Chapter 10

It had not been as I had expected it to be. Women's wiles had proven to be a double-edged blade. My body still pulsed with unfed desire; his kiss was 
seared upon my lips. I felt as though I had sipped of poisoned wine, both delicious and deadly on the palate. I would have to be far more careful if my 
new tactics would not land me in the grave with the man I was seeking to destroy.

I was so distracted by my latest encounter with Xenos that I almost did not notice the folded parchment that had been inconspicuously shoved into the 
folds of the robe I had left behind. Sealed with unmarked wax, I knew it could be from only one man. Fingers slipped beneath the ragged edge and broke 
that seal, and even then I felt it: change.

“Revolts on the southern borders. Hundreds slaughtered. Civil war is imminent.”

Civil war…something we had anticipated, but were not yet ready for. Perhaps Xenos had some insight we had not been privy to. With the new masses 
of soldiers, anything other than careful planning would result in the deaths of countless thousands and would turn the island from a city into a tomb.

I threw the note in the fire and watched as the flames licked and consumed yet another forbidden correspondence. The note's unspoken message was 
simple – there must finally be a decisive meeting of the secretly re-formed Senate. We could not afford to wait any longer.

Fingers – now trembling – put pen and ink to a piece of Xenos's own parchment and wrote two simple words. “Very soon.” I sent it with Emilia who had 
become a messenger as well as a servant in our time together. I could not afford to be seen carrying the letter to Mathius, regardless of its message. 
Instead I placed myself before the fire and knew that Xenos would not darken the doors of his own chambers that night.

Morning found me all-too-quickly and I had to silence the gasp that threatened when my gaze met orbs of glittering black. “I trust you slept well, 
Euphemia.” His voice was cold and grated with unkind undertones.

I pulled myself into a seated position from where I'd lain in front of the fire, pushing hair back from my face. I offered no response.

“Are we back to silence once again?” Amusement threatened in his voice and died when I offered a quiet smile.

“Merely waking up.” And I knew my voice sounded warm, heavy with sleep and familiar.

He frowned at me, fine creases decorating his forehead. “You are due in the temple.” He said dryly.

I rose, movements serpentine and suggestive. When I reached for my veil his hand snared my wrist like a viper. His thumb rubbed over the raised 
scarring there, his mark that would never let me forget. His lips parted as though he was going to speak, but then he released me without a word. He 
remained silent and watchful as I arranged the veil, and there was a possessive light in his eyes.

It wasn't until I had nearly exited the room that he spoke, and his words gave me pause. “Do not wander to whatever secret places you hurry to in the 
night, Euphemia. Tonight the only purpose you are to serve is mine.”

Those words struck a chord of uncertainty in my secure web of deceit. Did he know more than he revealed? Were my noble actions in fact being 
monitored after all?

I had no answers to the questions that filled my mind and the only solace offered me was the scent of wax and incense of strange gods with stranger 
ways.

The temple's inner sanctuary had become a hushed place, a place where only the darkest of men found comfort and where only the fewest of those 
truly sought enlightenment. The altars gleamed dully and the candles flickered in breezes whose sources were hidden somewhere within the stone 
walls, whispering of hidden chambers and secret doings. I could still hear strange and horrible sounds echoing late in the night, and not even the most 
curious part of me wanted to venture and gain knowledge of those sounds. Xenos's words haunted my mind and echoed in my ears, and I feared my 
time of blissful ignorance would soon draw to a close.

I coated the altars in oil, lit countless candles and paced the polished floors on bare feet. The barest whisper from another acolyte send my nerves 
teetering on edge, eyes peering in the corners to see if Xenos would appear. And through it all his statue stood, presiding over us all and keeping its 
watchful eye.

As evening drew closer, my heart ran faster as though attempting to chase the fading sun. There was no fleeing time, and when his footsteps echoed 
through the empty sanctuary my fingers pressed into the marble of the altar, my back rigid.

“You listen well, Euphemia.” His voice bounced off the walls. “I have taught you at least that during your time here.”

I forced myself to turn, to face the man who I both loathed and found myself inexplicably drawn to. “You have taught me that your word is law, and those 
that deny it are apt to find themselves privy to your special brand of attention…” I trailed off, knowing my words were both coy and bold.

“From silence to a poet's tongue.” Xenos quipped, a strange amusement glittering in the black depths of his eyes.

“Perhaps my tongue was always of poetry and finer things. Things which you quelled with your iron fist.” I continued, knowing my words could bring 
either laughter or violence depending on the tyrant's mood.

“My iron fist has done more than quell, I would wager.”

“Yes.” I answered honestly. I had begun the journey down this path of deceptive retribution, and I forced myself to treat it carefully.

“I have need for you tonight, Euphemia.” Xenos said in too-sweet tones as his fingers snaked around my shoulder. The touch was electric and foreboding 
in the same breath. “Your particular stubborn will suits the tasks at hand. Far too many others are inadequate to withstand what I offer. But you…” He 
trailed off with an unreadable smile.

Had my recent morbid thoughts precipitated the events at hand? Was I merely a puppet upon invisible strings with some macabre master orchestrating 
the play? My stomach dropped as Xenos approached the altar and pressed heavily upon the right cornerstone. The sound of stone grating against stone 
echoed through the empty sanctuary and one section of wall that appeared like any other separated itself from the rest.

“I cannot take credit for such a contraption.” Xenos chatted as he motioned toward the newly-birthed doorway. “Nor for what lies beyond. Unplanned 
discoveries have become the foundation for all that is around you.”

I was speechless as I entered the room beyond that secret entrance. It should have been dark but it glowed softly with light cast from carefully placed 
torches shining through polished glass. Colors of the rainbow danced on the shining walls in decadent patterns that whispered of the obscene. The stone 
here was not matte and unfinished as in the temple behind. Instead it gleamed and glittered as though perhaps cast from something finer like hematite or 
obsidian. Everything was beautiful and brittle, and colorfully ominous.

“What is this place?” My voice was swallowed by the strange room. No sound carried far, as though the walls themselves were thirsty for the words I 
spoke.

“I am not entirely certain.” Xenos responded in rare neutral tones, content to merely discuss this hidden chamber. “Your scrolls say nothing. Perhaps it 
is older.”

My eyes had caught what he had already been contemplating. A massive pillar – phallic in nature – rose from the floor to a dizzying height. Did this place 
defy natural law or was it a clever illusion? None of the temple rooms rose to such majestic heights. And it was carved with symbols alien to me, alien to 
the old tongue and language I had learned so well as a child. They ran in curving lines and pointed marks, wrapping and winding their way around the 
shining pillar in impossible patterns with no hint as to their purpose or meaning. The colored lights danced and flickered on its surface in sequences that 
seemed somehow pre-orchestrated.

And before it lay a simple slab carved from the palest of quartz, unfinished and rough compared to the simple splendor of the rest.

“We waste time.” Xenos finally said after sufficient silence had passed between us. I could hear his footsteps as he retreated, leaving me with this secret, 
this room that both took one's breath and made fear crawl along one's spine.

Perhaps five minutes passed, perhaps more before he returned. But, when I turned to see him my eyes widened. She was a simple girl, perhaps fifteen 
years of age. She was silent in Xenos's grip and her lavender eyes appeared glazed as though she had been drugged. And in a stark moment of horrifying 
clarity, I knew what this chamber was for and what part this girl would play within its hidden walls.

“The very floor cries out for blood.” Xenos said as he lifted her and carried her to the quartz stone slab, already removing her robe and sandals, casting 
them aside carelessly. “It cried out for blood long before I discovered it, and it will continue far after.” 

It was then I noticed the indentations in the floor that ran in long lines to the pillar that commanded the room's center. Small wells dipped near its base, 
minute little pools that could be filled.

“You see now, don't you, Cynara.” The statement wasn't a question but it was the use of my true name that made my gaze look to his.

“It is fitting to use within this place.” Xenos said with a mirthless smile. “It is, after all, a place I fondly name in your honor.”

“Why?” I could not help but ask.

“Because here I gain the life that will ensure you will never be rid of me.” And he laughed, a cold sound that was eagerly silenced by the walls that 
shrouded us.

“You have strange definitions for what 'life' dictates, Xenos.” His name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

“Perhaps.” He answered cryptically as he boldly caressed the girl's exposed breast, then thigh. The drugs he had used were strong. Her breath rose 
and fell almost imperceptibly.

I watched as he secured her hands and feet with the loop of cord that had been thrown over his shoulder. I had a moment to ponder how unusual I 
thought its softness was before I was distracted by the dull gleam of metal he withdrew from his sandal strap. A knife of no special meaning, a dagger 
most in his army possessed sat still in his hand as he gazed at me.

I should have felt terror or revulsion, but to my dismay I felt very little. Years of ritual temple sacrifice comprised mainly of children had desensitized me. 
She was just another lamb sent to be slaughtered in the name of perverse gods, and even within this shielded place I could feel my own stars steady, 
distant, and cold.

“No more cries of disgust, Cynara?” His voice goaded me. “No more hate twisting your pretty face?”

“It would only pay me with scars and wrinkles.” I quipped, wondering for the life of me why I didn't try to flee the space screaming.

“I will need your assistance.” He said, turning his mind once again to the task at hand.

I was accustomed to the various treatments used in sacrifices to the strange new gods I served, but I did not expect what occurred in this sanctuary of 
old strange gods. How Xenos had discovered it would no doubt haunt my nightmares for years.

He used the knife delicately upon the drugged girl on the altar, cutting a centimeter – perhaps two – deep into her flesh from neck to groin and down 
the centers of her arms and legs. Only then did she produce sound – moans deep within her chest that barely escaped her paralyzed lips.

When he slipped his fingers into the cut at her chest and pulled at the flesh there, the moans deepened and came faster, and with dull horror I realized 
what it was he intended to do.

“You are flaying her.” My voice was dull and low.

“Yes.” Xenos said. “It has taken me years to discover that this was how it had to be done. Months and months of sacrifices with no results. But, now…” 
He gave a smile that turned my stomach and faded quickly. “I need you to cut.” He said as he held the knife to me, his eyes daring me to try anything but 
what he had ordered of me.

My dull horror faded into some secret place in the back of my mind. It would not save me in this place. Our fingers brushed as I took the knife from his 
hand. The metal was warmed from his hand, from the girl's blood that lazily drew a path down the blade.

His eyes were heavy upon me as I steeled myself, hands – surprisingly steady – slipping between epidermis and muscle, sliding forward and back as flesh 
separated from form. Those deep moans numbed my ears, become a drone in the back of my mind.

Xenos's hands pulled, placed tension that I loosened with the blade. Together we moved around the girl's body as more and more flesh was removed. It 
seemed an old dance, and some deep part of me was disturbed at how smoothly the tyrant and I moved together in this macabre task.

And then it was finished. Her translucent skin hung from his lean fingers and the girl was a quivering mass of tendon and muscle, her sounds that of some 
quelled banshee's cry. Her lavender eyes were wide and un-lidded, forever drawn into an expression of terror even as the drug paralyzed her lips. She 
was a sheen of blood, slick and shining. I watched, and my mind recorded the sight as it had so many others, filed it away with other nightmares and 
secret tasks.

“Now it begins.” Excitement colored Xenos's voice as he began to walk toward the massive pillar, the borrowed flesh hung about his shoulders much like 
the crimson cape he so favored.

My eyes were transfixed. I watched as the rough-hewn quartz turned slowly red as the girl's blood trickled down toward the floor.

As soon as the first drop touched that dark shining floor an energy so heavy I imagined sound flooded the room, washed over Xenos, myself, and the 
sacrifice that suddenly bled as though pierced by invisible swords. Her blood rained down to the floor, her muffled cries were silenced.

I watched in dark fascination, my eyes following her blood as it filled the floor's indentations, moved ever closer to the massive pillar that rested at the 
chamber's center. That energy thickened with each inch the sacrificial blood grew closer, as it filled the pools at the pillar's base.

Suddenly there was light bright as flame and just as prismatic that flared from the symbols, filled the room briefly with illumination. And then that energy 
filled me, overwhelmed me and I couldn't breathe. But, energy seeped through my pores. I felt it coil around my insides, felt it invade my very blood. 
And Xenos stood with the dead girl's flesh over his naked shoulders, his hands pressed to the slick ebony stone. His eyes were closed with the pressure 
surrounding us, closed as the light returned and burned itself into my mind, closed as the pain came. It seared through me, dragged me to my knees. 
That power pulled my blood to my flesh and it dripped from my hands.

There was no thought as I pulled myself to my feet, no thought as I waded through that thick energy that wrapped itself around my ankles. And Xenos 
held a hand to me, blood covering it as well. For a moment the room hushed as I reached for him and our palms touched. The moment our blood met 
that energy dragged me back down and Xenos screamed as heat flared between our fingertips. He screamed, and my breath was stolen from me, then 
everything was darkness.

~*~

Vision returned slowly. He was disoriented for more than a few moments and then the cobwebs cleared from his mind.

She was lying beside him, gold coiling around his wrist where her hair had fallen against him. He separated his hand from hers and gazed at his palm. It 
was as though he had never bled. Upon inspection, hers was the same. He ran fingers back through his hair. He could feel it coursing through him, the life 
he had stolen from that slave girl. But, he could also feel her. He could feel her as if he had her upon his tongue, within his belly. Her scent 
filled his nostrils and he passed his hands over his arms as if to rid himself of the sensation.

She lay there as though deeply asleep, but her eyes moved in dreaming. Whatever had occurred concerning her was a new discovery, yet another piece of 
an ever-elusive puzzle. What had been wrought? What unexpected outcome could he expect from this newest experience?

The questions didn't end as he knelt and gathered the unconscious Cynara in his arms with more tenderness than he had ever displayed during her waking 
moments. He left behind the dead girl, her flesh upon the floor and the chamber dark and silent once again, not a drop of blood remaining to tell the story 
of what had happened there under the cover of darkness.




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