobles’ sins, for what else can it be called when divine duty is forsaken for the sake of corrupt desires? It is undeniably sin, not that the gods seem interested in delivering punishment.

No, this place will not be saved by nobles or divine intervention, it is through ignoble deeds that these streets might be made safe.

“The leader of this gang is a titled knight?” I ask Lewark who stands beside me with his charming little apprentice, a boy more frightened of me than the darkness surrounding us. As well he should be.

“A knight from the last war,” Lewark huffs, leaning heavily on his cane and gazing over the cityscape before us. “He’s gathered a small army of violent brutes to act as his enforcers, two dozen or so. They’ve shared their spoils with the reeve captain. None of us can step in to deal with anything happening here.”

“Then might I not be pursued by the reeves if I trouble this man?” I ask, watching as a thug, who must weigh as much as a small horse, pulls the coins from the hand of a young boy. Ill-gotten coin, if the shredded rains of leather purses are convincing evidence.

“He doesn’t pay that well,” Lewark chuckles to himself. “You wanted some lively prey, then this is what I can offer.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re the one taking this problem off of my plate, if you ever run out of snacks, please do come give me a shout.” He turns to leave, his cane clacking out an energetic rhythm as he hums a playful tune.

“Those... creations of yours...” Kai starts, lagging behind his master as he seeks to explain. “They funnel æther through them, burning the channels away as the æther takes on the qualities of your vampiric energy. They don’t last for very long but they... they imitate a living being’s despair.”

“Could you say that again?”

“They imitate despair, it’s almost like a living being in itself, born to experience the terror, pain, and suffering of the donor whose body was spent in the birth of the talisman. It almost recreates life itself, all for the sake of suffering.”

“Necromancy?” I ask a little too quickly, but the implications of that would be… maybe not so terrible for me now, as it would have been when I was still human.

“No, it’s not quite the same, and necromancy uses ordinary æther as far as I can tell from all the records I’ve read on the topic. This is something else. I’ll need to study it for longer before I can come to any more conclusions.”

“Your efforts are appreciated, perhaps in time you will find us a better means of hunting monsters like me,” I say, standing up and stretching in as ladylike a fashion as I can spare, but then what power does a lady have here? What point is there to imitating the good manners of a lady, where a lady is not wanted?

“Before I leave, there was something I was meaning to ask, if it’s not too private?” Kai says, not yet running after his master. The boy has gall, I like it.

“I won’t know whether not I can answer until you ask.”

“Your aura, you’re training in frost magic, aren’t you? Why aren’t you using any chants?” He asks, “Is it some special training technique that I don’t know about? Something to do with your new æther?”

“Nothing so much. I do not chant because chants are a crutch,” I answer the boy, “They might work well for when you are starting, when you are weak, but to let your enemies know what spell you are casting is just foolishness. If you learn to walk with crutches, then your step will be forever warped by the experience, your posture that of a sickly creature and your legs terribly weak.

“I will not hobble myself eternally so that I might learn to walk a few weeks early.”

“I haven’t heard that opinion before. Do you know of any experiments that prove it?” Kai asks.

“No, I’m no scholar.”

“Understandable, I’ll look into it myself. Thank you, and be safe.” He bows his head to me and chases after the distant clacking sounds of his master. He’ll be a good young man when he grows up, if a little bookish.

I left behind my guard and my maid for tonight’s hunt, there is no need to bring them to a place like this where they’ll only get caught up in the violence. If I have to run, as unrefined as such a thing is, then it’ll be easier to escape pursuit without them attached.

Nerves that ought to be long dead, inspire me to check on my knife once more, finding it locked in the sheath where it always is. I freeze the emotion, chilling my flesh with frost magic to remind myself of the monster I’ve become. The moment passes and I step off of the rooftop to land lightly on the street below.

While good sense would demand that I skulk in the shadows like some conventional thief or cutthroat, I simply cannot. I have no skill for that sort of mischief, and I’d only be more conspicuous for the wasted effort.

 Masking myself in hollow confidence, I tread the filth-ridden paths deeper into my prey’s territory. Even down in the muck, I can hear them, my vampiric senses cutting through the distractions.

Flesh beats upon flesh, spreading a sweet scent that already drenches this place.

Blood.

Following the sound, it is a simple task to find the local enforcer, but he is quite distracted already, beating on a curled-up young man who isn’t even trying to fight back. Those nearby don’t seem to see anything strange about the scene, more interested in my own enigmatic presence.

I say nothing that might startle my prey, drawing on the darkness and gathering my power. I must make a show of this, my strength is akin to shadows and the moment my prey questions their fear and stands up to me, my power will shrink away from the light of their courage.

This man can never suspect that he knows my true strength, he must fear me as some villain more powerful than he can imagine. I must become a fearsome monster, and he can never doubt my power.

I level my cruel glare at a beer-stained homeless man watching the violence from afar, he frightens easily, subtly flavouring the air with an essence that further strengthens me. I turn away from him to observe the others here with us, not wise enough to know when to run.

When the air is dense with fear, and all eyes have turned from me, I step into the shadows and shift myself to the rooftop above the violent brute.

Settling on the edge of the building, hanging my legs off the side and treating it as a proper seat, I cross my legs in what is not quite proper but still dignified. Leaning forward to watch the violence, I whistle to my prey, the sound cutting clear through the whimpers of the beaten young man.

“What… Wah! What are you doing up there? Who are you?” The brute shouts, backing away as he finally notices me.

“Are you saying that I cannot be here?” I ask. “That would be a mistake, you cannot tell a lady where she can and cannot be. You ought to watch your tongue unless you desire to wake in the morning without it.”

I only activate my glare as I offer the man my threat, and it seems to pierce the man far more effectively than the last few attempts at stalking men of his countenance.

It seems that I was right. This power isn’t a hammer to be used with mindless force, but a more refined tool that must be carefully applied. A light push in the right place, in the right moment, is far more dangerous than lashing out at every perceived opening.

“You shouldn’t be saying things like that,” The thug says, reigning in his fright and grabbing firm the hilt of a shortsword on his hip.

I tilt my head and his breath stops for the length of a heartbeat as terror floods from his every pore. Yes, this is how I am meant to hunt. In my overeager imagination, I can almost hear my own thrumming heartbeat. It is silent, of course.

The beaten young man, too sore to be scared, runs from us in the short moment I have offered him.

“Oi, get back here! I wasn’t finished with you!”

“That is my line, sir,” I say, “Don’t let yourself be distracted now. Turning your back on me would be a terrible mistake.”

“What are you saying, you think you can scare me? You’re just a whore dressed up too pretty for your own good. You wander out of Semi’s lane, did you? She won’t save you out here.”

“A whore?” I ask, my frost magic cools the air around me, something cracking from the sudden chill. “You’re truly delusional. In your heart, you already know that I’m nothing quite so harmless as that. No, I cannot be bought in such a manner, you cannot plead for mercy, not unless… would you cut yourself for me?”

“What?” he grunts, backing away from me.

“Your blood. Offer your blood, and I will consider letting you live.” I say, posturing thoughtfully as if this were a sudden thought. “Would you rather that I come take it, instead?”

I tap his shoulder with a small prod of telekinesis, he jumps and turns, swinging his sword at the empty air. Drawing deeper on my dark æther I call upon the illusionary arts, offering the man a ghostly apparition that roughly imitates my own appearance.

It isn’t a convincing illusion but it doesn’t need to be. He faces against the lie, offering me his back.

I leap down on the man, enhancing my strength as much as my body will take, and in one quick movement, I bury my dagger into his neck. He struggles and twists, but I drive the knife deeper, twisting it and tearing it out.

The pale man tries to grab me, but my strength is greater than it’s ever been. I capture the blood spilling from his wound, digging my teeth in as I hold his head in one hand and his arm in the other.

The flavour is coarse, like a poorly prepared tea, but the vigour of his blood is of such mind-numbing ecstasy that the unique flavour isn’t made unbearable. Bubbling warmth rushes through my veins once more, as I draw power from him.

He struggles, hitting my head and attempting to pry me loose, but I bite down harder and hold on as I draw out the last of his power. He’s scared and weak, and I feed on that too. He gives me the power that I need to resist him until finally his spirit fleas his flesh.

My hands and mouth are warm with fresh blood. I hum a quiet tune and my mind turns cold and numb as I see the ingredients below me. A body that might be made into many cruel talismans, a tool for the hunt.

Shouts and heavy footsteps return my mind to me.

The knight is coming, his enforcers enraged. I hear them, their questions, their absolute confidence. There is little time, but my new instincts cannot bear leaving this trophy here in such a state. I must inspire fear in my prey.

My hands work, while my numb mind observes. Strength reinforced by the darkness allows me to snap bone, and tear flesh, and in mere moments I’ve left behind not simply a corpse, but a message burning with magical power and radiating misery.

Leaping atop the wall carrying a length of intestines taut as a rope, the other end tied as a noose about the corpse’s neck, I loop my end around an overhanging façade and pull the talisman up to hang freely. I tie up my end of the ‘rope’ in a pretty little bow.

I keep quiet, waiting to surprise the knight, my honoured guest. This is not the skulking of a cutthroat, but the silence that a lady can keep while at the theatre or when listening to the host at a tea party. It is his moment on stage and I will not steal it away from him.

“Boss! It’s Shane! He’s… he’s…”

“Dead,” The second voice is smooth and calm as an undisturbed lake. “A mercy if it was quick… They couldn’t have gone far, we’ll find them. No one does this to my people and gets away with it.”

That is my cue.

I summon my illusion once more, placing it just a little nearer to the edge where they can see it clearly from below.

“Yes, there will be no escape this night. On that we can agree,” I say, projecting my voice as my singing tutor taught me. My audience stands in rapt attention. “Please, stay awhile.”

“You did this?” The knight asks. I cannot easily read him without seeing him, but I sense that he’s uneasy. The shuffling of feet only serves to strengthen that impression.

“Did what, exactly?”

“You killed Shane,” He accuses, with a little more force.

“Oh, you ask about my leftovers? It was not so bad for an appetiser, but I’m done with him now. I stopped by here for a small meal, and you’ve been quite kind in obliging me so far. So, which of you is next?”

“We’ll find you and kill you, whatever you truly are.”

“You will not,” I reply, “However, if you do wish to survive this night, then consider making an offering instead of threats. Bow to me and offer your blood.”

They stay silent for a long while, and I let the moment last.

“Boss, she couldn’t have done this alone, not this quick. This is a trick, there’s more of them hiding here.” The enforcer comes to a rather amusing conclusion, but I see no need to correct him.

“Stay close and guard each other’s backs!” The knight shouts, “We’ll kill them.”

“What are they, drinking blood and hanging him up like that?”

“They’re being dramatic. They want you scared, they want you to run, don’t fall for it.” The knight hides his fear well, but I can feel it now, echoing through the dark night and feeding me the power I need to kill them.

“On the contrary, what I want is the bravery that keeps you from fleeing. Your offence at your comrade’s death keeps you nicely centred on my dinner plate. Be brave and stay.” The illusion fades as I draw away the æther feeding the magic.

“What do we do, Boss?”

“We cut down Shane, then we hunt down the bastards behind this and we make them pay.” The knight sounds like a brave man. A proper man, true to his oaths in the worst of ways.

“Give me a hand up. I’ll get to the roof and get him down, maybe I’ll find one of the bastards up there waiting for me.”

“Right Boss, on it.” They shuffle about, moving to climb to the roof where I’m standing. I wasn’t prepared for this; my plans didn’t come this far.

A thought strikes me as the knight is being lifted over the edge. Smirking, as my nerves flutter once more in anticipation, I summon my illusion once more, layering it over my face. The illusion is not so complex as to form a convincing mask in most cases, but it is uniquely useful in that it is opaque enough to hide my true body while looking like nothing more than a cheap ghostly illusion.

“So, the brave knight does not send forth his disposable minions?” I ask, causing the knight to jump as he lifts himself to the rooftop with me. He glares into my illusion for a moment before turning around to look for me in the shadows of neighbouring rooftops, I can’t restrain a dark chuckle. “It isn’t a problem for me, the main meal simply comes a little earlier than I was expecting.”

“Your cheap tricks prove that you’re nothing more than a weak coward,” the knight spits. He treads lightly, hand ready over his sword as he glares into the darkness to his left and right, seeking a foe standing right before him. “You will die by my hand.”

“Say it louder, and you may even believe it,” I whisper, my knife drawn and ready. He does not believe what stands before him, my illusion a lie only in that it makes the truth seem anything but.

He draws his side sword, hooking it into the knot of flesh that holds his dead enforcer aloft, and before he cuts it loose, I’m upon him. I may not have the experience to compare to a knight, but I have been taught to use a dagger and to cut where a man will bleed.

He thinks me an illusion until the moment my knife is buried in the artery of his neck, I twist and withdraw the knife, going for the artery on the other side too, but I overreach.

“Damnit!” He shouts, swinging his sword wide and slicing me clean across the chest.

It burns.

The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, shocking me into thinking that I’m still alive. I’m not so stupid as to believe that lie.

I feed my dark æther into my healing and focus. A lady doesn’t show her pain, no matter how terrible.

The knight is still opposite me, and the sweet blood drips from him in a torrent he can’t stop. I distract myself with food, a powerful technique.

“You… you… you aren’t… bleeding…” He squeezes out the words while holding his throat, trying to hold his blood inside. It’s not working. He has no skill for healing.

“I am already dead,” I say, stepping closer. I cannot show hesitation now, I cannot look weak.

Let him see the wound that he inflicted on me, let him see the dry flesh underneath and smooth skin slowly regenerating, hiding it once more. His sword trembles, his eyes open wide, his pale, clammy face expressing cold horror.

“Submit to me,” I say, pushing dark magic through my eyes. I step slowly and casually into his reach, then closer still. His hand, sticky with his own lifeblood, is easy to remove, like popping the cork from a bottle.

I drink away the last of the knight’s life as he stands frozen in a state of terror. His fear is too intense to be entirely my own design, perhaps he has survived an encounter with another monster like me, a scar that I have reopened.

His blood tastes like the warm sunlight on a winter’s morning, and though it still boils in my veins the moment is gone all too soon. He dies without a chance to prove he deserves the title of a knight. I drop his husk, while the brutes that survived him start to make a fuss and climb up to the roof.

Dessert has arrived.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

I gather only the most powerful of the effigies, the cruel talismans that capture the pain and suffering of death so that it might be shared with the living. The rest I leave as a monument to the sins I have committed this night.

I am too good at this.

It should not have been so easy.

My success might be attributed to luck, at least in part, but that alone cannot explain it.

I did not hesitate.

It was thrilling to take the role of a hunter, to know that I have my prey where I want them. To know that they fear me. To know that I am the monster in the darkness.

Whatever else I might wish to become, whatever else I might strive to be in the future, tonight has proven beyond any deniability that I am a monster.

And it feels good to be a monster.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

If you enjoy this story, like it, rate it, leave a comment, and share it around!

If you really like it and want more chapters join the Patreon, I need all your support to keep this going.

 www.patreon.com/formlesschimera