Chapter 789: Bathhouse (Patreon)

There was something about the waters of her family’s bathhouse that could wash away any pain and stress Victoria carried. Perhaps it was the medicinal elixirs their family’s alchemist produced at her father’s request. She could almost smell the magic wafting through the steam along with a hint of lavender. Or perhaps it was the hot—almost scalding—water that soothed her muscles after a long day’s work.

Work. The word was almost laughable. Victoria cracked a small, sardonic smile and lowered herself into the steaming pool. She gave a long sigh, closed her eyes, and laid her head back.

The last few weeks hadn’t been work. It was survival. What should have been a simple execution of thieves had turned into a natural disaster. Dozens of caravans lost. Villages left in ruin. Bandits running rampant. Victoria had to wade through all the chaos and guide her dwindling retinue of soldiers back home. Yet the Owls had recognized her commitment amidst her trial and granted her the chance to meet and serve one of their own. Or so she thought.

There was something about Sidus that did not sit well with her. He was as charming and beautiful as the Owls of Death were said to be in the sacred scriptures. And yet, there was a coldness to him that terrified Victoria. Had she stayed by his side a little longer, she wasn’t sure she’d still be alive.

Thankfully, it was all over now. She was finally home and the horrid experience was behind her. Well, mostly. Lady Clarus expected a full report from her in a few hours. At least, that was what she had said.

Victoria suspected the meeting had more to do with the fact that she had witnessed the Lydira Clarus transform into a dragon. Her father had once mentioned a rumor that the Clarus family collided with dragons and that was the source of their vast wealth, but Lydira would have never thought the Claruses were dragons themselves. 

What that meant for Olduun, let alone her own family, Victoria couldn’t begin to guess. Her problems were only just beginning. At least that sandrat Evander was finally dead. Seeing Sidus tear out his throat with an almost rabid bite was nothing short of satisfying.

Victoria opened her eyes and stared at the massive fountain built across the wall. The fountain was a limestone statue of the three Owls; The Silver Owl, Thalia, sat perched on the right, eyes narrow in judgment. The Golden Owl, Syrus, sat perched on the left, eyes closed in thought and deliberation. The Pale Owl, the Eldest Death, sat perched at the center, eyes open wide for he saw straight into one’s soul and knew them for who they truly were.

All three Owls had their beaks open, hot water pouring out into the pool. The statue was a work of sacred art and highly efficient, just the way her family liked it. While the bathhouse was a place to relax and clean oneself, it was also a place to bear oneself naked to the gods. A stark and humble reminder of one’s place. Victoria took it as a chance to repeat her oaths to the gods and rededicate herself to the higher purpose they had bestowed upon her family and herself.

Victoria stood up in the pool, water trailing down her naked form, and bowed her head, hands open, arms slightly apart in submission. She prayed in quiet silence for the wisdom to speak the right words to her liege lady and the strength to lead her house in the coming days.

“...I am but a humble servant, divine ones. If there is a right path to be taken, please show it to me—”

The walls rumbled for a brief moment. Victoria looked up, surprised. She waited a moment, hoping to hear or see more. “If this is a sign, tell me, and I will obey.”

The statue of Owls began to shake as if in response. Victoria gasped and took a step back in awe. A sudden crack split right down the middle of the Pale Owl. Victoria frowned. “I do not understand.”

The statue split in two and fell over into the water, sending a massive splash outwards. Victoria was knocked back and fell into the pool. She splashed around and found her footing. Gasping for air, she wiped the water from her face and staggered back to her feet.

The fractured statue had fallen into the end of the pool and in its place was a massive hole in the wall, where water flowed out. A man stood crouched at the hole’s opening. For a moment, Victoria thought it was Sidus. Before she had a chance to get a better look, water wrapped around her and pinned her to the other side of the pool, leaving only her head above water.

“Found you,” Stryg said with an eerie voice. He leapt into the pool and the water carried him forward like a chariot.

“You were the one in the desert,” Victoria said in recognition.

“Be quiet.” Stryg pointed a clawed finger at her and water surged into her mouth, down her throat, and filled her lungs.

Victoria stiffened, eyes going wide. She tried to thrash around and free herself, but it was as if she was in a block of ice, the water unmoving. Panic rose in her chest as pain overtook her lungs. She screamed but there was no voice. 

Stryg leaned down until he was eye-to-eye with her. “You will speak only when spoken to. If you try to call for help, I will fill your lungs with water before you get the chance to draw another breath. Do you understand?”

She stared at him, gaze full of fear and tried her best to nod.

“Good.” Stryg pulled the water out from her lungs with a silent thought.

Victoria coughed and gasped for air. Her throat hurt and her lungs burned like never before.

“Did you really have to do all that?” Tauri said with a small wince.

“Would you rather she screamed and alerted the guards outside?” Stryg said as he began to write wards in the air. The red sigils quickly formed a dome around the entire room.

“No, but I’m pretty certain you have other ways to incapacitate someone,” Tauri said.

“I did consider slashing her vocal cord.” Stryg held up a claw. “But we need her to talk.”

“Never mind,” Tauri sighed.

Victoria finally noticed the other three individuals standing behind Stryg. They were the women from the ambush outside the city and— “You. H-How? You’re dead. You’re dead!” 

Evander stared at her, his expression unreadable.

“I thought the same thing, yet here we are,” Stryg said. “This is the woman, yes?”

“...Yeah. She’s Victoria Greymark,” Evander said.

“Great. That makes things simple.” Stryg placed a hand on Victoria’s shoulder, claws painfully close to her neck. “I want you to get us into the Clarus’ castle unnoticed. You can do that, can’t you?”

“…Even if…” It hurt to talk. Her voice was raw, as if she had been yelling for hours. “Even if I could, why would I help you?” Victoria glared at him.

“Aren’t I one of your sacred Owls or something?” Stryg waved his hand around.

“Or something,” Victoria coughed. “You’re like Sidus. Neither of you are true Owls. You’re demons.”

Stryg stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright. I can always rip the memories from your mind instead.” He held up an index finger and it began to glow purple.

Victoria swallowed audibly but scoffed. “If you could take the memories from me, you would already have done it. Only a very skilled purple mage can extricate specific memories from an unwilling prisoner. Trust me, I’ve seen it many times.”

“...You’re right. There is a fifty-fifty chance I manage to find what I want before leaving your mind broken or outright killing you. Not very effective. Fortunately, I don’t think that’s what you want either, is it?” Stryg said.

“If I am to die today, then so be it. I’d rather meet the Owls as a true and loyal servant than as a traitor who aided a demon,” Victoria said.

“But you already aided a demon, didn’t you? You helped Sidus,” Evander said.

“That was different. I was tricked,” Victoria said.

“And you think the gods will see it that way? That they’ll have mercy upon your soul?” Evander asked.

“They will see my soul is pure,” Victoria said.

Evander clenched his fists. “There is nothing pure about you. Your heart is black. You revel in causing misery to others. You only serve the Owls because it gives you the justification to murder others without impunity.”

“Lies from a sandrat who’d rather steal than earn an honest living. We do not murder. We cleanse the rot from our beautiful city. And if faithfully serving my city and gods have led me here, then so be it. I am ready to die.” Victoria tilted her head up and closed her eyes.

“Damn, she’s a crazy bitch,” Tauri muttered.

“We cannot stay here forever. Guards will come. What are your orders, my lord?” Gale stood next to the doorway, sword drawn.

“We can’t leave just yet… We need her—” Stryg stopped and cocked his head to the side. “Actually… Evander, feel free to exact your revenge, but make it quick.”

Victoria opened her eyes and looked at Evander in disgust. “Do what you will, sandrat. You will not break me.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Evander said quietly.

“What?” Stryg looked at him in confusion. “Why?”

“Didn’t she kill your sister?” Tauri asked.

“She did. Victoria Greymark deserves to die. But… I saw the way you ripped through Ori’s mind. He was left broken. Hollow. I thought I’d be happy, relieved that he got what he deserved. But I didn’t. I don’t think my sister would have wanted me to kill this woman. Not like this. I’m sorry, I just… I can’t,” Evander whispered.

“Even now you can’t even avenge your sister. You truly are a pathetic sandrat. I am glad I killed your sister, at least she didn’t have to witness how gutless her brother is,” Victoria spat at him, a final insult to the ones who’d kill her.

“You're a monster. I hope the gods find you as appalling as I do,” Evander said.

“Don’t listen to her, Evander.” Tauri placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “Not everyone has a heart for killing and they shouldn’t either. If they did, the world would have ended long ago.”

Stryg didn’t agree with the sentiment but he didn’t judge Evander for his choice either. The snow elf reminded him of Plum. A woman who saw the best in everyone, even himself. Stryg glanced at Gale for her opinion, but the vampiress’ expression seemed somewhat troubled, uncertain. Was there even a hint of pity? He wasn’t sure.

“If you’re going to kill me, then do it already,” Victoria snapped.

“Kill you?” Stryg drew his dagger from his waist. “Why would we kill you? I still need answers.” Though Nameless was but a broken sword, a ghostly blade swirled from the jagged edge. It did not hold a sharp form, rather it was fluid like water. A cold shiver ran through everyone but Stryg at the blade’s unsheathed presence.

“What is that?” Victoria whispered, a hint of fear in her voice.

“It is Nameless. I may not have mastery over mind magic, but I am a lord of death. When I break your soul, it will give me the answers I seek,” Stryg said.

“N-No. Wait! I’ll tell you everything. I have a meeting, yes!” Victoria stammered. “I am to meet with Lady Clarus this morning. In only a few hours. I can help you sneak into the castle if that’s what you want.”

“You had your chance. You will never meet the gods, you wretched excuse for a mortal.” Stryg plunged the sword into Victoria’s chest. The ghostly billowed to the sides, as if being crushed like a waterfall, before sinking its ghostly claws into her body. Victoria gave a final gasp as the blue essence of her soul was pulled out and swallowed by the blade. She went slack and her body sank into the water.

“What did you do?” Evander whispered in horror.

“You don’t want to know.” Tauri grimaced.

Stryg sheathed Nameless and the cold aura surrounding the room disappeared.

“Are we carrying the body out of here?” Gale said, already coming back to help.

“No need,” Stryg said. The cold touch of chaos flowed through his body and pooled around his hand. He reached into the water and pulled Victoria out. Her eyes snapped and she stood up on her own, yet there was no light in her gaze. “Get some clothes on. You’re going to escort us into your master’s castle.”

The woman who was once Victoria nodded numbly and sauntered out of the pool.

“What did you do to her?” Evander asked.

“I reanimated her body. It’s quite easy when the body is so fresh and unharmed,” Stryg said.

“Necromancy?” Evander frowned.

“Nothing so simple.”