Codex Mortem

Of men and beasts

Raiden

This was the one day of the year I loathed the most. It was the day of the killing, when the demon must be fed. I didn't mind the killing part. What bothered me was they rarely deserved it, and I had yet to punish my wolves for the escape of the dawner woman, a thing I couldn't bring myself to do yet. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that as their leaders, the fault should fall on me and the prince. If someone should be punished, it would be us.
I send Dawn ahead to the stone with five warriors. Rhys was securing the prisoners that were sent from the packs, and hopefully this cursed day will pass in no time.
I rounded a bend in the thick fir woods and merged into a small meadow surrounded by tall aspen trees. My steps silently edged the uneven ground of the clearing, where an eerie fog was slowly building. I halted.
From between the trees, not far from where I stood, a cloaked figure emerged. He came closer and kneeled, a hard thing to do for our kind, especially a young alpha.
"My king."
"Alpha Darian. Rise."
My command was obeyed. He stood at his full height, nearly as tall as me.
"We are ready."
"How many?" I placed my hand on his shoulder, a sign of trust and bond.
"A dozen, lord. All seasoned in battle and all at your command." His voice came unwavering.
"Good. Don't stay too close." Removing my hand, I added "Remember, if they take well to the new rules, there is no need for your presence to be known."
He placed his arm over his chest and lowered his head in submission. "Yes, my king."
After we parted ways, I speed up. I knew they were already there, waiting for me. Four prisoners. How many of them would the stone claim today? Would one be lucky enough to live?

I walked to my seat, not far from the wooden table placed in front of the stone. At my left side was the tall pole, with a horizontal bar on top, from where the ropes were tied right above the cursed stone. I always thought that the hanging is better than the others... except for the whipping. The whipping was the only punishment where the prisoner would survive, of course, if I wanted. It was me, the king, who decides the number of the lashes. While a beast would survive countless strikes, a lower wouldn't bear over thirty, depending on his will to live.
My eyes roamed over, searching for her. My little angel. Big, fearful eyes were fixed upon me, and she was nibing at her lower lip. My heart clenched. I wished I could go to her, pick her in my arms and carry her away so she won't see. But I couldn't. I had to keep my face straight. I am king, and I have a duty.
Rhys came near and whispered in my ear. "Our warriors are ready, and I have her. We are ready whenever you are."
"We need to pay attention, Rhys. The culprit will reveal himself today." I whispered back, making sure that the few alphas that came to witness didn't catch that.
Rhys went back to the line of our guards, and I nodded my head.
"Begin!"

.....

Dawn

My hands tightened on my chest, pulling the cape's edges closer in. The anticipation of the events to unfold made me shiver and I could feel the chills of the heavy damp air through my bones... or was it fear?
The crowd murmurs halted suddenly. From my spot, flanked by the king's guards, I couldn't see much to the right, so I had to stretch my neck.
His tall, wide frame shadowed over the place, making all of us feel small. Insignificant.
Everyone kneeled except Prince Rhys and First Aga Liam, who just lowered their heads, a sign of respect and submission.
The prince walked to the king and they exchanged inaudible words, but I focused on his face. Those once full lips that kissed me softly and whispered in my ear, those lips were now a thin line on a cold-eyed face, a grim-glooming feeling rooting in my heart.

His scowl deepened and, squaring his shoulders, he commanded in a harsh voice, "Begin!"
A hand pulled me aside as the guards formed an opening. The cell guard, Alar, rushed forward with the tip of his boot a shadow of a man chained by his wrists and ankles. He seemed both old and young at the same time, his face worn smooth by years of harshness. As he struggled against his bonds, I could see the bleeding raw gashes the thick leather cords made on his wrists. His red, sulking eyes roamed over the crowd searching for something, or someone, and I followed the spot where they stopped. A ragged, puffy-faced woman with a babe cradled in her arms and a toddler clutching to her skirts was sobbing, their appearance smudged with mud and ashes, thinner than a twig.
My heart cringed. The captive was kneeling at the wooden low table, his cracked low voice begging the king for mercy.
A tear made its way down to my cheek. I could feel his pain, I could sense her desperation.
His plea was cut by a hard slap over his face, delivered by a smirking Alar. I closed my eyes for a moment to shut out the sight .