Page 5 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

Nothing hurts. My back isn’t sore from sleeping on cold hard stone. My skin isn’t flayed to within an inch of my life. Even my head is clear of the Belladonna’s poisonous effects. The dizziness. The swollen dryness on my tongue. It’s all gone. How, I don’t know.

Invisible ghostly hands trail down my face and into my hair once more. I suck in a quick breath. Those hands are familiar, but I can’t place them. I turn my head and gasp when to the other side, the tie that holds my braid is gently pried free. The silver length of my hair unwinds, falling around me in long straight strands that flutter in that gentle wind.

It tickles my skin as those phantom hands lift the locks. Whoever he is, he’s feeling me out. Testing whether I’m real or not. How I know it’s a he, I can’t say, but the entity, the energy that creeps closer to me, encloses me in this space feels masculine. Protective almost. Remorseful.

Have I died? I open my mouth to ask the question, but no words come out. I can’t speak here, I realize. There’s no real air. Everything around me, the ground, the grass, the wind. It’s all an illusion. A carefully crafted spell woven around me to block out what’s actually happening.

Realizing that, admitting the truth to the fake world created around me, breaks whatever hold the Divinity has on me and causes the false illusion to shatter, breaking apart entirely. Pain rushes back into my senses.

I gasp, scream, cry out. Tears burn out of my eyes unbidden and I cannot stop them this time. I sob as one final lash cuts across my back and then halts. All the grime that had been washed away before slams into me. Sand beneath my nails as I dig them into the dirt at my knees. Trembling, cold—so fucking cold—the warm blood raining over my back soaks into the seat of my pants, drenching my backside.

Distantly, I’m aware of Axlan stepping back. I can scent him—his sweat and power and energy. His Divinity ripples like a wave through the air, scenting of fire and citrus. He enjoyed what he did to me, is flying on some sort of Victory high destroying me has given him. I’m on my hands and knees, panting for breath that scrapes through my raw throat and before I can stop it, the muscles of my stomach bunch and contract. Bile and water spew out of my mouth, soaking the sand.

Coughing, I let it all out, not caring how weak it makes me appear. Perhaps it’s a good thing to seem weak here. I don’t have the energy to plan for it though. It just is.

Rough arms unlock me from the chains and I nearly plant myself face-first into the ground. If it weren’t for the arms that lock onto my biceps and drag me upward. My head spins, faster and faster. I’m going to vomit again.

I try to open my eyes, but when I do, all I see is gray-blue skies and sunlight. It burns into my skull, making the pounding at the back of my head that much worse. Too much all at once. Everything is too fucking much.

My body is half-dragged, half-lifted as I’m turned towards the tunnel. Above it, in the awning where the Gods of the Academy sit and watch the proceedings, Dolos steps forward, his shrouded body cloaked in darkness, moving as if he’s floating rather than walking. I try to focus on him, try and fail. I can’t even stand upright, held aloft by the guards on either side of me. Cool air washes over my back and I nearly bow in agony as just that gentle breeze caresses the open and bared muscles that have been shredded through on my spine. Black dots dance in front of my vision. Dolos begins speaking.

“Let this be a reminder to all,” he calls out over the crowd, “that we, your Gods, are merciful. Follow our command, our rule, and all you will know is safety. Fail to do so, and your punishment may be far worse than the Terra’s known as Kiera Nezerac.” I sense more than see his gesture in my direction. Only the burn of eyes on my body tells me he’s directing them to look at me. The visual reminder of their fucking mercy. Ha. Mercy my ass.

“Breaking protocol may not seem like such a horrible offense,” he continues, as if he knows keeping me here, dangling between his lackeys is a new torture all on its own. “One mistake can turn into many. One broken rule, one broken law, can sow the seed of anarchy. Our world is protected by the Gods, and as such, respect is due. Any Terra will meet the same fate if not worse than our friend here.” Another gesture. I’d like to give a gesture of my own, a foul one. “Remember that you all have a place in this world of ours and keeping to the lines that maintain our society is what will separate Gods and humans and Mortal Gods alike from animals.”

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him. If he senses my thoughts, Dolos doesn’t react. I lift my head, sinking it back on my shoulders as I force myself to peer up at him on his dais. Violence rings in my ears. Retaliation. Vengeance. I hunger for it even as I’m near collapse.

Belatedly, I recognize what I’d promised myself earlier. How I’d sworn that I’d act subservient today, just for today, but I find that I can’t. I’m in so much pain, stripped bare by it that I can’t stop the venom that fills my eyes as I glare at him.

Dolos doesn’t so much as blink at whatever expression I must have on my face. He merely waves his hand to the guards on either side of me and I find myself being dragged forward a moment later. My boots drag in the dirt and sand, drawing twin parallel lines between as I’m hauled forward, towards the darkened tunnel.

Just before the darkness overtakes my form entirely and the warmth of the sun is stolen, I hear one of the guards mutter something under their breath. “Lucky Terra,” he huffs. “If I were Dolos, I would’ve given her the full hundred lashes instead of a mere fifty.”

Fifty? My thoughts catch on that statement. I’d only received half of the original lashes? Why? The question permeates my mind, circling around and around as the Belladonna’s dizziness overtakes me again and just before we reach the end of the tunnel, I hunch over and curse silently as I upchuck once more, spilling nothing but saliva and bile this time. My lips twitch as the guards curse in disgust. I hope I puke at least once more before they drop me off wherever they’re taking me. I hope I vomit all over both of them.

Chapter 4

Kiera

Once released from the chains and dismissed from the arena, the elder Mortal God guards drag me along the corridors, my booted feet scraping the stones underneath. Blearily, I force my head up even as the movement pulls at the shredded skin along my upper back. We’re not heading towards the dungeons, thank fuck, but instead to the more familiar sight of the north tower.

Reaching the stairs and gritting my teeth through their awkward and uncaring maneuvering is a testament to my training. Each step up is like yet another lash across my back. I breathe heavily as my head swarms with that dizziness. The insects I felt crawling all over me as I’d been forced to kneel before the entire Academy and accept my punishment have returned. They sidle up and down my open wounds and over my skin. I want to rip my own soul out of my body just to get the sensation to stop.

If anyone is concerned with the blood dripping all over the half-naked Terra as she’s paraded through their hallways, no one dares speak a word of it. The door to my room is kicked open by one of the guards and without so much as a careful hand, they drop me. My knees buckle as their grip, which had held me up for the majority of the walk here, is suddenly gone. I hit the floor, sending up a cloud of dust around my legs, and the scream of pain that threatens to spill out lodges in my throat. Silent tears track down my cheeks. Blood slips down my shoulder blades and spine. I can feel my trousers sticking to the skin of my ass. Itchy and painful.

“You’re relieved from duties for the week,” one of the guards says behind me, his voice gruff and just as unforgiving as the ground beneath me. “Be grateful that the Gods showed you mercy.”

With that, they’re gone, slamming the door behind them on their way out. I stay like that for several long moments. I don’t know if it’s minutes or hours, but what I do know is that the sun has waned by the time I finally have the energy to move. With one hand pressed to the floor, I drag a leg out from under me and place my sole against the wooden planks. I stretch upward, meaning to stand.

All at once, though, the pain hits me with a fresh wave of fire. Black dots fill my vision, growing larger and larger until they completely encompass everything. My leg collapses once more and the ground rushes up to meet my face. Darkness falls before it actually hits, and for that, I am grateful.

My head feels foggy, as if wads of cotton have been shoved into my earholes far enough that they’ve taken up residence right alongside my brain when I wake. I’m still on the floor, I realize a moment later, lying prone and vulnerable. With a dry, panting mouth, I turn my head from the wall and stare, unseeing, at the light from the moon shining in through the slit of a window in my room.

Has it been a day? I wonder. Or longer? The tingles of pain embedded into my back are my answer. A day then.

Breath after breath invades my chest, filling up my lungs before wheezing back out. Exhaustion clings to my every pore. My limbs feel heavier than they ever have, but I fight off the desire for sleep. Every small noise—from the footsteps of people passing outside my door to the soft chirping of insects and the skittering of spiders within the walls—makes my muscles bunch and jump beneath my flesh.

It’s been a long time since I felt quite this vulnerable. With the poison’s effects slowing down my healing speed and the unwashed, unmedicated skin of my back open to the raw elements, I doubt I’d be much of a fight for anyone should they attempt to kill me now. So, I keep my eyes peeled. I breathe deeply, counting down invisible minutes as I work to quell my own focus on the pain.

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