The Curse of Eternity

Death Twelve

Pain!

Sharp pain tears through my insides like I have swallowed a bucket of glass and cin'rifesnat. It snaps me out of my slumber faster than a plunge in Chimera's winter waters.

For several breaths, I curl on my right side waiting for the gut-wrenching pain to subside.

Once it does, my stomach gives a very unladylike growl announcing hunger, and even without a soul to hear the lupinna like growl, I blush all the same.

When was the last time I've eaten decent food? If I recall, it was the first night I slept at the manor in the swimming pool. I consumed enough wine to make a full-grown man pass out twice a night.

During the three nights, I laid in dreamless slumber, only the Immortal Lord would know if I'd consumed any type of nourishment. If the adamant protesting of my stomach is any indication, I'd not ingested anything substantial in many candles.

I sit and slightly sway as blood rushes from my head. Now I understand the expression dying from hunger.

I've never died from hunger, the process is too long and drawn out to ever commit. An impaling or poison is certainly preferable to long, slow, and arduous. And, of course, every being wants to die in peaceful slumber; most mortals do not have a choice on their death as most do not have a choice on how they want to live. I certainly would not be in this predicament if given a fair choice.

I sigh and swing my feet from underneath the covers. A time candle simmers softly, the flame flickering like the tail of content feelina. I squint in a vain attempt to read the time but it's too far. I toss the remaining covers aside and notice I am still wearing the long, sleeveless scarlet dress but the matching hood is nowhere in sight.

Senseless anger surges but I quickly reign it, remembering what happened to the Immortal Lord when uncontrolled anger became a wildfire. Next time, I may kill an innocent and I have enough blood to last the rest of my immortal life. If I cannot die, will I continue aging and aging until I am just leather skin on bones? Or shall I stop and remain as I am now? I've pondered this many times and do not relish the fact I can live for eternity.

The anger I recognize stems from the long moons turn of isolation. The beings in this manor are dancing to the Immortal Lord's flute and hold not the superstitions of the village and the thought of the Immortal Lord sends my mind to recount the events this earlier night and an intangible thought gently claws the back of my mind, waiting like a whisper to be spoken. I rub the back of my head as though it would cause the thought to surface.

For the assault on his person, I offered my blood freely. I remember grabbing the gold knife and slicing my wrist causing the Immortal Lord to strike like a perenkas and bite. With each swallow, the sensation pulls warmth at parts I'm embarrassed to think of for long. It turns my stomach simultaneously ice and fire.

Feeling of fang in flesh was not unpleasant; while most would call it painful, pain and I have become bosom companions long ago. After experiencing countless, excruciating deaths; death accepts me as equal, we shook hands and live merrily side by side.

Now certain pain associated with dying is more on the pleasurable side. Mayhaps too much bad can be good after all. A being repeatedly bitten by a poisonous snake will eventually grow immune.

However, not all pain is pleasurable, especially hunger pains which have redoubled its protest.

"Dyu's you are grumbling like no one has fed you in several moons' turn."

It responds with a pathetic gurgle.

"Well, let's see if we can find some food. No better candle to explore, since the rest of the manor is asleep. By the blasted Five! I'm talking to my stomach." A sure sign of insanity slowly worming its way in my mind.