Gixxian Core
The Gixxian Core, the region where seasons danced in perpetual rotation, was a stark contrast to the Verdant South. Here, the air was crisp, carrying the biting chill of winter even in the heart of summer. It was within this austere environment that a grotesque spectacle unfolded.
In the castle courtyard, a woman, stripped of modesty, was bound to a wooden pole, her body taut against the rough wood. The once vibrant hues of her skin were now marred by a latticework of crimson, a testament to the relentless onslaught of the sword. The crowd that had gathered, a motley crew of servants and guards, watched with a detached indifference, their eyes fixed on the gruesome display as if it were a common occurrence.
A gagged man sat nearby, tied to a wooden chair. His eyes, wide with terror, pleaded silently for mercy. His stillness was a stark contrast to the woman's writhing form.
Cassius, the crown prince, stood at the edge of the macabre spectacle, his form as elegant as a panther. Blonde hair, like spun gold, cascaded over his shoulders, framing a face of ethereal beauty that belied the darkness within. His green eyes, cold and calculating, held the secrets of a thousand nightmares. A cruel smile, a twisted masterpiece of nature, played on his lips as he surveyed the scene before him.
His gaze fell upon the pools of crimson that were beginning to form at the woman's feet. With a languid grace, he raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, his movements as fluid as water. Madness, a tempestuous sea, churned within his eyes.
Turning to the gagged man, a creature reduced to a mere husk of humanity, Cassius spoke, his voice as smooth as velvet. "The ropes that bind her," he said, his words carrying a chilling promise. "will be the ropes that hang you."
The man, a desperate animal trapped in a cage, thrashed against the bonds, his muffled screams a testament to his enduring terror. Yet, in the face of such inhumanity, his defiance was as futile as a moth against a flame.
Cassius chuckled, a dark, mirthless sound that echoed in the still air. "Your desire for her was... palpable. But also pathetic," he remarked, his voice dripping with contempt. His gaze, cold and predatory, locked onto the man's, a silent tormentor.
The gagged man shuddered, his body trembling like a leaf caught in a tempest. His eyes, filled with a mixture of terror and despair, pleaded silently for mercy.
High above the courtyard, on a secluded balcony, stood Kragnir, a man of diminutive stature but immense intellect. His gaze, detached and analytical, was fixed on the grotesque spectacle unfolding below. His mind, a labyrinth of intricate thought, was a world unto itself, a sanctuary from the madness that surrounded him.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his contemplation. Tilting his head, he regarded the newcomer with a knowing smile. It was Xarenos, a man shrouded in mystery as impenetrable as the night. Tall and imposing, with black hair that fell in silken waves over his shoulders, Xarenos exuded an aura of power and danger. His face, half concealed by a silver mask, was a mask of both allure and menace.
"Ah, Xarenos," Kragnir greeted him, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Come to witness your brother's descent into madness?" His tone was light, but his eyes held a depth of understanding.
Xarenos stood beside Kragnir, his gaze fixed on his brother. Cassius, lost in a world of his own creation, seemed mesmerized by the crimson tide that was slowly enveloping the woman.
Kragnir, his eyes glinting with amusement, broke the silence. "That woman," he began, his voice low, "was once a courtesan of your brother's. The man, a merchant, believed he had stolen her heart." He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. "A foolish mistake."
Kragnir's gaze shifted to Xarenos, a silent question in his eyes. "Vynessa, your brother's favored courtesan, caught them in the act," he revealed, his tone devoid of emotion. The woman, with her insatiable appetite for drama, had relished the opportunity to expose the lovers' betrayal.
Vynessa, a creature of vanity and ambition, had long believed herself to be the sole object of Cassius' affections. The discovery of one his courtesan's infidelity had sent her into a frenzy of twisted joy and rage. She had reveled in the role of the aggrieved party, her tears and accusations a carefully orchestrated performance designed to garner sympathy and, more importantly, to solidify her position as the crown prince's favored companion.
Both men watched as Cassius, in a grotesque display of madness, dipped his bloodied hand into his mouth, his expression one of savage satisfaction. The taste of blood, a forbidden elixir, seemed to intoxicate him.
"He has lost his wits," Kragnir murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pity and disgust.
Xarenos, his face a mask of indifference, finally spoke. "This...incident is that the cause of his descent?" he asked, his voice low and measured.
Kragnir shrugged. "Perhaps not," he conceded. "But Vynessa's revelation certainly did not help matters. She salted the wound, and your brother has been bleeding ever since."
Kragnir's gaze fell upon the gagged man, a flicker of pity crossing his face. "Poor man," he murmured, his voice filled with a genuine compassion that was rare in this world of cruelty. He glanced down at his left hand, a grotesque testament to his nephew's cruelty. Three fingers remained, a constant reminder of the day Cassius, in a fit of rage, had severed two of them.
"The merchant should have known better than to covet the prince's possession," Kragnir remarked, his voice laced with irony. Cassius had always been possessive, a trait that had grown into a monstrous obsession.
The memory of that fateful day sent a shiver down Kragnir's spine. He had been caught in a compromising position with his fingers buried in one of Cassius' courtesans, a woman who had sworn her allegiance to a random noble man stead of the crown prince. The consequences had been swift and brutal. Cassius, in a blind rage, had attacked him, leaving him maimed and scarred.
"The advantage of having fewer fingers," Kragnir said, trying to lighten the mood, "is that one can save money on rings. Fewer fingers, fewer rings, more gold in the treasury." His attempt at humor fell flat. The memory of the pain was too fresh.
He grimaced, his face a mask of hidden torment. All his nephews, each a product of a different madness, were a constant source of anxiety. Xarenos, with his brooding intensity, was as unpredictable as the weather. But it was Cassius, the eldest, who posed the greatest threat. Not to mention the rest of the lazy bratty nephews he had. The thought of the day Xarenos had thrown him to the hounds, a pack of savage beasts, sent a shiver down his spine. He had emerged from that ordeal unscathed, but the memory of the terror he had endured was a wound that would never heal.
Xarenos gaze fell on a bucket filled with crimson liquid, he raised his brows and Kragnir noting this spoke, " It seems your brother has a fondness for the natural world -he's going to use her hue to paint. Apparently, the artificial crimson of paint just can't compare to the real thing." Xarenos frowned.
Kragnir, unable to bear the spectacle any longer, pushed himself off the stool, landing with a soft thud on the floor. "I have a meeting with the court," he announced, his voice barely a whisper.
Xarenos remained on the balcony, his gaze fixed on the courtyard below. Cassius, oblivious to his presence, was consumed by his macabre ritual. The prince had taken a perverse pleasure in forcing the gagged man to witness the woman's suffering.
As Xarenos made his way down the staircase, the servants parted to make way for him. Whispers and murmurs followed in his wake, their eyes drawn to the masked half of his face. He had grown accustomed to the scrutiny, the curiosity, and the fear that his presence inspired. It was a burden he bore with a stoic indifference.
In the courtyard, the macabre spectacle continued. Cassius, his face contorted in a mask of madness, leaned down and whispered something into the gagged man's ear. The man's body stiffened, his eyes wide with terror. The horror of the moment was almost too much to bear, even for Xarenos.
Cassius, his eyes gleaming with a macabre delight, glanced up at Xarenos. "Would you care to join me?" he invited, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.
Xarenos tilted his head, his expression impassive. "I have no taste for such spectacles," he replied, his voice as cold as winter's frost. His words were a clear rejection, a refusal to participate in his brother's madness.
Cassius, stung by Xarenos's disdain, pursed his lips in what could only be described as a mockery of disappointment. "No fun, as always," he muttered, straightening from his macabre crouch. His green eyes, however, remained fixed on his brother, a glint of twisted amusement flickering within their depths.
Xarenos cast a withering glance at the assembled servants, their faces etched with a mixture of morbid curiosity and practiced indifference.
"Madness," he finally spoke, his voice a low growl. "This charade you indulge in - it serves no purpose but to further blacken your soul."
Cassius let out a bark of laughter, a guttural sound that sent shivers down the spines of the nearby servants. "Madness? Brother," he countered, his voice dripping with false cheer. "Entertainment! Nothing more. A reminder to those who defy me of the price they pay."
With a flourish that was both chilling and theatrical, Cassius unsheathed a dagger, its polished surface glinting wickedly in the fading light.
Xarenos watched as his brother, a macabre artist, prepared his next canvas. "End it," he said, his voice a mere whisper in the still air. There was a finality to his tone, a demand rather than a suggestion.
Cassius grinned, a feral gleam in his eyes. With a swift movement, he severed the ropes binding the woman, her limp body collapsing to the ground. The crimson tide that had pooled around her was slowly receding, leaving behind a stark, chilling image.
Returning to the gagged man, Cassius coiled the ropes in his hands, a predator readying for the hunt. Xarenos, unable to bear the spectacle any longer, turned away. As he walked away, he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. Cassius was lost to the darkness, and there was nothing he could do to save him.