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ZARDAYNA HAD A distaste for the men visiting the brothel. She'd never quite understood why they appeared ancient, potbellied, and pit stained. For once, she'd appreciate a decent man her age. But the Madam had a peculiar distaste for physical attraction. She reasoned that physical attraction led to physical attachment, and she thought her business be further efficient were it removed. Though Zardayna could never envision herself falling for a man, she never argued. And if the brothel girls ever entertained the thought, the Madam would remind them of her renowned motto: Wise women make their fortunes off yearning, mindless men. It kept most of her girls under rein. But placed into this world with reluctance, and an undead likeness, Zardayna never cared for the coins.
The brothel girls were forced to give up a substantial portion of their earnings, and were they to rebel, the Madam's tolerance dwindled. There was something menacing about her thin smile. The way it tilted up, while her eyes flashed a dark shade of amber. More often than not, she was unsettling and daunting, but it was simply masked by her beauty. Her long, golden locks seized the hearts of men and brought forth jealousy in women. Her bastard brother, Theonlore, wasn't deceived, and he contrasted her aura eloquently. His eyes were sincere and warm, with a gentleness the Madam never possessed. His heart had bloomed, while the Madam's had turned stone. How could two people be so different?
But it was their willingness to stay at each other's side that stumped Zardayna. Besides their differences, she wondered what kept them at bay. But she'd never utter a word.
When she first arrived at Neara, she was tempted to toss herself off its crystalline coast and drown her sorrows. She didn't know what held her back. Her life had already crumbled.
It was two day's journey at most, and she had spent it in silence as the boat sailed across the Livid Sea. Theonlore and the Madam had chatted amongst themselves all the while, not so pleasantly, and once the boat touched land, Zardayna had scourged its unfamiliarity with her eyes. Instead of a serene cottage and a quiet forest, it was a crowded scenery, toppled with houses of clay and crimson stone. Men wore violet and sapphire, silk crepe chiffon fabrics wrapped around their necks and waists, with dangling gold drapes and encrusted jewels, while women were coated with a short and revealing flimsy fabric. Zardayna had always wondered what the world had looked like beyond her cozy isolation, and now, she was greeted with a demeaning and unpalatable sight.
Immodest dresses and exotic drapes hadn't been her only revelation. It was brought to her attention that the Madam had one purpose alone for her. Zardayna was immediately tossed to the most horrid of men, and each time she'd refused, she'd be thrown into a cage with dogs. After the month, Zardayna thought she'd endured enough consequences fit for a lifetime. Pleasing the Madam was her priority, lest she suffer, but that took time, and it was nearly impossible. Somehow, Zardayna managed it, with the help of Theonlore. Reluctantly, he had shown her what men found pleasurable and raised her with the confidence she needed to lay with her first, a lord of Neara. She remembered trailing her fingers down his chest. He'd taken her hands, laid her flat on her back, and pressed on. Tears escaped her that night. She hadn't thought it be painless, but it wasn't the pain she hoped to endure. Blood had stained the sheets, and she was a girl no more but a woman.
Ten name days after, Zardayna's skin had pressed high against her cheekbones, her lips into delicate plumps, and her breasts favored by the gods. She could see she was beautiful, given that men shamelessly gaped and begged for her all nights to come. Though she had never gotten used to the openness of her work.
As Zardayna parted the pearl beads dangling from the threshold, she was greeted with a man embracing two women. He sat in a chair opposite of her, caressing the women's privacies for all to see. Zardayna averted her eyes and moved to the back of the room silently. She thought she'd escaped the pleasantries of the night but as she turned the corner, low and behold, a gathering of men and women, entangling themselves and pulling at each other's hair. The scarlet room and the dimly lit candles seemed to enhance the constant moaning and envelop a sense of euphoria. Privacy wasn't traditional in Neara; it was not a privilege, not like in the other realms. In Neara, playing with a woman's tits or riding a man's manhood was not shameful. It was praised if anything.
Zardayna was in no mood for it. Earlier in the evening, whispers of killings struck her. Those whispers foretold what was to come tonight. The village was soon to be a slaughter house.
Zardayna, disturbed, moved to the back of the room towards the bar, where the fucking would hopefully diminish. The sound of music and laughter escalated when she turned the corner once more. As Zardayna walked down the clean-paved aisle, she caught glimpse of shining white pass by the window. She paused and peeked out of the glass. It was difficult to see, as the absence of daylight, but no one was in sight. She thought she'd imagined it, or believed it to be trickery the of moonlight.
Suddenly, the winds died down, and the candles blew out. The brothel's chatter fell hush before wary glances were given stranger to stranger. They were blameless. It was a warning to most, of what's to come; a sign of death itself.
The brothel's door swung open, and all heads turned towards the young soldier, an embroidered wolf at the head of his sword, and palettes of black armor racking his figure. The man entered the brothel, a scattered viscous liquid melting across his triangular face and his long, silver-pale hair. With a tedious trudge, he made his way towards the counter, mumbling something at the bartender before throwing himself into a wooden chair. The bartender gave a curt nod and hurried off. As the man watched the woman leave her station, jiggling breasts dancing away, his eyes stumbled over Zardayna.
Zardayna's breath had already hitched. They stood no more than a yard apart. She would've given him a flirtatious wink or beckon him with the stroke of her finger, but she was too stunned by his appearance, with his twinkling, sea-green eyes and his at eased manner. She'd never encountered another with silver, corresponding hair until now.
When his lips curled up into the hint of a smile, Zardayna realized she'd been staring too long. Bashfully, she turned her head, but she could still feel his eyes lingering on her.
The chatter soon returned.
"That's the general of the King's army," one of the brothel girls gossiped above a whisper. "I heard he's killed more than a thousand men in a single night."
"That's nearly impossible," another girl commented.
"Nearly," she pointed out. "It's rumored he's played a part of the assassination on Vilashen's King."
Zardayna's ears pricked up. She returned the man's unsettling gaze and shifted in her seat as she studied him carefully. He mirrored her with amusement.
Zardayna's heart had been hammering against her chest the moment he arrived, but now her heart had stopped. She'd thought he'd been ogling her, but that wasn't the case. His eyes held a studious intention as they'd been traveling back and forth between her and the amulet chained to her neck.
She didn't know this man, nor did she recognize him, but she wondered if it was possible. With a praised killing reputation, and the rumored assassination on a dragon king, could he be the demon prancing through the night, slaughtering villagers every hushed moon. In a realm where mages and dragons once flourished, Zardayna had no doubts.
Painful memories that'd been shut out for years came tumbling into the light.
Could it transform human?
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[📣 It's taken me a while to publish chapter one, but here it is! I truly hope you [the readers] like it. Feel free to point out any grammar mistakes or offer constructive criticism. I'll take it because I am an amateur :}
