18. Javan

18

JAVAN

T he general's eyes are wide with panic as he stumbles into the throne room, the elite guards and his family rising in confusion. The youngest child bolts, but I grab the boy by the scruff and fling him to Catandria's feet.

"Deal with him," I command, a smirk tugging at my lips.

Catandria doesn't hesitate. Her blade finds the child's heart, and the boy crumples. She looks up, eyes burning with hatred, throwing a defiant glance at the general.

"Your turn," she says, her voice a low growl.

The general's scream echoes in the hall as he charges, his guards following suit. They clash with Catandria, their blades a flurry of metal. She fights fiercely, her movements graceful and deadly, but a guard's blade slices her arm. Blood stains her sleeve.

I can't have that.

With a flick of my wrist, the guards' weapons turn to molten metal. They drop them, howling in pain. I step forward, capturing their terror in one fell swoop. The guards fall, lifeless, and the general's family kneels, trembling.

Catandria takes my hand, leading me to the throne. I sit, pulling her onto my lap. She fits perfectly, like she belongs there.

"Thank you," I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. "You deserve this."

She smiles, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "All of it?"

"Every bit," I reply, my hand caressing her thigh. "And more."

The general stares at us, eyes ablaze with fury. "How dare you? How fucking dare you?!" he spits, his voice quivering with hatred. "How dare you come into my home and do this to me?!"

"What is your name?" I ask, but Catandria shakes her head.

"He is General Dhynzu," she replies. "The dark elf who ruined my life."

"Well, Dhynzu," I say, savoring his name like a bitter wine. "Welcome to your end."

Catandria stands, her face cold and impassive. With a mere wave of her hand, Dhynzu's children fall lifeless to the floor, their bodies crumpling like discarded dolls.

"Just like you did to my village," she murmurs, almost to herself. The general's wife falls to her knees, clutching at Catandria's legs.

"Please," the dark elf woman sobs. "Spare us."

For a moment, Catandria's face softens, and I see the flicker of something human in her eyes. But then she laughs, a sound devoid of warmth. "Forgiveness? Did your husband forgive the humans he mercilessly slaughtered? The ones that he decapitated? The ones that he raped?"

The wife's scream pierces the air, but I silence it with a flick of my finger. Her body collapses, lifeless, beside her children.

Dhynzu roars, charging at us, but I am quicker. I extend my hand, dark energy wrapping around him like serpents. He struggles, but the chains bind him to the steps of his own throne.

"Fitting, isn't it?" I muse, leaning in close. "Chained, just like your soldiers did to me. At least, until we killed them all."

Dhynzu's eyes are wild, a mix of fear and rage. "You won't get away with this!"

"Oh, but I already have," I reply, smirking.

Catandria steps forward, her gaze fixed on the general. "Do you remember my village, Dhynzu? Do you remember the screams, the blood, the death?"

He doesn't respond, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

She leans down, her face inches from his. "I remember every detail. And now, so will you."

The general's eyes dart between Catandria and me, desperation clouding his face. "Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "Spare me. I'll give you anything. Wealth, power?—"

I raise a hand, silencing him. "I leave all decisions to my lady."

Catandria's expression is cold. "You want forgiveness? Lick my foot."

The general hesitates but then leans forward on all fours. Just as his tongue touches her boot, she pulls back, a cruel smile curving her lips.

"Changed my mind," she says, her voice icy. "I'm giving you a gift instead. Ensuring your soul and your family's will never perish. You’ll meet again in Glacies."

His eyes widen in horror. "No! Please, anything but that!"

I chuckle, admiring her cruelty. "You’re fitting as my lady."

She kneels beside him, drawing a small, wickedly sharp blade. "You remember the tortures you inflicted on my people, don't you, Dhynzu?"

He tries to speak, but she seizes his tongue and slices it off in one swift motion. His scream is muffled by blood.

"That's for the screams you ignored," she says, wiping the blade on his tunic. "Now, let's see about those fingers."

She methodically removes each finger, her voice steady as she recites the names of the dead from her village. Each name a slice, each finger a tribute. His howls fill the room, tears stream down his face, but no one comes to his aid.

When she reaches his hand, she takes her time, savoring each cut. "You think you can take everything and not pay the price? Think again."

I watch, enthralled. Her precision, her cold fury—it's mesmerizing. She moves to his legs, hacking them off with brutal efficiency.

"For the legs you broke," she says, almost clinically. "For the lives you ruined."

His ears are next. Each one comes off with a slice as she details the atrocities, the rapes, the murders. His head lolls, eyes rolling back, but she keeps him conscious, just enough to feel every bit of pain.

"Stay alive, General," she whispers, her lips brushing his ear before she cuts it off. "You'll need to remember this."

She steps back, surveying her work. The general is a broken, bleeding heap at the foot of his own throne.

I pull her close, my fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. "You’re perfect," I murmur, feeling the heat of her rage and satisfaction.

She smiles, blood splattered on her face. "Let's leave him here. Let him feel the weight of his sins."

"I agree, my lady," I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "He's earned it."