Page 134 of Shattered Jewel

No, no, no…

I didn’t notice the Scourge Sovereign move to the workbench and reheat the jewel in the furnace.

“Stop!” I scream. “Just cut out my heart and get it over with. Don’t do this to them.”

The High Sovereign only inclines his head, likely delighted by the renewed anguish on my face. He caresses my cheek, his touch as cold as the revenge I’m certain he wants to seek against my dead father for disobeying him. For protecting the Anderton line. “Don’t worry, pet. It’ll all be over soon.”

With that, he gives a nod over my head.

“Your turn,” I hear the Scourge say to Kaspian with a voice as scraped and uneven as gravel.

I can’t see what happens next, but oh God, I hear it.

The sizzle of flesh is drowned out by Kaspian’s soul-shattering agony. The smell of cooked flesh mingles with the incense, and my stomach churns.

Sounds of desperate motions, like bodily convulsions, follow until Kaspian gasps, heaving through the aftermath as he fights for breath.

The Scourge laughs darkly. ““I always hated you the most, you egotistic fucker.”

He presses the ruby hard against Kaspian’s chest once more.

Kaspian’s scream can barely escape, his vocal cords are so shredded.

I start crying.

“Does it hurt, Kaspy-waspy?” the Scourge sing-songs viciously.

“Go to hell,” is Kaspian’s snarled, weakened reply.

“Kaspian,” I whisper, desperate to offer some form of comfort.

“Beastie,” he says raggedly, “Don’t break. Not for me. Not for them.”

I barely register the Silent Sovereign returning to me until his newly bloodied finger hovers into my vision and he inscribes another sickening pattern in Kaspian’s blood on my trembling flesh, a morbid mirror of Axe’s symbol on my other hip.

“The Sovereigns aren’t creative,” Wilder observes through gritted teeth, his thoughts aligning with mine, “They’re using the same symbols as they did with Axe.”

His words are met by enraged grunts of agreement from Kaspian and Cav. The Silent Sovereign hesitates before continuing his macabre artwork on my body.

The High Sovereign scoffs at this. “Axton was a failed attempt. We assumed our Exalted Regent would want a strong, honed, highly trained body with a malleable mind to inhabit. Our mistake. It should’ve been obvious what our god wanted—an Anderton vessel, emptied after drinking the blood of the one who defeated him over three hundred years ago.”

He waves a dismissive hand towards Axe.

The Scourge Sovereign prowls into my vision and takes a slow, cruel inventory of the room until his attention rests on Wilder.

I struggle against my silk bindings, my scream trapped by my clenched teeth, my vision hot with anguish.

Wilder fights back against his restraints with a sudden burst of rage. His muscles bulge and flex under the strain, but the ceiling hooks hold him firmly in place. He snaps at the Scourge with his legs, bucking like a trapped lion.

“You touch me,” he savagely intones, “and I’ll rip your fucking heart out and feed it to your demon.”

The two initiates, their faces unmasked and therefore glowing with eagerness, each grab a leg, stilling Wilder enough for the Scourge Sovereign to approach with the freshly smelted ruby. The red glow is reflected in Wilder’s eyes while lips move in a silent snarl.

“Feisty,” the Scourge Sovereign mocks.

He doesn’t waste time, likely noticing the initiates’ tenuous hold on Wilder at the same time I do. He presses the ruby against Wilder’s chest until smoke rises from his chest, followed by Wilder’s deafening roar. His body shakes violently with futile resistance as raw anguish contorts his striking features.

“Wilder,” I cry out.

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