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Sharing: The Mistress of the Shadowland; The next Chapter
It's time for another chapter, right? It's not a very long one but it's intense. So be careful and step back if the story gets too much. ♥
Chapter 25: You will obey
Summary: Light and shadow, life and death, hope and despair. Which path will Serah choose?
Notes: This Chapter contains Mind Manipulation, Minor Death, Forced Suicide, Explicit description of violence.
Now the exact point in time had arrived that Teárlach had been eagerly anticipating for days and nights, the moment he had already imagined dozens of times. More than two and a half tendays had passed, enough time to be absolutely sure of what he was planning.
And who his first victim would be.
The young kitchen maid, Serah ... he had grown tired of her at the point she had given herself up to him completely and done everything he wanted. When he had forced himself into her innermost thoughts, he had noticed the first deep rift in her consciousness. When she offered him to do anything he wanted, she had no idea what was in store for her. Because that night he fucked twice her mouth, twice her cunt and one time her ass. And she broke.
After that there was literally nothing left in her, he saw the emptiness in her eyes, saw the strength draining from her limbs. Teárlach had taken over her life and it felt good, made him stronger, more powerful.
Nevertheless, there was still one thing that wouldn't let him go. It was easy for him as a high elf to penetrate her thoughts, but it was something completely different to force her to do things that he ordered her to do and that went against her will. And that was exactly what he intended to do on the night of the new moon.
Teárlach was full of joyful excitement as he stepped into his secret realm, undressed and picked up the black oil, which consisted of several poisonous and powerful herbs, including belladonna, spotted hemlock and tansy, whose poison the maid had used to abort his fruit. Concentrating, he drew the signs of the dark language on the ground to encourage the power he needed to impose himself on Serah's spirit.
*****
Serah, my child, wake up ...
A comforting darkness inside her, cosy warmth enveloping her weak and tired body and nothing in her mind. Grateful oblivion of all the cruelty she had suffered.
She heard the voice, a voice that was familiar to her, that triggered a longing for home and the feeling of warmth, of understanding, of deep love.
"Mother", Serah murmured sleepily.
Wake up, child ... come to me ...
Her mother's warm, loving voice spiked through the oblivious sleepiness and Serah slowly opened her eyes. Something in her mind told her that she was lying in her little chamber, but it felt different, strange and yet ... familiar?
Slowly, the young girl straightened up, touching with her hands for the ground on which she lay and feeling the soft fur under her fingers. When she swung her legs powerlessly over the edge of her bed and they touched the ground, she winced. It wasn't the cold stone floor she was used to, but the ground consisted of something sharp. Were there small, sharp pebbles? Thorns?
The contact with the unfamiliar, sharp surface hurt Serah and she pulled her legs back onto the camp.
Serah, my child, please come to me. I’ve missed you.
Her mother's voice was imbued with the deepest love for her, with warmth, with longing. And yet it sounded urgent, almost pleading.
"The floor, mother," Serah whispered uncertainly into the darkness. "It hurts."
I know, my child. I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't urgent. You have to help us.
At her mother's words, Serah felt her heart skip a beat or two in her chest. A cold fear crawled up her spine, wrapped its icy claws around her neck and squeezed slowly and steadily.
"Help? Why do you need my help, mother? What happened?" she asked, frightened, as a dark premonition took hold of her.
Please, I beg you, come to me. We need you.
Her mother's whisper in the darkness sounded like a cry for help in Serah's consciousness. She took a deep breath, swung her legs to the ground once more and stood up.
The Maid tried to ignore the sharp pain that cut into her soles as she slowly put one foot in front of the other. She felt the flesh on the soles of her feet open up and warm blood flowed out of her, soaking the unfamiliar ground with her lifeblood.
"Mother, where are you?" Serah's voice sounded pleading in the darkness and she repeated her words as she heard no answer from her mother. The blackness around her was cold, oppressive, overwhelming, draining.
One step at a time, she thought and stepped into the ever-darkening shadow.
You are close, I can feel your presence. Don't stop, child, we need you.
Hurry up, love. You don't want anything to happen to them, do you?
Serah gasped in panic, looked quickly to the side, but couldn't recognise anything in the darkness. But his words, his voice, lingered in the dark. He, the demon in the shape of a high elf, her master. Teárlach.
She stumbled through the darkness, lost her balance and fell to the ground. Something sharp cut into her palms, her arms, chest, stomach, legs, everything that touched the ground. Blood soaked her robe and as her face was only a hand's breadth from the ground, she could now recognise what she had been walking on all this time.
Broken glass? Was this glass? But it was dark grey, milky, almost dirty. What was that?
That, Serah, is the rest your soul... Broken, dirty, blown to smithereens. Nothing but small pieces of your consciousness. What you once were.
A cruel laugh.
And what you will never be again.
Serah sobbed, pressed her palms into the shards and straightened up.
"Mother? Where are you, mother?" she screamed fearfully into the darkness. "Please speak to me!"
There! She could hear something in the blackness, something that sounded like her mother. Serah ran towards the spot, panting, her chest burning with pain with every breath that filled her lungs.
How was it possible that Teárlach was here in her dream? It was a dream, wasn't it? It felt like one ... and then Serah felt warm blood dripping down her skin and despair spread through her. Where was she? What was this? Was this reality? Would she really be able to see her mother or was this just another perverse way for Teárlach to torture her?
Just try to open your eyes, Love. If this is a dream you can leave it in an instant.
Serah suppressed the rising sobs in her throat, continued to walk over the shards that cut deeper into her open flesh and for a brief moment she thought: Wake up, Serah. It's just a nightmare. You can wake up.
But nothing changed and hopelessness crashed over her like a mighty wave. Suddenly she recognised shadows in front of her and the closer she got, the more she could make out. Her parents' house.
"No," she screamed, running to the door and trying to open it but it was locked. "No, no, no! Open the door, open the door! Mother, please! OPEN THE DOOR!"
She desperately shook the door handle until it gave way, the door opened and Serah fell into the room.
The wooden floor was soaked in blood and next to her she saw a small, severed child's hand. She screamed.
Whispers, unintelligible words, the wailing of the suffering.
Serah opened her eyes and looked into the dead eyes of her younger brother. Her father lay beside him, numerous wounds covering his body. A gnoll was feasting on his intestines and bared its teeth when it saw Serah.
Help me...
Her mother's pleading request.
Serah raised her eyes and saw her mother standing in front of her, the former white dress soaked in blood, a stillborn child in her hands.
Her fruit, born from the loins of the devil.
Teárlach stood behind her, a smile on his lips.
"You can help her," he whispered, still smiling.
Tears streamed down Serah's cheeks as she sobbed: "I'll do anything, anything. No matter what you want, just please let my mother go."
"All you have to do is give your life in return for letting your mother live."
She nodded weakly. Teárlach's smile widened. He extended his hand in her direction and suddenly the image of her mother, her dead brother and father blurred. It was as if her home lay in the shadows while reality flooded back into her consciousness. Her chamber, she stood in the centre, the crooked stool in front of her.
"Stand on it," Teárlach ordered and Serah hesitated for a moment. This was reality, wasn't it? Her mother, her family, the blood, the corpses ... it was all just a dream?
„Move." His demanding voice in her mind and the girl felt one leg lift up and stand on the stool. Horrified she realised that her body was doing what Teárlach asked of her. She pushed off with the other leg and climbed the stool on which she was standing, swaying and trying not to lose her balance.
"Direct your gaze upwards."
No, Serah thought. No, I'm not going to do that.
She tried to close her eyes, but she could feel Teárlach refusing to do so. It almost felt like he was putting his hand on the back of her neck, forcing her to look up. Her eyes widened as she realised in shock that a noose was tied around the wooden beam that, among other things, held the ceiling structure in place.
And now put the noose around your tender, sweet neck, Serah.
"No," she screamed, "No, this is all just a dream. My family isn't dead, it's all just ... you're inside me, you're forcing these images on me. That's not true. IT'S NOT THE TRUTH!"
Against her will, her hands reached for the noose around her neck and then pulled it tight. Serah cried out, sobbing. She heard Teárlach laugh and her chamber disappeared into the shadows while her weeping mother still stood before Teárlach, Serah's fruit in her hands.
One step. Just one step.
"No, I don't want this," the young girl whispered, sobbing. "I don't want to die."
Now!
She took a step into nothingness, felt herself falling into the void, her gaze fixed on her mother, who closed her eyes with an agonised scream as Teárlach plunged a dagger into her sternum and drew it up to her pubic region. The last image that burned itself into Serah's consciousness was her master reaching into the cut and pulling the skin from her mother's body with a powerful tug as the life drained from the young maid's wriggling body.
Chapter 25: You will obey
Summary: Light and shadow, life and death, hope and despair. Which path will Serah choose?
Notes: This Chapter contains Mind Manipulation, Minor Death, Forced Suicide, Explicit description of violence.
Now the exact point in time had arrived that Teárlach had been eagerly anticipating for days and nights, the moment he had already imagined dozens of times. More than two and a half tendays had passed, enough time to be absolutely sure of what he was planning.
And who his first victim would be.
The young kitchen maid, Serah ... he had grown tired of her at the point she had given herself up to him completely and done everything he wanted. When he had forced himself into her innermost thoughts, he had noticed the first deep rift in her consciousness. When she offered him to do anything he wanted, she had no idea what was in store for her. Because that night he fucked twice her mouth, twice her cunt and one time her ass. And she broke.
After that there was literally nothing left in her, he saw the emptiness in her eyes, saw the strength draining from her limbs. Teárlach had taken over her life and it felt good, made him stronger, more powerful.
Nevertheless, there was still one thing that wouldn't let him go. It was easy for him as a high elf to penetrate her thoughts, but it was something completely different to force her to do things that he ordered her to do and that went against her will. And that was exactly what he intended to do on the night of the new moon.
Teárlach was full of joyful excitement as he stepped into his secret realm, undressed and picked up the black oil, which consisted of several poisonous and powerful herbs, including belladonna, spotted hemlock and tansy, whose poison the maid had used to abort his fruit. Concentrating, he drew the signs of the dark language on the ground to encourage the power he needed to impose himself on Serah's spirit.
*****
Serah, my child, wake up ...
A comforting darkness inside her, cosy warmth enveloping her weak and tired body and nothing in her mind. Grateful oblivion of all the cruelty she had suffered.
She heard the voice, a voice that was familiar to her, that triggered a longing for home and the feeling of warmth, of understanding, of deep love.
"Mother", Serah murmured sleepily.
Wake up, child ... come to me ...
Her mother's warm, loving voice spiked through the oblivious sleepiness and Serah slowly opened her eyes. Something in her mind told her that she was lying in her little chamber, but it felt different, strange and yet ... familiar?
Slowly, the young girl straightened up, touching with her hands for the ground on which she lay and feeling the soft fur under her fingers. When she swung her legs powerlessly over the edge of her bed and they touched the ground, she winced. It wasn't the cold stone floor she was used to, but the ground consisted of something sharp. Were there small, sharp pebbles? Thorns?
The contact with the unfamiliar, sharp surface hurt Serah and she pulled her legs back onto the camp.
Serah, my child, please come to me. I’ve missed you.
Her mother's voice was imbued with the deepest love for her, with warmth, with longing. And yet it sounded urgent, almost pleading.
"The floor, mother," Serah whispered uncertainly into the darkness. "It hurts."
I know, my child. I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't urgent. You have to help us.
At her mother's words, Serah felt her heart skip a beat or two in her chest. A cold fear crawled up her spine, wrapped its icy claws around her neck and squeezed slowly and steadily.
"Help? Why do you need my help, mother? What happened?" she asked, frightened, as a dark premonition took hold of her.
Please, I beg you, come to me. We need you.
Her mother's whisper in the darkness sounded like a cry for help in Serah's consciousness. She took a deep breath, swung her legs to the ground once more and stood up.
The Maid tried to ignore the sharp pain that cut into her soles as she slowly put one foot in front of the other. She felt the flesh on the soles of her feet open up and warm blood flowed out of her, soaking the unfamiliar ground with her lifeblood.
"Mother, where are you?" Serah's voice sounded pleading in the darkness and she repeated her words as she heard no answer from her mother. The blackness around her was cold, oppressive, overwhelming, draining.
One step at a time, she thought and stepped into the ever-darkening shadow.
You are close, I can feel your presence. Don't stop, child, we need you.
Hurry up, love. You don't want anything to happen to them, do you?
Serah gasped in panic, looked quickly to the side, but couldn't recognise anything in the darkness. But his words, his voice, lingered in the dark. He, the demon in the shape of a high elf, her master. Teárlach.
She stumbled through the darkness, lost her balance and fell to the ground. Something sharp cut into her palms, her arms, chest, stomach, legs, everything that touched the ground. Blood soaked her robe and as her face was only a hand's breadth from the ground, she could now recognise what she had been walking on all this time.
Broken glass? Was this glass? But it was dark grey, milky, almost dirty. What was that?
That, Serah, is the rest your soul... Broken, dirty, blown to smithereens. Nothing but small pieces of your consciousness. What you once were.
A cruel laugh.
And what you will never be again.
Serah sobbed, pressed her palms into the shards and straightened up.
"Mother? Where are you, mother?" she screamed fearfully into the darkness. "Please speak to me!"
There! She could hear something in the blackness, something that sounded like her mother. Serah ran towards the spot, panting, her chest burning with pain with every breath that filled her lungs.
How was it possible that Teárlach was here in her dream? It was a dream, wasn't it? It felt like one ... and then Serah felt warm blood dripping down her skin and despair spread through her. Where was she? What was this? Was this reality? Would she really be able to see her mother or was this just another perverse way for Teárlach to torture her?
Just try to open your eyes, Love. If this is a dream you can leave it in an instant.
Serah suppressed the rising sobs in her throat, continued to walk over the shards that cut deeper into her open flesh and for a brief moment she thought: Wake up, Serah. It's just a nightmare. You can wake up.
But nothing changed and hopelessness crashed over her like a mighty wave. Suddenly she recognised shadows in front of her and the closer she got, the more she could make out. Her parents' house.
"No," she screamed, running to the door and trying to open it but it was locked. "No, no, no! Open the door, open the door! Mother, please! OPEN THE DOOR!"
She desperately shook the door handle until it gave way, the door opened and Serah fell into the room.
The wooden floor was soaked in blood and next to her she saw a small, severed child's hand. She screamed.
Whispers, unintelligible words, the wailing of the suffering.
Serah opened her eyes and looked into the dead eyes of her younger brother. Her father lay beside him, numerous wounds covering his body. A gnoll was feasting on his intestines and bared its teeth when it saw Serah.
Help me...
Her mother's pleading request.
Serah raised her eyes and saw her mother standing in front of her, the former white dress soaked in blood, a stillborn child in her hands.
Her fruit, born from the loins of the devil.
Teárlach stood behind her, a smile on his lips.
"You can help her," he whispered, still smiling.
Tears streamed down Serah's cheeks as she sobbed: "I'll do anything, anything. No matter what you want, just please let my mother go."
"All you have to do is give your life in return for letting your mother live."
She nodded weakly. Teárlach's smile widened. He extended his hand in her direction and suddenly the image of her mother, her dead brother and father blurred. It was as if her home lay in the shadows while reality flooded back into her consciousness. Her chamber, she stood in the centre, the crooked stool in front of her.
"Stand on it," Teárlach ordered and Serah hesitated for a moment. This was reality, wasn't it? Her mother, her family, the blood, the corpses ... it was all just a dream?
„Move." His demanding voice in her mind and the girl felt one leg lift up and stand on the stool. Horrified she realised that her body was doing what Teárlach asked of her. She pushed off with the other leg and climbed the stool on which she was standing, swaying and trying not to lose her balance.
"Direct your gaze upwards."
No, Serah thought. No, I'm not going to do that.
She tried to close her eyes, but she could feel Teárlach refusing to do so. It almost felt like he was putting his hand on the back of her neck, forcing her to look up. Her eyes widened as she realised in shock that a noose was tied around the wooden beam that, among other things, held the ceiling structure in place.
And now put the noose around your tender, sweet neck, Serah.
"No," she screamed, "No, this is all just a dream. My family isn't dead, it's all just ... you're inside me, you're forcing these images on me. That's not true. IT'S NOT THE TRUTH!"
Against her will, her hands reached for the noose around her neck and then pulled it tight. Serah cried out, sobbing. She heard Teárlach laugh and her chamber disappeared into the shadows while her weeping mother still stood before Teárlach, Serah's fruit in her hands.
One step. Just one step.
"No, I don't want this," the young girl whispered, sobbing. "I don't want to die."
Now!
She took a step into nothingness, felt herself falling into the void, her gaze fixed on her mother, who closed her eyes with an agonised scream as Teárlach plunged a dagger into her sternum and drew it up to her pubic region. The last image that burned itself into Serah's consciousness was her master reaching into the cut and pulling the skin from her mother's body with a powerful tug as the life drained from the young maid's wriggling body.
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