Eric Linnaeus | Book 3 | Chapter 6 - Monstrous Actions Have Monstrous Consequences (Patreon)

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𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤ʙʀɪɢᴇᴛᴛᴀ ʟɪɴɴæᴜs: ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟽 - ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟾.

─── .✦········· ───

Preparations began in secret, and the celebration was to be grand. A banquet was prepared, and plates were piled high with roasted or boiled meats, buttered root vegetables, and sweet fruits. The mead flowed freely, and the hall was adorned with lavish decorations. Music and dance filled the air; it was a festive celebration disguised as the announcement of a new birth.

Eiríkr scrunched his nose, turning away in disgust when I allowed him a sip of my drink, and I laughed heartily. He was so delicate. Across the room my eldest brothers were drunk, and our cousins were rowdy; all encouraging one another to show off their powers. That was almost guaranteed to get something broken.

Mercury and Silvius stood away from the rest, speaking with their wives, and I pulled Eiríkr onto my lap. This was likely the only chance I would get to talk to him alone before the revenant, and I was strangely nervous.

“Having fun, lítið skúrkur?” I mused.

“Yes,” he responded with a pout.

“Good~,” I purred, nuzzling into him and kissing his cheek before lowering my voice to a more serious tone so no one else could hear, “You know if you don’t want to revenant today… You don’t have to. I can take you away somewhere…” Truthfully, I was worried. He was far too young for this.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Eiríkr asked, frowning. It was a rite of passage, and I’m sure getting to do it early seemed like a good thing.

“…Well, there’s a chance you may not revenant…” I murmured honestly.

He briefly regarded me and folded his arms, “You’re lying to me again, aren’t you?”

The irony that my own teachings should come back to bite me, “…I’m not lying; you’re not strong enough-”

“I am strong enough!” he snapped; there was a familiar determination in his eyes.

“Okay, perhaps, but you are too young-” I tried to explain another way when we were interrupted.

“Brigetta~ is he ready?” Karyna asked, bouncing with joyful energy, and I exhaled slowly.

“…Almost.”

“You haven’t even had him change into his robes yet,” she scolded me, shaking her head, “Come, let’s get you dressed.”

She pulled him away, and bile rose from my stomach. I had to stop it; I would kill her and take him back. I couldn’t let them go through with this—as I began to move an arm reached around my throat. Pulling me back before I could grab hold of her.

“Now, little sister, don’t lose your cool,” Hrafn whispered in my ear as he pressed his arm against my throat. Instinctively, I fought him. He was going to make me pass out if he held any tighter.

“They’ll all die,” I hissed.

“Perhaps not. Our father was only five when he first died, and Mercury was two.”

“They were the only ones of hundreds to survive!”

“We’ll have to see then, won’t we?”

“Let me go,” I muttered, shoving him off me.

“You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. Eiríkr will be fine.”

“And what of the others? Of our little brothers?”

“Our father was strong, and so are they.”

As Hrafn moved past me, I realized it was too late. Eiríkr was traditionally dressed in a long coat and high socks, standing between his mother and father; I couldn’t fight them. Or rather, I wouldn’t win if I did. The room was spinning as the children were lined up, and a wave of nausea gave me a headache.

One by one their parents slaughtered them, as was tradition, and their tiny bodies crumpled to the floor. When it was Eiríkr’s turn, I struggled to cross the room to get to him while his mother sliced the artery near his throat without any compunctions. Blood spurted from the cut and trickled down his neck as he sank to his knees holding the wound.

His eyes widened as his previous confidence faded fast. It was clear from the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting it to hurt as much as it did, and his expression held regret. But trying to keep the blood in would only prolong the process, and he would suffer. When I reached my little cousin, I collapsed into a heap next to him, allowing him to fall into my lap.

“Brigetta…- it… -It hurts,” Eiríkr struggled to speak as blood filled his throat, and he choked.

“I know… it’s okay. Let it happen; it hurts less if it’s quicker…”

“-I don’t -wanna -do this anymore…” he whispered meekly. His eyes were brimming with tears, and the fear in his voice hurt in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Shhh, don’t be silly,” I tried to reassure him as I bundled him in my arms.

Eiríkr was trembling, taking in increasingly shallow breaths. His skin paled and his heart beat so fast the pulse rattled his little body; he was terrified. Around us, none of the other children stirred, and some of our cousins were beginning to panic. Katla stood as if waiting for her son to die was an inconvenience, while Mercury watched us with a cold, pensive gaze as if he were trying to calculate something he didn’t understand. I doubted whether either of them cared whether their son returned or not.

Refocusing my attention on Eiríkr, I patted his hair and placed my other hand over his, “You’re going to let go; I’ll help you, okay?” I murmured as I gently pulled his hand away. The best thing I could do for him was to make it quicker, and lie.

“N-no, please-” he protested quietly.

“It’s alright, trust me… Count to ten, and it’ll all be over. It’ll be dark for a bit, and then you’ll feel yourself get pulled back. Follow the sensation, and if you can’t feel it, fight until you can. I believe in you. You’re strong enough.”

I don’t know which words he heard before he was gone. His blood soaked my clothing, and his struggling ceased. Viscous red liquid dripped lazily between the floorboards, and a heavy silence filled the space. I held my cousin tighter. We had made a horrible mistake, and the realization was dawning on the others as well.

Death was a weighted presence in the air. Karyna was beside her two younger brothers and three little sisters, and for once in her life, she was quiet. Hrafn stood still beside our younger siblings, while our parents said nothing. They had all been so sure… Now, their children lay dead by their own hands, and none showed any sign of waking. Katla gulped, gritting her teeth as she slowly looked to her husband, but Mercury betrayed no emotion. He turned to leave without a word, and she cleared her throat.

“…It can take some time,” she stated, before moving to follow him.

“At least they won’t ‘burden’ us now,” I muttered bitterly under my breath.

We arranged the bodies from eldest to youngest, and the wait began. The first time can take up to three days, although it rarely does. Usually, revival takes as little as a few minutes, which is how we knew it had gone wrong. I stayed beside Eiríkr, petting his hair for the entirety of the first day. Some of the children were beginning to rot by then; decay sets in quickly once they will not return, and they were taken away.

By nightfall the following day, less than half remained; and the hours dragged on. It was just before sunrise that Kári gasped. He sat up rapidly, coughing as dark lines materialized on his skin. A thick black magic leaked out of him, and the wind outside howled. It was clear his talents would be related to the weather.

Karyna wrapped him up tightly in a hug, “You scared me so much…” she murmured into his shoulder.

“…The others?” Kári asked hoarsely. He looked tired, like it had taken him an effort to come back, and I had no doubt that it had.

“Don’t worry about that now,” she assured, scooping him into her arms and carrying him from the room.

On the third day, just two bodies remained: Eiríkr and one of my brothers, but I was the only one who stayed with them. Alone, I broke down into sobs. By sunset my brother had rotted completely, and Eiríkr’s left leg had begun to decay. He wasn’t going to make it.

“I’m so sorry… I should have taken you away. Far away from this family…” I spoke to him softly as I laid my head on his chest. I hoped to feel a spark of vitality, to sense the grip of death receding from him. His life energy was never one I wanted to feel go out.

“Please, Eiríkr, please come back…” I begged. How could I have ever let this happen? As my pleas went unanswered, grief gave way to anger. “You said you were strong enough!” I shouted at the corpse until my voice broke. I couldn’t bear it.

I didn’t care if he was weak, or too gentle, a bad liar, or if he had any power at all. I just wanted him back. He wasn’t like a brother, and I hardly considered him a cousin, he was more like my own child. I hadn’t realized how important he was before.

Grief consumed me, so I didn’t immediately notice when the black energy started to emit from him. It seeped out his pores like thick smoke, and he took in a deep breath as it swirled around us. His chest rising alerted me to his revival, before he began to scream. He writhed in agony, thrashing in my arms as pain burned through him. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, and only then did I understand: he had returned, but the damage to his leg would be permanent.

─── .✦········· ───

Eiríkr returning with impairments wasn’t something we expected. As far as anyone knew, it had never happened before; and we weren’t sure what to do about it. Initially, we had tried killing him a second time in hopes that the injury would correct itself. It didn’t. Rather, when he revived again, it healed the decay precisely as it was and left him with obvious damage that limited his mobility.

He had come back wrong, and we could do nothing about it. Katla renounced him; she was disgusted to be in the same room as her son, while Mercurius seemed largely indifferent to the situation. I suppose this was always a risk, and he accepted that. Eiríkr couldn’t walk with his leg the way it was, not that it stopped him from trying, and he was given human leg bracings to assist him.

A further complication was that, due to our failure to revive the children, the other half of the family soon found out what we had done. They noticed the missing ones, and it horrified them that we had tried so early. I had been present in the room when my grandfather came to speak to his sons.

Eyvindr is a soft-hearted man, even in his old age, and that kindness still shows on his face. Like my father and uncle, his eyes were ocean blue, and his hair was a darker black-brown, although it was now grayed. “What were you thinking? To hold such a ceremony—all the young ones…” There was pain in his voice, and for the first time, his mewling weakness made me uncomfortable.

“You’re far too concerned, Father. It will ensure a stronger generation,” Mercury stated sedately.

“Your own boy was crippled as a result of your actions!”

“Don’t mention my son’s condition to me; I’m well aware of it,” he snapped back venomously.

Eyvindr’s mouth set in a hard line. It went unspoken that he disapproved, “I will never understand where your obsessions came from.”

“And we will never understand why, after our ancestors fought so valiantly, you would have us hide away like vermin. We are gods. We were made for worship.”

“Our ancestors fought because they had to! Not for control or conquest! There is nothing wrong with a peaceful existence. Those we help are grateful, and our future is secure,” their father insisted, exasperated.

My father scoffed, while Mercury’s icy expression remained unchanged as he continued in the same level tone. “No. Our ancestors were glorious. They defeated any who stood in their way. Their names echo through history with divinity among the humans. Yet, you would cast our true lineage into the mud. Reduce us to nothing and have us cower as if we should be ashamed.”

“And what would you know of it!?” Eyvindr shouted, “You were not the ones who fought. Neither you nor I were so much as a twinkle in our mothers, or her mothers’, mothers’ eyes! You are petulant children throwing tantrums of entitlement. Anyone could mistake you for the Fae with the way you behave.”

A weighted silence followed; if my father or uncle could have killed their father with a look, he would have been long dead. I think he sensed that too, for when he continued, his tone was markedly lower, commanding obedience.

“You will stop this behavior. There will be no more division among us. You are not permitted to have private meetings; you will no longer continue your ‘work’, nor will you attempt any more early revenants in the future. I don’t need to lose any more grandchildren to your foolhardy ideals,” he hesitated as he moved to leave, “And I am sending word that should anything happen to this village, they are to kill any who survive.”

I inhaled surprised. It was a simple statement, but Eyvindr was threatening his own family with oblivion. He left without waiting for a response, and I thought about that for a long time. It nagged at me that such a kind man would turn to extremes; he truly believed we were monsters. Moreover, it felt like he knew what we intended. ‘Should anything happen to this village’—we all knew what he meant: if we killed the other half, he would see to it that we were destroyed. He had accurately seen through us.

In the weeks thereafter, I wasn’t privy to the happenings. Instead I spent time with Eiríkr, though his mood had soured. He hated being less than he was.

“…Please stop,” I mumbled as he fell for perhaps the hundredth time. He was torturing himself. The palms of his hands and his knees were torn from meeting the ground continually when he at last gave up.

“I just want to walk again…” he sobbed, curling into a tight ball where he lay. “Mother won’t look at me, and Father is disappointed. They always leave me behind while everyone else gets to go… Why did I have to come back like this? Why wasn’t I strong enough? Kári was…”

“Kári is older. You’re lucky to have returned at all.”

“I wish I hadn’t…”

“Eiríkr!”

He flinched but said nothing more. I didn’t know what could be done for him. Not only had he come back with a permanent affliction, but he also revived relatively powerless. Kári had gained considerable strength, and his abilities were growing each day; while Eiríkr had so little magic that it didn’t even form a complete aura around him. That was something neither I, nor anyone else, brought up. But I think he knew it all the same. He was defective…

With that thought came a realization I couldn’t bear to face, and I sat in silence for the duration of dinner that evening. It was only Hrafn and I; the rest of the family had left on another job, despite Eyvindr’s warnings, and Eiríkr went to bed early.

“You’re quiet this evening,” my brother commented without looking over.

“What is there to say?” I muttered, pushing my food across the plate.

“I expected you would have something to say.”

“About what?”

He shrugged as if I was supposed to read his mind, and I turned to him so he could see my mild annoyance, “Fine. I’ll say something. Why did they leave you behind on this job, hmm?”

“I chose to stay so we could talk,” he admitted.

His answer surprised me, and I hesitated, “About what, specifically?”

“Our cousin.”

“Which one.”

“You know which one.”

Raven was correct, and I tensed defensively, “What about him?” I asked bluntly.

“He is weak now. He doesn’t belong with us.”

“That’s not his fault.”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. It’s done now.”

“What’s your point here?”

“Brigetta…”

Deep down, I knew, although I didn’t want to admit it to myself, let alone say it aloud. “…The rest of us—they’re not on a job, are they?”

“No.”

“What’s the plan supposed to be then? Are we all running away and just leaving Eiríkr behind?” I snapped, and he sighed.

“Father wanted me to force you to come with us; I told him that wouldn’t be necessary. Is it necessary?”

“Yes,” I stated flatly, folding my arms.

“Listen to me, you can’t stay behind, you won’t survive.”

“What do you mean I won’t ‘survive’?”

“Do you remember what Grandfather said about sending away word to destroy any survivors should anything happen to the town?”

“Of course,” I wasn’t stupid, but I couldn’t see where he was going with this.

“…Word was sent that something happened.”

He didn’t need to explain it further; I understood. Rarely do they ask questions or verify identities. They aren’t interested in justice or innocence; their one and only purpose is to eliminate. Men, women, children, it matters not to them. They will destroy any they find.

“They will purge the town and never realize it was us they were supposed to kill…” I whispered.

“Yes. It was Mercurius’s idea. Our uncle is quite cunning.”

“…How long until they arrive?”

“Not long; we should leave now. Once it is done, we can return.”

“…Okay. I understand,” I agreed quieter.

I allowed my brother to lead me from the town. My heart was racing. Thundering so violently in my chest I was worried he might hear it and my true intentions would be revealed. Hrafn trusted me. I was his youngest sister, and we had always had an amicable bond, so he never expected it when I struck.

In an instant, I turned, tackling him to the ground and sinking a knife deep into his artery. He was considerably taller than I, and so I had also used a small amount of magic to hold him down. When I ripped the knife out, his blood sprayed freely onto the cold ground, and he looked suitably surprised.

“Brigetta- don’t,” he hissed.

“I won’t leave him to die,” I sneered. Of course, I wouldn’t leave my brother in harm’s way either. I had ensured we were far enough away from the town that he wouldn’t be in danger.

It didn’t take long for him to bleed out; I could have timed it if I wanted to. To ensure he didn’t rise too quickly, I stabbed the knife through his heart into the ground to hold him in place. He would revive only to immediately die again until he could pull the knife out, and I hoped that would allow me enough time to get Eiríkr.

I ran back through the forest to our village, paying no mind to the branches that cut my skin or pulled at my hair. I didn’t know how much time there was, nor did I have any good plans for what to do after I had Eiríkr. If I returned with him to our family, they would kill him, but what other choice was there?

When I reached the town, the attack had not yet started, and I hurried to my uncle’s house.

“You’re sure in a hurry, Bridgett,” Venere commented snidely. She was walking the streets with a set of her youngest in her arms.

“Some of us need to be places. We don’t all have the time to lay around with our legs open as you do.”

“Not every word you speak needs to be rude. I was only coming to ask if Eiríkr’s recovery was going well, since your side of the family decided to murder all your children.”

“He’s fine,” I stated bluntly. She was wasting my time, and I moved to go around her, but she stepped in my way again.

“Wait, Brigetta…” her expression was odd. Something between bitterness and apologetic, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue the sentence, “…I’m sorry… I didn’t mean- I don’t mean… I know something is wrong between us. But I don’t want it to be. You’re still my family, I care about you, and about my brothers. Could, could you maybe just tell them that? Maybe we can start small, and all have dinner together sometimes? I want this family to be whole again.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “..I-… Yeah, I guess…” I mumbled awkwardly. She didn’t understand that it was too late for that, and for the first time in my life, I felt regret about it.

One of my half-cousins yanked on her hair. I didn’t even know the boy’s name, and Venere winced with a shy smile. “Ahh, don’t pull Mommy’s hair…” she complained as she turned to leave. I could have said something, anything, to warn her; but the words caught in my throat, and I remained silent as she walked away.

I took in a short breath; something in my chest hurt, and a wet drop landed on my cheek. It was beginning to rain in slow, distanced drops with no wind or thunder. I wondered if that was me. That’s the problem when we’re all in such close proximity; you can never be certain who is controlling their emotions so poorly that it affects the weather patterns.

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