Page 74 of Muerte

Despite having relinquished his role as Carnalis Dominus, he remained an influential figure, his counsel invaluable despite him having gracefully stepped aside when I came of age, allowing me to ascend to my birthright. Now he and his personal council remained ever vigilant, ensuring the stability and prosperity of our customs and my reign.

I approached the entrance of Carcerem and was met by two Nocturnus disciples.

Their masked faces were a representation of our faith's embrace of darkness and mystery, conveying an air of solemn duty. They bowed their heads in respect, a gesture I acknowledged with a brief nod of my own. Their silent reverence was a reminder of the authority vested in me, the weight of which never ceased to resonate. The doors swung open at their behest, ushering me into the foyer.

The interior of Carcerem was a blend of sinister luxury and understated menace. The lavish décor, with its intricate designs and opulent furnishings, belied the true purpose of the prison. Beneath the layers of refinement lay the underbelly of our society.

Power was exercised without remorse, and the dictates of our faith were enforced with an iron hand. The very walls whispered secrets of those who had crossed the boundaries of our secluded world.

The blood that stained the floors and walls served as a reminder that Stygian Isle, for all its beauty, was not a place of mercy.

I continued through the opulent interior, my footsteps echoing against the polished stone floor. The round reception desk stood as a solid sentinel in the spacious lobby. Flanking the walls, two Luna Vestals knelt in silent servitude.

The shifts here were long and could be tedious. These women were cycled between the men on duty for the sole purpose of being fucked. Neither woman dared to lift her head, even as they sensed my approach.

“Acolyte Seth,” I acknowledged as I passed. His masked face tilted slightly, responding to my greeting.

“Diabolus,” he replied, his voice muffled. “Magistri Draven awaits in the holding room.”

I thanked him and continued on way, my strides purposeful.

The corridor leading to the holding area was lined with dark tapestries depicting scenes of our faith's mythology, much like the art within our Chapel did. I had a few in my home, one showcasing the night everything truly began.

I stepped into the room and found my father and two disciples surveying the newly captured group through a one-way glass window. Their backs to me, they stood in silence. I joined them and got my first look at what we were dealing with. My father briefly glanced at my hand, his lips twitching subtly in amusement.

I’m sure he’d have questions about the blatant teeth marks later. They didn’t bother me much. Maybe because seeing them reminded me of my Lolita, and she’d managed to mark me on her own.

Clearing my mind to focus, I studied each person in the other room.

Three women, likely a family unit, huddled together, the matriarch's protective stance unmistakable. She stood as if to shield them from what was to come, not knowing there was nothing she could do to save herself, let alone them, from us. Beside them stood a stocky man with slightly graying hair, his expression a mix of fear and defiance.

The most prominent figure, however, was the child. He couldn’t have been much older than five, clinging to who I presumed was his mother. I broached the first question of importance.

"What brought them in?"

My father, ever detail-oriented, began to unravel the night's events. "Garret, that sad excuse of a man in there, was caught attempting to breach the barrier leading to our farms. He was with his older daughter, the blonde." He nodded towards one of the women with a steely expression. "Madhu’s heelers managed to hold them until they were apprehended."

I filed this information away, my mind swiftly piecing together the likely motives and inevitable consequences. The restricted areas were a common target for the curious and foolish. They mistakenly assumed the area of the Isle meant for agricultural purposes would be easiest to infiltrate. It was a fool’s goal.

Sometimes, I thought it would be best if the men that tended that land be allowed to do as they wished with trespassers, but it wasn’t their responsibility.

This Garret shithead would’ve triggered the silent alarms long before he got near the road that led to the farms. Only permitted personnel could enter our agricultural grounds.

"What is their exact relation to each other?" I inquired.

Our thorough vetting process made obtaining this information simple, but with my father here I could skip it for now. His finger traced a path in the air to one of the younger women, her skin pale as snow and dotted with freckles, her hair as dark as the night sky. "The younger daughter," he indicated. "Twenty-two, so not much older than our Lolita. Attractive and thus far agreeable."

His assessment was clinical, detached. I understood the silent implications and was already deciding if she'd be molded into a Progenitor or sent to the Pleasure House. It would ultimately depend on her disposition. My gaze shifted to the blonde woman.

Her jaw was still set in a way that screamed defiance. It grated on me. Such a quality was only admired in regard to Lolita, and even then, it had its limits.

"Send her to the butcher's block," I declared. “She wanted to see it so badly. Give her a private showing.”

"And the child?" my father asked, already considering the implications of a minor being involved.

I glanced at the boy. His expression was pinched with wariness and exhaustion. "He's young enough to be indoctrinated. We'll put him with a foster until he's assessed for proper placement."

"And the other two?" he prodded, already knowing their fate but wanting to hear it confirmed. My father was, if nothing else, as ruthless and bloodthirsty as me.

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