Epilogue
Humiliation and Defeat
AN 1219 (AZ 1455) - Spring
Dungeon of Castle Notos, Maximilion, Notos
The light of the sun did not reach the dungeons beneath the palace, so Carpos had no way of knowing how long he had been there. Time had little meaning. His existence was nothing but pain and even that was leaving him.
He dangled from the ceiling by chains, his arms dislocated, his back all but stripped of hide by countless floggings. The golden hair that was his pride had been torn out in chunks, taking bits of his scalp with it. He was little more than a ruined corpse, yet still he clung to life.
The door opened and his tormentor entered. Rowland's Black Xotika harlot devoted much time and care to his suffering. She hated him as a Prince of Zephyr, she hated him for the Alari blood of his mother, and she hated him for sending men to kill her precious Rowland.
Her fingers brushed across the various implements of torture hanging from a rack along the wall. She took up the scourge, her tool of choice, and said, "What shall we do today, princeling? There is not much left to your back, so perhaps I should work more on your front."
Even if Carpos had the will to say anything, he no longer had the ability. His tongue had been torn out in an earlier session. His throat hitched at the memory of it.
Of course the Black Xotika was not expecting a response. She returned the scourge to the rack and drew out a hooked knife.
"Perhaps I should geld you. How would you like that, princeling?"
Had that been one of her first threats, it may have duly terrified him, but at this point it made little difference. He was already maimed and half-dead. At this point, what difference did a few more pieces make?
The Black Xotika's inability to stir any fear in him clearly frustrated her. Disgusted, she threw the knife to the floor and rushed up to him, seizing him by the ears and glaring right into his eyes.
"Don't think you can just give up the ghost and escape your punishment so easily," she growled. "If I have to make you whole to tear you apart all over again, I will. We'll dance our dance for the rest of our lives. Generations of men will come and go and your suffering will continue without end."
Carpos recalled his mother once telling him that a half-blooded Xotika like himself could live up to five hundred years. No doubt his tormentor had at least that many years left in her as well. Surely centuries of pain and torment were the match for any vision of Hades. If surrendering his spirit was so simple a thing, he would have done it already.
As the Black Xotika held him by the ears, he could feel her essence spilling into him. Her anger, her hatred, and more. Carpos had always had the weaker share of the ancestral powers compared to his sister, but in this moment when he was teetering on the brink of life and death, his abilities seemed stronger. He felt as the Black Xotika felt. He saw as she saw. In her anger, her mind was unguarded, open to attack and attack he did, his last stroke of spite against his tormentor.
You are a lonely girl, he said, speaking to her mind-to-mind. No wonder you need me. Your beloved Rowland will never grant your heart's desire, and soon he will be gone. At least I would have never let you forget what you are.
Her anger flared and she gripped his ears tighter, when the sensible thing would have been to release him.
"Shut up!" she snapped. "What do you think you know, Alari scum!?"
I know everything. The door is open and the thief steals in. Your heart is stripped bare. I see your shame.
Almost reflexively, she drew one of her hidden daggers and thrust it into the Prince's belly. Her anger burned hotly, but it was mixed with fear. She was not thinking and that was why she was so vulnerable. Carpos forgot the pain. He forgot his flesh. He forgot his pride and humiliation and shattered ambition. All that remained was cruel spite, hungering like a wolf after an injured deer.
You are just a common whore. That is all you have ever been. Just a thing to be used and discarded.
"Shut up!" she shouted, stabbing him again.
So this was what it meant to break a mind. If only he had known, he would not have scorned his powers. Imagine how he could have twisted his sister, bent her to his will. Not just her, anyone. All these years he relied on his name alone to carry him, but within him was something much greater. What a waste.
It was too late for him, but he would at least leave scars in the Black Xotika's mind to match the scars she left on his body.
How could you have deluded yourself into falling in love with him? Surely you knew it was forbidden. Surely you knew it was doomed.
Having lost all control, the Black Xotika kept screaming "Shut up! Shut up!" over and over again, stabbing him all the while. Their dance of centuries was going to end in a matter of moments at this rate, but this too was all part of the plan.
Before his body failed him, he delivered one last parting taunt.
You do not need me to tell you that you will be cast aside. You have known it all along.
The fires of her anger froze over with a wintery blast. Yes, she knew it was true. The cruelest cut was from the blade she had prepared herself. The fear that turned all her hope to despair.
Though Carpos could barely see anymore, he thought he saw tears in the Black Xotika's eyes as she drove her knife into his neck. There was some grim satisfaction in it. After all his failures, he found one victory in the end. She may have killed his body, but he left a wound that no doctor could heal.