As the Fire Rises

Chapter Twelve: Murder Me.

"I want to be raised in the air for all to see! Blood cascading down, fire erupting from bellow!" Citrine perked up on her toes bouncing as she waved her arms around barking orders at the cultist. She spun around like a child her face filled with joy, "Perhaps we could get a few innocents suspended as well, dead of course the attention needs to be on me but I think it would add some urgency. Don't you Liliana?" 

"If you say so. What I'm not understanding is how any of this has to do with your father, don't get me wrong I enjoy the thought of mentally torturing Astarion but this feels more personal than for the duty of your father." 

"Loose ends and all. One can't possibly go around overtaking cities with blood and sweet murder if others are trying to hold me back." Citrine grabbed the vampire's arm turning her to face her. "I'm going to need a memory something solid if they are to believe me fully. Your time stalking should give me something right? I mean you did watch us for years. Watch me?" Citrine pulled Liliana by the arm as she made their way to her room. "Liliana, did you watch me? Did you enjoy the image of me unaware of your presence? Did your ruby eyes ever linger a little too long? Did watching him sink his fangs into my skin?" Citrine circled Liliana, she pushed her autumn curls behind her ear, her mouth inches away. "Did you want to murder me or fuck me?" 

Liliana's voice was caught in her throat, as the elf leaned into her. Liliana stepped back to find the wall. Green eyes filled with lust and rage peered into her own. A seductive chuckle fell from the elf. Liliana stepped forward shoulder checking Citrine. "You have a demented mind, I am after one thing and one thing alone." 

Citrine's laughed turned sour, "Fine I just thought a little fun before getting strung up for only the gods know how long would be a good way to kick things off." Citrine waved the vampire to leave. She soon followed, the cultist worked fast, the alter room was lined with bodies strung high, a sickly sweet smile curled from her lips. 

"Chosen one would you prefer we bloody you up before or after you've been hung?" A badly scarred human squeaked her eyes never left the floor. Citrine softly pulled the woman's chin up. 

"Do not give a sign of weakness to anyone not even me. Before, and after. I will be up there for all to see, water given every few days to leave my mouth dryer than any desert, I will want to beg for my release but I will not, my eyes may give it away I might even scream orders but you will see to it that I am punished for those actions. Under my father, there shall not be the meek." 

"Yes, chosen one of course." Citrine spread her arms out wide, the wave of blows from the cultist beating her with clubs made her head ring, she could feel the air forcefully leave her lungs. She smiled with each blow the thought of revenge on those who had taken her life and turned it into something soft, a life without honor to her father fueled her. 

She was being bonded to an un-sanded board ropes tightly bound her arms, legs, and waist. The cultist glided her into the air her body stung higher than those already hoisted. She looked down smiling, a deranged laugh filled the air as the cultist hung their heads in respect for their chosen one.