Chapter 90: Daily Act
The powerful gales rattled the windows of the manor. She needed to get up before it was too late.
“What is this? What is happening?” Her father took a step back and looked up at the ceiling.
She winced as she struggled to her feet. Her left shoulder and arm were both broken. She could not give up now, she had to move. She kicked the kitchen door open and made a run for the front porch.
“Where do you think you’re going!?” Her father reached out and caught her hair.
She yelled in pain as he dragged her back. She clenched her teeth and threw herself forward, ripping away a chunk of her hair. It hurt, everything hurt, but she needed to run. She could hear her father running behind her, but she didn’t dare look back.
The front door was open, she could see the porch and the green grass beyond. Her father’s arm stretched out. She shouted and jumped. She missed the grass entirely and fell on the porch steps. Her shoulder practically screamed in agony as she rolled down the steps and landed on the cobblestone pathway.
Wave after wave of pain assaulted her feeble mind. She hazily looked up at the sky. A titanic creature blotted out the sun covering the world in a shade of green. The emerald dragon dived towards her, it opened its gaping jaw and bathed the manor in searing flames. The explosion of orange fire blasted her away. She tumbled through the air and crash landed on the lawn.
She groaned in pain, her whole body ached. She could hear her father’s screams from the manor. Her head lolled to the side. A burning figure ran out the door, flailing its arms. Her father’s charcoaled body dropped to the ground, dead. She sobbed in relief, it was finally over. The monster was dead.
“Sis, are you okay?!” One of her brothers shouted.
He came running out from the garden along with her other siblings. Her mother trailed behind them.
“Oh honey, what happened? Don’t you worry, everything is going to be okay,” she hugged her daughter tightly.
She cried softly in her mother’s arms, her body shivered from the ordeal.
“It’s over, mommy. It’s finally over,” she whimpered.
The emerald dragon roared in the sky before it flew away into the horizon and beyond. A distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air. She looked up from her mother’s embrace. What was happening? The trees of the nearby grove trembled in fear.
“Honey, what’s the matter?” Her mother smiled.
“No...no. I don’t know,” she hugged her mother tightly.
The rumbling grew louder and louder. The trees shattered in an explosion of splinters and leaves. A rampaging herd of root-bison rushed at them, their hooves smashing anything in sight. She got to her feet and tried dragging her mother away, but the woman sat still. Her mother suddenly looked gaunt, her bright appearance gone.
“We have to help mommy!” She pleaded to her siblings.
But, everyone froze as the thundering horde ran into them. The bison slammed everyone to the ground. The hooves crashed all around, yet by some miracle she remained unscathed. She could see her mother’s sick body being trampled by the hooves, her body a splatter over the grass.
“No!” She screamed over and over again as her mother’s body disappeared under the stampede.
After what seemed an eternity the herd disappeared back into the grove. She struggled to her feet and looked for what remained of her siblings. She did not find a single trace of them.
She glanced at the foreboding grove. The root-bison must have dragged them away in the stampede. She found herself dragging her feet into the dark grove. There was almost no chance her siblings were alive. But, what else could she do? Where could she go? She was all alone.
As she ventured into the grove the trees seemed to expand in height. The canopy grew thick, the sunlight disappeared gradually. The rumbling of the bison became faint to the ear. A rustle in the leaves above startled her. A silver owl sat on a branch up high, it hooted before flapping its wings into the murky canopy.
Suddenly, she could hear the sounds of hundreds of creatures lurking right behind the undergrowth. She was scared, she needed to turn back. But, the woods seemed the same, the trees blurring with one another. She was lost. Something rustled behind the bushes. She ran the other direction.
The sounds of the creatures nearby grew louder and louder. She pushed past the bramble, trying to ignore the biting stings. She tripped and tumbled down a hill. The forest fell silent. Her body was bruised, bloodied, and broken, but she was alive.
A soft wet crunching noise rippled through the clearing. She slowly looked up. A root-bison lay on the ground, its brown eyes watched her, the yellow light fading from its weak gaze. A massive panther stood atop the bison. The dreadful predator mauled at the bison’s chest, ripping away the flesh and feasting on the organs.
A titanic snake slithered from behind and wrapped its black tail around the bison’s legs, the bones cracking beneath the pressure.
She backed away from the carnage as quietly as she could. A twig cracked beneath her foot. The snake and panther’s heads swiveled towards her. Their green eyes practically glowed in the darkness.
“Uh, s-stay back,” she raised her small hands and tried to appear menacing.
The snake and panther pounced on her in an instant. She cried out as their fangs sank into her body and tore her apart. The silver owl watched from the canopy, its hooting the last sounds she heard.
~~~
Her eyes shot open as she screamed. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. Her thin body was burning, she was drenched in sweat and her throat was raw. How long had she been screaming this time? She lay panting in her bed, the crescent moon bathing her room in a gloomy light.
“It was just a nightmare, it was not real. It was just a nightmare, it was not real,” she repeated her mantra quietly to herself.
A knock rang on her bedroom door.
“Mistress, are you alright? Mistress?” One of her maids called out.
“I’m fine, go back to sleep,” she called out hoarsely.
“Very well, Mistress.” Her maids knew of her nightly episodes and knew when to not disturb her.
She sat up with sluggish movements. Her feet felt like lead as she walked over to the mirror. She almost tripped over one of the dozen empty bottles of alcohol littered across the floor.
Right, she was out of booze. She would need to have one of the maids fetch some in the morning. She lit an oil lamp and looked into the mirror.
She ignored the faint scars on her elbow and shoulder and examined the rest of her appearance. Her hair was thin and frizzy. Her cheeks were sallow. Her lips were parched and cracked. Her eyes were puffy with dark bags underneath them. Even her slim body was beginning to border on starving. She seemed half-dead.
“Seems about right,” she sighed.
She reached for the water basin and splashed what little water was left on her face. Her camisole was soaked with sweat. She should probably change into dry clothes and try to get what little sleep she could before the morning. But, the thought of sweet blissful sleep did not seem enticing at the moment, even to an insomniac like her.
Instead she busied herself with her appearance. She opened her makeup cabinet and began to slowly and methodically go through the motions of her daily act. She needed to appear prim and proper, an elegant woman of the aristocracy. A woman who enjoyed the delights of high society and despised those who did not belong.
She applied her makeup with an expert touch, then combed and fixed her hair, and put on a gold filigree necklace. She donned a vibrant blue dress that hugged her small waist line and pushed up her small bust.
She looked at the mirror once more. This time a cold beauty met her gaze. A woman ready to destroy any who opposed her, unfettered by any who might try. At least, that was what others would see. All she could see was a monster, deserving of her fate. She blinked away the oncoming tears and did a little twirl to ensure the dress fit just right.
“I wonder if you would have approved, mom?” She whispered to herself.
She used her index fingers to push her lips up into a smile. “Heh, probably not.”
She opened her medicine cabinet and scanned her various potions for a pick-me-up that could help her get through the day.
“...Shit,” she muttered. She had several bottles to choose from, but she noticed she was out of magnolia repose, the potion meant to help her sleep. She would need to go see that damn doctor again.
~~~
“This will be enough for about eight weeks, if you use it sparingly,” Dr. Lucy placed the bottle on the table.
“Yeah, we both know that won’t happen. How about you just give me an extra bottle, that way I won’t have to bother you later and we’ll both be happy,” she smiled.
“You know I can’t do that, even for someone of your position, academy policy,” Lucy leaned back in her chair.
“Yeah, I know, that’s why I come to you,” she sighed.
Her father had employed several people, classmates included, to keep tabs on her and make sure she always acted in a way he deemed suitable.
She had no doubt her father would bribe any doctor that she might see and force them to spill any secrets they had on her. But, the academy protected their own staff and were strict on their no-bribe policy. Which meant the academy doctor, Lucy, was the only one she could trust on such personal matters.
She reached out to grab the bottle, but Lucy pulled it away.
“So, tell me about your night terrors, have there been any improvements?” Lucy asked.
“And this is why I don’t like coming to you ,” she rolled her eyes. “Everyone else just gives me what I want, no questions asked.”
“And none of them are your secret therapist, nor do any care about your well-being,” Lucy stared at her with a steady gaze. “So, night terrors. Any updates?”
She twiddled her thumbs, “They come once every week or so. And they aren’t that bad. Actually, they are a bit different now.”
“What do you mean, different?”
“The nightmares always start the same; I’m a little kid again and I’m having a great day, I’m actually happy… Then my father finds me and he beats me, over and over again.”
“But, then someone always comes to save you, yes?” Lucy added.
“Save is a strong word. More like they come to kill my father,” she chuckled.
“Why do you think the one who comes to… kill your father is always of a specific nature?” Lucy asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, aren’t they always someone very big? A mythical warrior, a legendary mage, a dragon, an ebon lord, a god, etc. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
“They’re all powerful?”
“It’s more than that,” Lucy clasped her hands together. “They are all figures that you would never actually meet. They are all bigger than life, so to speak. As if the only way you could deal with your father would be through some impossible means. As if you can never win.”
“There isn’t a way to defeat my father,” she gripped her dress tightly.
“That’s exactly what I mean. You believe you can’t stop your father from hurting you,” Lucy said.
“Well, I couldn’t!” She shot to her feet. “I relive that horrible day every single damn night. It may be a dream, but the core event was real. No one was there to help, it was just me, and I couldn’t do anything. So, don’t sit there lecturing me of what I can and cannot do!”
“Night terrors every night, huh?” Lucy noted.
She fell back into her chair, “Whatever, just give me the damn bottle.”
“You said something’s different with the nightmares. What changed?”
“Sweet Bellum, when will you stop?” She groaned.
“When you’re finally happy,” Lucy smiled sympathetically.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, “...Normally the nightmare ends when my father dies. But, this time it didn’t.” She laughed bitterly, “I saw my mom, she was still alive. Then she died, again. Not to disease, but to a stampede of fuck’n root-bison. My siblings were there too. I tried saving them, but I couldn’t. Then to make things worse, I got ripped apart and eaten by a panther and a giant snake.”
“Hm, when did this start?”
“Last night, I guess.”
“Do you think you are unworthy of happiness?” Lucy asked.
She felt her muscles stiffen, “Of course not. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”
“Because you feel guilty, perhaps?”
“Why would I feel guilty? I’ve done nothing wrong and for your information, I am happy. I am a scion of a Great House. I am young, beautiful, and one of the most popular students in the entire academy. What more could I want? Everyone wants to be me,” she snapped.
Lucy walked around the desk and grabbed the young woman’s trembling hand, “Simply because your father tried to make you just like him, does not mean you are. You are not a child anymore, you are a grown woman. You decide who you want to be, not him... Only you can decide if you wish to be happy.”
“I can’t beat him,” she mumbled.
“You don’t have to fight him to beat him. Living a happy life, that’s how you win,” Lucy said.
“Easy for you to say, you don’t have people around every corner spying on your every move.”
“True, but I’m not as intelligent or as strong as you either.”
“I’ll take the intelligence compliment. I wouldn’t get top scores in class if I was a dumbass. But, have you seen these thin arms? I’m not strong,” she chuckled.
Lucy levelled her gaze, “Anyone who survives what you’ve been through is strong.”
She didn’t know how to respond.
Lucy handed her the bottle, “There’s still a little over a month left before summer is over. You shouldn’t waste it cooped up in this city. Get some fresh air away from this dreary place.”
“...Maybe I will,” she grabbed the bottle and headed for the door.
“Do be careful while travelling, I hear the Valley tribes have been restless as of late,” Lucy warned.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she opened the door.
“Oh, one more thing, Maeve,” Lucy called out.
“What is it?”
“You deserve to be happy,” Lucy smiled.
Maeve closed the door behind her.
A vampire family originating in Mortis Grove, a dead forest southeast of the Northern Lands. They are the rulers of the port city Forlost. The family has produced a merchant lord or lady every few generations, eventually allowing the Moras to claim the title of Great House.
The House rose to prominence through trade between the great cities of Hollow Shade and Frost Rim. Forlost’s port sits on the Dire River, between both great cities, allowing Forlost to act as a mediator between the two.
Maeve Mora:
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